by Raen Smith
She squeezes my hand again and nods her head toward the man in a black uniform. He’s tall and thin, built like a runner, with a dark crew cut, and his name badge sparkles in the sun. Officer Singh. But he’s not Indian or South Asian like I would expect him to be.
“Officer Singh,” he says his name like “sign” instead of “sing” like I expect.
“Your last name is sign?” Piper asks.
“Yeah, some paperwork got screwed up somewhere down the line. My grandfather’s father or something. Makes my life a living hell. Our ancestors can leave us quite the legacy,” he replies with a smile.
This guy’s last name sounds like sign? You got to be …
That’s when I finally catch what Piper’s been squeezing the hell out of my hand for. His eyes are clear blue. I’m not sure if we should run the other way or record the conversation.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name,” he says as he holds out his hand.
I shake it slowly before I reply. “Cash Rowland, and this is Piper Sullivan.”
“But you probably know that already,” Piper says with a raise of her eyebrows.
“No, ma’am. I did not,” he says as he takes a notepad out of his pocket and pulls out a pen. Consider this your lucky day, Cash Rowland. As far as I could tell, they didn’t make off with any of your goods.”
“Well, no kidding,” Piper whispers.
“We’ve been watching this part of the neighborhood for some time. They pulled off another gig like this a few weeks back. We were a little late to the scene that time. But this time, we were waiting for you.”
“You mean, you were waiting for them?” I ask, staring at Officer Singh.
“Yeah, we were waiting for them. Hopefully, it’s the end of the line for these guys. Our team should be able to track most of them down. It’s their last stop here,” he says.
“You got to be kidding me,” I say.
“What?” He looks up from his notepad.
“What is this, some kind of joke?” I ask. Before I can barely finish my question, Piper hits me in the arm. I’m waiting for the sky to break into two and a beam of light to shoot down from the clouds or for the ground to start shaking in the beginning of the apocalypse. But none of that happens.
“I’d like to get your statement so we can file a report,” Officer Singh says with his pen poised above his notepad.
“What time is it?” I ask.
“Uh, 12:01,” he replies as he looks down at his watch.
“The delivery was due at noon,” I say, running my hand through my hair. “We’re late.”
“I think they’ll understand,” Piper says. “How can they not? We almost got robbed. They’ll be happy that everything’s still in one piece.”
“What does it take to get a police escort?” I ask, swinging the first door of the trailer shut as Piper moves to swing the other one shut. I’m about to pull the handle to lock it but then realize that it’s broken.
“We should probably spend a little more time detailing the scene…” Officer Singh’s voice trails as he looks around at the police barricade that his partners have made. Two officers are rerouting traffic while a few others are handcuffing the suspects they were able to hunt down. I catch a glimpse of the man in the black hoodie who threatened me with the knife being shoved into the back of the police car. A deep satisfaction rolls over my body.
“Looks like they have things under control here,” Piper says. “Please, this means so much to his boss. This is a huge account, and if we can get the delivery there as soon as –”
“How many blocks do you have to go?” Officer Singh interrupts as he shoves the notepad and pen in his pocket.
“Five,” Piper and I reply at the same time.
“You got it. Follow me.”
Chapter 14
We’re sitting in Cash Money, First Mate and Captain, on our way to the loading docks of HC Material Supply with a police escort. The back doors of the trailer open a bit further, and they gently swing back and forth in my side mirror. We roll slowly through the stoplights, following the sirens and flashing blue and red lights like we’re part of a presidential motorcade.
“Are you okay?” I ask as I reach over and touch Piper’s arm. I can feel it shaking beneath my hand. “Hearing your scream was terrifying. Oh God, I thought…”
“I’m fine, but that jerk pulled some of my hair out,” Piper replies as she rubs her head. “He took home a Piper Sullivan souvenir. I hope they catch him and that he rots in jail.”
