With an hour to go, Reese spoke again. “This is boring.”
“You lasted longer than Ryan.”
“No shit.”
“Wanna make out?” I asked. I didn’t think she’d go for it.
“No. Tool.” Ten minutes passed. “Yeah, okay.”
“What?” I asked.
In response, Reese grabbed my shirt, pulled me close, and kissed me. I wasn’t stupid. I kissed her back.
She tasted like strawberry lip gloss and honey. She must have gotten new lip gloss. Weird thought. When she stuck her tongue in my mouth, I stopped thinking. Just pulled until she was on top of me. One of her feet curled around my leg and pulled me closer.
One of us moaned. It might have been me.
“Wait. Wait.” Reese pushed against my chest.
“What?”
“This might be a bad idea.” Duh. “What if something happens and we miss it?”
“Nothing’s gonna happen. She has a kid so she’s probably in for the night,” I said.
“You’re right. She isn’t going any—shit.”
“What?” I tried to sit up, but Reese was still half on top of me.
“Someone is going up the walkway.”
“Shit.”
Reese moved so I could sit up. The figure going up to the door was carrying a bag. It looked like a dude. Slender. And judging by the height of his jeans, probably young.
“Did he walk or drive?” Reese asked.
“I don’t see a car.”
“Bike. By the fence.” Reese pointed.
The door opened. Light from inside spilled onto the dim porch. He handed her the bag.
“What’s he giving her? What’s in the bag?” I asked.
“I don’t know, but it looks like she’s paying him.”
“Sketchy,” I said.
“Totally.”
The guy took whatever she was giving him and turned away. The door closed. He got on his bike and started to ride.
“He’s gonna go right past us,” I said.
Reese and I slid down in our seats as he went by.
“Shut the fuck up,” Reese said.
“What?” I sat up a little so I could see.
“The bike has a crate on the back.”
“So?”
“The crate has a sign,” she said.
“What’s it say?”
“She ordered takeout. He’s the delivery boy.”
“Shut up,” I said.
“Nope. We are crazy paranoid.”
I started to laugh. “For real.”
“Your girlfriend really knows how to spend a Saturday night.”
“She’s not…never mind.”
There wasn’t much to say after that.
I officially hated street surveillance.
*
“This feels skeevy,” I said.
“You’re tellin’ me,” Christopher said. “Honey,” he added as an afterthought.
“Seriously skeevy.”
“I’m not asking you to put suntan oil on me. Be happy.”
“That’s because science has revealed that suntan oil is bad for you,” I told him.
“Fine. I’m not asking you to put sunscreen on me. Be happy.”
We were stretched out on a big beach towel. Christopher was stretched out on his back looking at the water. We were playing the part of a couple. Gay, not straight. And I was figuring out that drag is hard in summer clothing.
“Why didn’t Ryan just play the part of your boyfriend?”
“He’s sleeping. You know he was on the night shift,” Christopher said.
“Then why can’t you play straight for a day? You did it for twenty years.”
“Shut up and read your magazine.”
“I’m just saying.” The Ace bandage across my chest was itchy and hot. And I was wearing a shirt that was just a little too tight. I might have been cranky.
“It was Breno’s idea. I think he wanted an excuse to spend time with Reese,” Christopher said.
“Whatever.” I went back to the magazine I was reading. Or pretending to read. I was lying on my stomach looking up at Joan’s house. With sunglasses on, it looked like I was reading. I was trying to get an idea of the layout of the house. It wasn’t working.
“Cooper?”
“What?”
“Why aren’t your legs shaved?” he asked.
“Fuck you.”
“Sorry, I was only curious.”
“I’m lazy.” I don’t know why I decided to answer.
“Oh. It works well for the disguise.”
“Yeah, I used my magical ability to look into the future and predict that Breno would suggest that I dress in drag and pretend to be your young, hot lover on the beach.”
“You’re an ass,” he said.
“A great ass.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve got a great ass,” I said. “That was also part of the disguise. I wanted to literally be a hot piece of ass. So I predicted the need to work my glutes.”
“Do you think about the shit that comes out of your mouth, or do you just speak?” Christopher asked.
“I don’t even know what we are talking about anymore.” It was honest, at least.
“Can you see anything?”
“No. The angle is all wrong so I can only see the upper floors. And there’s a couple staring at us.”
“What do you mean?”
“Two dudes. Checking us out.” I was trying to play it cool, but they had been cruising us for the last five minutes. And now they were walking toward us.
“Damn.” Christopher must have caught sight of them.
“Wanna hold hands?” I asked sarcastically.
“As abhorrent as I find the idea, yes. It might keep them from coming to talk to us.” He reached a hand over.
“Fuck.” I shifted my magazine so I could hold it with one hand. Then I reached over and slid my palm against his. “This is weird.”
“You have no idea.”
In horror, I watched the two guys saunter closer. They were cruising me. Nope, only one was cruising me. The other was checking Christopher out.
“Here they come. If you flirt I’ll fuckin’ kill you,” I muttered.
“Yes, honey.”
“Nope. I don’t know what I want to do for dinner,” I said loudly.
