Wish List

by Fern Michaels

  “I say we go for it. Okay, Snookie’s ready to go in. I have five bucks for the slots—how much do you have?”

  “Seven.”

  Thirty minutes later, Ariel was up by twenty-five dollars and Dolly had lost her seven. “That means you buy the drinks. I’ll have a piña colada. It’s three o’clock in the morning. We have to be up at seven, don’t we?”

  “I don’t plan to leave a wakeup call, if that’s what you mean. We sleep until Navaro calls us. Or Snookie wakes us. I’ll have a piña colada, too.” She handed Dolly ten silver dollars.

  “Don’t you think it’s funny that not one single person in this casino has said a word about Snookie? This is a gambling town. What are the odds of that happening?”

  “I guess you don’t mess with the feds. I don’t think the odds have anything to do with it. Okay, let’s head upstairs and go to sleep. It’s been a hell of a day.”

  “You feel better about Hollywood now, don’t you?”

  “They didn’t let me down. I’m very grateful. Not for myself, though. I’m grateful that it’ll help the ranchers. Their life is hard enough without some scumbag making it worse. You’re right, though. I feel damn good.”

  “I hope both of us still feel good and confident when we take to the road tomorrow.”

  “You had to bring that up, didn’t you?”

  “It’s a fact, Ariel.”

  It was ten o’clock in the morning when the call came from Agent Navaro. Ariel copied down the address of the trucking company, called the front desk to order a cab, and then called her dispatcher back in Chula Vista. She trilled the message she’d memorized, and Stan did his part.

  “We’ll roll at exactly twelve o’clock. When we pick up the truck, Navaro and Harry will already be in the back. Everything’s set. Funny, I don’t feel jittery at all. Personally, I don’t think Andrews is going to fall for this. It’s just a gut feeling I have. I think he’s got himself entrenched with that financial wizard and from what Navaro says, it’s a pretty cushy job. He won’t risk blowing it. Even a terrorist knows when to strike and when to lie low. You going to spend that $380 you won last night on sexy underwear?”

  “Jeez, Ariel, what’s my underwear got to do with anything? I can only concentrate on one thing at a time.” The sound of the zipper closing on her overnight bag was so loud in the quiet room, Ariel jumped.

  “Just making conversation. I’m ready. Where’s the key?”

  Dolly tossed it on the dresser as per Navaro’s instructions.

  An hour later Ariel was checking out the rig she was to drive. She settled herself behind the wheel and took a moment to feel the power of her position before she flicked the switch of the CB. Her announcement was loud and clear. She signed off, jammed the Glock under her belt in the back, and then pulled her sweatshirt down around her hips. She looked at Dolly’s pale face and at Snookie, who seemed to be grinning. “Okay, we just wait for the dispatcher’s signal and we’re outta here.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to say something flippant like, ‘let’s rock and roll’?” Dolly said through clenched teeth.

  “Only in the movies. You keep reminding me this is real life. Would it make you feel better if I said that?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “Okay, baby, time to rock and roll.” Ariel grinned as she shoved her foot down on the clutch, her eyes on the dispatcher. “If those guys in the back aren’t holding on tightly, they’re going to be slipping and sliding all over the place. We’ve got some wide turns coming up. Six, seven hours at the most and we’re home. Let’s talk about the party.”

  “Party, my butt. Let’s talk about all the hard work involved. We’ll all be too tired to party when we’re done.”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s the mingling, the talk about a job well done. So what if no one swims or dances. A party’s a party. We’ll get thousands of balloons.”

  “No one will have the strength to blow them up,” Dolly said.

  “They come blown up. You pay extra. Let’s talk about love, sex, and good-looking men. It’ll make the time go faster.” She wanted to talk about Lex. Wanted to hear Dolly tell her again that the man loved her even though she was beginning to suspect Lex’s true feelings.

  “What kind of wife do you think I’d make, Dolly? I botched up my first two attempts.”

  “You weren’t in love then. This is your time in the sun. You’ll be in a position to give back for all the good life has given you. Together. That’s the best part. But to answer your question, you’ll be a good wife because you’re a good person. All your fans would give a collective gasp if they knew how insecure you are. You have to think positive from now on.”

