This is a long one. But fight your way through and you'll be rewarded with one of the creepiest conversations, ever. I have to admit, I kind of enjoyed going so far over to The Dark Side. I just wouldn't want to live there. I think you'll be glad to get back once you've been there, too. But it's fun to walk on the wild side from time to time. You ready for this?

That crazy song is pretty appropriate, too, by the way. Way over the top, but then...so is this chapter!

The Fun House was surprisingly calm, on those last few days before the hearing I'd been waiting for, and also sort of dreading, since the day the babies were born. The girls flew back and forth a lot. Sometimes just Aisha because she wanted to be there almost every day, as soon as she had a couple of hours open, but usually all three.

Big Man went back to his new job out of respect for our decision, more than anything else. I could tell he didn't feel comfortable about it, though. He kept calling Bonnie all the time, to see if I was obeying the doctor's orders and also because he was still upset that he wasn't able to predict the shooting or at least protect me from it. He was never going to forgive himself for that, no matter how many times I told him there was nothing to forgive.

They didn't need to worry, any of them. I had Bonnie and Kelli and two nurses hovering over me 24/7 and like one of the hospital nurses said one time, we could damned near build ourselves a hospital if we needed to. But since the babies were still with a foster family, Bonnie and Kelli were both looking for someone to fuss over. And I kind of enjoyed it, I'm not gonna lie. Having a grandmother hugging and kissing and feeding me all the time.

The only blood kin grandmother I knew anything about was this big, bug eyed monster of a woman who looked like Grace, if Grace had been blown up like one of those Christmas Parade balloons 'til her eyes almost popped out of her head. It was a thyroid thing, they told me, about those eyes. Didn't matter how they explained it, the women scared the piss out of me when I first saw her-lemme tell you her story, the part I know. It's a slice of my life worth examining before I wrap this thing up once and for all.

I thought her name was Mother when I was living at her house for a while one time, because that's all Grace ever called her. But later I found out her name was Dolly. Or Dolly Mae to be exact. Yeah, perfect name, right? And she ruled over a massive family of inbred idiots who lived in a bunch of rickety looking trailers on the same sad scrap of land.

It was the kind of place that gave Old Marana that "Dogpatch" image I told you about a long time ago. Looked like a scrap yard. All kinds of rusty car carcasses and old appliances all over the place. No lawn or river rock or anything. Just weeds growing between and even in the rusty things that the kids were always cutting themselves on when they were out there playing "ring around the Frigidaire" or something. It's a wonder we didn't all die of tetanus, honest to God.

I only remember Dolly doing two things. First, frying something in lard she'd been recycling since they bought the damned trailer that came with the stove she hadn't cleaned the crud off since they bought it. And second, sitting on the "porch," which was just a few long planks nailed together like a little platform just outside the front door, with a big bowl of popcorn or cheese curls or whatever, glaring out at the world like she was mad at it, and chewing like she had a piece of that world in her mouth and was taking out all that anger on it.

She'd birthed something like 13 kids, but of course a few of them died young. Real young. And more than one was "slow" like Grace, which is also no surprise. Their father, whose name sounded something like Hedrick-she'd only had one husband, which was rare for our family--had died of cancer, I think. I say "I think" because when you talked to them, it was like they didn't know for sure and didn't care because dying's what people did in their world. "I don't know! 'e died," they'd say, if you tried to get an explanation. Like you were stupid to even ask.

And it didn't matter, actually. Stuff just happens to them. Or that's how they see it and that's how they act. World hates them as much as they hate it, and there's nothing to be done about it. Except to drink a whole lotta beer and beat hell out of whoever's handy when you feel that explosion comin' on. The women took the worst of it, of course. Always sporting a shiner or newly broken tooth or split lip when I saw them. Didn't think anything of it.

So I said all this to show you that I didn't have the kind of grandmother who baked you cookies or slipped you some money even when your parents told her not to. Dolly'd lob a skillet fulla grease at you in a heartbeat, if you got on her nerves. And everything got on her nerves.

Bonnie wasn't a cookie baker either, really. I mean, she'd had a hard life, and blamed herself for how Maddie turned out because it was the men she brought home who taught her there was gold in them thar "hills." One of them introduced her to a friend who had a friend who owned one of the titty bars she first worked in.

