by Eric Beetner
It was 4:30 by the time I got there and hot enough to buckle asphalt if the humidity got any worse. I got out of the car and immediately stepped in a piece of fucking gum. It was half liquid from the heat, and I dragged it in soggy pink strings across the parking lot and into the hospital with me. By the time I got to maternity, I had walked it all off and an orderly was swearing loudly somewhere behind me. “Goddamn gum.”
Madeline was awake but groggy.
“Where have you been?” she’d been crying.
I sat on the bed and took her hand. “How is it going?”
“I just gave birth, you dick. You missed it.” Fresh tears squeezed out from under her lashes.
The fat nurse ambled in. “I’m just about to go off my shift, Mrs. McDowd, but I wanted to give you something to help you sleep. You’ve had a long day. We’ll wake you in a few hours and let you try to nurse her again.” She glared at me as she jammed a needle into the port on Madeline’s IV. “I see you managed to crawl back,” she said.
“Work has been tough,” was all I could manage to say. I was still focusing on the fact that Madeline had a baby. A girl. The nurse glared at me for a minute longer and then shuffled out.
Madeline pulled her hand away from me and turned to her side. “Go away,” she said, but I ignored her. I sat beside her and waited until she was asleep.
When I emerged from the room, the heavyset nurse was gone and so was everyone else. I stopped an orderly, likely the one who had been swearing about the gum. “Where are the nurses?”
He looked around him like he was just noticing there was nobody at the nurses station. “It’s five o’clock. End of shift. The new crew is probably making rounds.”
I wandered to the nursery to see if I could catch a glimpse of my daughter. Venetian blinds had been lowered to cover the row of windows. I knocked softly, hoping to catch a nurse’s attention. I could see movement beyond the glass, so I knocked a little harder. A blind lifted and a nurse in pink scrubs looked out. I held up my arm to show her I had a wrist band. Obviously a father, obviously I wanted to see my kid. She looked behind her and as she did, the shade moved enough to let me see that there were cops in the nursery with her. I backed up a step, feeling my heart drop to my shoes.
In my pocket, my phone buzzed. I pulled it out, already knowing what it was. A text message. I opened it. It was a picture of Purple Tie holding my baby.
31
SKEETER
Fuckin’ cops. I was the goddamn victim! Yet there they were asking me all kinds of questions like who hit me and how did I end up in that room.
I answered everything right down the line. I said he was my uncle and I hadn’t seen him for a while. I didn’t realize there was still bad blood from a family incident I’d rather not discuss. They bought it. I’d lost my gun so they couldn’t bust me for that. I knew all too damn well I didn’t have the load of drugs on me, so I was clean in that regard.
What could they do but release me on my own recognizance? They even let me keep the ice pack.
I walked away thinking what I was gonna do when I saw the fat bitch again. And then the worse things I’d do to his wife. I thought I was walking up to ordinary joe citizen when I got the room number from those chunky kids. They were all too eager to give it up, too. Didn’t even have to ply them with candy.
Then I walk in and she goes all Chuck Norris on me with a plate or some shit. We’ll have our day, me an’ her.
The car would have to stay. If I got in and drove off some cop would call in the plate number because he’s a cop and they like to bust my balls, and that can only lead to trouble. I ended up walking about a half mile down the road and found a big ass Walgreen’s with a half full parking lot.
I went inside and stuffed a flat head screwdriver down my pants, paid for a Red Bull and went to the farthest corner of the parking lot. I downed the drink and found a hunk of chipped-off brick I used to smash the window of a four door Buick. Probably some old person inside picking up a prescription. Though old people usually park close to the front since they can’t walk great and shit. Well, whoever’s car it was, the thing was about to be mine.
With my new screwdriver I had that thing up and running in two minutes flat. Nothing to it when you got the skills I got.
The cops left me my phone since I wasn’t a suspect or nothing. Don’t leave town they said, but they always say that and I always say, yes, sir, even though I mean eat shit. I dialed up a guy I know who knows a guy I wanted to talk to.
