Watching The Wheels

Luna
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"You sure you're all right?"

"Sure," Josh said, shielding his eyes as they walked out of the hotel lobby and into the bright morning. "I just want to get the hell out of Baltimore."

"I'm sorry it didn't go better." Sam blinked at the sunlight.

"It went fine." Josh hunched his shoulders. "It cured me of trying to help people that don't want my help."

"Josh--"

"Let's not talk about it." He walked down the sidewalk to his car. "Let's just go."

"Yeah." Sam followed him, circling to get in on the passenger side.

Josh pulled his door shut. He sat still for a long moment, then pounded his fist on the steering wheel. "Damn it!"

"Josh, what--"

"I just...." He sighed heavily and tipped his head back against the headrest. "I can't. You want to drive?"

"Sure."

They switched places, and Josh handed Sam the keys.

"So do you want to stop and get something to eat on the way?" Sam ventured, easing into traffic. "That coffee place we went to yesterday looked like they had good bagels."

"I'm not hungry, but if you want to stop, that's cool."

"No, I'm fine. I was just asking."

"You're starving, huh?" Josh guessed.

"I might start gnawing my own arm in a few minutes," Sam admitted.

Josh considered this for a long moment. "I tell you what. You can go eat."

"I can? Yes!"

"If you drop me off."

"Where?" Sam glanced at him from the corner of his eye. "The Great Blacks In Wax Museum?"

"Yeah. You caught me. And then I'm going up the Bromo-Seltzer tower."

Sam chuckled. "Where to?"

"Canton."

"What's in--"

"Shannon's place," Josh said. "I should see her. She was Charlie's girlfriend a long time, and she's been my friend a long time."

"This has to have been hard on her."

"I can't imagine how it could've been easy."

"Did you call her before we left?" Sam asked, stopping at a red light.

"No. Do you think I should have?"


* * *


"Joshua!" Shannon Reiter dashed barefoot down the stoop and hugged him tightly. "You should have called, you freak!"

He beamed and placed his hands on her shoulders. "You look good."

"Are you crazy?" She ran a hand through her curly hair. "I'm a mess. You, on the other hand -- oh, Josh, the last time I saw you. How are you?"

"I'm fine."

She studied his face. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Josh cocked his head toward the car as Sam emerged from it. "I brought this guy."

"Hey, Sammy." She smiled at him. "I saw you on TV a couple weeks ago. I couldn't believe it."

He raised his hand and gave her a little wave. "We've hit the big time."

"I could still beat you both at Scrabble, I bet."

"Yeah." Sam jangled the keys in his hand. "I'm going to take off."

"You're not staying?"

"He's got a hankering for some greasy diner food," Josh explained.

"Hankering?" Shannon repeated doubtfully.

Josh shrugged. "Yeah, I really don't want to know where that came from."

"I'll be back in a couple hours," Sam said. "Take care."

He drove away. As they walked inside, Shannon smacked Josh lightly on the arm. "That's for not coming to see me sooner."

"I should have. I'm sorry."

"No, I know you're busy." She led him up the stairs to her apartment, and unlocked her front door. "I have to warn you, the place looks like hell."

"You know me," he deadpanned. "I'm a neat freak."

"Yeah." She moved some books off the couch and sat down. "So. I guess Charlie told you."

"He told me," Josh confirmed, sitting beside her. "God, Shannon, I can't believe--"

"Neither could I. I live with him, Josh." She made a face. "Lived. Lived with him. Why didn't I figure it out sooner?"

"He didn't want you to know."

"I should have known anyway."

"There was no way--"

"I should have known."

"How'd you find out?" Josh asked tentatively.

"He -- he was staying up nights, when he wasn't working." She picked up a mug and turned it around in her hands. "I'd come home, and we'd go to bed, and I'd drift off and then I'd wake up in the middle of the night, and he would never be there with me. He'd be making a snack, or watching TV, or reading, but he'd never be asleep."

Josh said nothing, but he edged closer to her.

"One night," Shannon continued hesitantly, "I drank a lot of coffee at work. We -- we made love, and then a couple hours later he got up and I got up, and--" She swallowed. "He was in here, leaning over the table. He took out a plastic baggie and a razorblade, and he cut his lines and he snorted them."

"Oh, Shannon." He reached for her hand.

Her eyes filled with tears. "I told him he had to get out. Maybe that was the wrong thing to do. I just threw his clothes in a bag and told him to leave. He didn't argue. He just went. He was doing drugs off my coffee table, and I had to. I had to make him go."

She started sobbing. Josh drew her close and let her cry it out on his shoulder. After a few minutes, she pulled away and took a sip of her coffee.

"This is cold," she said. "Should I make some fresh?"

"You don't have to."

She stood up anyway and wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. "I love him."

He followed her into the kitchen. "I know."


* * *


Sam found a spot to park, stretched as he got out of the car, and walked along Thames Street. He stopped at the Daily Grind for coffee and an English muffin, and took them outside, feeling the breeze off the harbor. He watched people come and go from the police station down the block, and kept an eye on the door of the Waterfront.

