“Did you seeany of those guys clearly,” I ask.
“No, we’re toofar away.”
The car pullsaway from the curb and resumes driving with us a few car lengthsbehind. The Mercedes continues up Harwood to Burrard Street thentakes a right and merges with the busy traffic. Two blocks down,the car crosses over three lanes of traffic then turns left, withangry motorists honking behind them.
“Katie, don’tdo it,” I say, putting my hands on the dash.
“If I don’t,we’ll lose him for sure,” she says with a look ofdetermination.
The next thingI know, we’re careening in and out of traffic. The image of apinball machine comes to mind. My heart beats as my ears areblasted by the horns of drivers we just cut off.
“Are you crazy,girl?” I say.
“No. Crazywould be letting these fuckers get away without seeing wherethey’re going. Maybe they’ll lead us to a clue about the guy that’smissing.”
“But it’s notworth our safety, Dale Earnhardt,” I say.
“Ahh, butlook…success. There they are,” she says, as she victoriously pointsat the road in front of us.
The glow oftaillights is at the stop sign ahead. When they turn right, thestreetlamp lights up the side of the white Mercedes. She was right,we still haven’t lost them. After zig zagging around corners anddriving fast down numerous downtown lanes, the Mercedes pulls intothe parking lot of a pub named Fournier’s. Katie pulls up at theedge of the lot where there’s no lights from the street.
We watch as thedriver and the three other males get out. The driver pulls out acell phone, texts someone and then stuffs it back in his pocket.The four of them stand around talking. A few minutes later, a darkblack Lincoln Continental pulls up beside them. The driver, a hugebody builder type, gets out of the Lincoln and opens the back door.An older slim man with a ponytail and wearing cowboy boots withgold tips, gets out.
“Jules, taketheir pictures,” Katie says.
Of course. Whydidn’t I think of that? I guess I am too wrapped up in the moment.That, and I’m feeling a little paranoid. I really don’t want to seeanother gun today. I take out my cell and zoom in on the men. Istart taking pictures, one after another. After a couple ofminutes, an argument ensues and the burly driver grabs one of theyoung guys by the back of the neck and leads him into the side doorof the pub. The others follow.
“What the hellwas that?” I say.
“I don’t know,but something is going down, for sure.”
When the coastis clear, Katie drives up to the parked cars, so I can take morepictures. A patron staggers out the front of the bar and weavestoward us. I tell Katie we should go. We wouldn’t want someone tospot us taking photos of the cars.
* * *
Back at theapartment, I make us a coffee and we sit in the living room,speaking quietly as to not wake up my father who is sleeping in thespare room.
“This place isnice,” whispers Katie.
“I’m sure yourplace is nice too?”
“No. Notreally. I live in a shoe box on Cardero Street.”
“Cardero is inCoal Harbor. That’s one of the best areas to live in. It’s centralto everywhere in the city.”
“Did you writethe brochure for my apartment building?”
“Very funny,smart ass,” I say, nudging her.
She nudges meback playfully, then I bump her again. Before I know it, she’spushing her lips to mine, and I’ve got my hands around her, pullingher closer.
I can’t believehow sweet she tastes. Her kisses are soft and juicy. The longer itlasts, the more I want. We start to kiss faster and moreaggressively, our breathing becoming shorter and hotter. Just as Islide my hands over her knit dress, and feel her perky breasts, weare abruptly interrupted by the sound of a door opening.
“Oh shit,” Isay. Both of us giggling as my Dad staggers into the living room inhis boxers and a t-shirt.
Withoutnoticing us, he walks past us to the fridge. When he opens thedoor, the light shines on Katie and me.
“Hi, Dad,” Isay loudly, so that he doesn’t think he’s alone and does somethingembarrassing, like fart or scratch himself.
“What thehell?” He hollers, turning to look at us. “You scared the shit outof me!”
I stand up andturn on the kitchen light. My dad’s face grows red, and he quicklyexcuses himself, coming back a moment later wearing his robe. Katieand I are still giggling on the couch.
“So, did youladies have a fun time tonight?” he asks.
“We did,thanks,” says Katie.
“Dad, this isKatie, my friend. Katie, this is my dad, John.”
Katie sayshello and smiles sweetly. The three of us sit in awkward silence.It’s hard to think about anything else other than finishing whatKatie and I started.
“Can I get youladies a snack or something? I bought some nice tarts today,” asksmy dad.
Katie politelythanks him for the offer and then says that she has to get upearly, so she has to go. I feel bummed out that she’s leaving. Istand up and walk her to the door. I’d love nothing more than tokiss her goodbye, but hawk-eye Dad is watching. I settle for aquick hug, and she leaves.
I sit back downon the sofa, and Dad stares at me and smiles, “So, tell me, how didit go?”
“Dad,seriously. You don’t think I’m going to dish about my date? Noway.”
He laughs andshrugs.
“Besides, I’vegot to go through some pictures about the case I’m working on andtake some notes.”
“Mind if I situp with you.”
He sits besideme, and I pull out my phone. Out of all the pictures I took, thereare only a few clear ones. In one shot, I see a guy in his lateteens. He’s got blond hair and a clear complexion and bears astriking resemblance to Allen. I take the small snapshot that hisparents gave me out of my pocket and hold it next to my phone. Thesimilarity is uncanny. If it’s