See, Maddie was hungry for that attention and her mother was hungry, too. And you can get all self-righteous about it, but a woman who's been beat on and yelled at and treated like a slave, even when she gets free of all that, some of them kind of think maybe they deserved to be beat on. Or they're bitter and can't open up to someone. Bonnie was a combination of both.

So she drank and partied and brought all these guys home and kicked them out the next morning for kicks. Payback, for crimes they didn't commit. And the men would see this hot little number running around the next morning getting ready for school...you get the idea. They got ideas, too. And Maddie got the message.

There was nothing we could do about that now. But me and the kids, they'd given Bonnie a second chance. That's how she saw it. When I came home from the hospital, she sat on the side of my bed, took hold of my hands, and said, "I thought Maddie goin' before me was the worst thing I ever had to endure. But when I saw you go down that day..."

Took her a minute to get her composure back. But she wiped her eyes, smiled this trembly little smile and said, "You are the light of my world, you know that? Them little Indian ladies, ones you helped out that day, one of 'em said you had the Holy Spirit in you. And I believe it."

I wasn't sure about all that Holy Spirit stuff, but I figured since she was moved by it, I wasn't going to contradict her right then. Maybe later. Maybe not. People can believe whatever they need to believe. Sometimes I believe there's something to it myself-that there's something in us all, some kind of energy we all get a little bit of.

That Carl Sagan guy-hero of mine--once said this amazing thing that went something like, "We are star stuff looking at the stars." That's sort of what I mean. We're all made up of the same stuff and it came from up there, out there, the universe. And the Holy Spirit, to me, is whatever that stuff is. So then we've all got some Holy Spirit in us.

Course, I don't go around telling people I've got the Holy Spirit in me. That evangelist stuff makes me crazy. I just know I'm your brother, you know? That's how I feel when I meet somebody new. Like they're just another damned relative I've gotta look out for-just teasing. You know I love you. If I didn't, I wouldna spent all this time trying to tell you all this.

Speaking of which, there's one more thing I need to tell you about before I take you to court and all. Because once we go to court, the story's over, pretty much. Well, there's a little more, and it'll surprise you I think. But we're getting real close to the end. And I bet you're relieved, right? Thinking, "Damn, finally!"

But I can't end this thing without telling you what happened after I got this weird call from my girl Che asking me if I wanted to talk to the judge. I mean THE judge.

I knew something was up when she went, "Okay, are you sitting down?"

And I said, "Laying down, actually. I got up and did a little email in my office over here and these women damned near had two strokes apiece. So I'm chillin' now."

She laughed a little, because she knew exactly what I meant. They'd told her I was sleeping a few times to keep her from "worrying" me. I had to put my foot down about that. Che was one of those people I took calls from no matter what. They didn't like that, but they also didn't want to upset me, so they gave in.

Che had her little chuckle, and then she said, "Don't shoot the messenger, okay? This isn't me asking."

"Asking what?"

She sighed, paused for a long time, and then said, "Your judge...Well, for some reason he's asking to have some kind of meeting with you. Informal. One on one."

And before I even thought about it, I blurted out, "Why the hell would I want to do that?"

And Che says, "I know, right? But I guess he's kinda freaking people out over there. In detention."

"He's in jail still?"

"He won't leave."

"What do you mean he won't leave? They set bail, somebody pays-"

"He made this little speech at the hearing, I guess. Asking to be held 'til the trial date. I mean, I don't know all the formalities and whatnot, but he's still there."

"And he wants to see me because...?"

"I have no idea. Chase is trying to find out. He's on suicide watch, by the way. Chase says he's on some kind of hunger strike, almost. Something weird."

"He's acting," I said. "It's a con. So they'll declare him insane or something."

"Well, it's working then. Because they sound serious about getting you over there as soon as possible."

I tried to think my way through whatever scam he was working on, but I couldn't really feel anything. I'm usually good at that, but my bullshit detector wasn't working that day.

So I said, "I could swing by maybe before the hearing or something. For a little while."

"Are you sure?"

"I'll be over that way, sort of. It'll distract me, you know? From being so nervous about the hearing and all."

I could almost see her over there shaking her head like she always did when I decided to do something crazy despite her better judgement.

But all she said was, "Well, Chase'll handle it from here, then."

"I just figure he sort of did me a solid, you know? Showing up that day."

"You don't have to explain anything to me. But just for the record, I don't care if he came down on a thunderbolt straight from Heaven, honey. After all he put you through?" she snorted then, and added, "You are a better man than most. Of course, we know that, right?"

