“You would do that? You’d do that for me?”

“Yes, Lily. It wasn’t a hard decision to make.”

She wrapped me in her arms and, rocking us from side to side, started saying, “Oh God. Oh God,” again.

Mary and I watched the three of them cross the front lawn and walk toward the house.

“How old is Lincoln now?”

“He’ll be seventeen in a few weeks.”

“Good Lord, that’s all? He looks a hundred.”

“I know.”

“Good, clean living will do it every time, huh, Max?”

If it had been anyone else, I would have snapped back something mean, but Mary did not need more meanness. Her husband had died two months before and, tough as she appeared, her core was melting down toward pure hopelessness.

“What does his T-shirt say? Am I reading what I think I’m reading?”

“ ‘Fuck Dancing—Let’s Fuck.’ It’s one of his favorites.”

“Oh, Max, you let him walk out of the house in that?”

“No. He walked out of the house wearing something different this morning. Probably had the shirt in his bag and changed at school. We used to fight about these things, but he wised up and does it all different now. Diversionary tactics; the art of the end run. Never, ever argue, but if you don’t like what’s said, figure out a detour around that lets you do exactly what you want. Our son is an expert sneak.”

“And the leather jacket is Elvis Packard?”

“Right. The girl is Little White.”

“Why does that name sound so sinister? She looks like a woodpecker. What does her shirt say?”

“ ‘Nine Inch Nails.’ That’s a rock group, in case you don’t have their album.”

“I thought it was a manicurist.”

The door opened and the three clomped in. They all wore oversized black combat boots that laced halfway up their shins. The rest of the uniform consisted of tattered jeans and T-shirts. Although it was cold outside, Elvis was the only one wearing a jacket. It was covered with oversized safety pins, chains, and buttons that said things like “You Disgust Me.”

They shadowed through the room, making no eye contact, and would have passed without a word if I hadn’t spoken. “Lincoln! Mary’s here. Can’t you even say hello?”

“Hello, Mary,” he said in a monotone, then made an exaggerated face at me as if to say, “Okay, are you satisfied?” As one, the gang smirked and kept going. A few moments later a door slammed at the back of the house.

“What a bunch of criminals! How do you live with it? Are they here every day?”

“Just about. They skulk into his room, lock the door, and turn on Carcass. Have you ever heard of Carcass?”

“I take it that’s a rock group too?”

“Yes. Want to hear some of their song titles?” I reached for my wallet and pulled out the small pad I carry to write notes on possible ideas for “Paper Clip.” “Here it is. ‘Crepitating Bowel Erosion.’ ‘Reek of Putrefaction’—”

“Delicious. Hey, they’re not ‘Wake Up, Little Susie,’ but don’t kids always have their own music? We did. What one generation adores, the next thinks is stupid.”

“Mary, for Christ’s sake, ‘Crepitating Bowel Erosion’ ?”

“You got a point. What else do you think they do in there? Whose girlfriend is she?”

“Lincoln told me both of them do her, but ‘none of us are really into fucking, ya know? So it’s just a kinda thing we do in between things, ya know?’”

“Wow, he said that? Times have changed, huh, Max? We spent half our lives thinking about sex. You think that’s true, or was he only trying to impress you?”

“He doesn’t want to impress me. Or anyone. He wants to lie on his bed and listen to Carcass.”

“And do drugs.”

We looked at each other. I chewed the insides of my cheeks. “What did you find, Mary?”

“Names and places. I found what you expected.”

“And?”

“And he does lots of drugs. The girl usually buys them because she’s friendly with a guy in an East L.A. gang who deals. By the way, her human being name is Ruth Burdette. She got it because she was the girlfriend of a guy in a gang called the Little Fish. When you’ve screwed a Fish, you get to be called a Little.”

The fact Little White had a real name and history surprised me almost more than the fact my son took drugs.

“As soon as Lily and I got married, we started talking to Lincoln about drugs. He was always so afraid of them. A couple of times I remember he actually had nightmares where bad guys were chasing him around with giant hypodermic needles. What kind of stuff is he doing?”

“Cocaine when they have money, crack when they don’t.”

“Lily will go mad. She refuses to accept this. She only thinks he’s going through his rebellious period.”

“You’ve got to change that. Get her to accept it and work on the problem with you. Otherwise the kid will die. Simple as that. Get some counseling, maybe check him into a drug program—”

“You sound like a public health pamphlet. Believe me, it’s not so easy. He hates us, Mary. You don’t understand. Anything we do, say, or think, he gets a look on his face of pure revulsion. We’re the enemy. Us with our clean sheets, paid bills, cable TV… We can do nothing right in his eyes. Whatever we give him he assumes is rightfully his, but whatever we tell him he disregards.”

“So he’s an ungrateful little shit. He’s still under age. Stick his ass in a rehab center and too bad if he doesn’t like it.” She lit a cigarette and flicked the match into the fireplace. “What the hell happened to that boy? He was the most wonderful child. Funny, charming… Remember how Frank loved him? You guys did everything right. He was loved, you gave him the right amount of discipline. Read to him, took him places… What happened?”

“He grew up. When she admits to anything being wrong, Lily thinks it might be partly due to Greer.”

“No way! I don’t believe that. Why would a little sister turn him into the Creature from the Black Lagoon? Knowing you two, you probably bent over backward to give each kid their share of love. Plus the fact Greer adores him. He likes her, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, I think so. He’s nice and gentle to her. They actually have whole conversations and once in a while he’ll even help with her homework. He seemed to be happy when Lily got pregnant. And you’re right—we spent a lot of time making sure each got their share, which wasn’t easy in the beginning because Greer was such a handful. You remember.”

“I sure do! If you’d asked me then, I’d have picked Greer to grow up and look like that. She was a large pain in the ass.”

“Yes, but look at her now. It’s like the house is partitioned between Us and Them. Aliens and earthlings. Lily, Greer, and I on one side”—I jerked a thumb toward Lincoln’s room—“the Three Horsemen of the Apocalypse on the other.”

“What do you think they do in there? I mean, besides not screwing and listening to Car Crash.”

“Carcass. They listen to music and watch horror movies. Every once in a while you hear a scream and other goofy sounds from those films.”

“Yeah, but what else? Didn’t you ever look through the keyhole or… you know?”

“I went in there once when Lincoln forgot to lock the door. That’s another thing. He put a lock on the door that could keep an elephant out. The only one of us he lets in is Greer.”

“What did you see?”

“That’s what’s strange; the place was spotless. He has no pictures on the walls, the bed was made without one wrinkle, carpets swept… It reminded me of a Marine barracks. It was too cleeean. Creepy clean.”

“That doesn’t fit, does it?”

I was about to answer when I saw Greer’s school van stop in front of the house. She got out, immediately dropped her school bag, bent over, and patted her fanny with both hands for the benefit of someone inside the van. Then she wiggled it, picked up her bag, and walked toward the house without once turning around to see if her performance had had the desired effect.