  “Yes, Mother,” Ariel said.

  “Turn on the CB and let’s listen to these gossipy men. I get a kick out of them. It’ll make the time go faster.”

  “Yeah, I’d like to find out the exact location of that place that gives a two-hour massage with Cool Whip and strawberry syrup.”

  The sun was past the horizon when Lex Sanders rolled into the Able Body’s truck lot. Asa hopped out of the passenger side, spry as a frisky pup. “Jesus, Lex, this place is a sight for sore eyes and my eyes have been mighty sore these past months. Stan, it’s good to see you. How’s Miss Hart treating you and the others?”

  Lex watched the grizzled old man clap his dispatcher on the back. He handed over a putrid-smelling cigar and then fired up one of his own with a lighter like a blow torch. He wasn’t a tall man, but what he lacked in height he made up in girth. Hawaiian food must agree with him. Or else, he was doing a lot of sitting. Lex would bet his last dollar he was up on every single episode of the daytime soaps. And the game shows, and the cop shows. The guy probably never slept. His blue eyes, the color of faded denim, were full of dismay as Stan told him how well the new owner was treating him and the others. He finger-combed his spiky gray hair that stood out on the sides in little tufts. His wrinkly skin wasn’t just tanned, it was leathery and weathered-looking.

  He was dressed the way he’d been dressed for the twenty-five years Lex had known him—baggy blue jeans, plaid cotton shirt, heavy work boots, a four-pack of the evil-looking cigars in his breast pocket.

  “You need to be looking at the renovations, Mr. Able. Miss Hart spent a lot of time and money decorating the old place. Spiffy now. Flowers and all. Pink bathroom with artificial flowers, colored soap, pitchers on the wall . . . fluffy carpet on the floor. Lots of changes.”

  Asa growled something indistinguishable that Lex couldn’t hear. He grinned.

  “Door’s open. I saw Bernice’s car in the lot so she must have come in early. What time do you expect Miss Hart, Stan?”

  “Sometime late tonight. She’s in Las Vegas. Drove up there yesterday. Thought you heered all that from them FBI fellers. She’s driving a rig back. It’s a trap.” he said importantly.

  “What?” Lex bellowed.

  “Shhhh. Don’t you be giving away FBI secrets. I told you in confidence. That agent, he didn’t tell me I wasn’t supposed to tell you. Seein’ as how you’re sweet on Miss Hart and all, thought you should know. Them people who got your jukebox, they come up with another set of stuff for you. We’re bringing it back on another load. Miss Hart is playing a decoy so’s your stuff gits here the way it’s supposed to. Bet that makes you real happy, huh?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Jesus, what’s she hauling?”

  “Them two FBI agents in the back. Told you it was a trap.” Stan slapped his leg as he cackled in glee.

  Lex’s voice was full of outrage. “They’re using a woman as bait! I goddamn well don’t believe this.”

  “Two women and the dog.” Stan cackled some more.

  “Everything’s pink and green! Seashells! My spittoon is gone! So’s Teddy!” Asa sputtered.

  “Get in the truck, Asa! We’re going to Las Vegas! Give me the route, Stan, and don’t even think about telling me you don’t have it,” Lex said. He shoved the slip of paper Stan handed him into As
a’s gnarled hand.

  “Vegas! Hot damn!” Asa said as he settled himself into the truck and buckled up. “Burn rubber, boy. I have money to spend, and these old eyes want to look at some purty girls. ’Course, I’ll tell my wife all about it when I get home.”

  “She won’t care, Asa.”

  “Now, ain’t that the truth! Why are we going to Vegas?”

  Lex told him.

  Asa rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “I’d never have allowed that if I still owned this company. Women are not supposed to be used as bait to trap a crook.” His voice was so virtuous, Lex almost choked.

  “I’m going to ask her to marry me. Soon. One of these days. Maybe over the weekend. Maybe later on, when all this business with the workers is settled. Maybe I won’t. I might not have anything left to offer her. How could they do that, Asa? How is it that she agreed? She doesn’t look stupid. They probably gave her some of that patriotic crap they dish out. Hung a guilt trip on her.”

