The Program by Gregg Hurwitz

Author:Gregg Hurwitz [Gregg Hurwitz]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3, pdf
Published: 2004-06-27T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Five

Greeting him at the Hennings’ front door was a bodybuilder duo; it seemed at first glance that Rooch had been cloned in Tim’s absence. Tim managed to distinguish Rooch from his thick-necked playmate an instant before the squeaky articulation removed all doubt. “Mr. Henning expecting you?”

“No.”

Behind them the tile floors amplified a baby’s cries. Rooch’s twin chomped his gum. The bulge beneath his knockoff jacket was a pretty good indication that the death threats had rattled the Hennings more than they’d let on. His voice, accompanied by a waft of fruity breath, was better suited to his build. “You in the practice of just dropping in on people Sunday afternoons?” He offered a broad ledge of a grin, his dark hair pulled tight against his skull and taken up in a rabbit’s foot of a ponytail. He was the kind of guy who’d had his ego rewarded enough that he’d arrived at the conclusion that his dickhead temperament constituted a kind of charm.

“Listen, princess, when you’re teaching etiquette, I’ll be sure to sign up. In the meantime, tell him I’m here.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Have it your way. Please inform Mr. Henning that I’m no longer available to speak with him. This was his window, and he missed it.”

Tim started down the walk. He didn’t get three steps before Rooch’s hand clamped down over his shoulder, squeezing so tight he felt the bones grind. “Come on, hard-on. Don’t let Doug scare you off.”

“Doug just annoys me, Rooch. Does he scare you?”

Doug stood in the doorway. When Tim knocked shoulders with him on his way in, it felt like clipping a wall. Emma sat at the kitchen bar, bouncing the baby awkwardly in her lap, a pear-shaped Latina nanny looking on with concern. The baby’s mouth was an almost perfect O; the volume issuing forth seemed an anatomical impossibility. A woman with wrenched-back hair to match her facial skin cupped a frothy cappuccino in both well-manicured hands, her smile like a slit in a sheet of Saran Wrap. Will and a young man in a pilled sweater were hunkered over something at the kitchen table.

Will and Emma noticed Tim at the same time. The baby’s cries ceased the minute she was enfolded in the nanny’s plump arms. Will brusquely rose and directed a dismissive nod in the direction of the table. The young man gathered a profusion of red-penned pages to his chest and scooted out.

Will rocked on his heels and said, “Word guy,” by way of explanation.

Emma’s friend gathered her purse. “Say hello to Leah. She’s doing well at Pepperdine?”

Emma’s eyes regarded Tim joylessly, even as she shoulder-clutched her friend and pressed cheeks. “Yes, wonderfully.”

Rooch showed the friend out; it seemed Doug wasn’t sufficiently housebroken to escort proper company.

“It’s for Leah’s own sake,” Emma said with a ferocity Tim was surprised she could muster. She scurried beside Tim down the hall. “Janice’s daughter, Leah’s age, is going to be a physician.”

“You don’t say.”

Once they’d descended into the oversize conversation pit of a living room, Will topped off a rocks glass.

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