Quid Pro Quo Read Online Free PDF Page A

but she wouldn’t tell me much about it. I’d just catch bits and pieces when I’d meet her at her office after work. One night—it was two or three weeks after Byron parked his carcass in my room—I was coming to get Andy to go to McDonald’s and I heard Atula really laying into her. I guess Andy rolled her eyes at a judge in court that day—not something you do if you’re actually hoping to win your case—and Atula was ripping. She was going on about this being the last straw, about Andy’s bad attitude lately, about being tired of having to cover for all her sloppy mistakes, etc. etc. etc. I had the feeling Atula was just getting started, but I’ll never know. She saw me at the top of the stairs and stopped talking immediately.
    That was bad.
    I knew Atula. She wasn’t usually scared to say things in front of me. All I could think was that Andy must be in really big trouble for her to shut up like that.
    Atula fiddled with that scarf she always wears and then said something like, “You two must be hungry. Why don’t you toddle off for dinner, and we can discuss this at another time?”
    Andy sat on the curb outside McDonald’s, sucking on her, like, twenty-third cigarette, while I went inside and grabbed two Big Mac combos. We headed home. She wouldn’t eat, and she wouldn’t talk. She wouldn’t even say “None of your business” like she usually did when I tried to find out what the deal was with Byron. She wouldn’t say anything.
    We got back to the apartment, and Byron was his usual charming self, asking about school and work like he was a regular Mr. Mom. That took guts. Andy looked at him like he was one of those slimy hair-boogers that clog up the shower drain. He said, “Anyone ever tell you how gorgeous you are when you’re mad?” She went into the kitchen and slammed the door.
    That meant that I was stuck with Byron. There was no way I was going to go into the kitchen with Andy looking the way she did. (Byron was the one who pissed her off, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t take it out on me.) I couldn’t go into my bedroom because it was Byron’s bedroom now, and he wasn’t leaving the living room. I thought for a minute of going out and finding Kendall, but I couldn’t do that either. I mean, I wouldn’t feel good about leaving Andy all alone with Stumpy, the One-armed Nosehole. So I sat as far away from him as I could on our one and only couch and tried to watch TV.
    Just my luck, Byron was feeling chatty. He looked at me like we were finally getting a chance to have a little man-to-man talk.
    As if either of us qualified.
    I ignored him. I just stared at the screen while he yakked away.
    For a guy who thinks he’s so smooth, he always managed to say the wrong thing. I was starting to think it wasn’t an accident.
    â€œWhat grade are you in?”
    I shouldn’t have answered him. I knew I shouldn’t have answered him.
    He went, “Graa-aa-ade eight?!? I thought you were like eleven!”
    Yeah, and I thought you were like human, but only for a minute there.
    â€œOr even ten. Lord liftin’! You’re some puny for grade eight! I keep telling your mother she should feed you better.”
    I wish your mother hadn’t fed you at all.
    â€œHey, what’s that look for?…Gee, didn’t mean to offend you or nothin’… I bet all the girls think you’re pretty cute actually. Girls love the little guys. You’re like bunnies or kittens or something to them. Must bring out their maternal instincts, I guess.”
    Yeah, and you bring out my killer instinct.
    â€œNot much of a talker, are you? … “Maybe you’re more the physical type … Wanna arm-wrestle then?”
    No, I don’t want to arm-wrestle. Because that would mean I’d have to touch you, and call me a wuss, but slimy reptiles have always kind of given