“I need a number,” I said. Time to get real about this shit. Red Bull ain’t cuttin’ it.
32
SEAN
My head pulsed. Linda was quiet, which was both good and bad. Chad and Becky were quiet, too. They were slightly sunburned and placid from their time at the pool, but that didn’t stop them from being pissed about getting dragged away from the hotel after checking in just a few hours before. It was 6:00 so I pulled off the road and hit a drive-thru. Linda ate but was still quiet. It wasn’t until we were halfway to Virginia Beach that she figured out where we were headed. “Seriously?” she said. “What the hell are we supposed to say to them?”
“Chad and Becky need a safe place to stay. You and I need to figure out what to do.”
“I think it’s obvious what you need to do, Sean. Turn yourself in.”
“Turn yourself in for what?” Becky asked through a mouthful of fries.
“Nothing,” I said.
“Did you do something wrong, Dad?” Chad asked.
I didn’t answer. There was nothing I could say that would make any of this any easier. I was looking at doing time. If that guy back at the hotel was a bounty hunter I was screwed. Could I be accused of resisting arrest? Did that count when it was a bounty hunter? Christ, I was a fugitive.
We got to Ernie and Betty’s house as dusk was settling in and the cicadas had come out in full chorus. It made my headache worse. Linda gave them hugs and sent the kids upstairs with the bags.
Betty gave me a tight-lipped look like she’d just swallowed a fly or smelled a fart. I managed a weak smile. Ernie stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on his toes. He used his pockets as a way to let me know he’d never shake my hand. He rocked on his toes to emphasize the fact that he stood a good five inches taller than me and that at age sixty-eight, he was still in top shape, like the marine he once was. Semper Fi, motherfucker.
I nodded and wished for a sandwich. Or a beer. Or death. Death wouldn’t be so bad.
“We need to leave the kids here for a little bit,” Linda said, surprising me by taking my hand. “Sean and I have some things to do.”
“Oh, God,” Betty said, “does this involve sex?”
Linda rolled her eyes. “We’ll be back later.”
“I hope it doesn’t involve sex. Your children are at a very impressionable age.”
We closed the door on Betty’s still-nagging voice and climbed back in the Tahoe. I pulled out my phone to dial my brother’s number. “What are you doing?” Linda asked.
“Turning myself in. I don’t want another crazy guy showing up like that. He had a gun. Jesus, Linda.”
“Just wait on that,” she said. “Let’s go grab a drink someplace. I need to think. We need to ditch this car. It’s probably how that loser found us. He’s probably been tracking my credit card.”
“Where do we ditch it? And I’m not so sure that’s a good idea. They have my name. If I just abandon it I’m liable.”
She blew out a breath. “Remove the distributor cap. Pull off the hubcaps and the tires. Call it in like it’s been vandalized.”
I pulled into a gas station, not sure I wanted to add vandalism to the list of charges that were sure to be brought against me. Linda stayed in the car while I filled the tank part way and went inside to get some road snacks. I still had no idea what we should do, but I knew there was no way in hell I could do it without food. And the Arby’s we’d eaten a few hours ago was no longer there to keep me s
atisfied.
When I got back to the car, Linda was pulling at a seam on the ceiling. “Is that part of your master plan to make it look like the car was chopped for parts?” I tore open a stick of beef jerky and started chewing.
“This seam is funny,” she said, “like it was re-done. Maybe we can get them on giving us a car that was involved in a wreck or something.”
“What would be the point in that?”
She looked at me the same way her mother had a few hours before. “To sue them, Sean. Because if we don’t get some cash coming in to help pay for your defense after your brother gets done with you . . .” She went back to work on the seam.
“Shut the fuck up, Linda.”
She got that look on her face she gets when she is about to start yelling at me. She opened her mouth to speak at the same time she had worked the thread from the seam loose.
A half dozen wrapped packets the size of flattened bricks dropped into her lap.
