“I’m going to take her for a test drive.”
“Cool.”
Laurel climbed into the cab and started the truck again. It was real loud. Louder than Laurel’s truck. Once she’d driven off and the noise was at a manageable level, I put the phone back to my ear.
“Sorry. Laurel’s taking it for a test drive.”
“I thought I heard a truck start up. So I have a final question.”
“Yeah?”
“How much is it?”
“Oh, that. I guess that’s kind of important.” I took a couple of steps away to get out of Brady’s earshot. “Laurel is negotiating. He’s asking twenty-one, but wants it to go to a good home? I’m not sure what that means, but Laurel seemed fixated on it.”
“Oh, yeah. That sounds perfect. Ooh, photos.” There was a faint noise as she switched to speaker. Then she gasped. “This is exactly what we were looking for. It’s a stepside and everything.”
“Huh?”
“See how the back fender has the big wheel well?”
“Sure.” Not really.
“And there’s that step behind the door?”
“Got it.” I definitely did not.
“Never mind.” She tapped the speaker off. The audio shifted. “Just tell Laurel it’s great.”
“Any concerns?”
“Nothing I wasn’t expecting. We knew upholstery might be an issue.”
“She said you guys could order a seat cover.”
“Yep. Oh, I’m so excited. I was getting a little worried. Her birthday is coming fast.”
“Andy will freak,” I said.
“She better. Call me with updates. Or text. I’ll make sure my screen isn’t visible.”
“You got it.” We hung up.
The truck came around the side of the workshop. Laurel stopped and climbed out. She crossed the yard to talk to me.
“Verdict from Mom?” she asked.
“She’s in love and she said to go for it. How much?”
“Nineteen hundred. He’s excited too.” She hooked her thumb over her shoulder in Brady’s direction.
“Cool.” I thought about the contents of my wallet. “I’ve got twelve hundred, maybe. Any chance you have cash?”
“How? Why?” Laurel blinked long and slow. “I thought you had a thousand.”
“I brought a thousand for drugs, but I carry cash. I’m a drug dealer, remember?”
She shook her head and pulled out her wallet. She fanned out the cash. “I’ve got forty seven.”
I did the same. “Two sixty. Look at that. We’ve got thirteen hundred and still have seven dollars left for ice cream.”
She sighed pointedly. “We still need six hundred.”
“Ask your new friend Brady where the nearest bank is. I’ll take your truck. You stay here and talk engines. And flash your badge so he knows not to fuck with you.”
“You’re paranoid.”
“I’m honest.” I took the cash out of my wallet and handed it to her. “Put this in your wallet. Then offer it as a deposit for while I’m gone. Your big ass badge is hard to miss when you open that thing.”
She seemed to think I was nuts, but she put the cash in her wallet. “All right.” She led me back to the workbench Brady was leaning against. “We’re going to take it,” she said.
“Awesome. I hope Andy will love it.” He looked at Laurel to make sure he got the right name. She nodded. “She sounds like a neat kid.”
“We still need some cash. Where’s the nearest bank?”
Brady frowned. “Wheatland and Lincoln both have banks. Both of them are about twenty minutes away.”
“That’ll do.” I turned to Laurel. “Keys? You can stay here and start the paperwork.”
“Works for me.” She handed over the keys.
“Back soon.” They both nodded at me.
I circled to the front of the house and climbed in Laurel’s truck. The sky was getting real dark. I turned north, the way we’d just come from. After a couple of minutes, my GPS directed me off the highway onto a wide farm road. The sky was black ahead of me, but in the mirrors it was orange shifting to purple. Every few miles, there was a tree tall enough to be silhouetted against the sunset. Most were pines, but there were a few random palms there to insist we were in California. I abused the speed limit in the hopes that there was a quota for run-ins with law enforcement and I’d hit mine for the day.
Just about everything in Lincoln was, in fact, closed. But the ATMs were well lit at the first bank I went to. Apparently, the limit on my account was four hundred. It had been so long since I pulled cash out of a bank account, I didn’t quite know what to do with myself. ATMs had changed. They had cameras and more options than seemed necessary. I went to the next bank I had an account at and pulled out the remaining cash I needed.
The drive back to Laurel and the truck was uneventful. I parked and went around to the back of the house. The truck, Laurel, and Brady were gone. That wasn’t good.
I heard them before I saw them. That engine sure did project. Andy wouldn’t be doing any sneaking out. They pulled around the side of the workshop. Laurel was driving. She came to a stop ten feet in front of me. When she cut the lights, I could see her face. She looked delighted. They hopped out.
“We finished the paperwork and I wanted to take her for another spin,” Laurel said.
“Cool. You seem pretty pleased.”
“Oh, yeah. She’s a beast.”
“I’m so glad she’s going to someone who will appreciate her,” Brady said.
“Andy will definitely love it. Hard,” I said.
We counted out money and signed the paperwork. It wasn’t long before we were southbound on 70 again. This time, I was following a red tailgate with big white letters spelling out “Ford.” I wondered if Robin was going to put a bow on it.
