Chapter_13

Twenty minutes later I’m sitting on my crumbling front porch, lungs still burning from the madness of the Blaine backyard marathon. I’m waiting for Big Dale to leave again so I can go see Tank (and Sarah, of course). But when he finally drives past in his sparkling blue truck, he spots me and stops in the middle of the street, motioning me over with his index finger.

Damn. Sarah must have talked.

When I reach his window he gazes at me with disapproving eyes. The hairs of his mustache twitch like the legs of a nervous spider.

So, I say to myself, what did Sarah say? Did she spill it all, the kiss and the juice stash? I mean, after my involvement in the rock-throwing incident, I’m already on Big Dale’s blacklist. What kind of cop wants his daughter going out with a guy who comes home handcuffed in the back seat of a police car? And what about Tank? Did she tell him, too? Oh, man, if that’s the case I’m as good as dead, sneaking around in his basement lair and hitting on his sister!

As Big Dale stares at me with his pulsating facial hair, I have a horrible image of father and son tearing me apart limb by limb and storing my body parts in the crawlspace.

But when he says, “I’m gonna say something and leave it at that,” something tells me Sarah hasn’t dropped a word about us. Thank God.

“Okay,” I answer, my heart racing.

“Tank’s not grounded anymore. I let him off early for good behavior. But, Zach, if you two pull anything like that again, you guys are done. You won’t be allowed over, and I’ll make sure Tank never speaks to you. Understand?”

I nod.

And he goes, “Heard you’re working at Huey’s now.”

“Yeah,” I say. “To pay the deductibles.”

“How is Huey?”

“He’s … uh … he’s interesting, I guess. How come I never see you in there?”

“I go to a store closer to my office.” Dale pulls up his sleeves. The green dragon stares at me as if I’m its next meal. “What’s it to you?”

“Mr. Foster, what kind of cop are you?” He raises his eyebrows at me. So I say, “Sorry. It’s just something I’ve always wondered.”

He checks his mirrors. “I’ll put it to you this way. I do the things people never hear about, and as long as people never hear about them, I know I’m doing my job.” He shrugs. “That make sense to you?”

“Sort of.”

We stare at each other for a few awkward moments.

“So what’s really on your mind, Zach?”

“Do you have a girlfriend, Mr. Foster?”