He reached the Mangrove Arms, walked through the dark office and the kitchen to his father's back apartment. He found the old man asleep in a chair with his Walkman on. Aaron eased off his headphones, reedy Big Band clarinets still singing through the tiny speakers. Sam didn't wake up so Aaron tossed a blanket over him, kissed him on the forehead, and let him be.
In his own room he undressed and washed, and propped up his pillows to read in bed. Even as his eyes grew heavy he understood that sleep was going to elude him, but after half an hour he put down his book and switched off the light.
Soon he gave in to twisting the sheet, tormenting the pillow. But, though his body was restless and twitchy, his ego, at least, was gradually going to sleep. His embarrassment at Lucia's shrank down to its rightful size as something trivial, his disappointment revealed itself as off the mark. And as those things receded, concern for Suki came forward and grew.
That was what mattered; of course it was. This concern for her, stunning in its plainness, came to him unbidden and surprised him by its potency. Why hadn't she appeared? He removed himself from the question, and discovered an unselfish interest that perhaps was no more than common decency, but could stand equally well as the start of real affection. Like his father said: I don't worry; I care. There's a difference.
He rolled over and looked at the clock. It was 12:51, much too late to call. But caring had prerogatives that went far beyond issues of pique and jealousy and proper form. He switched on the bedside lamp, found the scrap of paper with her numbers on it, dialed.
The phone rang four times, five, then Suki's answering machine picked up. The sound of her voice made Aaron swallow now. He left a message. He just wanted to know she was okay. She didn't owe him any explanations or apologies. He just needed to hear she was all right.
Fred and Piney slept a little bit but by first light they were wide awake.
The black sky turned lavender and seemed to take on roundness, billowed like a vast balloon and floated off the ocean. Detail came back into the world, and Fred saw to his surprise that Lazslo's Caddy had continued settling after all. By now it was sunk entirely except for the gleaming chrome peaks of its tail fins and the very last pleat of its folded-down top. "Whaddya know," he said by way of eulogy: "It died like a convertible."
Piney said nothing, just glanced over at the sleeping woman who was supposed to have been buried with the car.
After a while the sun rose. The sky exploded yellow and heat uncoiled like a snapped rug across the surface of the water. Suki squirmed against the ground, blinked herself more or less awake, struggled up onto her elbows. Piney, vigilant, crouched down to reassure her.
"How are you today?" he asked.
By way of answer she reached up carefully to touch her discolored neck, then nodded. "Who are you?" she said.
"No one special," he admitted. "Name's Pineapple."
"Pineapple," rasped Suki. She was hurt and she was lying on the ground. She was helpless. Helplessness bred either blind trust or utter terror, trust used up less strength. But she wanted more convincing. She looked harder at Pineapple, the ascetic face, the scraggly no-color beard. "I've seen you," she said, "where?"
"Whitehead Street," he said. "I hold a sign."
She closed her eyes. Pieces of the world were reforming for her. She saw Whitehead Street behind her eyelids, the banyan trees and Bahama shutters. "Whitehead and Rebecca. You sit there on the curb."
"I've seen you too," said Piney. "Usually you're on your bike."
Suki half-smiled at that. On her bike. The idea reminded her that there were such things as simple joy and safety. On her bike in sunshine with a whole universe of air to breathe.
Fred was standing a little ways away, pacing and smoking. Now he moved closer. "We just happened to end up with the car," he said. "Shouldn't have done it but I did it. Didn't mean no harm. No hard feelings, right?"
It was a pretty feeble explanation, but Suki said, "I guess."
Piney said, "Do you remember what happened, how you got here?"
Suki looked away. She bit her lip, the upper one. She nodded.
Piney said, "You should really see a doctor, go to the police."
Suki wriggled on the ground. Her violet eyes got wild. "Maybe," she said. "Might be too big for the police."
Fred threw down his cigarette. "Too big?"
"A Mafia. They're everywhere. Hong Kong. Libya. Stolen jewels. Plutonium."
Fred looked at Piney. Piney looked at Fred.
"You think I'm crazy," Suki said. It was not a question.
There was a silence. The tide was coming in. Their clearing was shrinking at the edges and Lazslo's Caddy was totally submerged.