by TJ Vargo
He struggled to inhale, drawing cold into his lungs.
Everything was perfect.
###
PART TWO
Lazarus rises. Bad men call for blood. Beautiful girls dance. David fights Goliath.
Chapter Twenty-Five
He opened his eyes. Couldn’t see a thing. It was dark and cold. He shivered, breathing through chattering teeth. A hand pressed over his mouth and someone whispered in his ear.
“Don’t make a sound, Curtis. They’re here.”
It was his dad’s voice. He tried to get his bearings. His clothes were wet. The air smelled of oil and gas and he was lying on an old, roughed-up leather couch. But where was he? And how did he get here? He racked his brain to get a handle on the situation. Who was his dad talking about—who was here? It was all a confusing blur.
Deep, muffled voices broke the quiet. A strip of light glowing from under a closed door was broken by the shadows of approaching people. Curtis looked around. He was in a small room with a desk, the chair his dad was sitting on and an easy chair in the corner. Wall shelves over the top of the desk were filled with catalogs and other books. The men outside the door raised their voices.
“I told you, if I see him, I’ll let you know.”
“You better—unless you want to get buried with him.”
He tried to sit up. There was something he had to do. Somewhere he had to be. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew it was important. His dad pushed him down, whispering, “Shh.” The men outside the room walked away, their voices receding into murmurs. It didn’t take long before a door banged shut in the recesses of the building. Footsteps approached. The door swung open and a tall figure entered the room, switching on a light.
Curtis shaded his eyes. The guy stood about six two. Clean shaven with long, straight black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Blue coveralls. Broad cheekbones and eyes with a slight Asiatic tilt. It was Angel. So that’s where he was—in the back office of Angel’s garage, where he’d worked as a mechanic for the past seven years. Angel eyed him.
“So he finally woke up,” said Angel. “How’s he doing?”
“Seems okay,” said Curtis’s dad. “How you feeling, Curtis?”
“What’s going on?” asked Curtis, still feeling like he was late for something.
Angel walked over to a green metal desk pushed against the wall. He reached under it, dragged out a muddy black garbage bag and turned it upside down. Water splashed on the cement floor, then a pile of money slid out of the bag. Twenties, tens, ones and fives—a muddy, sopping wet lump of cash. Angel waved at the money.
“Where’d you get this, Curtis?”
Curtis eyed the cash. His memory clicked. That pathetic pile was what was left from three years of robberies. It had once been over thirty grand. Now, maybe five was left. His teeth chattered and his dad covered him with his dirty old navy blue suit coat.
“I found you and that bag of money lying on the edge of the creek at Fox Glenn Park,” said his dad. “Thought you were dead. What’s going on, Curtis?”
Curtis clutched his dad’s coat around him. It was rank, which was to be expected with his dad being a homeless bum, but it was warm. Sickness welled up in his stomach. He sat up and put his head between his legs, vomiting cold brown water. He wiped his mouth. Why the hell did he feel like he was late for something?
Angel pointed at the wet mound of money. “Did you steal this from Barry? Is that why Johnny Tong and the rest of Barry’s crew are after you?”
Curtis leaned back, closing his eyes. Another bolt of nausea wrenched through his guts. He clapped a hand over his mouth as he put his head between his knees. He gagged and then threw up, cold water splashing on the floor. He spit, waiting for his stomach to calm, positive that he was late for something. That he was supposed to meet someone.
“That’s my money,” he said between shallow breaths. “No one even knows I have it.”
“Well every crook in town is looking for you. Cops too.” said Angel. “You pissed someone off.”
His dad smiled and shook his head. “Oh, he pissed someone off all right,” said his dad. “He beat Artie and Duck to a pulp.”
“You did?” said Angel.
Curtis nodded.
“Why?”
