Size things up as fast as you can. Watch for a gun. If he’s got a gun, try to swing for his arm.

Two.

If he’s got someone with him, an accomplice, try to take out the bigger guy first. Go for heads. Go for their fucking heads. Okay, this is it, pal. It’s showtime.

Three.

I burst out of the door, screamed something along the lines of “Ahhhh!” and, grasping the tripod legs down at the end, swung them back over my shoulder like a baseball bat, putting all my energy into the swing, getting ready to let loose with all the power I could muster.

“Dad!”

Paul sprang back, flinging himself into the stairs, raising his hands defensively. I put the brakes on halfway through the swing, which threw me completely off balance, and I staggered into the wall. The top of the tripod crashed into the drywall, creating a deep gash.

“Jesus! Dad! It’s me!”

I stumbled onto the floor, threw my arms out to brace myself. “Paul!” I gasped. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I live here!”

I was trying to catch my breath. “You’re supposed to be at Andy’s! I told you to stay there!”

“I forgot to ask you to bring some video games.” He was as out of breath as I, still sprawled out across the stairs. “We needed some games. Andy’s mom drove us over. They’re out in the car, waiting for me.”

Slowly, I got back on my feet. “Okay, go get your games.”

“What were you doing in there? Were you hiding or something?”

“I was just developing some pictures, that’s all.”

“What pictures? Are you doing Angie’s assignment for her?” Of all the things I’d done tonight, Paul would consider giving his sister an unfair advantage at school my worst crime. I decided to go with it.

“I was just doing up a couple of prints for her, that’s all.”

Paul was still breathing heavily. “I thought you were going to kill me.”

“I was not going to kill you. You just startled me.” I was rubbing my hand across my face. “Come here.” Paul got to within a foot of me and I pulled him closer, threw my arms around him, patted his back a couple of times. “I wasn’t going to kill you. Now get your games.”

As I pushed him away, he looked at the hole in the wall. “Mom’s going to love that.”

“Yeah, no doubt.”

Paul studied me for a moment and said, “Angie’s right.”

“What do you mean, Angie’s right?”

“You’re turning into some sort of crazy person.” He went into the rec room, grabbed three game cartridges, and met me again at the base of the stairs. “I’ll see you in the morning.”