Charlie DeLuca’s black Lincoln Town Car was sitting in Karen’s drive behind the limo. Ric was in the passenger’s side with the window down and country-and-western music on the stereo. Reba McEntire. He still had the black Ray Bans and the black spiked hair and the deathly white skin. A brand-new red Schwinn mountain bike was leaning against the garage, the price tag still on the handlebars. Karen said, “Oh, thank God.”

Ric peeled himself out of the Town Car as we parked. He was wearing a triple-layered black leather English jacket with an acne of metal studs. When the jacket pulled open you could see something stainless-steel and shining under his left arm. The ten. “Let’s go inside.”

Karen said, “Is my boy all right?”

“Let’s go inside. Charlie’s waiting.”

Karen ran toward the door, and Ric and I followed.

Peter and Dani and Toby Lloyd and Charlie DeLuca were sitting in the living room, Peter and Charlie in the two wingback chairs and Dani and Toby on the couch.

Charlie DeLuca was laughing at something that Peter was saying, and they were each holding a bottle of St Pauli Girl. Toby was sitting on the edge of the couch, hands between his knees, staring at Peter with a kind of nervous curiosity. Joe Pike was standing against the wall by the fireplace, arms crossed and weight on one foot. When Ric came in, Pike put his weight on both feet but didn’t uncross his arms. Charlie DeLuca smiled at us like he was everybody’s favorite uncle and said, “Here they are, now.”

Karen went directly to Toby and gripped his upper arms and looked him in the eyes hard enough to read something written on the inside of his skull. “Are you all right?”

“Sure, Mom.”

“Did anyone hurt you? Or threaten you?”

The boy was looking confused and embarrassed. “What do you mean?”

Ric nodded at Pike, took off his Ray Bans, and rubbed at his eyes. Guess one pair of dark glasses in the room was enough.

Charlie smiled at me. “You’re still here, hunh? I figured for sure you’d be back ridin’ Dumbo, knew what’s good for you.”

I gave him a little hand shrug. “Maybe we didn’t understand each other.”

Peter was smiling, like he had a joke. “You’re not going to believe why Toby’s late, Karen. Go ahead, Charlie, tell her. Listen to this.” Go ahead, Charlie. Old friends.

Charlie settled back in the wing chair. “I backed over his bike at school. Can you imagine that? I felt so terrible that I waited around until he came out so I could buy him a new one. Hey, a bike is like a horse, right? You’re a kid, your bike is your best friend. I felt like such a dufus.” Dufus. Putting on the show for Peter, and Peter eating it up.