Curtis took a deep breath and exhaled. “They set up a gold heist for Barry at Sacred Heart,” he said. “I talked Sonny into stealing the gold before Barry’s crew got there. The whole thing went sideways. There was no gold in the safe and Barry’s crew showed up before we could split. Sonny got his head smashed in.” A wave of anxiety rolled through Curtis as he thought about how bad Sonny was hurt. He was barely breathing the last time he saw him. “Anyhow,” he said, “Fitz took Sonny to the hospital. I got all jacked up about Sonny getting hurt, so I tracked down Artie and Duck. I figured they had something to do with Barry’s crew finding out about me and Sonny hijacking the heist. They deserved a beat down and they got one—end of story.”
“That’s not good,” said Angel. “Sometimes I think those two old guys are pulling the strings instead of Barry. Messing with them wasn’t smart.”
Curtis shrugged, trying to remember who he was supposed to meet. “I don’t care. Screw ‘em,” he said, running down the list of possibilities. Was it Sonny? Was he feeling guilty because he hadn’t gone to the hospital to see his buddy? No. It was someone else. Someone who wasn’t a criminal.
Angel’s eyes narrowed. “Well I do care. You’re hiding in my garage and the whole town is is looking for you.” Angel toed the money on the floor. “So tell me about this. How’d you get it?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Curtis.
Angel stepped next to Curtis. He pointed at Curtis’s face, his finger nearly touching Curtis’s nose. “You’re gonna talk about it. Before I decide if I’m hanging my ass out for you, I gotta know what I’m dealing with.”
“Take it easy, Angel,” said Curtis’s dad.
Curtis stared at Angel, waiting for him to calm down. Angel stepped back.
“Well?” said Angel. “What’s the deal with this money?”
“Like I told you, it’s mine,” said Curtis. “It’s what left of thirty grand I saved up over the past three years.” He took off his dad’s rank suit coat and laid it over the arm of the couch, then pulled off his wet, muddy boots and socks. He stood and stripped out of his wet clothes. “I was gonna move south, buy a boat and start a charter fishing business,” he said. “Then those two idiots Fitz and Sonny stole a big trophy marlin I had on my wall. They didn’t know it was stuffed with all my money. I found it smashed under the bridge at Fox Glenn Park.”
He pulled off his wet shirt and threw it on the floor next to the rest of his clothes. Naked, he walked by Angel and grabbed a pair of overalls off a hook on the back of the office door. “That big storm that just rolled through washed most of my money downstream,” he said, stepping into the overalls.
He walked back to the couch, his bare feet slapping the concrete. The couch squeaked as he sat and pointed at the muddy pile of cash. “That’s all I could save before the creek flooded. I don’t remember anything else.” He looked at a clock over the door. “Is that right?” he said.
Angel glanced back at the clock. “Yeah. It’s two in the morning,” he said.
Curtis cursed under his breath. All at once he remembered. He was supposed to meet Julia at midnight. He was supposed to get the gold and meet up with her. They were going to leave town together. He shook his head. She probably thought he’d left without her. If she was still around he had to make this right.
“I gotta go. Someone’s waiting for me,” he said, trying to stand. Angel pushed him down.
“Barry probably has somebody posted outside right now,” said Angel. “They see you walk out of here, they’ll skin me alive for hiding you.”
“I’ll slip out the back. They won’t see me,” said Curtis, trying to stand again.
“Not tonight,” said Angel, shoving
him back on the couch.
“But I got someone I have to—”
Curtis stopped. He recognized the look on Angel’s face. There was no way he was leaving without getting into it with Angel. And that wasn’t something to be taken lightly. “Okay,” he said. He stretched out on the couch. “I’ll wait until you tell me it’s okay to leave.”
Angel locked a stare on Curtis. “Damn right you will,” he said, then glanced at Curtis’s dad. “We’re all gonna crash here tonight. Mickey, take the easy chair over in the corner. Curtis you take the couch. I’ll sleep in the back seat of a car in the garage.” He walked out of the room and came back with an armful of canvas tarps. He tossed one to Curtis and one to his dad. “Don’t have any blankets but these are brand new,” said Angel. “They should keep you warm.”
