Page 34 of Laying Low

Anthony shrugged.“What’s the use of finding the damned thing if you can’t share it, right?”

“Right.”

If seeing the ocean was the pony, navigating through the city was the horseshit.San Francisco traffic was a tricky prospect during the best of times, but listening to the boys react as they paused on the top of a hill to look down at the bay, spottingbothbridges in the dazzling sunshine, was a treat.

At Anthony’s direction, Reg parked across from Pier 39, and they crossed the street to Fisherman’s Wharf, searching for the place that made sourdough bread bowls filled with clam chowder.

It was still early on a weekday, and they ate their lunch leaning on the rail that overlooked the ocean, keeping a wary eye out for seagulls as they did.Anthony wished they could let the boys explore for an hour, but that wouldn’t be wise by any stretch of the imagination.

Still, after stretching their legs, dodging into a couple of tourist stores, and being thoroughly cleansed by the chilly sea air, gazing out on the ocean held a certain peace.

Or it did until Reg, who had just returned from tossing their food boxes, stiffened at his side, his eyes on Ilia.

Ilia saw the glance and dropped his head.Leaving Reynaldo to finish his lunch, Ilia approached the two of them, holding his phone out.

“I didn’t take it off airplane mode,” he said gruffly.“I… she texted me.I don’t know how.”

Reg’s eyebrows went up, and even Anthony knew that took a bit of computer skill and some power that your average everyday PC user didn’t have.

“What did she say?”Anthony asked gently, not liking the pinched expression on the boy’s face at all.

“She said she would meet us in Portland,” he said, his voice thick.“But… that wasn’t in any of the plans, was it, Mr.Royal?Mr.McCauley?”

Reg and Anthony looked at each other and shook their heads.

“No,” Reg said.“But don’t tell her that.She… she knows we’re on the road.Somebody probably told her to find out where we’re going.”

Ilia held the phone out to Reg as though begging him to take it, to take the terrible choice out of his hands.“What should I do?You answer her.Pretend you are me.What should I?”

Reg held up his hands, not taking the phone.

“Ilia,” he said, sounding firm, like a teacher.“You need to take a deep breath.She—or whoever has her phone right now—knows where we are.We need to leave here, and we need to do it without the phone.”Reg reached out and squeezed the boy’s shoulder.

“And without me,” Ilia said thickly.

“I didn’t say that,” Reg told him.“If we leave you here with that phone, your mother, your uncle, they will come pick you up.They’ll ask you where we’re going—and I’m giving you permission right now to tell them if that’s the road you choose.But that’s only one choice.”

“What’s my other road?”Ilia begged, and Anthony ached for him.Oh God—what a terrible choice.

“Our road,” Reg said, smiling a little.“You chuck the phone into the ocean, play games on my phone if you have to, and come with us.”He swallowed.“Reynaldo will forgive you.I will still wish you the very best, no matter what you choose.But you have to choose it now.”

Ilia’s face contorted for a moment, and then to Anthony’s shock, he pivoted on his back foot and yeeted the phone as far into the bay as he could reach.

“Holy cow,” Anthony said, after a long whistle.

“You are surprised?”Ilia asked, sounding hurt as he wiped his eyes.

“No, just, you know—why art?Why not baseball?”

Ilia laughed, tears sputtering from his full lips.“The boys in baseball are all muscles and sinews.”He glanced at Reynaldo, who was staring at where the phone disappeared with his spoon halfway to his mouth.“Art boys, they are soft and sweet.They blush.It is charming.”

“Good choice,” Anthony said, winking.“I like the art boys myself.”

And with that, Ilia went striding toward Reynaldo, saying, “Hurry up, slowpoke—we don’t have all day to watch you eat.”

Reg and Anthony shared a grim gaze, and Anthony said, “Did I ever tell you I took tactical driving courses before I opened the gun range?”

“That’s absolutely fascinating,” Reg said with no inflection.“Does this mean you’d like to drive?”