I watched our speedometer hit one hundred and five. What was it Angel said? “I put a little extra in the engine.” One ten and climbing.
The car behind us spurted around Angel’s Jeep like we were standing still and continued down the highway, it’s taillights winking in the dark black night.
I caught my breath for the third or fourth time that night. If someone didn’t shoot me, beat me to death, or kill me in some other way, I knew I’d die from a heart attack or nervous exhaustion.
“I think tonight you should stay with me.” Angel was calm and straightforward. “They don’t know where I live.”
“Neither do we.” James put his hands on the back of my seat. “Friend, I thank you, but I think we’ve gotten you in enough trouble. Besides, I’ve got a job. And I assume that Skip needs to get to work tomorrow too. I don’t think we’re going to hear from these people again.”
“Where do you live?” I was intrigued.
“If you’re not going to visit tonight, you have no need for that information.” Angel kept his eyes on the road and his foot on the gas. I couldn’t wait to get home and hit the pillow.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
“You have an incoming message. You have an incoming message. You have an incoming message.”
I blindly reached for the phone, interested more in shutting off the obnoxious alarm-clock voice than in hearing from a caller at the ungodly hour of five in the morning. The phone read “unknown caller.”
“It’s five o’clock in the morning. This had better be good.”
“Skip Moore?”
“Yeah.”
“Skip, this is Jackie Fuentes.”
The lady who started this whole mess. Well, actually Em started it by suggesting we help clean out Jackie’s house. No, James started it because he bought the cursed truck, but Jackie was high on my list of people to blame.
I didn’t say anything. It was her call.
“Skip?”
“Mrs. Fuentes, I’m very tired. I had a rough night last night-” I wanted to say something about the mail and looking for her kidnapped stepson but I didn’t.
“I know.”
“You what?”
“We need to talk. You, Emily, and your friend.”
“James?”
“Yes.”
“Listen, Mrs. Fuentes, if you want any of that stuff back, we don’t have it.”
“When can we talk? This morning?”
Apparently people with money have no concept of working for a living.
“I’ve got to be at work in three hours, Mrs. Fuentes. That leaves another two hours of sleep, if I can get back to sleep, and one hour to get ready.”
“Skip, this is very important.”
Now she was pissing me off. “So is my income.”
She was quiet for a moment. “What time do you get off work?”
“I’ll be home by six.”
“And James?”
“Usually works from ten to seven.”
“Can you please meet me at my house tonight? Around eight?”
I looked at my watch. Fifteen hours. I had trouble figuring out the next three hours.
“Sure.”
“I’ll have Emily here and we can discuss this situation. Thank you.”
I lay on the bed, my hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling. There was no way in hell I was going back to sleep. And if I couldn’t sleep, the son of a bitch that got me into this mess shouldn’t be blissfully sleeping. I got up and walked into his room.
“James.”
He rolled over and looked at me through squinting eyes.
“One of your girlfriends just called.”
“Called you?”
“Yeah. Apparently you’re unlisted.”
“Who?”
“Some girl named Jackie Fuentes.”
His eyes widened, and he sat up. “What the hell did she want?”
“To apologize for not going to dinner with a stud like you. She wants to make up for it by seeing you tonight at eight.”
He got this shit-eating smile on his face. “No kidding?”
“Well, she would like Emily and me to be there too. It seems there’s some sort of a situation she’d like to discuss.”
His face fell. “Wouldn’t you like to go back to that first day, Skip? And just turn down the Fuentes job?”
“Come on, James. Think Penske, U-Haul, Ryder.”
“Fuck you.” He rolled over and pulled the pillow over his head.
I walked out into the tiny kitchen and thought about coffee. Instead, I pulled out a beer. Budweiser, breakfast of champions. I could feel tightness in my thighs and calves and remembered running for my life last night. I also remembered swearing off beer.
I sat on the back porch, sipping my beer, and watching the first pink fingers of color stretch over the sky. Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning.
The old man behind us stepped out the back door, looked at me suspiciously, and nodded. He picked up the blanket on the empty playpen and replaced it with a new one, then walked back inside.
I took a long swallow and leaned back, watching the sky turn colors. I closed my eyes and opened them forty-five minutes later.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
I made a sale. Not only did they sign on the bottom line, but the young couple put down two hundred bucks. I was surprised anyone in Carol City had two hundred dollars in cash. And this was cash.
I called the order in and Sammy actually put the phone down on his desk and applauded so I could hear him. I was embarrassed for him.
“Skipper,” he was bubbling over, “I knew you could do it. See? And these aren’t the only people out there. You watch. Your sales are going to start soaring.”
I made two more calls and decided to blow off the rest of the afternoon. I’d tried Em’s number but got her voicemail three times. Then she called me.
“Skip, you called.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Sick. I’m seeing a doctor tomorrow.”
“Good.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“Jackie called this morning.”