“They will,” I say, white knuckling the wheel. My right hand throbs again, and I feel a warm trickle run down my skin.
“Your hand, Cash. It’s bleeding,” Piper says as she bends down and starts digging through her bag. She pulls out a pair of her underwear and before I can say anything, gently holds the fabric on my hand. “Here, hold these. What happened?”
“I punched a guy who tried to stab me with a knife when I heard you scream,” I say proudly. “It gave me enough time to get away and then see you being pulled by your hair. I’m pretty sure I could have lived my entire life without seeing that sight, though. That was horrible.”
“It felt horrible,” Piper rubs her head again.
I wrap the underwear, which by the way happens to be a cotton thong, or at least I think it is because the amount of fabric seems to be miniscule, around my hand and grab the wheel. “I’ve always wanted to be escorted by the police, holding a pair of underwear with my back doors swinging wide open after almost being robbed.”
Piper flashes a hesitant smile.
“Only with you, Piper Sullivan,” I add. “Do dreams come true.”
“You know it,” she laughs before she rests her head back. “God, we’re so lucky.”
“What are the odds by the way? Officer Singh? The universe might as well hit us over the heads with two by fours,” I say. The voice navigation chimes in ‘Arriving at your destination on the right.’
“He’s our fifth person,” I add.
“And the last stop,” she says, pointing to the building. “We’re here, and it’s 12:09.”
My phone rings then, and I don’t need to look at it to know who it is. It’s Viv, and if I answer the call, I’m going to get the world’s biggest ass chewing. I’ll spare you the profanity and screaming.
“We’re late,” I say with a grimace as I swing into the parking lot and crank the wheel to begin my backup to the loading dock. I’ve been at this delivery rodeo more than once, but a bead of sweat drips down the side of my face as I maneuver Cash Money back. I’ve never been late, and I sure as hell have never got hijacked during a delivery. All I can do is hope that they understand. I’m not going to wish because you know what I say about wishing.
I back the truck slowly to the dock and make sure the doors don’t interfere with the opening of the bay. Once we’re in, I turn the keys with my underwear-wrapped hand.
We sit in silence for a few seconds as my phone continues to ring, but I still don’t answer it. I want to talk to the receiving manager before I talk to Viv. I have to give it a shot.
“We’re really lucky, you know that?” I say as I unwrap my hand. I throw the underwear in Piper’s lap, assessing the bleeding that has pretty much stopped before looking at her.
“I know,” she whispers as she reaches out her hand to grab my arm. “Now go convince them to consider this delivery on-time. I didn’t almost lose all my hair for nothing.”
I hold her hand and lean over to give her a kiss. It’s sweet and soft, and she pulls away before I want her to so she can whisper, “Go.”
I grab my paperwork and hop out of the truck to climb the metal steps leading inside the warehouse. Officer Singh follows me up as we duck into the dim lighting and the musty smell of the space.
“Delivery,” I yell as I hold up the paperwork. A head pops out of an office twenty feet away.
“You’re late,” the man says as the rest of his body emerges. He’s stout and dressed in jeans a
nd a long-sleeve work shirt even though it’s about eighty degrees out today. Brisk in his steps, he moves toward us with an efficiency that tells me he doesn’t take any crap from anyone. I groan inwardly.
“Cash Rowland, sir,” I say as I reach my hand out to meet his. But he doesn’t offer his hand, and instead, he folds his arms across his chest.
“I don’t care who you are. All I know is that you’re late,” he says before he lets out a loud whistle. The roar of a forklift sounds somewhere behind us and the beeping ensues. He points to Officer Singh. “Who’s this?”
“Officer Singh, sir. Miami Metro,” he replies without putting out his hand.
“What the hell is this all about?” he asks, arms now folded across his chest again.
“Sir, your load was hijacked five blocks west of here,” Officer Singh replies.
“Hijacked? You got to be kidding me.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I can’t believe – ”
“Sir –” Officer Singh starts.
