First Drop (2 page)

“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.

I should have guessed that a fifteen-year-old would despise anything not stuffed with E-numbers and MSG.

“Oh gross,” he whinged. “I want proper food.”

Proper food, it turned out, was burger and fries which we found at one of the smaller concession stands. At least it was warmer sitting out there at the benches provided. You just had to fend off the bold sidlings of the local scavenging bird population. If you chewed with your mouth open they’d practically have your food straight off your tongue. Trey was in constant danger of losing his lunch.

The kid shovelled down his meal doused in ketchup to equal proportions, pushing the lettuce and tomato garnish to the side of his plate like he’d found a slug in it.

Still, it was nice to sit down somewhere that didn’t try to buck you out of your seat. Even in the shade of an awning the day had a bottomless warmth to it that permeated right down to your bones. I’d just spent a cold winter being reminded about all the bones of mine I’d previously broken. Being here was a luxury, I told myself, regardless of having to look after an obnoxious oik like Trey.

The kid finished his burger, slurped the last of his drink up through the straw and got to his feet, dragging the crumpled park map out of his pocket.

“We gotta go ride Demon next,” he decided.

Great. Now we have fear
and
indigestion, too.

I got up and took my time over collecting the debris of our meal and sliding it into one of the nearby bins, trying to give my food some time to go down before I had to stomach another vomit-inducing piece of so-called entertainment. I’d never been on a rollercoaster of any description before today. If, when this assignment in Florida was over I never got on another as long as I lived, it would still be too soon.

Nevertheless, it went with the territory. When I’d agreed to an alternative career in close protection, to become a bodyguard, I’d agreed to take discomfort along with reward and danger.

Just my luck that I’d got landed with Trey.

***

The Demon coaster was across the other side of the park. Scarlet-painted bits of its twisted superstructure were visible over the tops of the trees as we drew nearer. It looked immense and tangled, with no obvious sense of direction. Signs we passed informed us that Demon was newer, higher, and faster than anything we’d ridden so far. I was amazed Trey hadn’t headed straight for it, and said so.

He shrugged. “It’s a steelie,” he said, dismissive.

“A what?”

“A steel coaster, not a wooden one. They’re OK, I s’pose, but woodies rule. They’re, like, awesome.”

I tried not to think about the ride quality of something that didn’t live up to the bone-shaker we’d spent half the morning on.

The queue line for Demon was certainly no shorter. We weaved our way in guided by a maze of stainless steel barriers. If you touched them your hands came away sticky with the sweat from a thousand nervous palms. I’m not sure mine were any drier.

As we moved deeper in we came to a split in the path, manned by a young attendant who only had a couple of years on Trey at most.

“Singles to your left,” he said as we approached.

Trey started to go left. I caught his arm.

“Hang on a moment, what does that mean?”

He tried to shake me loose. “If you go in the singles line it means you get on the ride faster ‘cos they use you to, like, fill up the empty seats.”

“No way,” I muttered, steering him off to the right. “We’d rather go on together, thanks,” I told the attendant, who shrugged and pointed us wordlessly in the other direction, his attention already lost.

As we joined the end of the long, shuffling line Trey was back to sulking again. “Oh man,” he complained, “anyone would think you were my
mother
.”

I didn’t know what had happened to Mrs Pelzner. She could have been off visiting her folks, spending her divorce settlement, or dead. It was difficult to respond to Trey’s jibe without knowing which, so I let it pass.

“Look, Trey,” I said, making a valiant stab at tolerance again. “The company your dad works for has hired me to keep you safe. It’s hard enough doing that on a bloody rollercoaster to begin with, but there’s no way I can do my job if we don’t stick together. You don’t have to like it,” I added, as he opened his mouth to protest, “but that’s the way it is, so learn to live with it.”

Yeah, right
, his expression said, but he didn’t speak to me again as we shuffled our way to the front of the queue line.

I had to admit, privately, that the singles route did seem to be moving much faster. I swear I saw one kid go round twice in the time it took us to get there.

I even saw the good-looking guy again who’d been in the wooden coaster gift store. I only spotted him because one of the attendants held the car back while she made him take off his hat and sunglasses. So this one really was going to turn you upside down and shake the change out of your pockets.

The guy was a little sheepish to be singled out for censure. He looked around as though hoping no-one else had noticed. And when it was uncovered like that I couldn’t help getting the feeling that I knew his face from somewhere.

I only had a moment’s glimpse before the car was released and clanked its way up the first lift hill. After what seemed like an eternity, the clanking stopped, there was a pause, and then the usual screaming started.

They were running two sets of cars on this ride, so it wasn’t long before the last run was in and emptying. I was worrying too much about what was coming next to bother racking my memory for where I might possibly have known the Oakley guy from. As the attendant checked the overhead harness was down securely over my shoulders and buckled to the seat between my legs, I had other things to occupy my mind.

I was in for a big surprise.

After the woodies that had been my introduction to coasters, the steelie was a revelation. It was blisteringly quick, yes, but it was smooth the way a sports bike ridden hard on an open road is smooth. It inverted us so many times I lost all comprehension of which way was ground and which was sky, but for the first time I began to see what all the fuss was about.

“Now
that
,” I said when it was over, “is more like it!”

Trey immediately lost all interest in further turns on Demon. He hurried out along the ride exit, his amusement now blighted by my unexpected pleasure. I realised belatedly that all I would have had to do to curtail my earlier torment would have been to make a show of enjoying it. At that moment I could cheerfully have strangled him.

I went after the kid, determined not to scurry to match his petulant pace. Outside I spotted him over by some shops, perched on a low concrete wall with his arms folded and shoulders hunched. He was too cross even to put on an act in front of the two teenage girls who were sitting next to him. As I walked across the open area between us, I saw the guy from the coaster again out of the corner of my eye, now back in his Oakleys and his Yankees cap.