33
BRENT
The phone’s vibrations startled me out of a deep thinking session, a session that came to the usual blank page my brainstorming resulted in. I welcomed the distraction from plotting the salvation of my ruined life, hoping it was Clyde with some news. I checked the caller I.D. and saw the number for the rental counter. Who in the hell could be calling me from the shop? Cops? Feds?
I pushed the phone away like it had sprouted fangs then I remembered I’d rerouted the calls coming into the shop to my cell phone like a good little employee. Clyde didn’t deserve me, that was for damn sure.
“Hello, Clyde McDowd Rentals.”
There was a too-long pause on the other end. “Um, hello?”
“Yes. I’m sorry I’m not in the office right now but if there’s some issue with a vehicle—”
“Is this the guy I talked to this morning?”
How the hell should I know? Still, there was something familiar in the voice. “I was there this morning, yes. Who is this please?”
Another pause. This guy had something to hide. “Uh, Griffin. Sean Griffin.”
I think I gasped out loud like an idiot. I know I nearly dropped the phone. “Holy shit. Mr. Griffin, where are you?”
“In Virginia.” No shit, Sherlock. “Listen, I need to know if you’re . . . um . . . missing something.”
My excitement went cold. What the hell did that mean, missing something? Aw, who the fuck am I kidding, I knew what it meant. I needed to play it cool.
“We sure are missing that Tahoe of yours. I’ve been trying to get in touch so we could get it back.”
“Are you missing . . .” His voice turned leering like a sex offender luring a little girl to his van. “Anything else?”
A woman’s voice broke through the background and I thought I heard, “What the hell are you doing?” before his hand palmed over the phone and everything went muffled.
“Mr. Griffin? Mr. Griffin? Are you there?”
“Yes, I’m here.” He was back and little bit breathless.
“Mr. Griffin, all I want is the car back.” If he knew what was up, might as well lay it out there. “And all its contents. It’s very important that I get it back as soon as possible.”
“And you’ll . . . pay?”
More protests from the woman I assumed was the fat Mrs. Griffin. I wondered if the kids were in on it, too. With my luck the little brats would be in the backseat snorting up the load and getting higher than a night of ice cream and cotton candy.
“Yes. We’ll pay. Where can we meet?”
More phone-covering discussions were had before he came back on the line. “Tomorrow morning. Eight a.m. Virginia Beach.”
“Tomorrow morning’s too late. Can’t we do it tonight?”
“Don’t you need time to raise the cash?”
Fucking idiot. I had no intention of paying this asshole, even less so the longer he dragged this out. If I knew where and when he was going to be somewhere, this became someone else’s mess to clean up.
“I just really need that car back, Sean.” I pulled the name out of thin air. Guess more details of this wild day had been burned into my brain than I thought.
“Tomorrow morning.”
It was better than nothing. “Yeah, yeah. Eight a.m. Give me the address.”
As he told me where to meet my mind spun to my next call to Clyde and then his call to Mr. Big. Probably I was sending Griffin to his death by telling them where to find him, but he was currently digging his own grave on the other end of the line by making demands and striking deals he had no right to make to give back the load of drugs in the ceiling. He was only lucky he was talking to me. I’m a nice guy. These dudes Clyde was mixed up with wouldn’t be so patient.
“I’ll see you there. And Griffin, you better be there and you better have everything.” My attempt at intimidation came out as more of a plea. Either way, he said he would. “And leave the kids at home.”
Aw, crap. They were on vacation. Okay, at the hotel or with Aunt Zelda or whoever the hell there were here to see. So it wasn’t the best ending to my first drug deal set up, but I finally had news to call Clyde about.
34
SEAN
Linda’s mouth hung open. “Who are you? I don’t even know you anymore.” We were parked in a rest area north of Virginia Beach. The sun was setting, giving everything inside the car a weird, red glow.
