Page 20 of Wall

I drive my boot into his ribs, and he screams.

Mona shouldn’t have come within twenty yards of a piece of trash like this, and she rolled up here knockin’ on his door? My heart’s stuck in my throat, and I can’t swallow it back down.

“Where’s your granny’s ring, dumbass?”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, man!”

Guess Tommy’s a “hard way” kind of guy. I drag him up and prop him on his feet. Then, I release my hands. He gives almost immediately and crashes to the floor. For good measure, I nudge his side with my toe, and he sobs.

“Stop, man, stop!”

“Where’s the ring?”

“I don’t have it no more! I sold it!”

Figures. “Who’d you sell it to?”

“I don’t know!”

This guy. I groan. “Can I borrow that?” I nod at Grinder’s tire iron. It’s got a little more heft than my wrench. He shrugs and hands it over. I stomp over to Tommy’s media center.

He’s got a sweet setup. Sound bar and a subwoofer. The latest consoles. Eighty-six-inch TV.

I start with the speakers. Whack. Whack. They go crashing into the wall.

“Strike two!” Grinder hoots.

“Man, no!” Tommy’s dragged himself to his feet again in a desperate bid to save his shit. He lurches forward just as I drive the tire iron into a console. I wail on it until it’s nothing but parts and twisted plastic.

Grinder grabs Tommy in a bear hug to hold him back. I raise the iron, line it up with the television.

“Who’d you sell that ring to, Tommy?”

“Oh, man. Oh, man.” He’s pasty white and sweating like a pig.

I give him a second to make a decision. On the one hand, I know how unnatural it feels for a guy like Tommy to tell the truth. On the other hand, the TVisa Samsung. This has gotta be a tough one for him.

“All right, then.” I draw back, elbow up.

“Ethan Eckels!” Tommy moans, as if he can’t believe he’s giving up the name. “He ain’t gonna have it no more. It was a trade. Weeks ago. That thing’s long gone, man. I’ll pay you for it. I just need a few days. Don’t touch the TV, man.”

I catch Forty’s eye. We know the name Ethan Eckels.

Matter of fact, we ran that pissant dealer out of Petty’s Mill a few months back. He deals in meth, fentanyl, nasty shit. As a rule, Steel Bones don’t concern itself with what any grown man chooses to put in his own body, but our business demands discretion. We don’t need Feds in town or the local mothers up in arms.

I guess Ethan Eckels didn’t stay gone. Heavy’ll be interested to hear this, but Forty’s gonna have to tell him. I’m due home for dinner.

The thought warms my chest. I almost don’t send the tire iron into the television.

“Where’s Ethan Eckels?” I ask.

There’s snot running down Tommy’s face. “I don’t know, man. I don’t know!”

Oh, well. I tee up and let ‘er fly. Nail the screen right in the center. Sparks fly.

“Asshole!” Tommy screams, straining against Grinder’s grip.

“Guess we’re gonna have to break his kneecaps.” Grinder throws Tommy into his friends on the sofa like the world’s wobbliest bowling ball.

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