by Johnny Shaw
As the senior Jackson Armored employee, Stanley would be the point of contact for Mother. According to Axel’s old research, Stanley lived in a loveless marriage, received boat catalogs in the mail but didn’t own a boat, and was desperate for a last shot at happiness. The kind of happiness that money could buy.
While Gretchen watched Stanley, Axel had eyes on partner Steven McCrary’s place. Axel only gave a one-in-six chance that Mother would approach Steven, but best to cover their bases.
The Mississippi Cataclysm had been a wake-up call for Gretchen. Most people would have taken the close call to rethink their life of crime. She doubled down. There would always be more money to steal. If crime was a stir-fry, money was the rice. It was always part of the dish. The bigger disappointment was the betrayal. Like crossing the finish line of a marathon and then having your coach punch you in the face. She wanted to believe in honor among thieves.
Gretchen watched Stanley putter around the yard and get some edging done on his day off. She had always considered a well-maintained lawn to be the product of an uncreative life.
When her phone rang, she picked up immediately. She didn’t even care if it was a sales call. She was ready for some human interaction.
“Hey, you,” Stephanie said on the other end.
“I didn’t think they allowed phones at Hippie Camp.”
“They don’t. I told my aspiration facilitator that it was an emergency. If anyone asks, you’re my Aunt Honig and your goiter is acting up.”
“It’s great to hear your voice.”
“You, too. What are you up to?”
“Watching an armored car driver put his gardening equipment into a garage.”
“Just say you’re watching porn. I don’t need an elaborate euphemism.”
“We have a potential lead on Mother,” Gretchen said.
“If you need my help, let me know,” Stephanie said. “My heart really isn’t in this retreat. I only went because the deposit was nonrefundable.”
Stanley closed his garage door and got in his mid-1990s Pontiac Grand Am.
“Sorry, Steph,” Gretchen said. “Got to go. My guy is on the move.”
“Toggle between a two-car and four-car distance. Mind your gaps.”
“You say the most romantic things,” Gretchen said. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
The Pontiac drove the six blocks to the on-ramp and jumped onto the freeway. Gretchen didn’t take any of her girlfriend’s advice and stayed right on his tail. She didn’t want to lose him. Once on the freeway, she passed the Pontiac and got in front of him. She would have plenty of time to get over if the car looked like it was going to exit. The Pontiac Grand Am was not known for its quick handling. It was mostly known for its hideousness.
“Stanley’s on the move,” Gretchen said as soon as Axel answered the phone.
“Steven’s getting in his car now,” Axel said. “This could be it.”
Gretchen hung up to concentrate on Stanley’s car. When she passed the exit for National City, she had a good guess where Stanley was headed.
“Kurty,” Gretchen said into her phone. “How quick can you get down to Tijuana?”
“If I leave now, I can be at the border in about a half hour.”
“Head south. I’ll text you the location when I get to wherever I’m going.”
“Stay out of trouble until I get there,” Kurt said. “I got your back, sis.”
“I know you do.”
CHAPTER 34
Kurt parked four blocks from the address. He was worried that Mother might spot the van, until he noticed that it was one of four on that block with a giant Jesus-esque illustration painted on the side. For those keeping score, there were also two Virgin Marys to balance out the Jesuses.
“I’m still not completely comfortable with you here, L,” Kurt said to Louder, who sat in the passenger seat. “Something bad could happen.”
Louder adjusted her blond wig and checked her dark eye shadow in the rearview mirror. “I’m inconspicuous as shit. They’ll spot you in a heartbeat.”
“Mother’s met you,” Kurt said. “Pepe would have been better. He’s Mexican. We’re in Mexico.”
“Pepe can’t remember his middle name,” Louder said. “I’m in a badass disguise. Don’t make me dick-punch you. I’m doing this.”
“I want you to be careful,” Kurt said. “And it’s Carlos. Pepe’s middle name is Carlos.”
“I know. He’s the one that doesn’t.”
They got out of the van and walked toward Gretchen’s car. When they passed a group of four young toughs hanging out in the doorway of a closed tire shop, Kurt felt his spine straighten. They didn’t say anything, but their eyes tracked Kurt and Louder unblinkingly.
Louder took Kurt’s hand. She had never done that before. At first, he assumed that it was because of the Mexican dudes, but then he couldn’t figure out why she was still holding his hand a block later. It felt nice. He wasn’t complaining.
He felt like he should say something. Before he could think of what to say, he spotted Gretchen’s car. Kurt released his hand from Louder’s to point at it. They climbed into the back seat.
“Thanks for coming, Louder,” Gretchen said.
“Beats any form of entertainment in Warm Springs,” Louder said. “Kurt asks for help, I help.”
Gretchen turned in the seat and gave Kurt a wink and moved her eyebrows up and down quickly.
“Are you making a Kurt-and-Louder-sitting-in-a-tree face?” Louder asked.
“You two make a cute couple.”
“We’re not a—” Kurt looked at Louder.
“We do make a cute couple,” Louder said.
“We do?”
“We do.”
“Are we?”
