The neighborhood Julio directed them into was five miles and an entire dimension removed from tourist mania. Wayne drove down streets that looked recently imported from Kabul, right down to the graffiti he couldn’t read and the bullet holes.
From Julio’s other side, Foster muttered, “Who invaded us?”
“What, you think Orlando-town is all happy songs and marching bands?” Julio pointed at a trio of low-slung apartment buildings. “Here’s good, man.”
Wayne’s tires scrunched over glass as he pulled to the curb. He faced an apartment building streaked with old smoke and graffiti. The ground floor windows were all boarded up. Two defunct bikes hung on rusting chains from a fence. “Who lives here?”
“My grandmother and me.” He waited while Foster climbed down, then slid from the truck. He offered Foster a fist. “It was cool hanging with you guys.”
Foster looked uncertainly at the fist. “Last time I checked, buddies were supposed to shake.”
“Whatever. Later, man.” Julio walked away without a backward glance.
Foster climbed back in the truck and waited until the kid had disappeared to ask, “What did your sister tell you?”
“Get through to him.” Wayne waited until the kid had disappeared to pull away. “Some payback, huh.”
They didn’t actually plan that evening’s action for drama’s sake. But they didn’t do much to stop it either.
The instant Wayne pulled into the community parking lot, he knew. The news was out, and the people were ready.
Maybe Victoria let it slip. Or Eilene. Or maybe just the old-folks’ ESP had been working overtime. However it happened, they didn’t call a meeting, because they didn’t need to. After dinner, Wayne, Foster, and Jerry started toward the community center, the cash split three ways so none of them had to stagger. The residents took that as their cue. They streamed out front doors and off porches and down stairs. They came out of lawn chairs and abandoned their favorite sunset benches. They hobbled on canes. They clanked on walkers. They rolled in wheelchairs. But they came.
“I feel like the Pied Piper of wrinkles,” Jerry said.
“If anybody gets too close, swing hard,” Foster said. “They bite.”
“No telling what germs they got stewing in those dentures,” Jerry agreed.
Holly Reeves was there to open the front door. She stood in one corner and watched them stack the cash on the front table. Then Foster and Jerry started taking a couple of stacks at a time, reading off the slips of paper Wayne had slipped into the rubber bands. Calling out the names, walking over, handing out the cash. Wayne just stood to one side, watching the pile on the table dwindle. When the last couple had received their share, he turned to Holly and said, “The rest is yours.”
The community director trembled in a manner that sprinkled her cheeks with tears. “How …”
“Daughter.”
To Wayne’s surprise, it was Victoria who interrupted. “Perhaps it would be best if we focused on gratitude and not questions.”