“Of course, Imade it from scratch. There’s a lot you don’t know about me. I usedto cook when you were really little. Who do you think taught yourmom how to make all those great meals?”
The mention ofher stops me in my tracks immediately changing the vibe. My fathernotices my expression. “I’m sorry, Jules. I didn’t mean to…”
“Never mind,” Isay. “Let’s just eat.”
At dinner, wetalk about my first day on the job before he tells me about his. Hesays that he checked in with his parole officer before going to JobWave and writing down some potential employment opportunities. I’mnot really surprised at how quickly he’s trying to get his lifeback. When I was young, I remember him as someone who could neversit still. I always recall him being ambitious. Unfortunately, hismotivation wasn’t always in pursuit of good things.
After dinner,we tidy up the dishes, sit and watch TV for a while then call it anight.
In the morningmy alarm buzzes. I lie in bed for a few minutes, anxious and eagerto start work so I can prove myself to my new boss. Now that I’vequit my job at the garage, I have no choice but to make thiswork.
* * *
This time, Idon’t drive to where the mob converged yesterday. Instead, I parkon the other side of campus and walk around. I stop random studentsand ask them if they know Allen and then show them his picture. Sofar, no luck. I sit on a bench in front of The Student UnionBuilding where I can watch vehicles pull up and park—so many whitecars and none are the one I’m looking for. Finally, after listeningto students talk to each other as they stride past, I go back tothe truck to drive around.
I decide totake a drive past the parkade I was at yesterday. Considering thecold response, I received from the mob yesterday, I’ll just do aquick drive-by and see if I can spot the Mercedes. I pull aroundthe side of the parkade when I see the same clan. Just as I’m aboutto drive passed them, a white car pulls up. I stop and wait. One ofthe benefits of being a car person, is having the knowledge to spota make and model immediately, and the car I’m looking at is aMercedes A-class sedan. The tinted passenger window rolls down anda guy with short dark hair pokes his head out. One of the people inthe crowd walks over and hands bills to the guy. He takes it thenpasses the student a small package. Drugs. I had a hunch. Whoeveris in the car must be dealers. No wonder when I questioned themyesterday about Allen, they acted so stand-offish.
All of asudden, a car pulls up behind me and honks at me to move. Justthen, the group of students look over and notices my truck. Shit!Then, the asshole who mouthed me off yesterday, points me out tothe guys in the car. I hear the Mercedes engine rev as it quicklyspins around and whizzes past me. I pull into the parkade justenough, so I can back out and follow the car. By the time I’mturned around, the Mercedes is already turning the corner up ahead.I speed up, trying not to lose them. The car is fast and I can tellthat the driver is familiar with this area. He barely brakes goingaround corners and down small streets.
Finally, I’m inluck when at a main intersection, the light turns red. I roll upbehind the Mercedes. Finally, I’m close enough to read the licenseplate that says, HI-LIFE, what a fitting name for a drug dealer.When the light turns green and we start moving, I gently tap on thehorn and point for the driver to pull over. The next thing I see isa middle finger out the driver’s open window. I guess that means hewon’t be pulling over. I guess I’ll just have to irritate the shitout of him by tailing him. As the Mercedes turns a sharp corner infront of me, I catch a glimpse of the guy driving. He looks like afront man for a boy band. He’s got spikey bleached out hair and atattoo on the side of his neck. He also looks older than theaverage student.
Before I knowit, I’ve lost sight of them and the road I’m on starts to narrow. Ikeep travelling until I see a sign that says, Dead End. Shit! Wheredid he go? I pull over to the shoulder and am just about to turnthe truck around when the white Mercedes screams up beside me. Thepassenger is about twenty-five and is wearing a baseball cap pulleddown low, almost covering his eyes. He signals for me to roll downmy window. When I reach for the window control, I notice my handshake.
“What youfollowing us for, bitch?” asks the punk.
“I just wantedto ask you some questions about a student you may know. He’s beenmissing and I’m trying to locate him.”
He laughs.“Does it look like we work for the information bureau?”
No, you looklike a good argument for birth control.
“Theinformation bureau? I’m sorry, are you sure you have the nameright?” I ask, confused.
“Well, whateverthe hell it’s called. Bottom line, we ain’t telling you shit, andif you keep tailing us, you’re gonna end up with a body full oflead,” he says, flashing a gun from under his jacket.
As soon as Isee the revolver, my heart speeds up and my brain goes blank. “Ok,ok. No problem. I’m sorry to have bothered you,” I say, doing upthe window.
The car speedsin front of me and spins around before squealing passed.
No fucking waydid that just happen. I put my hand on my chest to slow mybreathing. What the hell did I get myself into? I mean, I’ve seen alot of guns before, but having one flashed at me in this ritzyarea, completely caught me off guard.
Knowing I needto regroup and come up with a safer and better plan for findingAllen, I decide to go home and unwind.
* * *
Back at theapartment, I notice Dad’s not here. I
