The small room was paneled in knotty pine, although hardly any of it was visible because every foot of wall space was covered with memorabilia: action photographs of Ray Junior, trophies, jerseys tacked up with pushpins, framed certificates, and newspaper stories. When he was in here, Ray sometimes pretended all these honors belonged to him. For the past few months he’d even been sleeping on the old couch under the room’s only window.

He sucked on his cigarette and coughed. The spasms were lasting longer all the time and his heart had been kicking up again, but he wasn’t going to die yet. Not until he’d made Calebow pay. He wanted the Stars to lose every game. He wanted the whole world to know that bastard had made the biggest mistake of his life when he’d cut Ray Junior. Then maybe Ray could go back to some of his old hangouts and have a few drinks with his buddies. Just once before he died, he wanted to feel like a big shot again.

Ray got up from his chair and walked over to the built-in cupboards, where he pulled out the whiskey bottle he kept behind some boxes. He unscrewed the top and took a swig, then he carried the bottle over to the couch. As he sat, he picked up the gun he’d left on the end table when he’d gotten home from working the auto show at the Midwest Sports Dome yesterday.

The Dome’s empty tonight, he thought, but tomorrow night they had a religious crusade coming in. The next night, it was some nigger rap group. He hated working concerts, but other than that, he liked being a security guard at the dome. Especially on Sunday afternoons when the Stars were losing.

Taking another swig, he stroked the gun in his lap and listened to the crowd call out his name.

Hardesty!

Hardesty!

Hardesty!

15

15

Phoebe slid back the curtain she had been peering through as Dan pulled his Ferrari into the drive at precisely noon on Saturday. Her stomach quivered like a teenager’s on her first date. She went to the bottom of the stairs and called up to Molly. “Dan’s here. Let’s go.”

“I don’t want to.”

“I understand that, but you’re coming with us anyway. I need a dog sitter.”

“That’s just an excuse, and you know it. You could leave Pooh here with me.”

“She needs some exercise. Stop stalling, Molly. Just give it a chance. It’s a beautiful day, and we’ll have fun.” She wanted her words to come true, but she knew it was more likely that she and Dan would have an argument. She was hoping Molly’s presence would act as a buffer.