One of the packets, cocaine I thought it was, slipped to the floor. Linda ignored it and kept her eyes on me. I tried to meet her glare, but I was thinking ahead, to our future.
“We could leave Detroit, Linda. We could go south, to Florida, start over. The kids’ college would be paid for. I could leave the company, maybe even start my own.”
She shook her head and shoved the rest of the packages onto the floor. Then she opened her door and climbed out. She took off walking in the opposite direction of the restrooms. I sat for a minute and then climbed out too. It was probably stupid walking away from a car loaded with drugs, but I needed her on my side if we were to pull this off. I followed her and caught her at the head of a narrow trail, just past a sign that read CLEAN UP ALL ANIMAL WASTE. There was dog shit everywhere.
She ducked under the cover of trees and I followed, wanting to call after her, but I was too winded and I was trying to avoid stepping in crap.
The nice thing about Linda is that she’s just as fat and out of shape as I am. She stopped when the trail turned uphill. When I caught up to her I started explaining myself.
“I think we could pull this off, Linda. I think we could really do it. We could move, like I said. Just think about it.”
It was dark under the trees and mosquitoes buzzed around my head. She put her hand on my forearm. “Shut up, Sean.” She stepped closer, wrapped her arms around my neck. Then, pressing the bulk of her stomach against mine, she kissed me. I kissed her back, wrapping my fist in her hair. She smelled like sweat and donuts and Diet Dr. Pepper. We hadn’t kissed in a while, and it had been even longer since we made love. Plus it was really hot and we were both sweaty. Still, we managed well enough. The clothes came off and we ended up on the ground in a small area with no dog poop. When we were done, Linda stretched out beside me and rested her head on her hand. The drone of trucks was hypnotic and I wished we could doze for a little bit. But the Tahoe was still up the trail and still filled with coke. Her breasts pressed against me. She always had great tits. I turned and kissed her. “We should get back to the car.” She nodded and we fumbled in the dirt for our clothes, both scratching at the mosquito bites that covered us. We picked up some sodas and chips from the vending machines in the rest area shelter and climbed back in the car.
“Well, what now?” she asked.
35
CLYDE
Our daughter was missing. She didn’t even have a name yet. Madeline and I hadn’t been able to agree on names, so our child was just “Baby Girl McDowd.” Madeline was sedated, but not enough to be oblivious to everything. She drifted to sleep, her
eyes fluttering closed, only to snap open again after a minute, clutching my arm. “Where is she? Clyde, find her. Find her!”
The police had been called and then the FBI. The maternity ward was filled with guys in suits and uniforms, all of them asking questions and scribbling in their tiny notebooks. They all wanted to know about my black eyes, what happened to my face and clothes. I told them I was mugged, and then there were more questions about why I didn’t file a police report. I must have answered the same question fifty different times. And how the hell does one describe a newborn? Tiny? Pink? Wearing a diaper and wrapped in a blanket?
My God, I hadn’t even set eyes on her yet.
When they finally let me go, I sat and held Madeline’s hand for a long time. She didn’t ask me about my face. She looked at me with fear for our daughter and disgust, whether for my face or for the fact that I was the guy she was stuck with, I have no idea. Finally, she drifted off and stayed asleep, so I meandered the hallways and finally ended up in the waiting room. Cops were everywhere, talking to nurses, interns, orderlies. There was no way to slip out without drawing suspicion. I was itching to call Brent to see how he was getting along, to check on things. I wanted to call the assholes who had my daughter, but I deleted the picture they sent me out of fear that the cops would ask to see my phone. Maybe I was moving from scared to paranoid.
Then I thought of my baby again and tasted bile in the back of my throat. I was moving past fear to rage, thinking of the ways I’d waste Purple Tie and Blue Tie. Then I thought of how I’d track their boss down and waste him too.
I slipped into the bathroom and punched in Brent’s number. “Tell me something good,” I said. “They took the baby.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Brent said. “I’m so sorry. Man . . . that’s . . . man, I’m sorry.”