“Or what?”
“Or you might be number two.”
***
Carson pulled into his driveway, turned the engine off, and sat in the driver’s seat for a moment. The sun was a giant reddish-yellow ball dropping into the western horizon, and he basked in the warmth it cast into his life. For a brief moment, he believed it smiled upon him, knowing Carson had once again found a reason for optimism and hope in this life and was saying, “you’re welcome.” He thought back to the last time he’d been right here and marveled at how his disposition had changed so radically in the previous 24 hours.
Life’s so fickle. Four years ago it went from great to shit in 10 minutes. Now – well, it’s not that extreme, but it did just make a hard turn in the right direction.
He got out of his car and walked to his front door, thinking he might not have to go through half of a bottle of whiskey tonight. That would be a change. If nothing else, he might save a few dollars at the liquor store. He’d probably be a lot better at his job too if he didn’t have a low-grade hangover a couple of days a week.
He felt his phone vibrate and smiled, knowing it was Katie calling to wish him good night yet again. But when he looked at the screen, he saw a number he did not recognize, which illogically told him exactly who was calling. The smile died a quick death as he clicked ‘Accept’.
“Yeah?”
The responding voice was most assuredly not Katie’s. “Got something for you. Monday night, 9:30, the regular place.”
Carson closed his eyes in frustration. He wanted – no, he ached – to tell this guy to go fuck himself, but that wasn’t an option, at least not right now.
“No way. Not right now. I can’t fit anything in.”
“You’ll fit this in,” the caller responded.
“Look, not this time. Find someone else. I can’t do it.”
“This isn’t a negotiation. You don’t show, it’s your ass.” The line went dead.
Carson put the phone in his pocket and glanced around, not sure what he was looking for or at. His insides seemed to melt as if sucked down by a black hole. He took the deepest breath he could muster, trying to draw any amount of energy, but he had none left. Instead, he leaned forward, and only the autonomous response of not wanting to fall made him lift his feet from their place on the concrete and propel him inside.
Maybe I do need that whiskey.
Chapter 8
A Surprise Houseguest
Carson saw the Caddy come around the turn in his least favorite Wilmington parking garage. He glared at it as if the scowl on his face would stop it in its tracks, but it pulled up right next to him and the door flew open, just like normal. He crawled in and saw the regular cast of characters. The only difference was, instead of avoiding their glare by keeping his eyes lowered submissively, he met them head on and would not back down. Hooks seemed to react more than the others, shifting slightly in his seat. Carson took note of it but didn’t change his demeanor.
“What the hell do you want?” he asked Chops without preamble.
“Ooh hoo,” Chops said. “Navy’s got his knickers all in a twist.”
“Yeah, that’s about right, so why don’t we just cut to the fucking chase, OK?”
Chops’ eyes narrowed in mild irritation, and even Lefty Mike turned partway towards the backseat. Carson had never spoken to Chops with such disrespect, and it changed the dynamic in the car.
“Hey, you might be havin’ a bad day, but you need to watch yourself. I don’t like your tone.”
Carson realized he wasn’t helping the situation, and he was pissing off the one person he shouldn’t. He got himself under control. “All right, all right. I had a crappy day, but that’s not your issue. What’s the story?”
“Better.” Chops’ relaxed slightly in his seat once more. “Now, you remember last time I said we had somethin’ in the works for you, somethin’ big?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s happening. Probably Thursday night.”
Carson sighed, knowing this would be much worse than roughing up some scum bag. If Chops had been telling the truth when they talked about it before, and it would get his debt paid off completely, it wasn’t going to be a quick hit. “OK, what do I have to do?”
Chops smiled. Carson never liked it when he smiled. It meant he was about to impart unpleasant news. “Not much. Almost nuthin’. You just gotta watch a package.” Hooks snickered at his choice of words.
Seeing the other shoe hanging from its laces, Carson asked the question he didn’t want to ask. “What kind of package?”
“Ehhh, the kind you have to feed and let use the bathroom.”
“A person? I don’t understand.”
“I’ll bet. Lemme’ fill ya in,” Chops responded, almost sympathetically. “We’ve been contracted by an interested party to keep a valuable package… let’s say safe and out of mainstream society for a little while. There’s some documents that need signin’. We’re going to collect this package and you’re going to make sure it stays healthy, but more importantly that it stays in one place. At least until those docs are signed and payment is made for services rendered.”
Why does he always talk in circles? He knew why, of course, but it still gave Carson a headache. “You mean like house arrest? What did he do?”
“Nuthin’. The package didn’t do nuthin’ wrong. But yeah, it’s like house arrest, except ‘arrest’ ain’t really the right word here. You can’t arrest this kind
