“Promise you this—if he was that stupid, his death would be hideously slow and excruciatingly painful.” I gave her my best deranged smile.
“I’d expect nothing less from you. And so you know, you’ve got the same promise from me.” Fab opened the door. “I’m going to be late if we don’t hurry up.”
I closed the door behind us, following Fab to the SUV. “I’m hoping we both have successful meetings. I’d like to get all my questions concerning Brad’s possible custody case answered today. He deserves an answer, one way or the other.” I had fully intended to keep Brad’s secret, but Fab overheard when I was setting up the meeting with the social worker.
“It would be fun to be aunties,” she’d said.
It had surprised me that she skipped shock and went straight to enthusiasm, embracing the idea.
“Knowing you, whether she’s related or not, you’re not going to want to leave her behind.”
Impulsively, I hugged her.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s just a hug; you’ll recover.”
Fab roared out of the driveway and down the street in typical style.
* * *
Fab and I had been both lost in thought on the drive to Famosa Motors, and at some point, she’d turned on music, filling the silence. It had been a while since we’d set foot on the car lot, and I, for one, hadn’t missed it at all. At the time, Brick had been up to his eyeballs in a murder, and his true role in the whole thing had never come to light. Then he’d left the country on an extended vacation with the wife, which was suspicious on its own for a workaholic, and stayed gone for a couple of months. Blowing up Fab’s phone signaled his return and that he had one job after another for her, mostly repo stuff, which both of us turned up our noses at and refused to do. Just because a person stopped paying for their car didn’t mean they had any intention of letting it go without gunfire. We’d yet to meet a person that said, “Here, take it.” That had a lot to do with said persons being criminals to begin with and stupidly thinking they had nothing to lose.
Fab swung into her favorite parking spot between the two exit doors.
“Am I waiting in the car or coming with you?” I asked.
“Not to hurt your feelings, but you’re not high on Brick’s list of favorites.”
“It would surprise me if I even had a mention at the bottom under ‘used to tolerate.’”
Brick had made it clear he found it offensive that I even sucked air. He blamed me for the fact that Fab’s wild side had calmed down significantly since we met. I was happy to take credit, but it had more to do with Didier, who wanted to marry the love of his life, not visit her in prison or, worse, have to say good-bye at a cemetery.
“The thought of being alone with him for very long makes me edgy.”
I knew what she wanted, so I said it for her. “I’ll wait for a few and then come up. I’ll enjoy ramping up the annoying. I haven’t come up with anything yet, but last-second inspiration has worked for me in the past.”
“I don’t think a missing cat story would work in this situation.”
We both laughed.
“I apologize in advance for his rudeness.” Fab opened the door and slid out from behind the wheel. “How do I look?” She ran her hands over her baby bump.
“Yes, you look pregnant.” I smiled at her attack of nerves. “One of these days, that’s going to be a real bump.”
“Didier told me the other night he wants eleven kids.”
I gasped.
“That’s how many it takes to field a soccer team.”
“He needs to calm down.” I frowned. “So, eleven for one side?” Fab nodded. “What about the opposing side? Are you going to procreate them too?”
“I thought you could pump that side out.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “Wait until I tell Creole. The teams need to be coed, and just so you know, our side will run over your side.”
“Our daughters are going to kick serious butt.” Fab winked and, before closing the door, reminded me, “Don’t wait too long.”
Change of plans. Forget waiting. Once Fab disappeared from sight, I planned to sneak in the side door and bypass the Amazon at the front desk. Last time, Everly pulled a gun, and I wasn’t looking for another confrontation. I smoothed my dress down. “Nope, not getting this dress dirty,” I said to myself.
Getting out of the SUV, I patted the Glock holstered to my thigh. I pushed open the door used mainly by sales personnel and checked out the reception area. Not seeing a single person milling around, I headed for the stairs that led to Brick’s office. Two steps later, a shot rang out and glass exploded somewhere behind me. My hands flew over my head, I sent my heels flying, and drew my gun, hiding behind a snack machine.
