160 The Meadow “Where are you taking me, Paul?” He says nothing. He brings the Wasp to a halt in front of barn 3. My feet barely touch the metal as Paul lifts me by my belt up each step leading to the dorms above the barn. At the top, he steers me to the left, past a row of rooms. “You’re not going to hurt me, are you?” “I’m putting you in the apartment where I stash M-III after one of his benders.” “What?” “Shut up and turn right.” Paul grabs a key from the ring of keys hanging from his belt. In one motion, he inserts it and the door springs open. The room lights up. I can see a stove, refrigerator, one of those liquid giant TV screens, coffee table, couch, curtains, a shelf full of DVDs and a double bed. “I’ll have your heater fixed by day after tomorrow. The extra key’s hanging on the nail above the light switch. Lock up when you leave. I don’t need M-III hearing his door was left open on top of me putting you up in his room for two nights. Did you hear what I said?” “Did you hear me sing in the kitchen tonight?” “You may have a voice like those fancy trained opera singers– better, in my ignorant opinion–but you’re a racetracker, Villalobos. Stuck here, just like me.” He glances around the kitchen. “Food’s in the refrigerator. Eat everything in it, if you want. I keep it stocked. Watch tv. Watch any DVD you want. Go to sleep on the bed, not the couch. I expect you to be out of here day after tomorrow. Leave the key in my office.” “Paul?” I say, as he opens the door to leave. He turns. “Happy Christmas.” “Good God!” he says, then turns and leaves. Half an hour later I have eaten a turkey and Swiss cheese sand-
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