Page 27 of Rock Bottom

I frowned, remembering how I’d found him standing too close to Dante. Dante had insisted it wasn’t a big deal, but it was my job to keep him safe. Oscar would’ve been fully vetted by Boone and Leo before being allowed near Dante, so it probably wasn’t an issue, but something about Oscar felt off to me. I just couldn’t put my finger on what.

“He seems all right,” I said and then added, “Why? Did something come up in his background check?”

“Not that I know of. The band’s manager was supposed to vet him. He sent the background check to Boone and everything checked out, but I don’t like last-minute changes. I’d feel better if Leo did all the background checks, you know?”

“He hasn’t checked out Oscar?” I frowned. That wasn’t like Leo.

Bowie shrugged. “He did a quick check, but you can never be too careful. If it were me, I’d string the fucker up until I knew his great granddaddy’s blood type. But I don’t trust nobody.” He shook his head. “Never mind. Just me bein’ paranoid, I guess.” He uncrossed his arms and hopped down from the porch. “I’ll be back with the groceries in a couple of hours.”

“Remind Boone to send Leo out when he gets a chance,” I shouted after Bowie.

He waved in response before climbing into his ugly old Ford truck and taking off.

Oscar was still trying to start the push mower, and the poor idiot had no idea what he was doing. He had it turned on its side while he poked around near the blade. The poor sod was going to cut his arm off long before he ever got the grass mowed. I sighed and walked down the stairs to join him in the yard. “You’ll never fix it like that. Let me see.”

“Oh, hey. Thanks. That’d be great.” He put his hands on his hips and stepped back to let me have a look.

“It doesn’t look clogged.” I set the mower back up and pulled the starter, but it just puttered and died immediately.

“It’s Church, right?”

I looked up at him.

He cleared his throat. “I heard you and Dante talking. Listen, I’m really sorry about the other day. I was just trying to be friendly. If I over stepped—”

“It’s out of fuel,” I said and scowled at him. “Have you never used a push mower before?”

His face flushed. “Please don’t call to complain. I really need this job.”

“I don’t care what you do as long as you do your job and you stay away from Mr. Deluca.” I stood and shoved the mower at him.

I started to walk away.

“He’s a great man,” Oscar called after me.

I stopped and turned around.

“Dante, I mean,” he said. “He’s a genius. I know you’re just doing your job, but a guy like that, he shouldn’t be cooped up here. That’s like putting a lion in a bird cage. You’re ruining him. He deserves better.”

I marched back over to Oscar and grabbed him by the shirt, yanking him closer. “Dante is here to relax and to get himself better. My job is to ensure he has the space to do that. Your job is to clean his toilet and wash his dishes, and that’s the closest to him you’re ever going to get. Do we have an understanding?”

Oscar swallowed and nodded.

I released him. “I think it’s time for you to clock out.”

“But the mower—”

“I’ll put it back,” I promised. “But you need to go before I run out of patience.”

He took two steps back before turning and practically running to his car. He hit the gas so hard, his back wheels spun out.

“My hero,” Dante said dryly from the porch. “You saved me from having to sign a t-shirt for a perfectly innocent fanboy.”

“I don’t like him.” I trudged up the stairs. “Something about that boy is off.”

“Maybe.” He pulled a sucker out of his pocket and yanked off the wrapper. “Who was that other guy?”

“What other guy?” Unlike the Dum-Dums Boone always kept around, Dante’s sucker was big and pink. I stared at it as he rolled it over his lips like some people did with their cigarettes.

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