Tommy lay in some girl's bed trying to remember her name, worrying about his cockroach problem. And he didn't remember her name. He asked her if she knew how to get rid of German cockroaches, changing the subject. She asked him what a German cockroach was. He explained the color, like chipped toffee, and the useless pair of wings. She continued to talk about her job at Whispering Oaks Nursing home, and how the old folks who knew their time was coming would ask her to open the window for them. She would recite a made-up prayer or sing a psalm, and then that was it. The window was opened for Jesus. It was unspoken protocol. Tommy switched back to the German cockroach. He had done his research. The German cockroach is nocturnal. He is typically seen in the daylight hours only if he—or any of his friends or extended family—is disturbed. And though he has wings covering his entire back, they are useless. He cannot fly.

The nameless told him to call an exterminator. She turned over and fell asleep, or passed out. Tommy remained awake, watching the open window in the room, potential names tumbling through his mind, waiting for morning to come. Light began to slowly illuminate everything in the room. Wrinkled underwear, scuffed shoes, shiny textbooks. Tommy slipped out of the girl's bed, got dressed and ran out the door. He jogged across town, got home, took a hot shower and slept twelve hours. He woke up to the bass throb his neighbor's trailer. His neighbor was outside watering his garden, singing to himself and smoking. Tommy called up Louis and left a message on his voicemail. He brewed a pot of coffee and sat on his porch, watching the kids in the trailer park play.

He thought about his routine: Get drunk. Try to get laid. No, don't try, just get laid. And if that combination fails you—if you didn't get laid—at least you gave it a shot. Remember where your ass crawled from and get it back there as quickly as possible. Drink, fuck, rinse, and repeat next weekend. It was stupid but it was unavoidable. A young black girl walked up on his porch and fiddled with his wind chime.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I was just having a cup of coffee," Tommy said. "Do you like coffee?"

The girl twisted up her face and stuck out her tongue.

"My brother and I are playing a game," she said. "It's called Surgeon Man."

"That's your brother over there?"

"Yeah," she said. She did a little dance around the wind chime. "His name is Andre. And that's Damon. My name is Diamond. Do you have any cats?"

"No, I don't. But there are plenty of cats around here."

"I got bit by a big one and I chased it and it's under your house right now."

"I'll keep a look out for it."

"Don't let it bite you," she said.

Diamond skipped back to Andre and Damon and told them how the next round of Surgeon Man would go. Tommy watched the children jump around and laugh and argue about the rules and it eased his mind. It was a mild afternoon, his cup was full, the sun was high and bright, and he was beside of it all.

 

                           ~ ~ ~

 

Kay was a twenty-five year old Lebanese-American. She had a college degree in business administration, and she worked as a waitress at Denny's. Tommy had befriended her while a customer a short while back. He was struck by the juxtaposition of her head wrap (her hijab) and the Valley Girl nuance of her voice, when she asked if he wanted a refill. Kay pulled into his driveway and sat next to him on the porch. She wasn't working until three. Tommy sipped a bottle of beer. She talked about almost being hit by a pick-up truck a year ago.

"The last thing I remember was the Dale Earnhardt sticker," she said. "On the back window of the truck. It's that slanted number 8."

"Yeah," Tommy said. "What kind of truck, did you say it was?"

"I think it was a Dodge."

"Oh," he said. "They make big trucks. Big." Tommy rubbed a coffee stain off the outside of his mug. "But he really wasn't going to hit you, was he?"

"You know when someone is trying to hit you with their car, Tommy."

"Is it like a movie?"

"I don't think it's like a movie," she said. "It's like a big truck coming at you on the sidewalk and you nearly pee your pants."

"Wow," Tommy said. "It just seems so random."

"Random," she said. She sat down on the porch, crossed her legs and picked at a rusty nail. "The truck was driving on the sidewalk. I don't think it was random."

Tommy noticed a German cockroach crawling over a loose nail in the patio boards. He pointed at it.

"The German cockroach is not actually from Germany," he said. "It was brought over from Asia."

"Are we still talking about me nearly dying?" she asked.

"I'm sorry," Tommy said. "So, do you have any idea who did it?"

Kay shook her head. She didn't have an answer for him. Not the answer he wanted to hear. The front door of a neighboring trailer swung open. A black man leaped out onto the porch.

"Bitch," he said. "I don't have any damned answers for you. Leave me alone."

The woman screamed back: "Oh, 'because you got all the answers, most of the time. But not now, huh? Stupid motherfucker."

She slammed the door and locked it. The man picked up a girl's bicycle and threw it. Diamond and Andre watched from a distance. The man ambled away and vanished off into the streets. The creek-babble and the burr of crickets and far-off cars blasting music, and the import of it, returned. Diamond retrieved the bicycle and rode it up and down the drive, making sure everything worked. Andre stared at Kay, his mouth agape. Kay looked at Tommy and he smiled. Tommy finished his beer.

 

                           ~ ~ ~

 

Five hours later Tommy's cell phone rang. It was Louis calling him back. Louis sounded on the verge of tears. It was a shade of him Tommy had never heard before.

"You won't believe it," Louis said. "Hope just got her goddamn head bashed in with a rum bottle."

Tommy wanted to laugh. He didn't, though. He didn't say anything.

"She's gone," he said. "Hope's gone. I don't know where she went."

"What do you mean?" asked Tommy. "Did someone drive her to the hospital?"