"Look, forget the judge. How are you doing?"

"Me?"

"Yeah! I've missed you."

I could tell she was all tickled that I'd said that. But she just said, "Yeah, right," because she likes to tease me like that. Only this time, I knew she was also testing to see if I was really ready to get right back up on that horse like they say you have to, if you fall off and get hurt that first time.

And I totally was. And wanted her to know I was.

So I said, "Skip the work stuff. I just missed you. I mean, it felt like I was floating around in outer space wondering whether I was ever coming back down to Earth again."

"Okay, E.T."

"No, really-what's up in Vegas, while we're at it? I mean, how does it look to you? Talk to me."

"Oh, it's buck wild over here," she said, with this little chuckle in it. "They just hired these sick DJs, who are like, EDM off the chain! They took it in a whole new direction-interactive, right? The audience gets all into it'n' whatnot. You're gonna be blown a-way. I'll send you a link to one of their playlists. They're blowing up all over the place! So that's a whole 'nother culcha locked into this thing."

That made me laugh because she used to be this mad rave child. I mean, neck deep into it. She showed us pictures of herself in her getup, with her pacifiers and candy culture clothes. She still wore a lot of those little bead bracelets and necklaces and whatnot. Not full on anymore, but little touches here and there that kindred spirits never failed to notice.

"Speakin' your language now, right?" I said.

But she put on this Jamaican accent she got from one of her aunts-in-law and said, "Oh, dis de new generation, mon! Mama too ol' for dem ting now."

"Aw, c'mon! We'll slip a little Molly in those swag bags'n' you'll be good to go," I said.

That cracked her up. And I was really glad she liked the show that much. Che had good instincts about things like that. She was still a fan at heart, you know? Always on top of the new music and movies and all, still. So if it got her movin' and groovin', you had a hit on your hands.

"People are freaking out about you, though," she said. "You're going to have to do something to let them know you're good to go. Just maybe, like...the Today Show or something. The View wants you real bad-The Talk, too. And Jimmy Fallon and those guys-got a call about that Lip Sync Battle thing, too. LL Cool J?"

"C'mon, I'm not Justin-Friggin'-Bieber or something," I said. "I mean, some people know me but those shows, they're like...mainstream."

"That's where you're headed, though! And they all wanna be invited to that coming out party, you know? The buzz is like..."

She made this noise like...I don't know, someone sticking their finger in an electrical outlet or something. This "zzzzzzz" noise.

And I said, "I think you've already had your Molly for today."

She laughed and said, "You're my Molly! I'm here talking to my boy and all's right with the world again. Halleluyah!"

I really cracked up then.

But also, I totally knew what she was trying to say and that it was on behalf of a lot of our business peeps. Because whether I like it or not, I'm the energizer. Even the oldest suits sort of get off on the image. They're working for this bad little boy, you know? Their kids think they're cool, women who wouldn't look at them even once before give them the eye now, hoping to be asked to party or something. They're hooked on that buzz she didn't even have a word for. And they needed a bump.

So I said, "Work on that, then. But also, something for the troops, right? Live feed or whatever. Spark it up."

"Boom!" she said. That's how she signed off when we'd really connected and she couldn't wait to dive into whatever we'd decided to do.

I was excited, too. But then I remembered why she'd called. That damned judge.

I got Chase to fill me in as much as he could, but he sounded just as confused as I did. So the morning before the custody hearing, we went on over there, to find out what the hell was going on.

And I gotta say, if you didn't want to commit suicide before you got there, once you walked through those doors, you probably would.

It reminded me, and this is a big connection right here, of how it feels at DeGrazia, once you leave that renovated office area up front. I mean, the office is all clean and well lit, but then you cross over into the real school and it's dim and dark and depressing as hell.

The jail was just like that. In fact, the buildings were kind of similar, which validated what people said about schools like DeGrazia just being a place to warehouse ghetto kids 'til they get sent to prison for one thing or another. DeGrazia's a dress rehearsal. I could feel it that day.

And once I'd had my little epiphany-yes, I know what that is and that I'd had one-the sad buildings and the blasé attitudes of the people walking us through them were less intimidating. I'd seen it all before. It was my "turf." Or would've been, if I'd gone to school more often. Maybe that's what I knew somehow, even as a kid. Maybe that's why I stayed away, so they couldn't trap me and kill my spirit.