Louder smiled and took his hand. “We are.”
Kurt opened his mouth to say something but only held it open. He turned to Louder, then away, and back to her.
“Are you okay?” Louder said. “Are you having a stroke?”
“I’m good,” Kurt said, the smile on his face broadening until it hurt.
“That was a-door-a-bull,” Gretchen said.
“Shut up,” Kurt and Louder said together, and then “Jinx, ten, you owe me a Coke. Double jinx.”
“Cuteness aside,” Gretchen said. “Stanley’s been in that bar for the better part of a half hour. Steven showed up a few minutes ago. Axel should be around here somewhere.”
“You want me to go in there and observe and report?” Louder said.
“We need eyes and ears,” Gretchen said. “Mother’s only seen you a few times. The disguise should work.”
Louder checked herself in the mirror one last time. “What could happen? This is Mexico. The crime rate is extremely low. Nobody ever gets in trouble in Mexico.”
“Uh,” Kurt said.
“Who are you going to believe, me or the fake news? What does your guy look like?”
“I’ll send a photo to your phone,” Gretchen said. “Fritzy’s the one you’ll have to look out for. He likes disguises.”
“I’ll look for the guy in a disguise,” Louder said.
“The place looks like a local hangout,” Kurt said. “Not exactly Señor Frog’s. A single white woman might be suspicious.”
“If anyone asks, I’ll tell them I’m meeting my heroin dealer.”
“I can’t tell when you’re joking.”
“That’s what makes me so good at this.” Louder gave Kurt a hard kiss on the mouth, got out of the car, waited for the traffic to thin, crossed the street, and entered the bar.
“You guys have been dating for twenty years,” Gretchen said. “Congratulations on finding out. I can’t believe that was your first kiss.”
“That wasn’t our first kiss,” Kurt said. They had kissed on a dare when they were both ten years old. He had also eaten cat food and put his finger in a mousetrap on subsequent dares, but the kiss still counted. It got boring in the desert.
&nbs
p; “She’s—I can’t do this.” Gretchen grabbed the back of her neck. “Get in the front seat. My neck is getting jacked.”
Kurt opened the back door and got out of the car to switch seats. He immediately dropped to his hands and knees. A block away Mother approached the bar. No sign of Fritzy.
From the ducked position, Kurt opened the passenger door and awkwardly slid inside, attempting to keep his head below dashboard level.
“What are you doing?” Gretchen asked.
“Mother,” Kurt said, pointing. “Mother.”
Gretchen dropped her seat back to get out of sight. “Got to give it to Axel. Every once in a while, he gets something right.”
A few minutes later, Louder texted Kurt.
Louder: Bar way cool. Skeevy. Filthy. Jukebox mostly Mex, but Iron Maiden ACDC too m/ m/
Kurt: What about the guys? Mother? What they doing?
L: Mother doing all the talking!!! Operation Dumbo Drop is a go!
K: Can you hear them?
L: Bits. I’ll get closer.
K: Be careful.
L: Careful is my middle
K: Louder, you okay? You there?
K: Louder!
K: If you don’t text back in the next minute, I’m coming in there.
K: That’s it. I’m coming in.
L: name.
K: What happened?
L: Guy hit me.
K: Someone hit you?!?!?!
L: Sorry. Hit ON me. Told him I had boyfriend. LOL
K: Was he good looking?
L: He told me was nominated for Pushcart Prize. What that?
K: And Mother?
L: Talk, talk, talk.
L: Steven looks like Billy Graham. Real swole.
K: Rev. Billy Graham not swole.
L: Superstar Billy Graham, dummy. He’s yoked.
L: Talking money. Numbers. It’s a vegetation.
K: Vegetation?
L: Negotiation. @#$%! autocorrect!
L: Got plan. No texts for bit. Don’t panic.
After five minutes of radio silence, Kurt became concerned. After another five minutes, he got in and out of the car at least three times, panicking. He never took more than two steps before climbing back in the Honda. When Axel jumped in the back seat, Kurt may or may not have sharted.
“You scared the crap out of me,” Kurt said, not meaning to be so literal.
“Sorry,” Axel said. “How’s she doing? Anything good?”
“Haven’t heard from her in ten minutes,” Kurt said.
“He’s extra worried,” Gretchen said. “They’re boyfriend/girlfriend now.” She followed her statement with some grade-school kissy sounds.
“Good for you, Kurt,” Axel said.
“Mother pulled a gun on us in Mississippi,” Kurt said. “We got no idea what she’s capable of.”
“Different situation,” Axel said. “No reason to come to this meeting armed. Louder will be fine.”
“I’ve only had a girlfriend for about a half hour. Is worrying a big part of it?”
“Most of it,” Gretchen and Axel said at the same time. They both laughed, then caught themselves, trying to stay angry.
“Mother,” Kurt said.
Mother walked out of the bar, smiling. When the two security guards left the bar, they talked for a little bit, high-fived, and headed toward their cars.
“Where’s Louder?” Kurt said. “Where is she? I don’t see her. Where is she?”
