by R. L. Naquin
She reached into the bag. “Bananas, peanut butter, bread. Some other stuff.” She pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to me. “Here. I don’t think you drink enough. You need to hydrate.” She opened a bottle of her own.
I watched her as I opened my water and drank half of it. She brushed her dark blond hair out of her eyes and drained the bottle all at once. After tossing the empty bottle into the bag, she reached in and yanked a banana free.
Judging by how fast she ate it, I’d been right. She’d been starving. If she stayed with me for any length of time, whatever Art had packed for me in the box in back wasn’t going to last long.
I started the truck and took us back toward the highway. Partway up the entrance ramp, the truck shook a little and made a hissing noise. I patted the dashboard. “You’ve got this, Celia. Cough it up. We don’t have much farther to go, then you can rest for a few days.”
The truck protested for a few more yards, then smoothed out.
“Is it okay?” Ash paused as she peeled her second banana. “That doesn’t sound good.”
I patted the dash again. “She’s fine. She’s just an old girl and needs sweet talking every now and then.”
Ash bit into the fruit and chewed twice before swallowing and taking another bite. “So, what’s in Kansas City?”
“Overland Park. Not a what. A who. A missing who that I’m supposed to find.”
“Oh. So, you’re like a private detective?”
I smiled. “Yeah. Like a private detective.”
She handed me an apple, and we ate in silence for a while. Topeka came and went, and I had time to wonder what my plan should be for finding the missing reaper. Without checking out the area where he’d gone missing, I couldn’t begin to guess how to go about solving his disappearance. First, I’d have to find a place to stay. Someplace cheap. And I’d probably have to find some sort of job, since the money Art gave me wouldn’t last long.
I’d start at this food truck thing Art had mentioned and hope I found something the reapers hadn’t.
I sighed. Not for the first time, I wondered if I should have stayed with my friends back in California instead of running off on my own.
Ash touched my sleeve. “I could help you look for clues.”
I smiled. “Don’t you have somewhere you were going?”
“It can wait.” She pulled one foot underneath her on the seat. “I just thought...you know...you might be able to use some help. For a little while, anyway.”
“Sure.” I tried not to smile too big and scare her off. “I could definitely use some help.”
* * *
When we reached the college town of Lawrence, Ash was squirming in her seat, so I stopped for her to pee at a fast-food restaurant. I sat in the truck and waited for her.
While I sat, I watched two guys in coveralls washing the building’s windows. The men had a quality about them, much like the shimmer around the gate guard at headquarters. There was nothing otherwise remarkable about either of them, other than the wavy air around their moving bodies. They could have been anybody.
They turned together to move their equipment farther down the row of windows, and for a second, I saw them. Really saw them.
One, despite his six-foot height, dissolved into a four-inch brownie—the tiny creature, not the tasty dessert—before shifting back to his tall human facade. The other man’s face twisted into the muzzle, soft fur and whiskers of a lion, and wings sprouted on his back before his human disguise resettled over his sphinx self.
The men glanced at me, and I tipped my head toward them in acknowledgment.
That was the way it was now in our world. Until last year, the Hidden had to hide. Humans could never see monsters, dragons, fairies and Bigfoot. It was against Hidden law—and for good reason. Humans rarely reacted well to the unknown. Anybody who doubted it needed to watch the movie E.T.
But all that had changed last year. My friends and I had stopped the end of the world from happening. And when the smoke had cleared, my sister-friend Zoey had spent time with the First Hidden to renegotiate terms. She’d arranged a new deal that gave all the Hidden the ability to pass for human when they wanted to. That meant the Hidden who used to have to hide or live in the quiet places of the world where humans never went were now everywhere, mixed into the general population, and humans had no idea.
I, of course, already passed as human, for the most part. All I had to do was keep my gems covered with a bracelet and not let my eyeballs flame up. No problem.
Ash returned from the bathroom pale.
I frowned. “You okay?”
She looked at me, then at the men washing the windows. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“You sure?” Could she see them in their true faces? “Did you see something that upset you?”
“I think I just ate too fast or something. Three bananas is at least one too many.”
I nodded. “That’s probably true. Banana math can play tricks on you when you’re hungry.” I pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the highway.
There was no way she should be able to see the weird aura around the men, and she sure shouldn’t have been able to see their real faces. Nothing about her made me think she was any kind of Hidden. She was human.
If she weren’t, I’d know. Probably.
Chapter Four
We made it to the right neighborhood in Overland Park just as Celia coughed, shivered and died. Fortunately, there was a garage across the street from where she gave up in a cloud of blue smoke.
Ash and I piled out, wheezing and hacking.
A stocky man in coveralls stepped out of the garage, wiping his hands on a greasy rag. He tipped his head at me and strode toward us. “Looks like you’re having some trouble.” The name embroidered on his coveralls said Neil.
I nodded. “Looks like, yeah.” I patted the truck’s hood. “Celia’s having a bad day, Neil.” On the outside, I tried to put on a good front, like I didn’t have a worry in the world. There was no need to worry Ash, and worrying was never really my thing. On the inside, my stomach was a giant, tangled knot of tension. I couldn’t afford an oil change, let alone whatever the hell was going on under Celia’s hood.