“It’s Lopez,” the man interrupts. “Call me Lopez.”
“Look, Lopez. All the goods are here. Go check for yourself,” I say as he storms past me and toward the trailer that’s being unloaded. “We were late because we almost got robbed just a few minutes from here. But Miami Metro saved our asses and arrested most of the perpetrators. Have you had any loads stolen in the past few weeks? This doesn’t exactly seem like the safest neighborhood.”
“This is the neighborhood I grew up.” Lopez narrows his eyes at me.
I shove my hands in my pockets. This situation isn’t looking good.
“Lopez, a few weeks ago another truck was hijacked and the perps made off with about two hundred grand in goods. You’re lucky that this load even made it here,” Officer Singh steps in. “All in one piece.”
Lopez stops in front of the trailer, carefully watching and calculating as the forklift maneuvers each of the pallets out. He points to a pallet where a worker is examining the loose boxes that came out from the first pallet. “The boxes over there. Did they make it?”
Did they make it? This guy’s treating these boxes like his own kid just wheeled out of heart transplant surgery.
“I think–” I start, but I bite my tongue warding off my Tourette Syndrome of my conscience.
“Yes,” Officer Singh finishes for me.
“Good.” Lopez turns to face me. He points a stubby finger in my chest. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous today. I’ll consider this on-time. I’ll call your boss later today.”
“Thank you,” I nod even though I really want to punch him with my already throbbing hand. I clench my fist instead and inhale deeply. I’ve got to get this punching thing under control. Punching the cowboy was like opening up Pandora’s Box.
Officer Singh doesn’t offer any words, but just nods and turns to walk out the door. I follow him, and we meet Piper on the bottom of the steps. She’s leaning against the railing with her hands on her chin.
“So?” she asks, popping up.
“He’s taking it,” I say with my arms wide open. She crashes into them, and I squeeze her tight. We’re rocking back and forth in celebration when Officer Singh clears his throat.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I need your statements,” he says as he pulls out his notepad and pen.
“Of course,” I reply. “But let me call my boss first.”
Officer Singh sighs and pulls down his notepad again. “Make it quick.”
The conversation with Viv goes something like this:
Viv: Cash, it’s after noon. Please tell me…
Me: It’s there. He’s accepting the delivery as on-time and will call you later today about your continued relationship.
Viv: HOT DAMN! (She yelled into the phone so loudly that I had to pull it away from my ear).
Me: And we got hijacked.
Viv: WHAT?! (I held the phone a few inches from my ear the rest of the conversation.)
Me: I’ll tell you more about it when we get back, but they didn’t make off with anything. They did, however, cut the locks and part of the handle on the back of the trailer. I’m going to need to get those fixed before I come back.
Viv: WHAT?!
Me: Everything’s fine, Viv. Just relax.
Viv: HIJACKED? Jesus Christ…
Me: I’ll call you after I get the truck fixed.
Viv: You said “we.” You still have that honey with you?
Me: Yes, Viv, and I’d like you to meet her when we get back.
Viv: I’ll be damned…
Silence.
Viv: Take an extra day, Cash Money.
Click.
We give our statements to Officer Singh in the parking lot of the warehouse, detailing the play-by-play of how the woman crossed the street and then spilled her bag across the street, how Piper got out to help her, and how I got out to help Piper. I tell him about punching the guy with the knife. Officer Singh raises his eyebrows at me before smiling. Piper tells him about how one of the thugs grabbed her hair and ripped it out. She provides a reenactment for Officer Singh even though he didn’t ask for one. And then we both thank him and the team for coming to our rescue.
“That’s our job,” he says with a serious face. “To keep the streets of Miami safe. As for your repairs, I recommend heading to Joe’s Locks. It’s just a mile down the street. He can rig something up to keep the doors shut until you get a more permanent fix back in Wisconsin.”
“Well, if that’s it…” I say, turning my attention back to an empty Cash Money.
