Free Day One by Bill Cameron Page A

by other graffiti, drawn with a fat black marker.
    “I was hoping you could clear something up for me.”
    “Don’t know nothing about what happened this morning. Dad flips out, bang bang, and I run. That’s it.”
    “I’m more interested in Eager.”
    His face goes carefully blank. “Eager.”
    “Yeah. Eager.”
    “I don’t know what to tell you.”
    “He was there this morning.”
    “So were like a million other people.”
    “I’m only interested in one. What was he doing there?”
    “Like I give two shits what Eager does.”
    “How many shits you give when he tagged your house a few months ago?”
    That catches him off guard, but he recovers quickly. “That was my dad’s thing, not mine.” Then he smirks. “He thought you were gonna go all Magnum, PI for him.”
    “He didn’t need me. He had you.”
    Jase looks back toward Push, who is skating in lazy circles close by and not paying obvious attention to anything.
    “Why didn’t you tell your father that was Eager’s tag?”
    “If he’s so out of it he can’t figure out EGR, why should I care? Not my problem.”
    “Wasn’t it you out there scrubbing it off?”
    A shadow passes over his eyes. “So fucking what?”
    “What did Luellen say about it?”
    “Nothing. I don’t know.”
    “Then what did Eager say about it?”
    “The dude moved away.”
    “His mother may have moved, but he stuck around. Which you know. I’ve seen you two running around together since she left.”
    He throws his hands out, shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Eyes twitching, refusing to look back at me. I’m boring him, or making him nervous. I try a new tack.
    “Didn’t you two try out for that Gus Van Sant movie together, the one they filmed here at the park? That was after his mom left.”
    “My dad wouldn’t let me, even though it was just extras. Skaters. I don’t know if Eager tried out, but it wouldn’t matter anyway. He’s not that good.”
    “He seems pretty good to me.”
    “He’s a poser. Got no business skating here, that’s for sure.”
    “But I guess he’s good enough when you want to scam money at the off-ramp.”
    He shakes his head. “That was a long time ago, man. We were never friends or anything. He just hung around.”
    “Why did he hang around if you were such not-friends?”
    “I don’t know, man. Maybe because he has a thing for my stepmom.”
    “A thing?” I try to keep the sudden interest out of my voice.
    “I guess it makes sense. She’s hot enough to give a squeaker like Eager wood.”
    It unnerves me a bit to hear Jase speak of his stepmother like this. To me, Luellen is the mom of the little boy who calls me Mister Skin, whose plants I’ve watered during Bronstein family excursions. Still, she possesses a beguiling self-assurance; I can see why Eager would be drawn to her. Her country-girl loveliness and finely turned figure are only a part of it.
    “Did she reciprocate?”
    “You mean, does she like him back?”
    “Yeah.”
    “She was nice to him, but she’s nice to everyone.”
    “Is that why he tagged your house? Because of how he felt about Luellen?”
    “How should I know? We never talked about stuff like that. Whatever he thought about Lu was between him and his right hand.”
    The resonating whir of skateboard wheels under the bridge seems to increase in pitch. Jase takes a half step back, finds himself up against the fence. His eyes tell me he thinks I’m going to hit him. I’m tempted. Probably get my ass kicked for my trouble though, if not by Jase then by the other skaters. Burnside Skatepark is not a place that tolerates shit from outsiders, and I doubt I can count on Push to help me if the situation blows up. He might enjoy playing the tough for me with a sloppy tub of attitude like Jase Bronstein, but no more than that. Still, I lower my brow, move a step in onJase and ball my fists at my side. There’s more I want to know, and I figure I might as well press while I’ve got him