Hang Time

by S. W. Lauden

  “I haven’t changed my mind about anything…except maybe this interview.”

  Greg heard Lindsay apologizing on the line when he killed the call. He pushed the chair back with his foot, slamming the garage door as he headed for the house. Marco was gone, but somebody else waited for him at the kitchen table when he walked in. It looked like she and their son had both been crying all night.

  “I’m so glad you came back. I was really worried about you.”

  She sniffled while patting their son. He clung to her arms, half asleep and mindlessly playing with his pacifier.

  “You have a funny way of showing it. You didn’t even call.”

  “I wanted to give you space. Look, I know things have been crazy around here lately. It’s not fair to you or Timmy.”

  Kristen strained at him, studying his face. She didn’t seem pleased with what she saw there.

  “You stayed out all night again.”

  “Sorry about that. We got caught up on a job.”

  “With that woman?”

  “Gabriella? Yes, but no. It’s her husband and a few of his men. We, uh, found them dead at their house.”

  This seemed to get her attention.

  “What about that woman?”

  “We don’t know where she is. Marco’s actually out looking for her right now, but that’s for the police to figure out.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that. I just wish you weren’t leaving us.”

  She reached a hand out across the table. Greg took it, looking his wife in the eyes for the first time in too many weeks.

  “It’s only a couple of weeks. I’ll be making a record for a few months when we get back. We’ll be able to spend plenty of time together then. I promise.”

  Tears rolled down Kristen’s cheeks. The baby, however, was mercifully asleep. It seemed like the first chance they’d had to speak like adults in months.

  “It’s going to be okay, Kristen.”

  “Is it? It doesn’t seem like you want anything to do with us.”

  She looked down at the baby in her arms, slipping a pinky into his little fist. Greg knew she was right, that he’d been pulling away. But this wasn’t the time to discuss their future. He wanted to wait it out, hoping everything would get back to some version of normal once the tour ended.

  “I love you both more than anything. Things are moving too fast right now.”

  She let out a soft sob, bringing a hand up to her face.

  “I can’t be the girl that you rescued from the mountains for the rest of my life. I’m a mom now, and your wife. I thought that’s what you wanted.”

  “It was—I mean, it is. I just wish we had more time before starting a family.”

  “I wanted that, too, Greg, but I wouldn’t change a thing if it meant not having Timmy. This is the first time in my life I’ve had a normal family and it feels like it’s already slipping away from me.”

  “It’s not. I won’t let it.” Greg’s phone started dinging in his pocket. He stood up to fish it out, looking at the text messages waiting there.

  “Oh crap! I have to go do an interview. Wait here for me here. Promise you won’t leave again.”

  “I promise.”

  h

  “This is Greg.”

  “Hey, man. It’s Tommy.”

  Greg caught his breath. Nothing about this day was going according to plan.

  “Lindsay, is this for real?”

  Greg waited for the PR rep to chime in, but got no response. Tommy read the situation, trying to help Greg make sense of the chaos.

  “Sorry. This magazine I’m writing for thought it would be a good idea to have me do a surprise interview with you. You know, reunite the two guys whose lives were changed by my book. I thought it would be funny…until now…”

  “It’s fine. I wasn’t expecting to hear your voice, is all.”

  Tommy laughed, clearly annoyed.

  “Good thing or a bad thing?”

  “Not what I expected. That’s all. Things are kind of hectic now.”

  “Tell me about it. I haven’t been home in almost a month thanks to this never-ending book tour. You getting excited for the BCC shows?”

  “It’s hard to know how to feel. So much has happened in the last few years.”

  Tommy went quiet for a moment, chewing on everything Greg said.

  “People are always telling me how much they love the parts of the book that you’re in.”

  Greg couldn’t hold his frustration back any longer.

  “When were you going to tell me that you interviewed my friends?”

  “Was I supposed to get your permission first or something?”

  “It would have been the right thing to do, since this is my story.”

  The words felt odd leaving Greg’s mouth. Like he’d exposed himself to the world. Tommy must have sensed it, too. He pounced.

  “Your story? You might have been at the center of all this crazy shit, but it effected everybody around you. You have no right to claim ownership.”

  “You named a chapter after my brother. He wasn’t even there!”

  “Jesus, Greg. He’s with you everywhere you go. I tried writing about you without explaining Tim, but it didn’t work. The story’s the story.”

  “This book was supposed to be about Magnus and what happened up in the mountains. I didn’t ask you to write my biography.”

  A sudden distance grew between them. It felt strange for their short, but intense friendship.

  “Can I ask you something, Greg? Be honest with me.”

  “Shoot.”

  “Do you wish I’d never written Among the Grizzlies?”

  Greg had no easy answer. He wasn’t an outsider with a fresh perspective on Magnus Ursus, Bad Citizen Corporation, or Tim’s death. Greg didn’t come to these stories as somebody looking to be entertained, he’d lived through them—experienced every painful moment—and now they were in a bestseller written by somebody else; the collected headlines of Greg Salem’s life, condensed down to a few chapters and spoon-fed to the world as a cautionary tale.