“What in the hell?” Brick roared from the top of the stairs, his cannon in his hand. He caught sight of me below and bellowed, “What the f— did you do to my front window? I’m calling the cops.”
I was of a mind to yell back, “Dare you,” but thought better of it, instead yelling, “I didn’t do it.”
“I thought she was an intruder sneaking in the door,” Everly said, sidling around the elevator. “You want me to call the police? The bitch didn’t bother to come in the front door and check in, instead sneaking in through the side door. That makes it criminal trespassing.”
“You’re dumber than a stump, Florescent,” I said, tossing in a dig at her dyed red hair. “This is a business, and you’re freakin’ open,” I ended on a shout.
Brick continued to glare at the shattered floor-to-ceiling window.
Fab popped her head around his shoulder. “You’re a terrible shot,” she said to Everly, a sneer in her voice.
“Is that what you do all day?” I asked Everly, itching to shoot her. “Lie in wait and shoot customers who use the wrong door?”
“Not once have you ever bought anything.” Everly sniffed.
Good thing most businesses don’t have a “don’t buy, get shot” policy. “I suggest you turn around and look out what’s left of the window. The Hummer parked in the front was purchased here for a hefty amount of cash.”
“Everly,” Brick snapped. “Get on the phone. The window needs to be boarded over until the glass can be replaced.” He turned to me. “You’re paying the bill.”
“Over your dead body.”
Fab stepped forward and gave Brick a slight shove. “Enough you two. I want to know why Everly would shoot at Madison. Did you tell her it was okay?”
“Of course not,” he said and stomped back inside his office.
I collected my shoes and didn’t waste time getting up the stairs. Instead of sinking into a chair in front of Brick’s desk, per my usual, I hung back and leaned against the wall. Standing on the other side of the office was close enough for me.
“As I was saying,” Fab took control of the conversation. “I’ve got a really good guy that can handle all your collection problems. He has a near-perfect record of getting what he goes after.”
That has to be Toady. When Brick met the man, it would annoy him endlessly that Toady couldn’t be pushed around.
“I’ve got a couple of guys on call now.” Brick sniffed, unhappy with the suggestion.
“I won’t be hands-on on any jobs for the foreseeable future, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get your jobs done. The one stipulation is that they’ll have to be mostly legal.” Fab flashed a smile, which he answered with a growl.
“Sounds like I’m going to have find me a new crew.”
Brick wasn’t happy with how the meeting had gone thus far, but what did he expect—Fab to jump up and run out on his every job? After all, she was pregnant… or so he thought.
Brick would soon figure out for himself that the “snapping of his fingers” days were over. Now, though, it was time to get out of there before things deteriorated further. I contemplated fainting but couldn’t remember if I’d pulled that one before or not.
Fab to the rescue.
She rubbed her stomach and stood. “I can’t believe I’m not embarrassed that my stomach growled. Guess who’s hungry?”
I practically leapt through the doorway, waiting in the hallway.
Brick came around his desk and hugged Fab, who stiffened. “If you ever need anything,” he said.
“This isn’t the end unless you decide not to use my people. I’m always a phone call away. We’ve been friends a long time, and that doesn’t have to change.” Fab smiled.
We got to the bottom of the stairs, and I tugged Fab toward auto repair. “Coast is clear this way.” The other two exits were blocked by glass and Everly.
Fab nodded. “Let’s get out of here as fast as we can.”
“Can’t say I’ll miss this place.”
“I’ll be hearing from Brick again.” Fab shuddered. “He doesn’t have anyone decent to do his jobs, or he wouldn’t have called me. I think what annoyed him most was that I have people to get the jobs done. Thanks to you. I hope I was appropriately appreciative that you nagged me about getting contractors.”
“You weren’t. So let’s remember this moment, and maybe you’ll listen to my next suggestion.”