“Thanks,” said Curtis, watching Angel leave. He stretched out on the couch, pulled the tarp over him and turned onto his side, closing his eyes.
Julia would understand. As soon as things calmed down, he’d tell her what happened. He didn’t have the gold and he lost nearly all his money, but maybe, if he was lucky, he’d still have her. One way or another, he’d track her down and fix this.
* * * *
Curtis sat up and stretched. His dad was gone, but a pizza box was on the floor. He ate the last two cold slices of pepperoni and looked at the clock. Unbelievable. It was after five. Saturday was almost over. He rubbed an aching lump on the back of his head. His whole body hurt. He walked out of Angel’s office, feeling every bruise. Apparently, spending Friday night stealing, fighting and drowning had worn him out. Angel stopped working on a car perched on the hydraulic lift and pulled down the garage door.
“What are you doing?” said Angel, looking pissed. “Somebody could’ve seen you.”
“I’m dying of thirst,” said Curtis.
Angel pulled down the other bay door, walked into the customer waiting area, locked the front door and closed the blinds. “C’mere,” he said, walking behind the front counter.
Curtis took a seat on a stool at the front counter.
Angel opened the register and pulled out a bank deposit bag, then he turned around to fill a paper cup from the water tank behind the counter. A huge air bubble billowed to the top of the tank as he handed Curtis the cup.
“Here. Drink this,” he said.
Curtis drank the water in one gulp. He handed the cup back to Angel. “More, please.”
Angel filled the cup again. “So I checked things out,” he said, handing the water to Curtis. He pulled all the cash out of the register. “You beat the living hell out of Artie and Duck,” he said, licking his thumb and counting through a stack of fives. “Artie’s in the hospital with head trauma. Duck’s in bad shape too, but he’s walking around. Word is he’s pushing to find you, and he’s willing to pay serious money to get his hands on you. I’m guessing he wants you dead.”
Curtis finished drinking and threw his cup in the trash can behind Angel. “Screw Duck. About time somebody kicked his ass. What about Barry?”
Angel rubber-banded the stack of fives. “Interesting you should ask,” he said, shoving the money in the deposit bag. “He’s no pal, but we’ve worked together enough for me to call him and give him a little hell about his boy Johnny stomping around in here last night. Barry said it’s outta his hands. He said Duck has a red ass about you putting a beating on him. He said his hands are tied until somebody delivers you to Duck.”
“Isn’t Barry in charge?” said Curtis. “He should tell Duck to go fuck himself.”
Angel shut the register with a clang. “Like I said last night, sometimes I get the feeling that Duck and Artie have more going on than anybody knows. If you ask me, this just proves that they’re in charge, not Barry.”
Angel finished counting out the register and zipped the deposit bag. He reached under the counter and pulled out a bottle of vodka and a couple shot glasses. “You up for a game of blackjack?” said Angel, grabbing a deck of cards out of a drawer. “Loser takes a shot.”
“Sure,” said Curtis.
Angel shuffled the cards. “So what was the deal with you wanting to leave last night?” he said.
“Long story,” said Curtis. “Me and this girl were supposed to leave town last night.”
Angel stopped shuffling. “Leave town?”
Curtis smiled.
Someone knocked on the front door. Angel put the cards down.
“We’re closed,” said Angel, looking at the door.
Curtis heard his dad whisper, “Let me in, Angel.” Angel opened the door a crack. His dad slipped inside.
Curtis’s dad, pointed at the bottle of vodka. “You having a party?”
“Playing blackjack for shots,” said Angel.
“Deal me in,” said Curtis’s dad.
“Is that a good idea?” said Angel.
“Don’t start,” said Curtis’s dad.
Angel shrugged, measured out three stacks of chips and dealt the cards. Curtis won the first hand and then went on a losing streak until his chips were gone. He drank a shot, feeling the vodka burn down to his stomach. He took Angel’s place behind the counter.
