Page 4 of The Damage Man

Cyrus says, quietly, “Wait.”

“If you think I’m getting off this couch, you’re seriously smoking Sonora Desert toads,” says Joey, now in full rattle. “I just told you! I’m wiped out. Not that you’d know anything about that ’cuz, you know, human emotion.”

Evan says, “Uh-huh.”

Cyrus: “Hang on, guy. Just … hang on.”

“We can’t all just go into a yoga studio and, like, balance on our pinkie finger and then garrote a human trafficker in the bathroom and just go on with our day.”

Cyrus says, “Wait!”

Evan pauses.

Joey: “X? X? Are you even listening to me?”

Cyrus says, “I’ll give you the real shit.”

Evan hangs up.

“Ivan,” Cyrus says. “Not Joe, Ivan. That’s it. I don’t have an address, I swear. Why would I? Just a number. Here. Here. It’s in my phone. I swear.” He waggles a flip phone at Evan.

Evan thumbs through. Sure enough, the only outgoing and incoming in the call log are from the same number, conveniently labeled IVAN.

“Just … don’t tell him you got it from me.”

“What are you planning to do?” Rusty asks Evan from behind. “I mean, this is out of control.”

Evan tosses the phone back into Cyrus’s lap. “Did you tell Ivan you were meeting Rusty?”

“No. Was seeing if he brought cash first.”

“If Ivan contacts you, tell him you crashed your car and you’re in the hospital.” Evan holds Cyrus’s driver’s license in front of his face, showing off the address, along with the snapped portrait on the RoamZone. “If you say anything else, I will know. I will make this incident feel like a fond memory.”

“I get it, guy. I get it, okay?”

Evan flicks the license at Cyrus’s face, bouncing it off his broken nose so he recoils in pain. “Call 911.”

“Can’t afford an ambulance and all that shit.”

“Cedars is four minutes away. Take a bus.”

More crunching glass from behind them. “My friend, look, I haff the Dash vodka from Texas! Very rare. Made from grape.”

“Raisin,” Evan says.

“Good price for you.”

Evan rises. “How much?”

“Thirty dollar! Supergreat price!”

Cyrus tilts over again and lies on his side, moaning.

“What now?” Rusty says. “What are we gonna do now?”

Evan pulls out the cash, hands it to the clerk, takes the bottle of Dash, and starts back toward his truck. “Follow me.”

Fathers and sons. Sons and fathers.