Outside at last. I took a breath of fresh air as we cut around the corner to the front lot. Before getting in, I walked around the Hummer and inspected the exterior. Not a single scratch.
“If there was so much as a nick in the paint, I’d be on the phone to the cops,” I threatened.
Fab absently patted my hand. “How about a lemonade to calm your nerves?”
“If it has strawberries in it.” I licked my lips, certain it would have a calming effect.
“Let’s hope our next appointment is less hair-raising.”
“There won’t be any brandishing of weapons,” I said. “I’m leaving mine in the car. I don’t want anything to go wrong. If the social worker were to see it, she might end the meeting and I’d never get my questions answered.”
Chapter Eighteen
The location was kind of dicey, but anything with tacos in the name and I was in. El Patron Tacos was located on a side street off a busy highway in a run-down commercial area. The mobile home-turned-restaurant sat nestled under a grove of trees. Picnic tables dotted the gravel lot, and it also offered a covered patio for seating.
“Since the parking lot’s almost full and it’s not even noon, the food must be good or cheap or both,” Fab said, pulling into a space.
“I’m thinking there’s no bar. But I suppose sucking down a tequila midday wouldn’t make a good impression anyway.”
“We need a girl lunch. Pick up your mother, find a new restaurant to check out, and get sloshed.”
I groaned, images of my last drunk-on coming to mind. “Last girl-outing, my hangover was brutal. Besides, then we have to call the guys for a ride home. Spoon is the worst, accusing us of corrupting Mother.”
Fab pointed over the steering wheel. “That woman is sitting all by herself; wonder if that’s your appointment.”
“Celia Yaley. Remember, she’s a friend of Alex’s, so no referring to him as GC and having to come up with some lame lie.”
“Got it.” Fab saluted. “What’s my story?”
“Sister. Maybe half. Different set of parents. We’re so alike—you’re Euro chic and I could easily pass for a wild-haired local.”
Fab reached over and fluffed my hair. “You’ve got it under control most of the time, unless it’s near a hundred-percent humidity. No Carrot Top moments in all the time I’ve known you.”
I laughed. “Thanks for that. I think.”
“Ready?” Fab pushed the door open.
“Pinch me hard if I get off track. Making a good impression is paramount here.”
“Breathe,” Fab ordered. “You get an attack of nerves, picture her in granny underwear sitting next to a blowup dude and you’ll do fine.”
“You think—”
“Absolutely no to whatever you’re thinking.” Fab groaned.
“If it would keep Miss January from trolling the streets…”
“Out.” Fab pointed. “The woman just looked over here.”
El Patron had no walkway, so Fab and I trudged over the pea gravel. How the woman next to me did it so gracefully in high heels was a mystery to me.
“Celia Yaley?” I asked the woman nursing a lemonade.
“Madison?”
I nodded.
“Have a seat. Nice to meet a friend of Alex’s.”
“This is my sister, well, step-sister, Fab Merceau.”
We slid onto the bench across from the woman.
“This is going to have to be a quick meeting. I just got a call about a last-minute meeting that requires my attendance.” Celia reached into her bag, pulling out several sheets of paper and a booklet.
I took them and quickly scanned the first one, which was a list of guidelines. The booklet had to do with how Social Services operated. “Thank you, this will be quite helpful.”
“Follow the instructions, and you’ll be ahead of the game. Most try to deal with the system without knowing how it works and get frustrated when the process doesn’t go smoothly. The first thing Mr. Westin needs to do is contact Mila Thorson’s caseworker and request a paternity test. We do our best to place children with family. The fact that she’s languished in the system without anyone expressing an interest will make it easier for your family.” She stood. “I hate to be rude, I really do, but I can’t miss this meeting. If you have any questions, call me. I don’t have access to Mila’s files, as she’s not one of my cases, but if I can be of any help, I’ll be happy to get you any answers you need.”
“I appreciate your meeting with me,” I said. “Are you sure I can’t buy you lunch?”