He wondered what he was missing at work. It was strange, being out of the office on a Monday, and he kept resisting the urge to pull out his cell phone. He contented himself with reading the Baltimore Sun, searching for feedback on the President's latest speech.

"What's a girl like you doing in a place like this?"

Sam looked up. "Trout fishing, Charlie. I was waiting to see if you'd show up."

Charles pulled out the chair opposite him. "Mind if I sit down?"

"It's still a free country."

"In spite of your best efforts to the contrary?"

"Something like that."

Charles dropped into the seat. "I thought you'd have swept out of town by now."

"Josh had some errands to run."

"And you're here because?"

"Because I've known you as long as I've known him, and I have the right to say something."

Charles shook his head. "You really don't, Sam. I'm his cousin, and I'm his problem. Except that I'm not either of your problem, because I'm a grown man."

"You came to the White House. You made it his problem."

"And if he has a problem, it's yours too?"

"Maybe."

"That doesn't sound codependent to you?" Charles scoffed.

Sam set his jaw and reached for the newspaper. "It's a thing friends do."

"I have to go open the bar and set up before lunch." Charles drummed his fingertips on the table. Sam didn't say anything, so he stood up. He took a few steps down the sidewalk and turned back. "Sammy!"

He looked over the top of his paper. "What?"

"You coming?"

Sam paused, then nodded. He picked up his coffee cup and followed Charles down the street.


* * *


"So tell me about work," Shannon said, as she handed Josh a mug of coffee.

"Thanks. It's great. It's hard and it's crazy, but..."

"It's what you've always wanted to do," she said.

"Yeah." Josh grinned. "The other day, we had a meeting with this Senator from Louisiana. Louis Woliver. He's... big. Big and loud. We're making him the head of the EPA. Anyway, he starts waxing poetic on the virtues of the Bayou, and he drapes an arm around Sam's shoulders, and he says, 'You know, alligators are very gentle lovers, Seaborn'."

Shannon laughed. "I can just see his face. Did he turn purple?"

"It was more of a crimson, like a stoplight. My assistant says -- I've told you about Donna, right?"

"I met her in the hospital. She's really sweet."

"Yeah. She says it was sexual harassment, and Sam doesn't have to take it."

"That's priceless." Shannon leaned against the counter, and her smile faded suddenly. "When Charlie wouldn't come down with me -- I thought he had a thing about hospitals."

"I guess he didn't want a doctor looking at him too closely."

"Did he call you?"

Josh shook his head. "He came to see me. At work."

"Are you kidding me?" She rolled her eyes. "That's ridiculous. That's so incredibly insensitive. When did he get this way?"

"In an after-school special, they'd say it wasn't him doing it, it was the drugs."

"In an after-school special, everything would have worked out by the end of two hours. This isn't going to be like that."

He took a deep breath. "No."

"Do you think there's anything we can do?"

"God, I don't know. He doesn't want to talk to me." Josh furrowed his brow. "He doesn't want us to do anything."

"And in the after-school specials they say you have to want help before you can be helped."

"They say that in real life too."

"Yeah." Shannon hugged herself. "I want him to stop."

"Me too."

"I love him."

"Me too." Josh sipped his coffee. "He screwed us over, Shannon."

"I know. I want to be mad at him. I am mad at him, but mostly I just want him to stop."

He considered this for a long moment. "Me too."


* * *


"It's a nice place," Charles said, as he keyed open the front door.

"It seemed that way last night." Sam looked around. "Kind of quiet."

"Yeah. We get a handful of local drunks a night, but mostly it's cops. I think the old owners were cops, but they sold it. They're still in here a lot, though."

"That doesn't bother you?"

"What? The cops? No, they're a nice crowd. Decent people."

"I'm sure they think the same thing about you."

"Actually, they do." Charles went behind the bar. "Have a seat."

Sam eased himself onto a stool. "So, what, you come here at noon, you hang out with cops all night, and then you go live in a van down by the river?"

"Did you just come around to take cheap shots at me? Because, you know, much as I enjoy your wit, I am technically on the clock here."

"No."

Charles placed his hands flat on the bar and leaned forward, looking Sam in the eyes. "Speak your piece."

"You went to college with me," Sam said.

"I went to college with you," Charles agreed. "I'm not that smart, Sam. My grandfather bought my way in."

"You were smart enough."

"Why do I feel like I've heard this before?"

"Why do I feel like it isn't getting through?" Sam crossed his arms. "Now you're a cokehead."

"That's very astute."

"God, stop with the snappy answers."

"You first."

Sam gritted his teeth. "I did it once."

"You?" Charles chuckled. "The hot-shot golden boy lawyer? Wait a minute. That sounds about right. Let me guess, it was the 80s."

"Yeah," Sam admitted grudgingly. "It was at a Christmas party, the year I was at Dewey-Ballantine. I woke up on the floor of the office with the worst headache I'd ever had."