“There’s that Cuban place you wanted to try,” Christopher suggested.
“That sounds nice.”
“Mmm hmm.”
The two guys stopped a few feet from our towel. “Hi there,” the taller one said.
Christopher tilted his head back. “Hi.” He grinned. That grin was going to be our downfall. Why did he have to be good-looking?
“How you guys doing?” The shorter one this time. He was shirtless and muscley. I wondered if that was Christopher’s type. Or maybe if the taller one was. He was more of a pretty boy. The short one was more rugged-looking with cultivated stubble. Christopher had the same kind of facial hair thing going on.
“All right. Enjoying the sun,” Christopher said.
“Mmm hmm.” I didn’t want to speak too much. The voice would probably give me away.
“Vacation?” pretty boy asked.
“Honeymoon,” Christopher said.
The rugged one’s smile dropped for a second.
Pretty boy covered better. “Oh, congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“Yeah, thanks.” Another Christopher smile. “Five years and now we’re legal. It’s pretty exciting.”
I smiled at them. I was going for love struck. It didn’t work. I leaned over and whispered in Christopher’s ear. “Hurry this up.”
Christopher laughed. Deep and hearty and far more genuine than I expected. He was good at faking. Not surprising, really. He’d done it for half his life.
“Now if we only knew where to eat tonight. Any recommendations?” Christopher asked.
“Where are you staying?” rugged one asked.
Christopher named a hotel. Not the one we were staying at. They suggested a couple places that were presumably nearby.
“Great, thank you,” Christopher said.
I nodded. “Yeah, awesome.”
“All right. Congratulations again.” They sketched a simultaneous wave and started to stroll away.
“Are they gone?” Christopher asked after a minute.
“Yes.” I watched their retreating backs. “That was painful.”
“The taller one was gorgeous.”
“Keep it in your pants, darlin’.” I threw as much disdain into darlin’ as I could.
“I’m going to kill Breno.”
“Agreed. Epically bad idea. I think we can stop holding hands now.” I let go of his hand.
“We are going to have to figure out a better way to watch the back of the house. This isn’t working.”
“Want to get out of here?” I asked.
“Please.”
“Thank God.”
*
“Did you see anything interesting?” Christopher asked.
“No. And I’m bored of surveillance. I can’t sit in a damn car anymore. Even sitting on the beach is boring,” Ryan said.
“We’re all tired of it, Ryan,” Reese said.
“My ass hurts from all that sitting,” he whined.
“Did you get a decent layout of the house?” I asked.
“I drew you a picture didn’t I?” Ryan pointed at the sketch on the table.
We all leaned in to look. Again. It didn’t make any more sense this time than when I’d first seen it.
“What is foodage?” Breno pointed at one of the childish squares. There was an arrow pointing at it labeled foodage.
“The kitchen. Obviously,” Ryan said.
“And this?” Christopher pointed at another section of the drawing.
“A balcony,” Ryan explained.
“What about this section, with all of the arrows and lightning bolts?” Breno asked.
“That’s where the alarm panel is,” Ryan said.
“Wait. What?” I asked. “You can see the alarm panel? We’re in. We just need to watch and get the code.”
“No, dude. You can’t see the keypad. What kind of shitty security company would install it facing a window?” He had a point. “That’s why there are sad faces. See?”
“Oh, yes. It all makes perfect sense now,” Reese said in a voice that implied that it did not make sense.
“Fuck you.” Ryan pushed away from the table. “I went out there and crawled on top of a fucking lifeguard tower and watched those windows for hours. It was hard. And it was dark. And it took forever. But I made you the damn drawing and I waited until I figured out all the important shit and I totally hit my balls climbing down and it hurt like fucking hell. So just fuck you.”
With that, he started pacing. I’d never seen Ryan pace.
Reese and I watched him, stunned. Christopher studied the drawing some more. Breno didn’t seem to know what to make of his strange son.
“I see the sad faces now. And this must be the little girl’s room.” Christopher pointed. “The one that says sleepy time and has a teddy bear.” Ryan didn’t respond to the indulgence so Christopher went on. “Oh, and these are all windows. The squares with the sunglasses drawn in them. The ladder here.” He pointed. “This is a ladder, right?” Ryan glanced over and nodded. “That must be a place where we can climb up.”
“Well, yeah. It’s not like she just has a ladder chillin’ there. That would make it too easy.” Ryan stopped his pacing.
“Okay, so how will we get in?” Reese asked.
“Climb through the window,” I said.
“But there’s an alarm,” she pointed out.
“We go in when she doesn’t have the alarm set,” I said.
“When the hell will that be?” Reese wanted to know.
“She sets it when she leaves,” Ryan said. “And once she’s inside, she resets it. So I think it’s pretty much always on.”
“What about when she answers the door?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” Ryan shrugged. “I don’t think she did that when I was there.”
I thought about that. I definitely had a plan. It was a gamble partly. But mostly, I thought it was solid.
“Will she recognize Breno?” I asked.
“What? Why?” Christopher asked.
“Will she?”
“She’s never met him. But she’s seen pictures of the twins. So she might make the connection,” Christopher said.