Chapter Twelve
Nate and I pulled up to the bar Jerome had chosen. It was unremarkable, which was a great quality in a bar when you were dealing drugs. Inside, the majority of the illumination came from neon beer signs and lights projected on the booze behind the bar. We stood at the bar long enough to buy two beers.
Jerome was in a booth against the far wall. The seats were high, the vinyl padding stretched a good foot above Jerome’s head. Good privacy. Nate followed me through the crowd. I slid into the booth opposite Jerome. His hair was slicked per the usual. He’d grown an impressive handlebar mustache. Light glinted off the wax keeping the ends curled. He was wearing a leather fanny pack across his chest. I almost got up and left. I couldn’t tell if I’d hit my threshold for hipster or drug dealer, but either way it was too much. I glanced at Nate. He studiously did not make eye contact with me.
“How’s it hanging, my dudes?” Jerome grinned big and leaned forward.
“Doing all right,” I said.
“Chill, chill. So did Wickham fill all your needs?”
“Actually, no. Some new guy bought the practice. He wasn’t selling. And he was kind of a dick about it.”
“What?” There was a brief moment before he figured out that meant we were only selling him two fifty. “Shit. Listen, that was a good lead. There’s no one else selling K. Believe me. I looked.”
“I do believe you, but we’re still only giving you two fifty.”
“Come on, Cash. How about a little professional courtesy?”
“The lead you gave me was a couple years old. Where’s the professional courtesy there?”
“I swear. No one is selling it.” He rotated the half-full pint glass sweating in front of him.
I glanced at Nate. He shrugged. We didn’t have any reason to not believe Jerome. Except for his general shittiness.
“Okay. We have a business proposition for you,” I said.
He smirked. “I hope it involves more product.”
“You’re kind of a dickwad. You know that, right?”
“What’s your point?”
“Just making sure you’re aware.” I took a swig of
my beer. I wanted it as a prop more than a beverage.
“I think we should go with the original business proposition,” Nate said to me.
“Punching him in the nutsack for stealing our customers is not a business proposition,” I said to Nate.
Nate shrugged. “That’s your opinion.”
“That’s not very nice,” Jerome said.
“Neither are you,” Nate said.
“What’s the business proposition?”
I did my best to look serious and bored. “We will provide you with a reliable supply of quality product in exchange for eighty percent of your revenue.”
He laughed. Loud. Really more of a guffaw. “Eighty percent.”
“The alternative is to just swipe back the customers who keep calling us. You’ll get zero percent of that. Twenty is generous,” Nate said.
“If you can keep them.”
“We can. Our brand is worth a lot more than yours.” I shrugged. It was the truth. And a well chosen truth had far more potential to damage than a lie.
“How do you figure?”
“The calls we’re getting suggest that your supply line is inconsistent at best. Even when you do have pills, the dosage varies.”
“It’s downright reckless to buy from him.” Nate addressed me rather than Jerome. “At least, that’s what I heard.”
“Reckless.” I nodded. “Unpredictable.”
“Okay, okay I get it. And how would people figure out that my product came from you?”
“We’d tell them. But more than that, you have to earn the trust of your customers. After a few deliveries that are actually what you say they are, people will begin to trust you. Our product will make that possible.”
“I don’t need this condescending shit.”
“Okay.” I nudged Nate to get him to climb out of the booth. He started to slide out.
“Wait,” Jerome said.
Nate paused with one leg out of the booth.
“I can’t agree to eighty. I have to pay my guys.”
I slid back over. Nate swung his leg around. “We will need something to make up for the difference,” I said.
“Like what?”
“Information. Better than the ketamine info. You’ll need to prove your reliability to us just as much as the customers.”
His brow furrowed as he tried to work out the implications. “That’s reasonable. I guess.”
“All right.” I took another sip of my beer. “Seventy-five percent and information.”
“Seventy-five? Jesus fucking Christ.”
“After a month, if the information is high quality, we will consider dropping it to seventy,” I said.
“You want a little unsolicited business advice?” Nate asked. Jerome gave him a look that suggested he did not want unsolicited business advice. “You should jack up the price. When customers ask why, you say you have a new supply line through Braddock. Win-win. Higher profit and a built in way to spread the word.”
Jerome scowled. The fact that it was good advice had to be frustrating.
“Tell you what, here’s the two fifty from our original agreement.” I slid a sandwich size Ziploc across the table. “See how people react to the product.”
He unzipped his fanny pack and pulled out a folded stack of bills. I took the money and handed it to Nate. He discreetly counted it. Jerome put the Ziploc of Adderall in his fanny pack.
“I’ll consider your offer.” He chugged the remainder of his beer. “I need another.” He held up the empty glass.
“It was great meeting with you,” I said.
“Sure was.” Nate grinned.
“Yeah, whatever.”
* * *
I’d been home for five minutes. Those five minutes were blissfully silent. It took me that long to realize why. No one else was home.
“Lane?” I called.
Nothing. I glanced in the study. Her stuff was still spread out. I looked in my room. Nickels was passed out on my pillow. Great. Who didn’t love a face full of cat fur at bedtime? In the kitchen I found a note stuck to the coffee machine. Lane had clearly figured me out.