“Easy, Kurty,” Gretchen said.
“I’m going in.”
“There she is.”
Across the street Louder fast-walked out of the bar. She made a beeline toward the car, got in the back seat with Axel, and ducked. A Mexican man walked out the door and looked around, his hands on his hips.
“What’s going on?” Kurt asked.
“We should go,” Louder said. “Can we go?”
“Did that guy threaten you or something?” Kurt asked.
“Nothing like that,” Louder said. “I promised to blow him, then welshed on the offer. Nobody likes an Indian giver that gyps a guy out of fellatio.”
“Did you purposely mean to offend three different ethnic groups?” Kurt asked. “Impressive, but that’s not what an Indian giver is. If you had been an Indian giver, that would mean that you gave him mouth sex but then asked for it back.”
“Mouth sex?” Louder said. “We need to go.”
“That dude looks pissed,” Gretchen said.
The man kicked an empty beer can, adjusted his crotch, and walked back into the bar.
“Is anyone going to ask me why I promised to blow the bartender?” Louder asked.
“It was about to come up,” Kurt said. “Don’t think I’d let that go.”
“I had the horndog put my phone behind the bar where the meeting was going down,” Louder said. “I recorded their entire conversation.”
CHAPTER 35
Axel, Gretchen, and Kurt sat on the edge of the hole that used to be their home. Home, hole. A one-letter slide to the left in the alphabet. More of a crater than a hole, to be accurate. The concrete foundation had been jackhammered into rubble. The lawn had been disced thoroughly. Nothing but dirt and bits.
“All this work,” Gretchen said. “All this trouble. Do you really think there’s hidden money or jewels?”
“Mother thought so,” Axel said. “Enough to do all this.”
“It sure as shit ain’t here,” Gretchen said.
“It’s just money,” Kurt said. “Who chooses money over family?”
“More people than you’d think,” Gretchen said.
“Whatever happens tomorrow,” Kurt said, “can that be the end of it? Can we go back to being us? A family? Or you know, whatever we are?”
“Some of that depends on Gretchen,” Axel said.
“And you,” Gretchen said, “but I’ll do it for you, Kurty.”
“This is an opportunity,” Kurt said. “It brought us together. We can keep it going. Be in each other’s lives. Not just do this one thing and then go our separate ways and not see each other for years.”
“If you’re saying you want to pull more jobs,” Gretchen said, “you know I’m all over that.”
“Despite all the felonies I’ve committed, I’m not a criminal,” Kurt said. “I was thinking normal family things.”
“Like what?” Axel asked. “Go to Walley World together?”
“Lunch,” Kurt said. “A weekly lunch. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“I’m in,” Axel said, turning to Gretchen. “I want to try.”
“As long as it’s Mexican food,” Gretchen said.
“I have one condition,” Kurt said.
“Now who’s making a big deal out of it?” Gretchen said.
“It sounds like you don’t trust us,” Axel said.
“I don’t have to,” Kurt said. “That’s what conditions are for. If one of us doesn’t show up, that person owes the other two a hundred bucks each.”
“The hell,” Gretchen said. “What if I go on vacation? What if I’m sick? What if I just don’t want to?”
“Vacation from your not-job?” Kurt said. “Sorry, I don’t make the rules.”
“You literally made the rules as we were talking,” Gretchen said.
“You miss a lunch, you pay a bunch,” Kurt said. “It rhymes, which makes it law.”
“I like a challenge. I’m in,” Axel said, standing up and patting the dirt off his pants.
“Ax’s hundos are going to feel good in my pocket,” Gretchen said. “Taco money.”
The three of them walked back to their cars. Without their house, the road looked unfamiliar.
“You all know what to do?” Axel asked. “What the plan is, right? Do we need to go over it again?”
“The fifteenth time did the trick,” Gretchen said. “I was fuzzy about some things the fourteenth time, but I’m good now.”
“Hilarious,” Axel said. “You’ll thank me later for my thoroughn
ess.”
Stephanie and Louder approached from town on foot. They both ate Dilly Bars, the evening heat forcing them to work at them to avoid ice cream dripping down their arms. Stephanie tossed a bag to Axel. He opened it. More Dilly Bars. He handed everyone one. Now that was how you planned some larceny in style.
“Give me enough Dilly Bars,” Axel said, “and I might one day forgive you.”
“Standing around your cars,” Stephanie said, “planning to heist somebody else’s heist. You three look like you’re auditioning for a Fast and the Furious movie.”
“Dibs on being Vin Diesel,” Kurt said.
“More like a no-budget Albanian remake,” Louder said, “where everyone drives a fifteen-year-old Tercel and they’re trying to steal a prized milk cow.”
“The Relatively Fleet of Foot and the Slightly Perturbed,” Kurt said.
Stephanie walked to Gretchen and gave her a hip bump. Louder gave Kurt a big squeeze in the middle. Axel stood completely still with no one next to him.
“So much has changed,” Kurt said. “You found Stephanie. Me and Louder—oh yeah. Rats. Sorry, Ax. That probably stings. What with what happened with Virginia and all.”