Cause it was like they were going out of their way to mess with your morale in these places. At the jail, we had to walk through this maze of hallways, once we through the first big iron door they buzzed us through.

I mean, we just sort of zig zagged down one hallway and up another where we'd stop and they'd buzz us through. And it'd happen all over again. I felt like it was their way of trying to confuse any prisoners who got loose. They'd be nabbed before they could figure out the right route.

But finally, we got to where we were supposed to meet the judge. The Judge, I guess I should call him now, since that's how he'll be addressed for this conversation, and since that's all I ever called his cold ass from the day we met.

We had a room to ourselves, a big room, too. And the sort of blank faced woman who had taken us the down the last hallway looked at me and said, "You know he's on watch, right?"

And Chase said, "Suicide watch" just in case I didn't know what "watch" was. Her face didn't change. She looked like she was maybe Native or something. But that's not why she was blank faced-that stoic Indian thing isn't even real. The Native people I know are some crazy muthas, always joking around, you know? She was just probably half lobotomized by the monotony of it all, this one.

So I just said, "I heard something about that."

And she said, "Well, there'll be someone outside the door and that mirror right there across-"

"There'll be people watching the whole deal?" I asked.

"Just a couple," she said. I could tell she couldn't say which "couple." Wasn't my business anyway.

So I sat and Chase said, "I'm gonna be one of 'em."

"Taking notes?"

"If he says anything interesting. They record this stuff anyway. Are you good? You want me to stay with you?"

"Nah. He's in here now. I don't think he can hurt me anymore."

"Oh, I dunno," Chase said, giving me this little smile that said he was about to give me some kind of wise guy comment. "They learn fast in here. He might've made a blow gun or something. Hollowed out potato, nail dipped into some o' that lethal hooch they make in the toilet..."

I gave him this long glare and he started laughing. We were back, too, him and I. Doing our little schticks.

He saluted me and headed for one door just as they were walking The Judge in through another one, a side one.

And I gotta tell you, dude scared me more than a little bit. He had these black raccoon looking circles around, not just under his eyes, and his hair was all messed up like he'd been in a hurricane or something. And he shuffled instead of walking like normal people do. There weren't any chains on his ankles or anything, he was just, like, maybe so drugged out he couldn't lift his feet up.

And that orange jumpsuit thing? Wow. I mean, this is a guy who used to be sharp as a tack in court. You could tell even with the robe on that he was sporting custom made threads under there. He sat up straight and tall, gave you the evil eye. Put the fear of God into you back then.

This guy here, I couldn't believe it was the same man. Until he raised his chin a little bit, to look down his nose at me the way he had back in the courtroom. Then I could see the man I'd fought with. Only the eyes were even crazier.

He said, "None the worse for wear." Meaning me, I gathered.

So I said, "I'm doin' pretty good."

"Oh, better than good. You've won. Credit where credit's due."

"Dun feel like winning. In a way."

He smiled and it creeped me out because it was the kind of smile you figure Charlie Manson might smile before he jumped up and bit a chunk out of your forehead or something. I was suddenly real glad there were people watching. And I made a little mental note of where the door was and how many steps it'd probably take me to get there.

He said, "Oh, but you did. However, lest you leave here with a false impression of the role I played in all this," even stranger smile, "it was personal."

And despite that psycho smile, I wanted to slap him upside his head right about then. But I managed to say, "Why?" without sounding as pissed off as I was.

And he said, "The little speech I made in court that last day expressed that perfectly. I do not approve of you or any of the cultural...changes, you represent. That you have escaped many of the pitfalls your peers face as our society crumbles and the American way of life with it only reinforces my disdain. There are young people who have jumped through all the hoops, done precisely what they were told they should who are now working at Starbucks and defaulting on student loans they will never be able to pay on the salaries they will have in this new Uber economy we seem to be rushing headlong into at this point. You got your handout from Daddy Warbucks and the world is your oyster. It's not your fault, of course. The God I'm no longer sure I believe in is probably the guilty party, in truth. Though it's not quite the right time to...go there, as you might put it, as He might be my court of last resort. Or would you say, 'She?' You're a hip young thing-gender non-conforming! God would be, correct?"

By the end of that rant his eyes were gleaming. He was flyin' the friendly skies, this guy. Heavy meds.

In fact, he was so high I figured I could say almost anything. So I said, "Strong stuff they've got you on, huh?"

