Freedy got the feeling she was going to say something. He waited, heard the dripping sounds. She spoke: “What happened to her?”
“Happened to her? Nothing happened to her. She’s out in California, leading the good life. Why would anything happen to her?”
“No reason.”
He heard that warm breeze breath again, slow and long.
“Been to California?” he said.
“Yes.”
“Whereabouts?”
“Heavenly Valley.”
“What the hell’s that?”
No answer.
“Been all over the fucking state, from Tijuana to LA. Never heard of it.”
“It’s a ski place.”
“A ski place?”
No answer.
“A ski place, I said.”
“Yes.”
“That’s what you do in California? You ski?”
“I did.”
“The college kid go with you?”
No answer.
“I asked you a question. The college kid, you know who I’m talking about, who the two of you are so hot for-what’s his name, again?”
No answer.
“That was another question.”
Nothing, zip. Couldn’t allow that. But what to do? All he could think of was kissing those lips of hers again. Weird: what kind of reprimand was that? No explaining some things. But it was what he wanted to do, and he started to do it, rolling over, lowering his face to hers.
“Nat,” she said.
He paused. “Huh?”
“His name is Nat.”
The answer to his question, but not what he wanted to think about right now. “Don’t tell me. He owns a condo out there.”
“No.”
“But he’s got money to burn. I know the type. Never worked a day in his life.”
That got her angry. Was it possible? “He works right now.” Another long slow breath. “And in the summer he works in a mill.”
“What kind of mill?”
No answer.
“His old man probably owns it.”
“His old man’s not around.”
Freedy felt another twinge, more than a twinge, but he’d call it a twinge, in his shoulder. He rolled over, lay on his back. They lay there, breathing together. Shadows made jittery motions on the ceiling. Water dripped. Sleeping would be a bad idea.
Blackness.
“You awake?”
Candle out.
“Babe?”
He had a horrible thought-she’d escaped somehow-and as he had the thought his good arm lashed out. Struck something sort of soft. She screamed, like in agony. He jumped a mile.
“Hey,” he said. “That wasn’t even a hit.”
She was already quiet. Then she took one of those breaths. “I need a doctor,” she said.
“Me too.”
They lay there. Freedy tested his bad arm. Hey! Felt better, a lot better. What a little sleep would do, especially when you were a fuckin’ animal. “Me too,” he said, “but you don’t hear me complaining.”
He relit what was left of the candle, had a look at her. Nothing wrong that he could see, beside the obvious, that eye, one or two other things. “That was a nice little siesta.” Comprendo, siesta- he was on a roll. “Now we’re feeling refreshed, how about we get back to brainstorming?”
No answer, just that warm breezing breath.
“You know that word, siesta?” he said.
Zip.
“It’s a spic-Spanish-word for, like, sacking out.” He thought: a cool million, the girl, siestas in the Florida sun, maybe by the rooftop pool of Agua Group HQ. “You like pools?” he said.
No answer.
“Swimming pools.”
Zip.
“I asked you a question.”
No reply. Maybe she was going to say something, but before she could, Freedy heard a little scratching sound. It came, it went, a rat probably, or something like that, not important. But it got him thinking.
“We got to think,” he said.
Silence.
“Say ‘About what, Freedy?’ ”.
“For God’s sake,” she said.
He liked that. Breaking in a horse: he’d seen it in the movies. “We got to think about our plan. There’s…” He wasn’t sure exactly how to put it, about those problems slouching in his mind.
Time passed while he thought. At last, she said: “What is the plan?”
“Like I said, there’s you, there’s the million.”
Another long breath. “Do they know?”
“Now they do. They saw the note.”
“What does it say?”
“The exact words? Can’t give you the exact words. Something about the money, where to leave it and such.”
“Where?”
“In the room down there.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“What time is it now?”
“Don’t have a watch.”
“I do.”
He rolled over, held the candle near her wrist. Her watch was all smashed up.
“No you don’t,” he said.
The gold eye watched him. “And if the money doesn’t come?”
“Like, worst-case scenario? That’s what we say in business.” He waited for her to speak. When she didn’t, he said: “No need to talk about that. It’ll come. The cops is what I’m-not worried-more like, you know.”
“What makes you think they’ll be involved?”
“Hey. Exactly right. I wrote it in plain English, what would happen.”
“Which was?”
