Free The Heartbreak Lounge by Wallace Stroby

face. She was looking straight ahead.
    â€œJohnny.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œPlease don’t come back here.”
    He looked at her.
    â€œIf you want me to come to wherever you’re staying, do things for you, I’ll do it. But please don’t come back here.”
    â€œYou afraid I’ll run into your boyfriend?”
    â€œPlease, Johnny.”
    He got out of the car, shut the door, leaned slightly through the window, his hands on the lip.
    â€œFair enough,” he said. “But you should know this too. If she is around here, if you know where she is and you’re not telling me, the last thing you want to do is tell her about this conversation, give her the chance to go somewhere else. If you do that and I find out about it—and I will—I’ll hold you responsible. If she calls you, if you hear from her at all, the first thing you do is call that number, right?”
    She didn’t answer, didn’t look at him.
    â€œI keep my promises, Sherry. I pay my debts. Help me out with this and you’ll be glad you did. But at some point you’re going to have to choose a side, one way or another. It can’t be helped. So choose carefully.”
    He looked at her, half-lit in shadow, saw she was sobbing softly, trying to hide it from him.
    â€œYou’re thinking it’s not fair,” he said. “And you’re right. But it’s just the way it is. One side or the other.”
    He took his hands away.
    â€œSafe home, Sherry,” he said. “I’ll see you soon.”

7
    When Ray answered the phone, Harry said, “I feel bad.”
    â€œYou should.”
    Harry looked out the kitchen window to the backyard. The willows moved in the wind, sunlight glinting off the creek beyond.
    â€œI want to try to reach her.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI was out of line. I guess I need to tell her that.”
    â€œCall. You still have that cell number, right?”
    â€œI tried. Three times today. The first time she answered, hung up on me. The second and third times that guy’s voice mail picked up. I left a message with my phone number. No response.”
    â€œSo what do you want me to do?”
    â€œShe leave you any other numbers? An address? Anything?”
    â€œNo. She called that first time, I talked to her and she gave me that cell number. That’s how I called her back. Never got any further than that, thanks to you.”
    â€œSo you don’t know where she’s living? Or who picked her up? Or whose cell that is?”
    â€œAll I know is what I told you.”
    â€œYour building still have that security camera outside? At the entrance?”
    â€œWhat about it?”
    â€œCould be it got the license number of the car she drove away in. You said it was a Blazer?”
    â€œYeah, a Blazer. I’m not sure about the camera. I’d have to check.”

    â€œAnd you still have that Red Line to DMV, right? If you can read the plates on the tape, we can find out who it’s registered to, where. It’s a lead.”
    â€œMaybe you should consider a career in law enforcement.”
    â€œNo, thanks. Too much politics.”
    â€œI’ll see what I can find out. What prompted this change of heart?”
    â€œLike I said, I was out of line. You were right. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have sent her off like that. And maybe there’s something we can do to help after all.”
    â€œSo, how long have you been dealing with this multiple personality disorder?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œSometimes I feel like I need a psychic to predict your moods. They don’t have any logical progression.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œYou home?”
    â€œYeah.”
    â€œI’ll let you know if I come up with anything,” Ray said and hung up.
    There was a fifty-pound bag of birdseed in a black plastic container near the refrigerator. He got the sawed-off plastic jug, scooped some up. He opened