while, Danny asked, “What are you thinking about?”
“Same thing you’re thinking about,” Matt said.
“Drucker?”
Matt replied by way of a slight grunt.
“It just really gets my goat, you know?” Danny said. “The idea that he might weasel out of this without damage.”
“Look, the guy’s a dirt bag, no argument. But there’s not much we can do, short of putting a bullet through his skull.”
Danny didn’t answer.
After a beat, Matt asked, quite matter-of-factly, “You want to go put a bullet through his skull?”
Danny tilted his head to one side, gave Matt a maybe look, then stared at the ceiling again. “Not really my style.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“But if Rydell doesn’t take care of him in a big way, I might want to reconsider.”
“We could grab him and lock him up in my cellar for a couple of years as payback,” Matt remarked flatly. “Just feed him dog food and toilet water.”
Danny pursed his lips and nodded, mock-mulling it over. “Nice to know we’ve got options,” he said with a smile.
Matt tilted his head over to him. “It’s good to have you back, man.”
Danny nodded warmly, then turned to stare at the ceiling. “It’s good to be back.”
IN HIS ROOM, Rydell wasn’t staring at any ceiling. He was pacing around, racking his brain, trying to think of another way out. He needed to call Rebecca. He needed to hear her voice. He checked the clock on his cell phone. It was still too early on the West Coast. Especially for Rebecca. That thought brought an inkling of a smile to his face. It also released a tear that trickled down his cheek.
He wiped it off with his sleeve and sat down on the edge of the bed. What an end, he thought. Everything he’d achieved. A true master of the universe, self-made, from nothing. And it was all about to be flushed down the toilet.
He had to talk to Rebecca. He tapped an R into his contacts list, pulled up her number. Poised his finger on the call button. But couldn’t do it. Not because of the time difference. Because he didn’t know what to tell her.
He set the phone back down next to him, felt his eyes filming over, and watched his hands shiver.
IT WAS ALMOST NOON when Matt stepped out of his room to hit the vending machine again. Gracie was out there too, leaning against the grille of the Navigator, a cold can of Coke in her hand. He downed some coins and pulled out a can of his own. Snapped the lid open, took a long sip, and joined her.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked.
“Nope.” She smiled. “My body clock’s so out of whack I don’t even know what day it is.”
“It’s the day after Christmas,” Matt said with a knowing smile.
“Really?” She grinned and looked around. “Not exactly a white one this year, huh?”
Matt nodded. Took another sip. Said, “You should get some rest. You’re about to have the most intense few months of your life. Of anyone’s life.”
“What, even worse than the last few days?” she quipped.
“Oh yeah.” He shrugged. “That was a cakewalk.”
“Some cakewalk,” she said, dreamily. She caught his glance, then looked away, staring through the scenery around them, her mind wandering off.
“What?” he prodded.
She shrugged. After a quiet moment, she said, “It seems like such a waste, don’t you think?”
“What?”
“All those people, at the stadium. Around the world. Hanging on his every word. Singing. Praying. Did you ever hear anything like that in your life?”
He didn’t reply.
“They were loving it. They loved believing in him. They were lifted by it. I know, it’s primitive and it’s cultish and it’s even a bit creepy, but somehow, some part of me thought it was beautiful. For a moment there, they were all happy. They’d forgotten about their problems and their jobs and their mortgages and everything that was wrong in their lives. They were happy and they were hopeful. He gave them all hope.”
“False hope,” Matt corrected.
“What’s wrong with that?” she asked, as much to herself as to him.
“Hope isn’t real by definition, is it? It’s just a state of mind, right?” She shrugged, falling back to earth. “If it wasn’t for all those self-serving leeches using him . . . twisting everything for their own purposes. Using something as beautiful and as inspirational as that to fill their own pockets and grab more power . . .” She looked at him forlornly. “Such a waste, you know?”
“Same-old same-old.” He shrugged. “It’s the way of the world.”