  Greg was happy for Tommy and his success, but he still couldn’t figure out exactly how he fit in. Except as a freak of nature that the world demanded to see in the flesh—for a little while, at least, until the next thing caught their attention. Greg wasn’t sure if it would come as a relief or leave him wanting more.

  A half-hearted “I don’t know” was the most he could manage in response to Tommy’s question.

  Tommy had already hung up by the time Greg finally got the words out.

  “Hey, Greg. It’s Lindsay. Tommy texted me. Something came up and he had to cut the call short. He wanted me to apologize.”

  “Okay. I hope I didn’t piss him off.”

  “I’m sure it’s fine. Listen, I know you’re busy today. I think we should cancel the rest of these interviews. That way you’ll have more time to get ready for your tour.”

  Chapter 9

  Greg was supposed to meet Marco at the BCPD station a few minutes before their appointment. Not much had changed since the last time he’d been there except for the unfamiliar faces coming and going through the glass doors out front. There was a time when he might have known some of them, bonded with them over their shared profession, but not anymore. He was on the other side of the law now, where you didn’t need a badge to justify your gun.

  Marco walked up at four o’clock on the dot. His thin blond hair was still wet from a shower, brushed back from his weathered face. Greg took one look at him and knew something was up.

  “You’re looking pretty beat up today.”

  “I’m worried about Gabriella. I mean, where the hell could she have gone? I watched her go in, but she never came out.”

  “That house is huge. There are plenty of ways she
could have gotten out without you seeing her.”

  “She didn’t have anything to do with those murders, bro.”

  “That’s not what I meant, but what if she did? I know you think there’s this magical bond between you because you slept with her, but that doesn’t mean you know anything about her.”

  “Watch yourself. I’m not in the mood for this shit right now.”

  Greg grabbed him by the shoulders.

  “It’s just sex. She’s probably slept with a few guys since then, too.”

  Marco shook free, stepping back. Greg could tell from the astonished look on his friend’s face that he’d stepped over the line. He instantly regretted it.

  “Sorry. Remember how we met her in the first place? She’s trouble.”

  “Whatever, bro. You’re gonna feel like a total dick when she comes back and proves you wrong.”

  Something about the confidence in Marco’s voice set off alarms in Greg’s head.

  “Are you sure you don’t know where she is?”

  Marco was on the verge of giving an answer before Detective Bowers interrupted them. He had a cup of coffee in one hand and neatly folded newspaper tucked under his other arm.

  “Let’s go inside and get some answers about yesterday.”

  They followed him into the station. He waved them through at the front desk without slowing down, leading them down a familiar hallway. Greg wondered where Officer Bob was when they reached the door outside of his office. Detective Bowers cranked the knob to usher them inside.

  The room was darker than usual, all of the natural light blocked out by closed blinds. Greg also noticed the desk had been moved to the opposite corner. None of the framed pictures on the wall looked familiar to him. Greg knew Officer Bob was retiring, but couldn’t imagine it would happen this fast.

  “When’s your boss getting here?”

  Detective Bowers ignored the question. He slapped the newspaper down on the desk and took a seat, motioning for his guests to do the same. They both remained standing.

  “Suit yourselves, but we might be here a while.”

  Greg folded his arms, in a pathetic act of defiance.

  “You mind telling us where Officer Bob is?”

  “He’s on medical leave. He asked me to give this to you. I told him it wasn’t a good idea, but there you go.”

  He slid an envelope across the desk. Greg shoved it into his pocket without looking inside.

  “Is he all right?”

  “With Chief Stanley out, I’m in charge. Let’s go over the events of last night.”

  Detective Bowers pulled a folder from the top drawer of his desk, flipping it open to reveal a stack of crime scene photos. The one on top was of Tony Flores, slumped on his mixing board with half of his head missing. Greg shifted his gaze, trying hard not to let the image get burned into his mind any more than it already was.

  Detective Bowers turned to address Marco.

  “Let’s start with you. Care to tell me how you two made this discovery?”

  Marco gave in and sat down. It looked like the weight of these killings had finally caught up with him.

  “We were working a case for Flores. Keeping an eye on his wife.”

  “This her?”

  He pushed a photo across the desk. It was a blurry snapshot of the painting from the living room at the Flores Estate. Marco couldn’t stand to look at the image of Gabriella’s naked body for too long.

  “Yep.”

  “And you say that you were on assignment outside of the home where these murders took place?”

  “Well, I mean—”

  “Answer the question. Were you on assignment, or not?”

  Greg put his hands down on the desk, reinserting himself into the conversation.

  “He dropped her off at home before getting concerned about her safety.”

  Detective Bowers shifted his gaze from Marco’s face to Greg’s.

  “So, he was there for personal reasons?”

  His expression was all business, without any of the basic human compassion Greg had come to expect in this office. It was hard to fathom he might grow to miss Officer Bob.