At group therapy. Back at 4. –L
It was only three. I adored Lane. I loved Andy. I loved Laurel in an entirely different way. But I’d missed silence. I stood in front of my bookshelf for two minutes before I selected Gloria Anzaldúa.
I stretched out on the couch and opened Borderlands/La Frontera. I was two pages in when Nickels jumped onto my stomach. She purred and rubbed her face against the spine of the book. I turned the page again, which she found quite offensive. She flopped into the crevice between me and the back of the couch. Within minutes, she was asleep. And then I spent an hour reading with a warm cat curled against my side.
When Lane let herself back in, she got halfway through the living room before she saw me.
“Hey, you’re back. Did you have fun?” I asked.
“Yep. Group therapy is loads of fun.” She altered her path from the study to the armchair by the couch.
“Right. Did you gain tons of personal insight?”
“Lots of it. I’ve got so much personal insight now, I don’t even know what to do with it.”
“Sell it on Etsy.”
“Excellent idea.”
I closed my book and set it down. “So listen,” I said in the most serious tone I could manage.
She straightened. “What’s up?”
“I know we’ve been doing movies and takeout and generally chilling, but what if we went out to dinner and immediately came back here without talking to anyone?”
She waited for me to get to the serious part then realized I’d already proposed it. Her posture softened. “Are you just using me to maintain your introvertedness but make it seem like you’re social?”
“Absolutely.”
“Can we go to that cheese place?” she asked.
“Cheese place?”
“You know, the one that only serves cheese?”
“Sadly, that was enough description for me,” I said.
“Was that a yes?”
“It was. But it’s Friday and that means it will be busy so you have to promise you won’t let people make small talk with me.”
“I swear on my life.”
“Seriously. Only deep, meaningful conversation. If someone mentions the weather, you have to ask them about American masculinity and if the culture of the late nineteenth century is entirely to blame or if there were other contributing factors and it was inevitable.”
“That seems like reasonable conversation to make while waiting for a table.”
“I think you know by now that I don’t make normal small talk.”
“True.” She nodded wryly. “Follow-up question. If we go in the next hour, are we officially senior citizens?” she asked.
“We would be, yes. That said, we could probably watch a lot more television and play a lot more video games if we do dinner early. Which means we can eat second dinner at the normal time.”
“By normal time you mean eleven?”
“It’s like you’re speaking to my soul.”
She grinned. “I like being a senior citizen with you.”
“Same, bro.”
“Let me go change.” She pointed at the study. “I’ll be ready in ten.”
I looked at her leggings and sweatshirt, but decided not to ask. “Sounds good.”
“Are you judging me?”
“No?”
“I can’t go to dinner in this.” She waved a hand over her torso.
“Of course not.” We stared at each other. I broke first. “Can I go to dinner in this?” We looked at my jeans and flannel.
“Yeah. What’s wrong with what you’re wearing?”
“I don’t know. I’m just very unclear on girl clothes.” I waved my hand in a vague circle to indicate her outfit.
She rolled her eyes. “Ten minutes.”
I carefully slid my hand under the cat and shifted my ribs out from under he
r. Lane watched me in fascination. “Never wake a sleeping baby.” I stood slowly so I wouldn’t disturb Nickels.
“You know that’s a cat, right?”
“That’s what I said. Sleeping baby.” I pointed at the cat.
Lane laughed and went into the study.
“So you guys bought Andy a truck?” Lane asked ten minutes later as we walked to the cheese place.
“Yeah. Did Laurel tell you about it?”
She nodded. “She’s irrationally excited about it.”
“I think she’s equally excited about the truck and the fact that Andy wanted a truck. It indicates a certain amount of Laurel-based hero worship.”
“Ah, yes. Laurel is a big fan of Laurel-based worship.”
I shrugged and refrained from making a sex joke about my girlfriend to my girlfriend’s sister so I thought I was doing well. “I’m going to have a stereo installed before her birthday, which I think is like the perfect sixteenth birthday present for a kid getting a vehicle.”
“No way.” She slapped my arm. “What kind of stereo are you going to get?”
“Umm, whatever the stereo department guy suggests?”
“Cash.”
“What?”
“That’s not how you buy a stereo.”
“Okay. How do you buy a stereo then?” I asked.
“You need to research and make a spreadsheet. Look at the needs of the vehicle. Look at the needs of the vehicle owner. You have to pick out the best speaker configuration.” She started ticking off points on her fingers and by the end was waving her hands around to indicate speaker placement.
“It’s an eighty-two truck. I think you just get whatever the hell will fit.”
“Did Laurel put you up to this?”
“I’m confused,” I said.
“Oh my God. Okay, car stereos are like my thing.”
I felt my brows pull in and my lip curl involuntarily. “Huh?”
“I’m so good at installing stereos.”
“You are?”
“You’ve probably figured out that me and Lance aren’t close,” she said.
“Yeah.” I was missing something.
“The only thing we’ve ever bonded over was his car in high school. Mostly the stereo, but other shit after that.”
Cash and the Sorority Girl Page 11