And he raised his arms like he was Jesus welcoming his flock and said, "Nonsense! I'm high on life, my dear boy!"

I fought back a total guffaw and settled for this little snorty thing that escaped before I could stop it. He shook his head as if I was just the most ridiculous little moron he'd ever had to lay eyes on in his life. But his shoulders shook like I was at least an amusing little moron.

All I could think to say then was, "Why are you in this place?"

He smiled even more and said, "I earned it!"

And then he folded his arms and said, "Don't you agree? You should. The Russian's recordings confirm your worst suspicions, correct? We talked at length about you and how to achieve the desired results. And you weren't the only one, my boy! Far from it. I'd had plenty of practice by the time they picked you. They're coming out of the woodwork now like those...Cosby women!"

"Could I ask...I mean, why would-"

"No, no. This is my story hour. I choose the narrative. Though you're headed in the right direction," he said. "You took me back to a time I'd almost forgotten. It all began with someone like you. Though the sorry state of the legal system in general is what made me ripe for the plucking."

I was just shell shocked by then. I just sat there, waiting for him to rev himself up again. He'd jiggle those legs for a few seconds, eyes staring off somewhere-not in that thoughtful way Wyatt does, though. She looks like she's meditating. He looked like an eagle staring at something moving in the grass that was going to be lunch in a minute.

And after he'd jiggled and stared for a minute or so, he gave me this deranged Vincent Price laugh and said, "You see, justice is blind, my boy. And deaf and dumb, at this point. Though I never had any real illusions or ambitions. Law was what the men in my family did with their college educations. I was just particularly bad at it. Ambivalent about it."

"Didn't seem like it to me," I said. Mostly just to say something. I'd noticed if I interrupted, he would quiet down a little bit. Like he was trying to hear something besides the voices in his head, I guess. He was in really bad shape, poor guy. I was starting to worry about him. No, seriously, I felt like he was sort of melting like the witch in the Wizard of Oz. Like Yuri's tapes were the bucket of water we'd thrown all over him, and his brain cells were dissolving.

I was afraid he'd starting singing like that HAL computer in that 2001 movie, you know? How when the astronaut guy starts taking it apart, and it doesn't have enough memory left to keep begging him to stop, it starts singing, "Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer..." in that spacey voice that gets lower and slower 'til it just dies.

But this one didn't die out on me. He just startled, blinked and put on his judge face again. Or tried to. Didn't work. He was too broke down to pull it off.

"I was loyal to it," he said. "The system gave me...security. I didn't have to maintain a practice, per se. I'd have all the clients I could eat, and the system would spit them out like seeds. Dead husks, shavings. It was a sweet deal. We made the perfect match, this sad system and I. And I moved up in the ranks rather rapidly-take a lesson, my boy. The key is not to care. The less you do, the more they like you. You won't make waves. Or ask questions. You'll do as you're told, they'll get what they want. Trust the old judge on this. He knows the dark side far better than you think you do."

I went, "Wow..." sort of to myself, but he heard it and started to laugh his ass off.

"Oh, I am The Devil," he told me. "Make no mistake. And there wasn't a thing you could do about it. In fact, I'm not here because of you. This was your Russian friend's work, that put me here. Both Russians, in fact. Your Uncle Nick hammered that last nail in the coffin-did you know that?"

That woke me up. I was stunned.

"Whoa-run that by me one more time?"

He either didn't hear me or wanted to prove what he'd said about who was in charge of telling this story.

Because he gave me this snarky smile and said, "You asked if we could let bygones be, didn't you? I have to admit, I was very impressed that you wanted to save me. But you've got to stop that nonsense. We're greedy creatures. Those handouts you offer? Don't be fooled. It will take more and more to satisfy their hunger. They're addicted to their sorry lives. And they'll bite the hand that feeds them if you don't continue to up the dosage."

"Sorry lives, huh?"

He nodded and folded his arms as if to say, "Damned right."

But what he actually said was, "You are merely prolonging the inevitable, my boy. I dealt with the dregs for decades. I know it's hopeless. I suppose a few may be saved someday. When Hell freezes over. Only Hell will never freeze over because its flames are fed by the carcasses that sad system spits into it day in and day out--are you following all this? You look a bit unnerved."

"Hanging on every word," I said. I was, too. He was like a horror movie. I was totally engrossed.