"Amateur."

"I'm opening up to you here, Ellis." Sam smiled weakly.

Charles rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "I felt like that the first couple of times, too."

"Then why the hell--"

"I liked it."

"You liked it."

"Is that so hard to understand?"

"I don't know." Sam shifted uneasily on his chair. "You still like it?"

Charles shrugged. "Not much to like, anymore. You remember that headache?"

"I don't think I could ever forget it."

"Try coming down when you've been going for a few months." He picked up a rag and ran it through his fingers. "Makes that headache look like heaven."

"So you're scared."

"No shit."

"That's no way to live."

"When did they put you on the Supreme Court?" Charles drew back and paced angrily along the counter. "I've heard enough of this the last couple days. You think you know everything? Tell me how I'm supposed to be living, then. Tell me about the picket fence and the station wagon I should have. Tell me I should be working in the White House."

"You could be, if you wanted."

"I don't. I never did. I don't care, Sam."

"I don't believe you."

"Then fuck off," Charles said quietly.

"You're going to go broke eventually."

"I'll stay with you, baby, 'til the money runs out." Sam gave him a funny look. He held out his hands. "Seriously. I'll deal with it."

"And if you get arrested?"

"I'll deal with it."

"And if you get killed?"

"Well, then you guys will deal with it."

"You're sick."

"You'll deal. You're strong. You got shot at and you were back at work the next day. Somehow I think you'll get by."

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "You shouldn't have said that."

"Whatever."

"You shouldn't have said what you said about Josh's sister either."

Charles looked uncomfortable. "This is my life, Sammy."

"Stop calling me that," he murmured.

"Why?"

He shook his head. "Just stop."

"Sam. It's my life."

"That it is." Sam got to his feet. "I'm going to go get Josh and go."

"Tell him I'm sorry," Charles said.

Sam studied his face. "Are you?"

"Does it matter?"

Sam frowned and started toward the door. "Not any more."

"You should come to Baltimore again sometime," Charles called after him. "We could catch an Orioles game."

"No, we couldn't," Sam said, without turning back.

"No," Charles agreed, as the door swung shut. "We couldn't."


* * *


"He should've been born poor," Shannon said thoughtfully.

Josh cracked a smile. "I gotta say, poverty isn't the best weapon we have in the war on drugs."

She filled a can at the sink and circled the kitchen, watering the plants. "No, I mean -- he always had his father's money, so he never had to work hard. No one ever made him fight for anything."

"My side of the family has some money, too."

"Yeah, but your father cared about other things." Shannon looked at him. "Your father was a great man, Josh."

"Yes, he was."

"It seems so cold." She fingered one of the marigolds on the windowsill. "I keep wondering why he needed to do it. If there was something I could have done."

"A man I know once said that drug addicts take drugs because they're drug addicts."

She threw him a skeptical glance. "Was the man who said that on drugs when he said it?"

"I mean it. It isn't your fault."

"Or yours." He didn't say anything. "You know that, right?"

"I'm lousy about keeping in touch." Josh shuffled his feet. "I could be a better cousin. I could be a better friend."

"I could be a better girlfriend. It's still not our fault."

"Yeah. So what do we do?"

"We wait, I guess." She pulled her hair back into a knot. "We go to work and pay the bills and wait. And hope it all works out in the end."

"And if--"

She cut him off. "I don't want to think about that."

"Fair enough."

There was a knock at the door. They filed back out into the living room, and Shannon opened it.

"Hey. Is this guy bothering you?"

"Sam!" She gave him a quick hug. "How was your breakfast?"

"Breakfast?"

"You were hankering, remember?"

"It was okay." He leaned against the door frame.

"That diner food'll do you in someday," Josh told him soberly.

"This from a man who would eat a pizza box if the occasion came up."

Shannon grinned. "I've missed you two. I wish I didn't have to work tonight, or we could stay and talk."

"We'll come back," Josh promised her, as he crossed to the door. "Or you come down to Washington and we'll give you the really grand tour."

"That's a plan." She kissed Josh on the cheek. "You guys, take care of yourselves. And take care of America's money."

"They don't let us near the money," Sam assured her. "They're smarter than that."

"That's a relief."

"You take care too," Josh said. "Be okay, okay?"

"I'll try. Goodbye, guys." She watched them make their way down the stairs, then closed her door.

"You ready to go back to Washington?" Sam asked, as they walked to the car.

"Yeah. Give me the keys."

"I don't get to drive the car anymore?"

"Hell, no." Josh scuffed a shoe along the edge of the curb. "We really have to keep in touch with Shannon."

"We will." Sam paused between parked cars. "And Charlie?"

Josh shrugged. "We wait, we hope, we pray."

"That's not very reassuring."

"It's what friends do."

Sam nodded slowly. "Yeah."

"So let's wend our way back before rush hour hits."

"Yeah." Sam stepped out into the street and tossed the keys to Josh over the car roof. "Let's hit the road."

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