  “Maybe she did it for you. Women do all kinds of silly things when they love a man. Men do silly things, too, like right now. You could get us killed if you try and stop that truck, and don’t tell me that isn’t your plan. You’re gonna pull that truck over and then me and you are gonna get in it and them women and dog are going to get in this here truck.”

  “Zip it up, Asa. That isn’t my plan at all.”

  “Then what is your plan?”

  “Goddamn it, I don’t have a plan. Well, maybe I do. We’ll follow behind her. You got a better idea?” Lex growled. “Why didn’t she call and tell me what she was doing?”

  “Them FBI fellows swear everyone to secrecy. Seen that in a movie. Miss Hart made lots of movies. She knows the drill. Stan, now, he never could keep anything to himself. She’s doing it for you, son, and we both know that.”

  “I don’t want her doing stuff like that for me. I want her home safe and sound.”

  “This is the 90’s, son. Women don’t want to stay home safe and sound. My wife is making seashell jewelry and she peddles it on the sidewalk. Now, don’t that beat all hell? She’s making money, too. We have one whole room full of nothing but flowered clothes.”

  In spite of himself, Lex burst out laughing. “What would be even funnier would be you telling me you help her make the jewelry.”

  “Just once in awhile. Got four cabinets full of pineapple. I hate it. I hate Hawaii. I hate all that sun, all them mirrors. Everything is yellow and green. The furniture, I mean. Do you think Miss Hart will sell me back the business?”

  “After this is all over and if she agrees to marry me, your chances are looking pretty good. What about your wife?”

  “I’ll visit,” Asa guffawed. “Relax, son. There’s not much you can do right now. If she’s taking off at noon, we’ll be about two hours from Vegas. I say we sit and wait for her to come rolling by. I don’t have a bad feeling about this, Lex. I think the feds made a mistake on this one. A trap only works if you have someone ready to step into it. Chet is not going to bite. Trust me and my years of knowing that scum. He’s frying other fish right now.”

  They drove in silence. Occasionally, Lex turned the radio on, listened for a while, and then turned it off. In between he smoked and coughed as Asa enjoyed his obnoxious cigars. He heaved a sigh of relief when the older man dozed off. He drove steadily, his eye going occasionally to the speedometer, careful to stay at sixty-five. The radar detector was a single eye, glaring at him like a Cyclops.

  Lex did everything he could think of so he wouldn’t think about what was happening back at his ranch. He ate peanuts, chewed gum, chain-smoked, hummed under his breath, and stuck his head out the window to draw in deep breaths. But it wasn’t until he was into his third hour on the road that he settled down.

  Forty minutes into the fourth hour, two things happened: Asa woke, and he blew two back tires simultaneously. “And what the hell are the odds of that happening?” He snorted his disgust because he knew he only had one spare in the back of the truck.

  “Things seem to be going from bad to worse, son. You got any kind of patch kit in the back? Best get on the horn and call Triple A, but first you gotta get off at the next exit. This shoulder is too narrow.”

  Lex did as instructed—and missed Ariel by fifteen minutes. He spent the thirty minutes he waited for Triple A kicking the back tires, cursing in two languages, kicking the front tires, smoking, and banging the hood of the truck. Seventy minutes later he was southbound, knowing full well Ariel had passed him.

  “This is a goddamn exercise in futility,” Lex muttered. “Asa, call Stan and see if there’s a way to get in touch with the agents or Ariel. Stan can get on the CB and report back to us. At least we can get a location, and then I can speed up or slow down if it turns out they’re behind us. They’ve got to be ahead of us. I’d bet the ranch on it. Jesus, Asa, if Ariel weighs 110 pounds it’s a lot. I still can’t believe she can drive that eighteen-wheeler.”

  “And I can’t believe she decorated my offices in pink and green and has seashells all over the damn place. I left Hawaii to get away from seashells and those damn sunset colors. It’s not . . . manly.”

  “That’s because Ariel is not a man. When you buy it back you can hang zebra wallpaper. Call Stan! ”

  “He’s gonna call us back. He hasn’t heard a thing. All he knows is Ariel took to the road at noon. You’re probably right that she passed us when we were having our repairs done. Patience, son. If anything went wrong, Stan would have heard.”