And he sat back then, and said, "It was your Uncle Nick who had the ace up his sleeve, you see. I wasn't particularly worried about the investigation. One can always endure the media firestorm. In fact, scandals are excellent PR. Better than a resumé. I'll be a valuable asset in some circles, once I've served what little time I'm actually given."

"Very little if any, right?"

"Oh, I will serve some time. But the local fat cats who owe me favors will see that I'm quietly released. Possibly to a facility that treats white collar cowards for, say...depression. That sort of thing. And only briefly, of course. Till they've forgotten me. Such short attention spans we have now."

"But they're still hangin' in there with you, your guys?"

"Well, just to tie up loose ends. As for business, they've already moved on to greener pastures. You foiled their plans for this dung heap. Those properties you bought were the hub around which all else revolved. And you knew that, didn't you?"

"Yeah, sort of. I mean, I was asked to buy them."

"By the neighborhood, yes. To keep it quaint and colorful."

"They've lost damned near everything else around there. Nobody can afford to stay, the few trying to hang on anyway. I figured at least some of the old Tucson should be left alone. We could've worked something out, though. They're not stupid, those people. They know they need more money comin' in if they're going to make it over the long haul. They just didn't want a lotta big, tall buildings that look like all the other big tall buildings."

"You're such an amazing boy. Your JJ knew a good thing when he saw it, didn't he?"

I didn't even answer that. So he laughed and said, "We were talking about Nick, you see. That's why I went there. Nick knew how it really began."

"Cut to the chase, okay? We've got a court date today."

"Oh, yes, I know! And all will go very well. That's all arranged, too. Your children will be there, waiting."

"Are you serious?!"

"Spoiler alert," he said. And he winked at me. I swear he did.

"So, it's a done deal?" I said. My heart was racing now.

"Of course! We have to make nice. Glory to the newborn king," he said. "You've proved your point. The enemy is in retreat. Sends a very strong message, my boy. You can do whatever you like from here on. For a while. I wouldn't continue to do business with the Russians, if I were you, but you have Nick. And all that lovely money. You should be quite safe. I underestimated you, you see. The others were easy. Just kids. Even the wily one was easily silenced."

"What the hell are you-"

"My Mexican vacations, son," he said, sort of laughing again. "I am very well known in shadier circles down Mexico way. And like Blanche DuBois, I have had many meetings with strangers. Young strangers. Male, preferably."

I wasn't even surprised. I swear. It just was that last tumbler falling into place, you know? The whole story opened up for me in that tiny moment, but a part of me had sussed that out day one. He'd hated me too much for it to just be a legal thing-it was personal, like he said.

"The 'ah-ha' moment, yes?" he said. "Well, one of my little companions followed me home. It went fairly well initially. He was actually from a good family. One of the old families, the big landowners you hear the young radicals bleating about. We summered together, for a few years, our two families. And he was a cunning lad. Ambitious, devious. Used the family connections to ingratiate himself to some very unsavory characters. Drug trade-you get the idea."

"I wish I got the idea. Who was he to you exactly?"

"Oh, come now! Doesn't this story sound familiar at all?"

Took me a minute. And then I went, "You're not thinking of me and JJ, are you? I mean, cause there was nothin' goin' on there. Not, like...physically..."

"That's a telling reaction," he said. "I don't think he would be at all pleased."

"Oh, c'mon, you know what I mean."

He smiled and said, "Oh, yes! You're a man's man. I totally understand."

"Okay, whatever. But I wasn't ashamed of JJ or anything, if that's what you're getting at."

"No, you were just what the doctor ordered, for that time in his life," he said. "And actually, I envy his will power, I must say. I couldn't have done it. I wouldn't have done it. I don't have an altruistic bone in my body. That so-called higher, platonic love has never interested me. Romantic love, either, truth be told. Purely sexual, my dalliances. No illusions of grandeur-commercial transactions."

"Aren't you married, though?"

"Same thing. She doesn't see it that way, of course, as most women don't. But she got the houses, the cars, the country club the...Junior League caste system, and I got the illusion of domesticity required to move up the food chain in my world."

"Really?"

"Well, of course, your generation is completely different. Your women-even your wives work. They're autonomous. I'm sure that's why marriage is going the way of the dinosaurs now. Women can take care of themselves and men can have all the sex they want without the legal hassles. I envy that, too. You and your girls, you've got the perfect arrangement, haven't you?"

"But I love them like crazy, though. And it's mutual."

"Intriguing."

"C'mon, you know there's more to it than that. You don't love your family?"

