BLACK in the Box Read Online Free Page B

of a gunshot. Black moved to the cat carrier, where Mugsy was watching him like Black was going to put him in the microwave. Black hefted the box with a grunt. “Christ. You weigh as much as a cement sack, you porker.”
    Mugsy glared at him morosely and then closed his eyes, his repose more valuable than interacting with the idiot who occasionally fed him. Black grabbed his keys, sniffed one armpit, shrugged, and made for the front door. “She’ll get over it,” he muttered to himself, but he felt unsure. They’d been fighting more and more lately, and this was the culmination of several bitter disagreements that were in reality Sylvia’s impatience with his reluctance to propose to her. Neither of them wanted to directly tackle the issue, resulting in a spiral of passive-aggressive spats over tangential quibbles. “She will,” he repeated and set off down the stairs to where his car was parked, ignoring the sense of unease in the pit of his stomach as he strode, cat carrier in hand, the stiff breeze from the east tugging at his fedora.
     

Chapter 6
    Black negotiated the route to the freeway in a snarl of traffic, the bumper-to-bumper, rush-hour gridlock in the City of Angels something every thinking person dreaded. His phone chimed as he sat idling at yet another light, and he moaned slightly when he saw the caller ID.
    He tapped his earpiece to life. “Hi, Mom.”
    “Artemus, how many times do I have to remind you it’s Spring?”
    “Right. Hi, Spring. What’s up?”
    “How did you know it was me?”
    “Your number comes on the display, Mom. I mean, Spring.”
    “Whatever will they think of next?”
    “You don’t have caller ID?”
    “We still have that phone your father bought, what, sixteen years ago.”
    Black sighed. “What’s going on?”
    “I called over at your house, but you weren’t there. Sylvia and I had a nice chat.” She paused, and Black’s heart sank. “She doesn’t sound happy.”
    “Yes, well, sometimes people get that way around the holidays.”
    “She says all you do is work.”
    “We’ll figure it out. Why were you calling?”
    “You know, you should really consider meditating – it’s very calming. Oh, and Chakra says he can recommend some books on Tantric sex. In case that’s the problem. It transformed our life.”
    “I don’t want to hear about it.”
    “Really! It’s amazing.”
    “And you were calling because…?”
    “What?”
    Black closed his eyes and focused on remaining calm. “I asked why you were calling.”
    “Oh, not you. It’s Chakra. He wants to talk to you.”
    “Mom…”
    “Please. It’s Spring.”
    Black cringed as his mother dropped the phone, the pop as loud as a firecracker in his earpiece. Black’s father came on the line, sounding like a bad Donald Sutherland imitation, as always.
    “Can you hear me?” he asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Spring, I don’t know if he can hear me. The phone might be broken,” Chakra called out.
    “Oh, honey. I hope not,” Spring said. The line rustled as the phone changed hands. “Hello?” It was his mom again.
    “Yes, Spring. I can hear you fine. Why are you calling?”
    “Oh, good. Chakra, you just have to turn the volume up some. It’s not broken. Here,” she said, again not to Black.
    “Hello?” his father’s voice rang out.
    “Hi…Chakra. What’s up?”
    “He can hear me,” his dad said to Spring.
    “That’s wonderful, dear,” his mom replied. Black wondered whether he could simply hang up and ignore when they called back, but decided that with Christmas coming, he could afford to be patient with them.
    Even if he was simmering with rage at the sound of their voices.
    “Artemus?” It was his father again.
    “Chakra. Merry Christmas.”
    “Oh, we don’t celebrate that. Don’t you remember?”
    “That’s right.” A memory of a Christmas morning from his youth flooded his awareness: of him staring out the window at other kids playing with their new toys, his parents choosing