Dance Real Slow Read Online Free Page B

remember I was talking to Kyle Freeder about this new television set he got. And all of a sudden I hear this grinding noise—actually, it was more of a scraping. Like a snowplow on hard pavement. After that, the whole wall comes in with the front end of her Dodge.”
    â€œAnd then what happened?”
    â€œBefore or after Rob pissed in his pants?” Frankie says, grinning. “No. Really, I’m not sure. I remember Joyce getting out, real calm-like. At that point I thought she might have had an accident, that something may have gone wrong with the car. But it was pretty quiet.” He lights another cigarette with the stub of his last. “You could hear some pieces of glass falling and things settling, but it was basically quiet. Joyce walked over to Rob, plain as pancakes, and said, ‘I saw you from outside.’ She handed him the keys and said, ‘You can drive it home, when you come to get your things.’ And that’s it. She turned and left—Rob just standing there with the car keys hanging from his finger.”
    I sigh, clipping my pen to the legal pad and returning them both to my briefcase.
    â€œThere were a good many people in here. We’re real lucky no one was hurt.”
    I thank Frankie for his time and slip a dollar underneath my coffee cup. Outside, the sky has started to clear and the air is warming—a final feverish cough before fall. Frankie follows me into the doorway, leaning down to switch off the space heater.
    I fold my suit jacket over the passenger seat and sit still for a few moments, hand atop the stick shift, keys in my lap. Jiggling the stick, I practice sliding it down toward reverse.

Chapter Two
    Calvin is sitting on the front staircase of the Coopers’ house, his head settled deep between his knees. Charlotte is behind him, husking corn and piling it neatly at her side. As I pull in, she stands and taps Calvin on the back of his head before moving down the stairs and onto the dirt and gravel driveway. She comes over to my side of the car and I roll open the window.
    â€œMeg is sick,” she says, crouching, resting her elbows and forearms against the car door. “I don’t think it’s anything serious, but I decided to keep them apart. To be safe.”
    â€œThanks.”
    Calvin creeps in behind Charlotte and then jumps up, growling, his hands forming claws at both sides of his face. A section of orange rind is pressed against his teeth, between his gums, and when he makes his growling noise it starts to slide loose, forcing him to take down one of the claws and adjust his soggy fangs.
    â€œAnd what is this?” I ask, shutting off the engine.“Charlotte, I leave my only son with you and he turns into a lion.”
    Calvin straightens, spitting the orange cuticle into the dirt. “I’m
not
a lion, Dad. I’m a saber-tooth tiger.”
    â€œGeez, Gordon. Don’t you know a saber-tooth tiger when you see one?” says Charlotte.
    â€œHmmm. I guess not. I mean, it’s been a while.”
    Calvin retrieves the dirt-covered orange, but Charlotte takes it away before it hits his lips. He whines, reaching as Charlotte moves it to her chest.
    â€œUnh. I want it.”
    â€œThis one is yucky, Cal. We’ll get you another,” says Charlotte, folding the rind into her breast pocket.
    â€œThat’s okay,” I say. “Maybe tomorrow—if Meg is better. Let’s go, Cal.”
    â€œThis side,” he says, flexing his fingers toward the open window. I know what he means and hang my left arm out for him to grab. When he has a hold, I hoist him in through the window and across my lap to the passenger seat.
    â€œThanks, Charlotte. I’ll call you in the morning.”
    Charlotte stands with her arms crossed low, above her stomach. As we back out she waves, first big and then with only her fingers, for Calvin. Calvin sits up on his knees and waves, too, following Charlotte from