The way he laughed when I asked him that? Gave me the shivers. It was like he thought he'd pulled one over on them or something. Like he'd just let you in on a gigantic joke. I felt real bad for his relatives. That he looked at them like pawns in a game.

So I did a U turn back to, "Okay, so I remind you of this kid, right?"

"He wasn't as beautiful as you. Nor as smart, save in his own very specific way. That...cunning way I've mentioned. Evil genius. Reveled in the misery he caused."

"So he double crossed you or something?"

"Oh, he tortured me," he said. "Put me through one hell after another. And then drew a bead on my daughter, to twist the knife. Pardon the mixed metaphors. You're a gifted student as I recall."

Am I going to Hell because I was sort of digging this part of the story? I mean, talk about a pot boiler. Fifty Shades of Sleaze, this was. I was into it.

I said, "I think I know where this is going. You showed 'im a lesson, right?"

"It's more complicated than that," he said. "My daughter was beaten within an inch of her life, you see. She'd lied to us about going to Phoenix for a long weekend and slipped away to one of his little hideaways down there. And he'd apparently attempted to outwit the big boss not long before. Very unwise. It didn't take long for his hit squad to find all his little lairs. And when he wasn't home the day they came calling, they vented their frustrations on my only child. Better, yes? To say, 'If this is what we did to her, just imagine.'"

It wasn't funny anymore. And I didn't have to imagine, because I know what they do to people, the drug dudes. I've told you before. So she was lucky to live through it.

"She okay now?" I asked. Not just to be courteous. I did care, because of what I knew.

He sort of blew it off. Shrugged and said, "Physically, yes. There are scars. Only one on the face. Cigar burn. Barely visible, after surgery. But the emotional scars are deeper. PTSD. Terrified of men. Of...the world in general, really. Rightly so, don't you think?"

"Damn, I'm really sorry."

"Oh, grow up, will you! She's the daughter of the man who made your life Hell on Earth. Or tried to."

"She didn't do it."

He said, "Oh, please," with this smirk that almost made me laugh.

But to give him a break, I just said, "Okay, what'd you do to that kid, then? Kill 'im?"

I wanted to see if he'd blink. And he didn't. Not even a little bit.

He said, "I didn't have to kill him. I simply made sure that he couldn't cut and run. I had him apprehended at the border when he tried--money talks very loudly down that way. Everything's for sale. And they delivered him right to his boss for me. I don't think they will ever find whatever's left of that boy."

He said it like he liked it. And I realized how freakin' lucky I was, right then and there. This guy was The Devil.

I said, "But then you found me."

"Very good! Very good. Quick study."

"And Nick knew about the other one."

"He did indeed. Yuri didn't. He'd heard the rumor about me having someone killed. But he didn't know the rest of the story. And of course, Nick also knew that the kind of people I work for aren't very fond of fags. Thieves and murderers are bad ass. Screwing young boys, well...that's an abomination. That kind of scandal I could not survive. I'd be untouchable."

"So it wasn't the tapes, it was-"

"There you are!" he said. He seemed very pleased that we'd finally gotten to that point. "He hinted at it to stop me from meddling with your Las Vegas deal. And when the tapes were leaked, he called to say he might be persuaded to forget that little story if I helped you get your children back before the story broke, when I'd still have at least a little juice left. He even helped me strategize. Ran scenarios I could use to help my own cause. Of course, I don't trust him any farther than I could throw him, but he does play the game extremely well. How do you get such bad people to do such good things?"

"People want to do good things," I said. "Allat doomsday bullshit you want to believe, that's just what it is. Bullshit you want to believe. I'll never believe that. I won't let my kids believe it either, if I really get them back today. Cause it's going to take an army of angels to keep your kind in check."

The crazy mother started clapping, okay? Like I was some actor in a play he was enjoying.

I just let him do it. And when he finally stopped and sat back, I said, "They heard all that, remember. Your big confession."

And he said, "I hope so."

And the pain in his eyes caught me up short. He was committing suicide. And he'd used me to do it.

I said, "I feel for you. You can hate me all you want, but I do."

"I hate everyone, Colton. Myself most of all. I simply wanted you to understand...whatever you were capable of understanding. Don't forgive me. Just...watch and learn."

He looked toward the mirror and smiled. Raised a hand like he was going to give them a snarky salute. But I saw something peeking out between his thumb and forefinger that made me jump up and SLAP the hell out of that hand-knee jerk reaction to something in my memory bank, you know?