“I got here early and ate. I recommend the taco platter. My card is stapled to the second sheet, along with several useful numbers.” And with a wave, she made her way across the gravel.
“That didn’t go quite the way I thought,” I said to Fab, who watched Celia pull out onto the street. “Five minutes?”
“Barely,” Fab said. “I’m guessing this quick meet-and-greet pays back a favor owed to GC.”
I stood. “Two taco platters coming up.”
Chapter Nineteen
After our meeting, Fab had dropped me off at Creole’s, since we planned a quiet night together—dinner and a walk on the beach. I told her I wouldn’t need a ride the next morning, as Creole would take me home.
Surprised would be an understatement when, the next morning, I walked out of the bathroom and found Fab standing in the living room, pink bakery box in hand. Didier stood behind her, looking ready to wring her neck. Thankfully, when I got out of bed, I’d grabbed up one of Creole’s t-shirts and pulled it on.
“Bonjour,” Fab said in a cheerful tone.
Creole rolled over, caught sight of the duo, and jerked the sheet up under his chin. Thankfully, nothing more had showed than his bare back. “What the…?” He jerked into an upright position. “I’m certain you didn’t knock.”
“The door was open.” Fab pointed to the patio doors.
Creole’s eyes shot to me.
“I opened them earlier,” I said. I should’ve added not because I was expecting Fab but wasn’t in the mood to ratchet up the awkwardness.
“Sorry.” Didier held up his hands. “I thought we were invited—or at least that you were expecting us to show up—not barging in like burglars. What a good way to get shot.” He nudged Fab.
“You got decent coffee?” Fab ignored Creole’s and Didier’s growls and headed into the kitchen, setting the box down on the counter. Making herself at home, she opened the cupboard and pulled down mugs.
“What are you doing?” I asked, following her. “Besides annoying my boyfriend?” I’d almost said fiancé but caught myself in time. “And yours.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Didier pick up Creole’s sweatpants off the floor and toss them at him with a laugh. Creole gave him the finger.
“Just
be patient. I have some news, but it’s better with a little show and tell,” Fab said.
“Did it ever occur to you to knock and wait for one of us to answer?” Creole grouched. “No, of course not,” he answered for her in disgust and disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door.
When I heard the shower start, I went into the closet and grabbed Creole a change of clothes, setting them on the bathroom counter. Disappearing back inside the closet, I pulled on a pair of his sweat shorts before joining Fab and Didier in the kitchen.
Fab was rooting through the cupboards, looking for coffee. I got it out of the refrigerator and set it in front of the coffee maker, which I pulled away from the wall.
“You can’t do this again,” I told her. “There’s no privacy as it is. You could’ve walked in while we were in the middle of… you know.”
“That would’ve been icky.” Fab scrunched up her nose.
“I promise you, she won’t be doing it again.” Didier leveled a glare at her.
“Thanks for not shooting,” Fab said with a cheeky smile. “From the look on Creole’s face, I’m lucky he didn’t shoot anyway.”
As much as Creole might want to, he’d never hurt her on purpose.
“You make the coffee.” I handed her the bag. “It’s not your Turkish blend, but you pour enough grounds in the machine, you can make it taste like sludge anyway.” I lifted the lid on the bakery box, looked inside and licked my lips. “I call dibs on the pecan roll.”
By the time Fab had the coffee ready and the pastries arranged on a platter she found, Creole had finished his shower. She’d even boiled water for my brew.
The smell of coffee lured Creole into the kitchen. “This better be good,” he said to Fab.
She pointed to the platter. “I got your favorite—cinnamon rolls.” She handed Didier and him a mug.
Creole groaned. “You must be in really big trouble.”
Didier laughed. “Oh yes, she is.”
Fab shot Creole an icy stare. “Let’s sit.” She picked up my mug and hers, walked out on the deck, and set the coffee on the table. Creole and Didier followed with the tray and a handful of napkins.
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