“One more thing,” Officer Singh says. “You did the right thing back there. Never let this girl out of your sight. Don’t let anything come between you.”
“I hear you, loud and clear,” I reply with my eyes on Piper as I grab hold of her hand. “I won’t ever let her out of my sight.”
***
We drop Cash Money off at Joe’s Locks, which is in a neighborhood without security grilles and boarded up windows on every storefront. It’s actually kind of quaint with colorful awnings over each of the shops. Joe promises to have a solution for the doors in an hour. Then he tells us that the beach is only a half mile away. Piper tells him to take his time.
We grab a few things from the truck, including the pink and white striped sweater that Piper pulls over her head, and make our way east toward the Atlantic Ocean.
“Are you sure you just don’t want to wait at the shop and get out of here the second we can after everything that just happened? I know I’m still a little rattled,” I say as I turn toward her. “I can only imagine what you feel like.”
“I’m fine. You know, immersion is supposed to be the best kind of therapy anyway when it comes to fear.”
“Getting attacked and almost getting robbed isn’t exactly like having arachnophobia,” I reply.
She shrugs her shoulders. “It’s fine. You ever see the Atlantic Ocean before?” she asks, grabbing my hand and letting it swing gently back and forth with hers.
“Yeah, when I was at school at Princeton.”
“Ugh, that is going to haunt me forever,” she groans. “I really do feel bad about that.”
“You shouldn’t. I chose to go there on my own. I chased after the shadow of a girl I barely knew, but I don’t regret it. It taught me some things about life and about myself that I probably wouldn’t have experienced anywhere else. Plus, I got to see the Atlantic for the first time.”
“That was a thirty thousand dollar visit to the ocean,” Piper says. “This better be one helluva an ocean. What did you learn about yourself when you were there?”
“For starters, I learned that even the people in the upper echelons shit just like me. Just because they have pedigrees and a long history of doctorates and money and famous relatives doesn’t mean they’re any better than me. I saw a ton of people get stressed over tests and making sure they got into so and so’s class and elite programs. And I realized that none of that stuff really matters. We can’t take it with us when we die. I me
an, what’s the whole point of life anyway? I think it’s noble to make an impact on society and everything, but at what cost? All that really matters when you strip everything away are two things: happiness and the people you love. Those two things, that’s it.” I pause here, realizing that I’ve gone on for a good majority of a block.
“You’re right,” she says, pausing before we cross the street. “You’re completely right.”
We’re silent for the rest of the block as we near the beach. The smell of salt filters into my nostrils as we connect with a sidewalk running along the white sand. The ocean’s blue hue stretches across the horizon, glittering in the bright rays of the afternoon. To the right is a dock with the makings of a carnival, including a Ferris wheel and a red and white striped tent. A huge crew of people and trucks are assembling and setting up various smaller rides and stands.
“Maybe if we stay here long enough, we can go for a spin on the Ferris Wheel,” I say, nodding to the carnival. “I can spend a hundred dollars trying to win you an oversized stuffed teddy bear.”
“Maybe,” she says coyly. “How long you plan on staying here?”
“I don’t know. Do you really have to get back for school?” I circle my arms around her and her head falls on my shoulder. “I could stay here forever.”
“I wish I didn’t have to go back,” she says.
“Me either.”
“So, what makes you happy, Cash Rowland?” she asks as she bends down to take off her shoes.
“Well, for starters, you,” I reply as I let go of her and take off my shoes. I tuck them inside my elbow as she cocks her head and tries not to smile.
“What else?”
“Besides the obvious answers of great cinema and science textbooks, I would say hanging with Hudson and Big Dave. I love the open road. I like knowing that I can do a good job and make other people happy,” I reply before adding, “How about you?”
“I like knowing that one day I’m going to help people who are sick. While school can suck at times, it makes me happy that it is providing a means to my happy ending,” she says. “And oh yeah. You. You make me happy.”