  “She’s got four hours to go. A lot can happen in four hours. Hang on, Asa. I’m going to floor this baby. I’ll decorate my Christmas tree this year with the tickets I get.”

  The truck phone buzzed. Asa growled a greeting, listened, nodded, and replaced the phone. “So far so good. Stan told her Big Daddy, that’s me, and Junior, that’s you, were having car trouble and would meet her for supper. He was afraid to say too much. If she’s as smart as you say she is, she’ll figure it out. She’s an hour ahead of us. You’re going eighty, son. I wonder what it’s like to go a hundred miles an hour or as fast as the speed of light, or is that sound? You got twelve cylinders, son, let’s go for it!” Asa cackled gleefully.

  “Jesus, Asa, when did you get so daring?”

  “When I started making seashell necklaces.”

  Twenty minutes later, the radar detector squealed at the same moment a state trooper’s siren went off. “Shit!” Lex said succinctly. He slowed down and pulled over to the narrow shoulder. “Pretend you’re sick, Asa. You look kind of green. Guess high speeds aren’t what you thought they were. Stringing seashells might be your forte after all.”

  Lex stared at the trooper’s spit and polish uniform, his black, mirrored sunglasses, and his chiseled features as he handed over his license, registration, and insurance card.

  “It’s not his fault, officer. I’m having a gallbladder attack and my boy here was just trying to get me home because I ain’t goin’ to no hospital to die. Want to die in my own bed. Give us our ticket so I can get home to my missus and my bed. Ohhh, sweet Jesus, this hurts.” He threw his head back against the headrest and clutched his gut, having no idea where his gall bladder was.

  “Okay. These are your options—I can escort you to the hospital or you can drive at a safe speed. I clocked you at 97 miles an hour. I’m not giving you a ticket this time because my own father is just as ornery as yours is, and I understand. I’m going to radio ahead so take it easy. Don’t suppose you take your medicine, either.”

  “Makes me sicker,” Asa growled.

  “That’s what my father says. Ask the doctor to change it.”

  “We’ll do that, won’t we . . . Dad?”

  “Darn tootin.’,” Asa growled again. “Want my own bed. That’s all I want.”

  Lex slipped the truck into gear. “Thanks, officer.” He offered up a roguish wink, but couldn’t see if the officer returned it with the sun glaring off his sunglasses.

  “Should have been an actor. M
aybe Miss Hart can get me a part in a movie.”

  “I thought you wanted to buy back the company,” Lex said, his eyes going to the rearview mirror.

  “That, too.”

  Lex drove at sixty-five, his eyes constantly checking his side mirror and the rearview mirror for signs of trooper patrols. Ninety minutes later he was satisfied there were no police, so he pressed down hard on the accelerator. Asa’s head snapped backward. “A warning would have been nice,” he bellowed.

  Thirty miles down the road, Lex slowed. “I think that’s her up ahead. Call Stan and see if I’m right. Describe the car behind her. I think it’s a white Ford Mustang, New Jersey license plate AWA-397. On her left, slightly ahead, is a Chevy Blazer, Arizona plate, but I can’t make it out. I’d say the Blazer is riding shotgun and the Mustang is backup. I can’t see what’s directly in front of the truck. What they usually do in the movies is switch up. Probably another car or truck up ahead and one behind us. Then, when the time is right, they all converge. Lots of manpower and lots of bucks involved. We’re gonna coast now.”

  “We’re coming up to the Pine Valley exit. If anything is going to happen, it’ll be soon.” Ariel swiped at the perspiration beading on her forehead. “Snookie is calm—I don’t see anything strange. I think this was a bum idea, if you want my opinion. And I wouldn’t bet the rent on it, but I think that’s Lex Sanders about three vehicles back. If something happens, his presence won’t help matters. Everyone around here knows Lex and his truck. Asa probably sticks out like pink skin on an elephant. This is a bust, I can feel it.”

  “Thank God,” Dolly said. She fed Snookie a dog bone, but not before she took a bite of it. “These things are awful.”