“Hey, I want one of these.”
I sighed, moving away from the door with its promise of baking heat just a few feet outside. Trey was near the back of the store by a rack of leather jackets, holding one up by the collar. It was glossy black, with the Adventure World logo beautifully embroidered across the back panel. A lovely piece of work, and no doubt worth every cent of the three hundred and fifty dollar price tag I could see dangling from the cuff. Except for the fact that it was at least four sizes too big.
Before we’d set out from the house that morning, Trey’s father, Keith Pelzner had handed me a folded wedge of cash with the casual instruction that I should buy the boy whatever he wanted.
“Anything?” I’d asked, riffling my thumb across the edges of the bills and realising just how many of them were hundreds.
He’d shrugged. “Yeah, sure,” he’d said, with the air of someone whose current financial status means that large amounts of money can be frittered on an adolescent whim. But even he had paused at the open doubt in my voice, and grinned at me as he’d added, “Within reason.”
Now, I eyed Trey for a second to see if he was joking, but there was nothing funny in the mulish scowl. Mind you, the braces he wore to coach his teeth into perfect alignment would probably have been enough to wipe the smile off anyone’s face.
“OK,” I said, neutral. “Let’s see it on.”
Trey’s glower deepened, but he slipped the jacket off its hanger and climbed into it. Climbed being the operative word. He was a skinny runt of a kid and both of us would have fitted inside the body and still got the zip done up without having to hold our breath first. His fingers never hit the end of the sleeves until he shoved the cuffs right back. Then the leather bunched up round his thin biceps like a Victorian leg-of-mutton costume.
I was careful not to smile, tilting my head on one side as though giving the jacket serious consideration. “Looks a touch on the big side,” I offered at last.
Trey sighed, rolling his eyes and shifting his feet like that was the most pathetic excuse he’d ever heard for denying him something so vital. “It’s the smallest they’ve got,” he threw back at me, like that settled it.
“Trey, it doesn’t fit you,” I said, all reasonable. “If you really want a leather jacket, let’s look in one of the other—”
The bottom lip came out. The sigh had become a noisy gush. If it wasn’t for the rampant teenage acne that peppered his face like woodchip wallpaper, he would have looked about twelve.
“I – want – this – one,” he said, speaking very slowly and with great scorn. I’d heard him address the Hispanic maids at the house the same way, obviously taking it for granted that their grasp of English wasn’t up to any more than basic cleaning instructions. To my immense disappointment, none of them had ever slapped his legs for it.
I glanced round. Even the assistant was taking notice, I saw, edging out from behind the counter to fuss over straightening a display of polo shirts that was strategically between us and the door. One of the other customers, a youngish good-looking guy in designer Oakley sunglasses and a New York Yankees baseball cap, was two racks down doing a poor job of trying to pretend he wasn’t listening in. I moved in close to Trey, stuck my face into his.
“It – doesn’t – fit – you,” I said between my teeth, matching my delivery to his. “You’re not having it.”
“Dad said you had to buy me anything I wanted.”
“He said within reason,” I shot back, aware that for years I’d heard adults in supermarkets talking to their offspring in just the same tone of tightly controlled but thin patience. I’d never really understood it until now. I tried again. “It drowns you and it makes you look like a prat. Put it back.”
The word “prat” doesn’t have any particular meaning to your average American schoolkid, but he caught the gist and knew I hadn’t meant it as a compliment. For a moment I thought we were going to have a major showdown right there. Either that or he was going to lie full length on the ground and beat his fists into the carpet. Instead he glared at me for a second longer, his face starting to flush pink round his collar. I knew I’d beaten him at that point, but at what cost?
He scrabbled out of the jacket as though he suddenly hated the thing, flicked me one last, insolent, knowing look, and deliberately dumped it at my feet. Then he stepped over it and sauntered out of the store.
I waited just long enough to get a grip on my temper, picked the jacket up again and put it back on its hanger on the rail. The assistant came hurrying over to check she wouldn’t have to make me pay up under the ‘you break it, you bought it’ rule, but fortunately there was no harm done. On my way out even the guy in the designer shades flashed me a commiserative smile.
I found Trey waiting for me outside, sulking, hands jammed deep into the pockets of his baggy knee-length shorts. He could barely bring himself to look at me. I wanted to shake him.
The track of the coaster dipped to within twenty feet directly above our heads and just then a line of cars swooped through another sequence. Their passing was heralded by a howling like wind through canyons. The note rose and fell as they rode the tracks, accompanied by the mock screams and squeals of unreal fear from people who do not know what it is to be truly afraid.
When I looked back at Trey I was relieved to note that most of the pout had left his face. I never thought that having the memory span of a goldfish would turn out to be a virtue in a kid.
“So,” I said, “do you want to look for another jacket?” Hell, why not? After all, it wasn’t my money we were spending.
“Nah,” the little brat shrugged. “I kinda, like, changed my mind about that.” He smiled at me, all glinting metalwork and coloured plastic.
I fell for it long enough to smile back. “OK,” I said, trying to get things back onto at least the semi-friendly footing we’d had before. “What now? You fancy something to eat?”
“Nah, not yet,” he said, and the smile developed harder overtones. He nodded to the track above us. “I think I’d like to ride this one a few more times first.”
Without waiting for a reaction, he turned and made for the entrance to the ride again, leaving me standing there with my own smile fading rapidly.
Oh yeah, smart thinking, Fox. Next time, just keep your mouth shut and buy him the damned jacket.
***
It took another four runs on the wooden coaster before even a fanatic like Trey had had enough. At least by the time I’d endured that, I wasn’t scared of us crashing any more. In fact, I was praying for a serious malfunction of some kind. Anything to make it stop, and I would even have accepted major injury as the trade-off.
Particularly if it happened to my charge.
Maybe I was just getting better at hiding my panic but, when we climbed out after that fourth turn, Trey didn’t immediately head for the repeat rider queue. I knew better than to provoke him by asking if he was done, so I followed him in silence as we wandered away from the timber colossus.
“I’m hungry,” he announced, reproachful, like I was the one who’d been keeping him away from nourishment in order to satisfy my own hedonistic urges.
I resisted an urge of a different kind, one that would have involved swift contact between the back of my hand and the side of his head, and shepherded him into the nearest group of restaurants. According to the menu boards they served a whole range of stuff that sounded surprisingly good for that kind of venue, including taco, Caesar, or garden salads, chili beef, and baked potatoes.