“Why?”
I take a sip. Think for a second. “Because I remember you as the valedictorian. The good girl with the great legs who was one of the captains of the track team. And everything you’ve shown me since we met up—”
“Met up? You mean when you took me as a hostage after you failed to rob the bank?”
“Everything you’ve shown me since then is that you’re still that same good girl. Which means that, as smart as you are — and I’m not going to lie, I know you’re as smart as hell, and it’s hot, in a sexy librarian kind of way — you don’t know jack shit about being a criminal. I do. And I know that I’ve got the cops looking for me. So, if I’m going to stick my neck out and come pick you up, I need to know what kind of mess you’ve made. That way, I know how much I have to hurry, and whether I have time to finish my whiskey or whether I should make myself a pot of coffee and sober up.”
“You’re drunk right now?”
“I’ve got a good buzz going. There ain’t much to do out here in the woods except drink and fuck and, since I’m all alone, that leaves me with just one option. Now, tell me what you did, Saint Tiffany.”
“Fine. I lied on a form.”
“Oh shit. Tiffany Santos, I am shocked and appalled. And that’s coming from someone who’s spent time in prison and has a less-than-pristine credit score.”
She huffs. Twice. I can hear her hobble-pacing on her wounded foot. “Stop teasing me.”
“I’m going to sit back, finish my glass of whiskey, take a bit of a nap, and then I’ll come pick you up. Should be just an hour or four.”
“Do you want me to help you or what?”
“I do. But lying on a form is nothing to panic about. I do it all the time.”
“It’s worse than that. It wasn’t just any form, Blaze, it was the insurance information for my hospital stay. I said I was my old boss, Anna.”
I burst out laughing. “You’re going to stick Anna with your hospital bill? Oh shit, Tiffany, that’s cold.”
“I’m not proud of it.”
“Oh, but I am. That’s some diabolical shit.”
I’m grinning. Tiffany Santos has a naughty side to her. Who would have thought? This girl gets better and better the more I find out about her.
“Look, she won’t end up getting the bill. The hospital administrators will figure it out soon enough. But it is fraud, tens of thousands of dollars in fraud — because our healthcare system is just bonkers — and that’s why I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to. So, can you please come and pick me up?”
“Will you tell me more about this fraud you committed?”
Another huff. “No. I will not. If you want me to help you fix your mom’s debt problems, you’ll stop bothering me about what I did. I’ve had enough of crime for today. And for many more days beyond that. Just come pick me up, please.”
I set my glass of whiskey down on the table, get up, and start a pot of coffee. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. I just have to figure out a ride.”
“You can’t use your motorcycle?”
“You’ve heard it. It roars like a lion with a megaphone. It’s fucking awesome and will have every man in that hospital looking at me with jealousy. There’s no way I’ll go unnoticed. Don’t worry, I’ll figure something out.”
“Fine. But no crime.”
“Excuse me?”
“If I’m going to help you out, we have to do things legally. I don’t want to be party to any more criminal acts; this one thing has me feeling sick enough as it is.”
I stare at the dripping coffee pot for a second, stunned.
“You feel sick because you filled a form out wrong?”
“I feel sick because I, for petty and selfish reasons, committed fraud and signed my boss up to receive my huge medical bill. Anna’s a bitch — she’s a horrible, disgusting, conniving bitch — but she doesn’t deserve that.”
What attraction I felt for Tiffany Santos after hearing about her bit of insurance fraud fades in the face of her overbearing morality. She’s got a great ass, incredible legs, and her face and tits aren’t too bad either, but her fucking conscience is a major turnoff.
But I need her.
Because my mom’s in trouble.
Because Tiffany Santos is smart as hell and I’m dealing with a problem that I can’t fight my way out of; the failed bank robbery earlier proves that point.
“Fine. You call the shots here, Saint Tiffany. We’ll solve this thing your way.”
“Promise me, Blaze.”
I swallow my pride; it takes a while, because I kick ass.
“I promise. I’ll be there to pick you up very soon. Crime-free.”
“Thank you. I got to go. One of the nurses is looking at me funny. Hurry, please.”
I hang up and stare at the coffeepot as it fills drip by drip.
Where the hell am I going to legally get a ride out here in the middle of nowhere?
* * * * *
In a chugging 1980 Chevy Camaro that would be a sexy car if not for the mismatched quarter panels, the dent in the front hood the size of the grand canyon, and the unspeakable smell of cat that pervades the interior, I pull up to the curb of the pickup area of Alameda General Hospital.
Tiffany is waiting for me right inside the lobby, and she exits the sliding glass doors about the same time I cut the engine and step out of the car.
“That is our ride? I thought you said
