Seventeen

"What are you doing in here?" Billy asked, flipping the lights on in his garage.

Lucy spun around. She was standing by the workbench, using the flashlight app on her phone to scan it.

"Hey," she said. "You scared the shit out of me."

"Looking for something?" he asked, stepping through the side access rather than lifting up the broad main door.

"A screwdriver," she said. "One of the cupboard doors is loose. It's a Phillips. Don't you have one of those screwdrivers that has a bunch of different ends?"

"Yeah. But kind of hard to find in the dark, isn't it?"

"I can never find the light switch when I come in here."

It was, to be fair, not close to the door. But still.

"If you wanted a screwdriver you could have asked me to find you one," Billy said.

"I didn't want to bug you," Lucy said. "You were asleep."

And to be fair, again, that was true. He'd nodded off watching television in his basement man cave.

She looked away from him and noisily moved about some tools in a red metal box. "Here we go," she said, holding up a screwdriver for him to see.

"You got my keys?" he asked. He was thinking about that key to the locker that was on the ring with his other keys.

"No," she said. "I got my own."

Again, true. She had a key to the garage, but not one to the locker. He continued to stand by the door, watching her. "You're freaking me out," she said. "There a problem?"

"You been out here before without me?" Billy asked.

"Uh, yeah, like all the time. I live here. With you. Although there are days sometimes when I wonder why."

"If you need something out here, ask me. Those are the rules."

"Excuse me?" Lucy rolled her eyes. "Are they written down someplace? Is there a form I fill out if I want a fucking screwdriver?"

Billy raised an accusatory finger as he closed the distance between them. She had her back to the workbench. He was half a foot taller and, head bent down, breathed into her face and said, "I keep very important shit in here."

Still gripping the screwdriver, she said, "Well, then you should keep it somewhere else, because if I need a screwdriver or a hammer or some fucking duct tape I'm not going to go looking for it in the bathroom." He stared at her long enough that she had to look away. "You're being paranoid."

"Some shit's missing."

"What shit?"

"The shit I hold for those people." Lucy knew all about his side business, though she stayed well out of it.

"Don't look at me. You think I'm nuts?"

"Well, it was somebody. The last order was short."

"But you keep it locked up." She glanced at the locker. "That look busted into to you?"

"You don't have to bust into it if you have a key. Show me your keys."

"What?"

"Your keys. Show me."

She shook her head, pulled out a set of keys from her front pocket, and tossed them his way. He snatched them out of the air and examined them.

Car key, house key, garage key. And another one.

"What's this one?" he said, holding it up.

"My locker at the hospital."

He still wasn't sure. He moved in closer, his body pressed up against hers. He opened his hand wide and rested it on her shoulder inches from her neck.

"You don't have any other key?"

Her eyes met his defiantly. He felt a sharp, increasing pressure on the left side of his abdomen. The screwdriver.

Her voice was no louder than a whisper. "You get your fucking hand off me."

They both were very still for a moment before Billy brought his hand away from her neck and took a step back. Lucy lowered the screwdriver.

"Suppose you start from the beginning," she said.

"They came to see me. Accused me of skimming some product off the top." He grimaced. "They hurt me."

"Hurt you?"

He lifted up his sweatshirt.

"Jesus," she said. "The guy did that to you?"

Billy's face flushed red. "The woman, actually."

"She bite you?"

"No, she—doesn't matter."

"So, like, you're not just trying to fake me out here, are you? I mean, did you steal from them?"

"No way."

"It wasn't me, either."

"Then what are you doing in here with the lights off?"

She sighed and held up the screwdriver. "You don't believe me, come inside, I'll show you the loose cupboard door. What about Stuart? He's always moping around here, hasn't got two cents to rub together. It was probably him."

"Saw him already, says he didn't do it. Said maybe it was somebody closer to home."

That left Lucy momentarily speechless. "That asshole."

"He didn't outright accuse you. He was just saying it wasn't him, so, like, who else is left?"

She shook her head. "I don't want him around here anymore. Accusing me of shit. And he creeps me out. Looking at me like I'm a Popsicle he wants to take a bite of."

There was a moment of quiet between them. Lucy put a hand on Billy's arm. "So what are you gonna do if you can't find who took it?"

"I gotta pay them what the missing shit is worth."

"Which is?"

He shrugged. "A few thousand."

"Jesus. So pay them."

"I don't have it, Luce. I've spent everything they've paid me so far. I put it all into the car."

She closed her eyes. "My mother was right."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Lucy turned away, not wanting to get into it. "So where you going to get the money?"

Billy said, "I'll come up with something."

When he went back into the house, the first thing he did was look for a loose cupboard door that was held on with Phillips screws. He found it. Lucy was telling the truth.

Stuart. It had to be Stuart.