And this little capsule flew across the room just as a bunch of guards ran in and tackled him down like he was a quarterback or something. Chase and the others watching ran in, too. But as one of them started looking for that pill that flew, I yelled "Don't touch it! Seriously! Don't," fierce enough to stop everybody in their tracks.

And Chase goes, "What the hell-"

"Cyanide pill," I said. "I used to have two."

Everybody backed up real fast away from that thing with their eyes all wide.

And one guard said, "What is it again?"

"It'll kill you in, like, a few seconds," I said. "You don't even wanna get it on your skin. You'll need to have somebody scrub there, too. You can't just pick it up and go on about your business."

And then I looked at The Judge who was just sort of hanging there, limp as a rag doll, between two guards.

And I gave him a real direct stare and said, "Write me out of the movie, man. It's a wrap. We're done."

I mean, he was ready to give up his life to win the game once and for all and mess up my mind forever. That's how twisted this man was.

A bunch of dudes all HAZMATed up came in to grab the killer pill. Two of them went over and started probing The Judge's mouth with those big gloves on. He gagged a couple of times, when they stuck a one of those big fat fingers back too far. But they weren't taking any chances.

They went over his jumpsuit almost thread by thread, too. They even snipped off a stain they found on it, I guess to make sure it wasn't soaked in cyanide so he could suck it off that and finish the job back in his cell. Only if it had been, it woulda seeped into his skin and killed him seconds after he spilled it on there, probably.

After they'd rushed the poison pill out of there in this little glass bottle, Chase looked at me and said, "What the hell did you have 'em for?"

"Dude that taught us how to kill people gave 'em to us. For the end times. It's what they give to spies and whatnot. So like say, you get captured by ISIS and you figure it's either let 'em slice your head off or one gulp and you're gone."

"Well, he's not goin' anywhere today," one of the guards said, dragging the madman out of there. He was totally out of it. Head just dangling back, eyes not really seeing the ceiling he was looking at, probably. I think he'd finally snapped. So pathetic.

I hurt for that man. I did. I know it's stupid, but think about it. What he said, what he did. It's sad, don't you think? No? Well, I think it is. But like he said, I'm too soft, I guess.

"That's twice you've saved his crazy ass," Chase said to me.

"He saved my kids, though. So there's somethin' in there. Sliver of a soul, maybe. That made him do that."

"You are a very strange child," he told me. But he was smiling a little. Used to me by then.

Another guard came to lead us through that damned maze again. But this time, as we were walking through it, I felt like it was this metaphor, you know? For life.

I mean, it's like you're always trying to find your way, and there are these obstacles, like the doors they had to buzz us through. You have to say the secret word or show that you know something important before you get to go into the next part of the maze.

I don't know if you're ever home free. But I'm sure that the people like that judge, who think they can beat it or trick it or something, they stay stuck somewhere in the middle of it. And they get mad and mean and they make up all kinds of lies that make them feel better about not being allowed to move on like the good people do.

They tell themselves it's better where they are. That they're the masters of their little piece of it, and they don't want to move on. That people like me are suckers. That we're being used or something. I don't know. I was too freaked out to think it through.

I was thinking about his daughter, mostly. Now she had a scar that no plastic surgeon could fix. I wished I knew her. So I could send her some kind of "Thank you" message maybe to say I was grateful for what he did for me and my kids. Might've given her a minute of peace of some kind. Knowing he did something good, before he tried to do the worst thing a person can do.

Maybe to him, the good thing would've been to toss back that pill and just die before all that stuff came out in the papers and all. It would've got out anyway, though. And I felt like he wanted it to. Like he wanted people to spit on his grave for eternity.

I don't know if there's a real Hell, like some people think. But I can say he won't have to be sent there. He's been living in it all his life, pretty much. Damn.

I took a real deep breath when we finally got outside. And then I looked at Chase and said, "Let's go get my babies."

And he was about to slap me on the back when he remembered what happened the last time he touched my back and put the brakes on. But I got hold of it and pulled him over for a one-armed hug.

And he said, "Someday, you have got to write a book, you know that? Stranger than fiction, your life. Swear to God."

Are you cracking up right now? Yeah, well, that's not where I first got the idea, but that day's when I realized I really did want to write it all down. So now let's go to the next chapter I told you about earlier.

Doesn't go like you think. Remember the maze.