“I have a plan,” I said.
Chapter Seven
I watched the waves break against the shore in front of me. Just another lonely kid watching the waves in the moonlight. My sweatshirt hood was pulled up against the evening chill. It also conveniently hid the earbud I was wearing.
“Everyone in place?” Breno’s voice came over the line.
“Ready to go,” I said.
“Street is clear.” Ryan.
“Beach is empty and neighbors on the south are watching a movie. Lights are out in the house to the north.” I could see Reese in my peripheral vision. She was leaning against a lifeguard tower down the beach.
“Both houses are dark on the street,” Ryan said.
“Getaway car is ready.” Christopher had the getaway car. We didn’t need it. Probably. But plan B was to run like hell.
“Where’s Joan?” I asked.
“Kitchen,” Reese said. “If you go now she’ll see you.”
“I’m going to start walking,” I said.
I stood and turned south toward Joan’s house. I kept to the shoreline. There was sand in my Chucks. It was annoying as hell. I could feel the small grains working their way into my socks, between my toes, shifting with every step I took.
“You can veer closer to the neighbor’s house. Stop before you hit Joan’s outdoor lights,” Reese said.
“Gotcha.”
I waited at the edge of the low picket fence. The wooden slats looked flimsy, but I knew they were sturdy. I’d tested them.
“Breno. Go now,” Reese said.
“I am walking up to her door,” Breno said.
I hear a distant doorbell from inside the house.
“Go, Coop. She just left the kitchen,” Reese said.
I climbed the fence and balanced on it for a moment before reaching up. This was going to work in theory. But we were relying on my upper body strength. Maybe we should have thought it through more. Maybe I should have thought it through more. No one knew exactly what I was planning. I hadn’t told them. And by the time they figured it out, it would be too late.
I grabbed the edge of the balcony above my head. Took a deep breath. Jumped and hauled myself up. I braced my foot against the side of the house. I felt a sharp pull in my bicep. Fucking stitches. Somehow, I was able to climb until I was standing on the edge of the balcony. After that, it was easy to get over the railing.
Breno’s voice came over the line as Joan answered the door. I yanked the earbud out and let it dangle against my chest. Hopefully, he would be able to distract her for a minute. I opened the sliding glass door and walked into Joan’s bedroom. In the near darkness, I skirted the edge of her bed and slid into the hallway. The next door was open. I could hear voices downstairs. Breno’s sounded friendly. Joan’s was cautious.
I went through the open door. Joan’s daughter was sleeping on her back. One tiny hand was curled into her hair; the other was stretched out across the small crib. I leaned over and picked up the sleeping child. She made a small noise and burrowed into my shoulder. Weird. Downstairs, the door closed. Damn. There were footsteps on the stairs. I stepped out into the hallway as Joan reached the top. She gasped. I shook my head.
“Be quiet now,” I said softly. “She’s sleeping. Wouldn’t want to wake her.”
“Please.”
“Let’s just use our calm voices. Kids are so receptive to tone, you know what I mean?” I asked.
“Just please. Don’t hurt her.” Joan reached out and took an unconscious step forward.
“Stop.” I reached under my sweatshirt and pulled a gun from my waistband. The silencer caught on my jeans for a second, but then it was free. “I don’t want to use this. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“Oh, God.” Joan began to sob. “If you hurt her, I’ll kill you.”
“If I have to hurt her, I’ll probably kill you too. So you won’t get a chance to kill me.” I smiled. “Let’s just avoid killing altogether. Maiming too. I hate maiming. It gets so bloody.” I kept my tone even and soft. It made me sound like Esau. It made me want to hurl.
“Is this about the money?” she asked. “I’ll give it back. I’m sorry. Just, please, don’t hurt her.”
“I’m not going to hurt her.”
“Then give her to me.” Joan stretched her arms out.
“No. Go back downstairs. Turn off the alarm,” I said.
“Why?”
“Because you have company.”
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“You will. Let’s go.” I nodded at the stairs.
Joan turned and slowly descended. I followed her to the kitchen, watched her input the alarm code.
“Now what?” she asked.
In response, I lifted the earbud and put it back in my ear. It was hard with the gun in my hand, but I couldn’t exactly let go of the kid or the gun. I needed reinforcements.
“We’re clear. Come in, guys,” I said.
“You’re in?” Reese asked. “That was fast.”
“Bro.” Ryan.
“The front door is locked,” Breno said.
“Go unlock the front door,” I told Joan.
“Should I come in?” Christopher asked.
“Not yet,” I said. There were still a hundred ways this could get fucked up. I didn’t want Joan to know how many people were involved. Plus, a getaway car was always a good thing.
Joan went back through the house to the front door. When she opened it, Breno and Ryan were waiting on the doorstep. When she saw them together, she gasped as she made the connection.
“Hey, Coop.” Ryan waved.
I laughed at him. So excited to not be sitting and waiting. He was going to be disappointed when he figured out we had a lot more sitting and waiting to do.
“Go let Reese in,” I told him. “The kitchen door needs to be unlocked.” He nodded and walked past me.
Dirty Power Page 7