The Butcher's Granddaughter Read Free Page A

gonna do something really stupid, you know? I mean, I got a problem, and...” His words trailed off to a whisper and he twitched the gun at the bed.
    He was talking about Song like she wasn’t even in the room, which scared her back into the tennis game between his face and the gun. He hadn’t even mentioned Sheff, but hadn’t shot him either, so I figured he was safe.
    “I’ve been sitting here trying to decide whether to kill her or not,” he continued. “But, like, not as if she was a person—like she was a problem. I mean, you know me, man. I got a problem, I get it out of the way.” He grew quiet for a moment, then gazed emptily between his shoes and said, “You think killing her is the best thing?”
    Song’s facial expression was split between the relief she felt because he was at least talking now, and the realization that she was essentially sitting on her deathbed. The academic tone of the conversation Jay and I were having could not be helping any, either.
    Jay was still looking at the floor. From his voice I could tell his mind was calm, and he was in control. He was figuring all of this out as best he knew how. He was being careful, and therefore, slow. He didn’t seem to be aware of the anxiety this was causing. I took a relatively minor chance and said, “Sheff, get dressed.”
    Shefflooked at me like I had told him to cut off his left foot. I moved my chin enough to indicate the door behind me. He moved so slowly at first that I thought he was going to pass out. Jay didn’t even lift his head. Once Sheff got the message that he wasn’t going to get shot, he dressed so fast he wound up with his shirt on backwards and inside-out. He paused outside the door and said, “I owe you...big.”
    “That’s right,” I said under my breath. “You do.”
    His shoes whispered down the stairs and when the click of the big entrance door closing echoed up the stairwell, I decided to play it out.
    “You know,” I said casually, “you could kill her.”
    Song shot her eyes at me and let out a high squeak. Jay raised his head and waited for me to go on, like I had made the decision for him and he was waiting for me to tell him what to do next.
    “Think about it. Nobody knows who she is. Just another eighteen-year-old in the big city. She’s a Jane Doe. Got no home but this one, and her name’s not on the lease, right? She may split the rent, but there’s no record of that. You ace her, toss the body a couple blocks away in a liquor store dumpster, and she might as well have died in another country. No I.D., nothing. Beauty and the unknown beast.”
    Song started sniveling, very quietly and very high.
    “After all,” I continued, “you’re trying to say something with that gun, now, aren’t you? Something to Naomi here?”
    He looked puzzled. “Yeah, I guess so.”
    “You think Naomi has anything to say to you?”
    He hadn’t thought of that one. He didn’t move or speak.
    I turned to her. “Do you, Naomi?”
    She didn’t know whether to talk or not. Her mouth moved for a minute, but when nothing came out she shut it.
    “Look honey,” I said, “Jay’s not the fuckup here. He’s not gonna go first.”
    At that Song started crying, but I couldn’t decide if it was fear or grief or both. I waited a second and then said, “Talk, Naomi.”
    She shook her head as her body racked with sobs.
    “Talk!” I yelled. I crossed the twenty feet to the bed in three strides and grabbed her shoulder, squeezing hard. Jay watched intently but otherwise didn’t move. “You’re going to start with ‘I’m sorry,’” I said firmly. “And then you’re going to tell him more. You know what I mean,” I said, pulling her over to me and whispering, “Song.”
    Her eyes got wide, and then the apology flooded out of her. It was insincere, but it was exactly what Jay needed to hear.
    “I’m sorry,” she coughed, “but this is the first night, Jay. The only night, I swear to God. Maybe I’m not