"No one did," Louis said. He coughed, then went silent for a moment, just heavy breathing and the wind brushing against the mouthpiece. "Maybe she walked there."

"Where are you Lou?"

"I'm at Giant City Pool," he said. "Hope and I snuck in."

"What? Lou, the hospital is twenty miles out of there. How . . . where is she?"

I don't know," he said. "But I need your help."

"Did you hit Hope with the rum bottle?"

"No, no," he said. "Some other girl did. There was a big fight in the pool. Some other girls she knew were there. It was bad."

"Lou," Tommy said. "Are you on something?"

Louis sighed, or it could have been the wind, but it was hard to tell.

 

                           ~ ~ ~

 

Tommy pulled his Ford Escort into a spot in the empty parking lot before the Giant City pool. Kay remained calm. She kept her hands folded in her lap. The pool belonged to the state park, and was surrounded by a tall sandstone wall, cabins, and a water tower. It closed at sundown, but park officials never sealed up the entrances. Tommy and Kay ran up to the entrance and split paths at the shower rooms. They reunited at the entrance to the pool deck.

"There's blood all over the pavement," said Tommy.

"It's all over the ladies room," said Kay. "The sink, the floor. Everywhere."

Broken slabs of peach light covered across the pool deck. Deck chairs were draped with articles of clothing and wet towels. Bottles of Bud Light, Captain Morgan and cheap flavored vodka lined the pool side. Cries drifted down from the water tower. Tommy and Kay ran up to the base of the tower.

"He's up the ladder," Kay said. "Oh my God. He could fall."

"No, no, no," Tommy said. "We're not calling anyone."

Louis slurred a hello, followed by a terrible wrenching sound. Louis, a flesh-colored smear somewhere high in the dark, dropped his head back. He lurched forward and vomited.

"Move your ass!"

Tommy shoved Kay away from the base of the water tower. She stumbled and fell down the slope. Tommy got her out of the way, but vomit rained down on him.

"Tom. Is it really you?" Louis asked. He burped, satisfied, cleared of all that bad stuff in him. "Hey, how's your date going?"

Tommy shook himself off. He slapped the corn niblets and drool out of his hair.

"It's not a date," Tommy said. Kay brushed herself off at the bottom of the hill and fixed her hijab. She began to walk back to Tommy's car, clenching her hands into fists. Tommy jumped until he could reach the water tower ladder.

"You're both drunk," Kay hissed. She turned her back to Tommy.

Tommy pulled himself up the ladder. The first ten rungs weren't too bad, but when he approached the middle of the ladder, he began to feel light-headed and out of breath. He looked down and Kay had turned around and now stood at the bottom of the ladder. Tommy climbed until he could touch one of Louis' bare feet. Tommy removed his belt, strung it through Louis' belt, and fastened it to a rung.

"Stop looking down," said Tommy. "You can't look down."

Tommy listened to Louis groan and watched him squirm for ten minutes. A fine mist swept in, a sort of premature fog. The purple sky soured into assorted greens and blues. It was ominous. Kay gazed upwards, a yellow face surfacing from a pool of black cloth. She looked around and began gathering broken pieces of Louis' cell phone.

"Who's down there?" asked Louis. "I see somebody."

"Don't you remember?" Tommy said. "That's my friend Kay."

"I'm gonna die. Oh Christ, I'm gonna die," Louis said. He looked down again and his eyes grew big. "Tommy, is that Death down there?"

"What the hell are you on? What did you take tonight Lou?"

"I don't think . . . " he said, making eye contact with Tommy. "Hey, that's Death down there. Dressed in black, that's Death!"

And then Louis passed out.

 

                           ~ ~ ~

 

Tommy grew tired of propping all 200 pounds of Louis against the ladder. He slapped him across the face and yanked on his belt.

"Wake up Lou," Tommy said. "Enough of this bullshit. We're going down now."

Louis shook his head and rubbed his eyes. He grabbed hold of the ladder, while Tommy unfastened his belt from the rung. He then strung his belt through a belt loop on his jeans, and fastened it to Louis' belt. Tommy took one step down and ordered Louis to do the same. Going down seemed to be easier than going up, but it was a long way down. Tommy looked below at Kay. She paced in circles, her hands over her mouth.

"I don't want to die," Louis said. He stopped and stared down at Kay. "I'm a survivor."

"Whatever," Tommy said. "I should've just called 911. This is insane."

Louis locked onto a rung.

"Louis . . . "

"I'm not going down there," Louis said. "That's Death. I'm not going to die."

Louis took a step up and pulled Tommy up with him. So many Met RX protein shakes and whole chickens and Russian strength training sessions. It was too much. Louis and Tommy weren't going to fall and die at all. They were headed right back up the ladder.

"I won't let you die, either," Louis said.

Tommy couldn't fight him. Louis was too strong. All those power cleans and lat pull-downs and back squats and dead lifts. And there they went, back up the ladder. Kay heard Tommy and Louis screaming and arguing. She got down on her knees and prayed. Tommy wondered what was going through Kay's mind as he went up. He looked up and thought, why do they place water so high, so out of our way? He and Louis climbed back up the ladder, all the way up to the top rung. Louis wrapped his arms around it and caught his breath.

"We can't go any higher," he said. "What are we going to do?"

Tommy pulled himself close to Louis. He itched all over from sweat.

"I don't know," Tommy said. "But if you're going down, I'm going down with you."

Louis looked down, at what he thought was Death, one last time, and said, "We're not going anywhere."