  “Yes, but don’t jump to any conclusions. It started out as a—”

  Detective Bowers brought a hand up, stopping Greg midsentence. He nodded to Marco instead, a look of pity on his face.

  “Please tell me you aren’t sleeping with her. If so, that brings you right to the top of the suspect list.”

  “I plead the fifth.”

  “This isn’t a court.”

  Marco jumped up, pounding his fist on the desk.

  “My point exactly. Those dudes got murdered and you’re spending all your time trying to pin it on us. News flash, we didn’t do it!”

  Greg put his hand on Marco’s chest, moving him back toward the door. Detective Bowers stood, jabbing a finger at them.

  “Where do you two think you’re going? I’m nowhere near finished with you yet.”

  Greg pushed Marco out into the hall. He muttered to himself when Greg shut the door. Detective Bowers came around the desk, sizing him up as he approached. He was pretty intimidating for his size, but Greg held his ground.

  “You know damn well we didn’t have anything to do with his.”

  “The only thing I know is that you and your friend have gotten used to making your own rules around here.” Detective Bowers jabbed a thumb into his own chest. Greg did his best not to laugh. “That might have flown with the old Police Chief, but not the new one.”

  “So, it’s official then?”

  Detective Bowers jutted his chin out in a defiant scowl.

  “Soon enough. I’m telling you right now, things will change pretty fast once it happens. Buckle up, buttercup.”

  “Meaning what?”

  “No more special treatment for Greg Salem.”

  Greg shook his head in disbelief. He never had much faith in the BCPD, but at least Officer Bob understood the local community. He gave Detective Bowers and his police academy tough guy act a year at best.

  “I’d be fine without the special treatment as long as I thought you could solve the occasional case without my help.”

  “Funny how you always seem to be at the center of things around here. Speaking of which, we closed the case on Tim Granger.”

  “Who?”

  “That kid you found at the club.”

  “Oh, right. Let me guess…”

  “We ruled it a copycat suicide, inspired by the death of your brother.”

  “Leave my brother out of this.”

  Detective Bowers winked.

  “You probably have your friend Tommy’s book to thank for that.”

  “What if you’re wrong?”

  “I’m not. Now sit down.”

  h

  The rest of the band was already at the rehearsal space when Greg and Marco rolled up. Greg was still reeling from what Detective Bowers told him about the suicide, but there was no time to dwell on it. They still had a lot to get done before leaving on tour tomorrow. And Greg needed to get home at a reasonable hour so he could live up to his promise of spending some time with Kristen and their son.

  Greg parked the El Camino among the usual sea of vans, converted airport shuttle busses, and sticker-covered hatchbacks. They walked over to join Chris and JJ near the entrance. Jerry was back behind the drum set, talking with somebody Greg didn’t recognize. She was short and round, with sleeve tattoos and a constellation of piercings that traveled from her earlobes to her nose, eyebrows, and upper lip. Her hair was cut into a floppy pink Mohawk that looked like a toy horse’s mane.

  He slapped Chris on the back.

  “That our new tour manager?”

  “Not sure. She and Jerry were already there when we showed up.”

&nb
sp; JJ rolled his eyes and shrugged.

  “Seems like they’re old friends.”

  Greg wandered into the room, weaving his way through amplifiers and cymbal stands to reach them. The woman stood up when he arrived, extending a hand to shake. She might be tiny, but looked to be made of solid muscle.

  “Tina Pierce. Dead March hired me to take care of you guys.”

  “Greg Salem.”

  “Oh, I know. I caught your show at Eddie’s.”

  “You should have introduced yourself.”

  “You seemed pretty busy, and I had somewhere else to be later that night. I was telling The German here how great you guys were.”

  Greg looked over at Jerry. The guitar player gave a dismissive shrug, taking a long drag from his cigarette. Whatever he’d been chatting with Tina about, he didn’t seem interested in continuing the conversation.

  Greg turned back to his new tour manager, hoping she’d have more to say.

  “‘The German?’”

  “Sorry. That’s the nickname we gave him on a tour we did together last year. Right?”

  Jerry grunted his assent before wandering off. Tina watched him go, a broad grin on her face.

  “He’s a great musician, but a major control freak when it comes to his gear. A few of the guys on the crew started calling him the ‘Guitar Nazi.’ I eventually convinced them to change it to ‘The German’ since we were mostly playing shows in The Fatherland at the time. No need to piss off the locals when you’re a guest in their country. You know?”

  Greg nodded. He liked her already, and not just because of the colorful info she had about their mysterious guitar player.

  “What do you do when you aren’t managing tours?”

  “I’m an artist, actually. I mean, that’s what I went to school for, although I don’t have much time for it any more. It’s mostly for fun these days.”

  “Cool. Are you a painter?”

  “More like performance art, but enough about me. Let’s meet the rest of the guys.”

  He led her over to where the band congregated, introducing her to Chris, JJ, and Marco in turn. She sized each of them up with a firm handshake.

  “Ready to have some fun?”