“Want me to take a look-see?” He didn’t wait for an answer before popping her open and sticking his head inside, as if he were a lion tamer performing a death-defying trick.
The little stick thing that held up the hood appeared wobbly to me, and I was afraid the whole thing would collapse. Those things always seemed so flimsy.
Neil tinkered with some of the doohickeys on the engine, using his greasy rag to touch parts I supposed were hot. After a few minutes of mumbling to himself and grunting, he stepped back and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. A streak of dirt that had already been there wiped off. “This is your lucky day, young lady.” He slammed the hood closed.
I felt a little lighter, and the tension in my belly eased—though that might’ve been due to the hood being safely in place as much as the hint of good news. “She’s all fixed?”
He let out a wheezing laugh. “Well, no. But I can fix her up without it costing too much. You just have a few leaky seals and need new plugs. She’s in good shape, otherwise, considering her age.”
I scowled, knowing his idea of not costing much probably didn’t match mine. “How much?”
He shrugged. “Couple hundred should get you back on the road. No problem.”
My stomach returned to its knotted-up condition from only moments before. “At the moment, I can’t afford to have it towed across the street to you, let alone hundreds of dollars for repairs.” I folded my arms across my chest and slammed my back against my disloyal truck. I was screwed.
Ash stood several feet away on the sidewalk, both her bags hanging at her sides. If I didn’
t figure something out in the next thirty-seven seconds, she was going to bolt, I could tell.
I straightened and pulled my shoulders down from around my ears. Back in the ’80s, during one of my spectacular escapes, I’d spent a little time in Tijuana. I knew how to bargain. An ivory chess set, two piñatas and a statue of the Virgin Mary carved in soapstone were still in storage somewhere in Vancouver as proof. “So, Neil.” I ran my hand over Celia’s door frame. “I know she’s not much to look at, but you may have noticed my girl here is a classic. The 1967 Ford F-150 is a collectible. I’m sure you could find someone willing to put a little love into restoring her. Or maybe you’re a collector?”
His gaze flicked from my face to the truck and back again. “I noticed. One year older, and she might really be worth something. Still, might be worth quite a bit in parts. But I’m not really running a junkyard.” He ran his rag across his forehead and replaced the mark he’d wiped off earlier.
“I’ll be honest, Neil. I’m attached to this truck. I don’t want to lose it. But I just got into town and need to find a job before I can pay for the repairs.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and scowled. “I’m sorry. I can’t do the work on credit. Absolutely not.”
I held up both my hands. “No, no! Of course not. I’m not asking for charity.” I patted the hood of the truck. “But we both agree, Celia’s worth far more than the repairs will cost.” I flashed him my most dazzling smile. “But I can’t make the money to fix her without a vehicle to get me around. So, here’s what I propose.” I glanced at Ash to make sure she hadn’t decided to go off on her own. She hadn’t moved. In fact, she’d placed her bags on the sidewalk while she watched the proceedings. Excellent. One problem at a time.
He leaned a hip against the front of the truck. “I’m listening.”
“You take Celia and hang on to her as collateral. Loan me something you’ve got parked over there, something you can do without that’s worth less than my truck. I’ll find work and make the money for repairs. If I fail, you keep the truck. If I succeed—and Neil, I will succeed—I’ll pay you double what I owe you.”
“And what about the loaner?”
“I’ll bring it back, whether I have the money or not. You’ll have my truck and my driver’s license number.” I shrugged. “If I don’t come back, report the loaner stolen.”
He stared at me for a long, uncomfortable moment. Finally, he snorted and his face broke into a grin. “You know, you’re a little bit crazy.” He stuck his hand out. “But you’ve got yourself a deal.”
“Thank you so much.” I shook his hand. “I’m Kam. And that’s my sister, Ash.”
Her eyes widened at my introduction. “Uh, hi.” She gave him a shy smile.
He tipped his head toward her. “If you ladies will follow me, we’ll get you situated. Grab anything you want to take with you. I’ll tow the truck to the garage after you’re gone.”
I grabbed my single bag from the back, along with the box of supplies Art had given me, and Ash and I crossed the street with Neil. He led us around the back of the building to a small lot that had several vehicles, some in better shape than others.
“I thought you said you weren’t running a junkyard.” I gave him a sly, sideways look.
He chuckled. “It’s not a junkyard. Not really. Just a collection of cars I’ve acquired over the years for various reasons.”
I nodded. “Give it a few more years.”
Neil waved his arm at the whole lot. “Go ahead. Pick what you want. They don’t all run. Most do. The little Pinto’s not bad.” He pointed to a giant blue land yacht with rusty patches on it. “That Monte Carlo there is old, but sturdy. But look around. See what strikes you.”
I barely glanced at either of the cars he pointed out. There was only one thing in the lot that had my attention. I didn’t know if he’d be willing to part with it, but I had to ask. It was too perfect. I raised my arm and pointed. “What about...that?”
Ash choked down a laugh behind me.
Neil followed the direction of my finger and squinted. “What? The food truck?”
I nodded, keeping my expression solemn. “Yes. The food truck.”
My head swirled with the heady possibilities of running my own food truck. I knew how to serve food. How much more difficult could it be doing it from a truck instead of a skanky bar? I could wear whatever I wanted. I wouldn’t have to answer to a weasel-faced boss who couldn’t keep his hands to himself. I’d bet those useless reapers Art had sent out here wouldn’t have found a dead end in the food truck community if they’d been undercover as one of them.
Bonus: I could make my own money and not have to find a crappy job to survive on while also putting away money to pay for the repairs on my pickup truck.
Was it a coincidence that the last place Pete had been tracked to was a food truck court, or was this fate flapping its arms at me trying to get my attention? I tucked my hands in my pockets to keep from flapping my arms back. Coincidence or not, I believed in fate. Even if it meant I’d have to learn to cook.
“Honey, you don’t want the food truck.” He sounded regretful, as if telling me this were painful. “There’s a reason it’s at the back of my lot instead of out on the street.”
Whatever the reason, as long as it ran, I wanted that truck.
I strode toward the truck, admiring the teapot mounted on the top. On the side of the truck, over the window, it said Tea & Sympathy. A blackboard attached next to the window had once served as a menu, but most of the letters were wiped or washed off. I pieced together that the truck used to sell tea and scones, but that was all I could tell.
Neil strode next to me. “Trust me, I’ve had several interested parties come take a look. They all backed out pretty quick.”
I tilted my head and gave him a questioning look. “Why?”
He nodded toward the open back door. “Go on in and find out for yourself.”
I stepped inside and took a look. It was a dream inside. Dirty from being left open to the elements for a time, but still, a little elbow grease and it would be shiny as new.
But holy hells, the smell was so awful I wanted to bury my head in a vat of fabric softener to keep from dying of the stench. I backed out, blocking Ash from going in.
“What is that?” I covered my nose and mouth with my hands, hoping the smell of my own skin would erase the horror I’d experienced. “Did something die in there?”
Ash dodged around me and climbed in. A moment later, she stepped out, a sober look on her face. “Smells like a dead animal.”
“Exactly.” Neil shifted his feet. “Like I said, you don’t want that. We’ve practically torn the truck apart trying to find the source of the smell, but nobody’s found it yet.”
Ash and I gave each other a long, silent look. I’d known her all of three hours, but I felt as if we’d known each other a great deal longer. An entire conversation passed between us in that look. We both nodded and faced the mechanic.
“We’ll take it.” I smiled. “And don’t worry about the smell. When you get the truck back, it’ll be fresh as a daisy and you’ll be able to sell it.” I patted his shoulder. “This deal just got even sweeter for you.” I turned toward the garage and strode toward the office, satisfied that we’d fallen into an amazing bargain.
Everything was coming together perfectly.
* * *
Neil took us into his shop to fill out paperwork for the temporary trade. As we walked, he explained how a small mechanic shop ended up with a funky-smelling food truck parked in the lot behind the garage. “The truck belonged to a woman named Anna. She was a friend of my sister’s. A couple of months ago, Anna went missing. Left her truck parked out at the office park where most of those people do business. Patty—that’s my sister—she asked me to tow it out here to keep it safe.”
I stopped walking. “Then how can you sell it if she’s only been gone a few months?”
Neil turned toward me, his expression grave. “They found Anna’s body two weeks later. She’s not coming back for her truck.”
I opened my mouth and closed it again as if I were a fish gulping for air. “Oh.” Was Anna’s death related to Pete’s disappearance? Had Pete gone rogue? What on earth had Pete gotten himself into?
Ash’s eyes widened. “Damn.”
Neil reached the building and held the door open for us. “If you’d like to step inside, we’ll get you all settled. Then I’ll give you a quick tour of how the truck works and top off your propane tank for you so your generator has power.”
I gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks. I’ve never worked a food truck before.”
“You’ll get the hang of it. You’re smart ladies, I’m sure.” He watched us walk past him into the shop, his face pinched with worry. “Be careful, though, okay? Things have always been a little weird with those people. Don’t go getting yourself...well, don’t be like Anna, okay?”
I patted his arm. “Don’t worry, Neil. Trouble chases me everywhere, but it never really finds me.”
* * *
We drove with the windows open, our heads practically hanging outside like dogs on a trip to the groomers. That wasn’t so bad for Ash, but driving an enormous food truck in that position was a challenge. The smell made my eyes water and my throat constrict.
It was nasty.
Thanks to my earlier stops to look at twine and help a hitchhiker, then my pickup conking out on me and necessitating a trade, it was after dark before I managed to get us checked into a cheap motel with a minikitchenette. I paid for a week in advance in order to get the best price, but that left me with about $200 to start a food truck business.
I’d think of something. I always did.
Art had been generous with the package of food he’d put together for me. Ash heated chili in the microwave while I got us some ice, and we had a pretty decent first meal in our new, temporary home.