“So I guess I need to get out of town,” said Curtis, dealing the cards.
“Why’s that?” said his dad.
“Angel says Duck is out for my head and has Barry’s crew looking for me.”
“Any buddies in town you can hole up with?” said Angel, watching Curtis’s dad take a hit on seventeen. Curtis dealt his father a three.
“Give me another hit,” said Curtis’s dad.
Curtis shook his head. “I’m not giving you a hit. You have twenty.”
“I said I want a hit.”
“Here,” said Angel, pouring a glass of vodka. “Take a drink, Mickey, but start playing for real or get out. I’m not playing with someone who’s trying to lose.”
Curtis watched his dad drink half the glass. “You okay now?” said Curtis.
His dad smacked his lips, nodded and turned to Angel. “I checked around like you asked,” he said. “Fitz skipped town to get outta that gambling debt he owes Barry. Nobody knows where he is. And I visited Sonny at the hospital.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “They have him on a respirator.”
Curtis turned his cards. Sixteen was showing. He took a hit. Five. “That’s twenty-one,” he said, raking in his dad and Angel’s chips.
His dad counted his chips. “You should let Curtis stay here for a little while,” he said, glancing at Angel.
Curtis stopped shuffling the cards and looked at Angel.
Angel tapped a finger on his stack of chips. He glanced at Mickey, then at Curtis. He pushed his whole stack in. “You can stay a couple days,” he said.
“A couple days?” said Mickey.
“Thanks, Angel,” said Curtis. “A couple is good.”
Angel poured himself a vodka. “But you have to stay out of sight. Let things calm down. Who knows? In a couple days, maybe Duck will forget all about you.”
“Doubt it,” said Curtis. “He’ll be feeling my beating for longer than that.”
“Yeah, well either way, stay outta sight,” said Angel. “And I want your cell phone. No calls in or out as long as you’re here. Not even to that girl you said your leaving town with. If someone knows you got a hard on for her, they’ll lean on her to find you. They find you, they’ll find out I’m hiding you and my garage will be burned to the ground.”
“You’re paranoid,” said Curtis, handing over his cell.
“My place, my rules,” said Angel, pocketing Curtis’s cell.
“You got a girl, Curtis?” said Mickey.
“Yeah, Dad.”
“She pretty?” said Mickey.
“I think so,” said Curtis.
Angel rapped the table. “Let’s play cards, gentlemen.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Julia Adriani drove by the “Welcome to the City of Massey” sign. She felt sick. Her old boyfriend James Stockton lived here,
but it was where she grew up. It was the only place she knew. At least she was far away from Curtis. What a scumbag. If he’d steal from a church, what else would he do? Men couldn’t be trusted—no matter how nice they acted.
She pulled into a convenience store. The engine ticked as she tilted down the rearview mirror and gave herself a once over. Dark circles filled the space under her eyes. She dug eyeliner and mascara out of her purse. Red lipstick was the final touch. The makeup didn’t help much, but it was something. Really, how good could a girl look after sleeping in her car at a rest stop?
She walked into the store. The guy behind the counter smiled too much when he rung up the cigarettes. She asked him if he had a phone book, found the name she was looking for and asked for a pen and piece of paper. The creep held her hand for a moment as he passed the pen and paper. She copied the phone number and address from the phone book and tossed the pen at him, bouncing it off his chest. It felt good listening to him curse as she walked out.
She looked at the paper as she drove. The name, Angela Duncan, along with Angela’s phone number and address gave her hope. Angela might let her crash at her place until she figured things out. They’d been tight when they worked the cleaning crew at Massey High School. Working with Angela made cleaning toilets half fun. Julia smiled, remembering how Angela would sing classic rock songs like Zeppelin, Foreigner and Bad Company, shaking her ass and whipping her long blonde hair around while they mopped floors, trying to one-up each other with their dance moves. And when they weren’t dancing, Angela was sneaking up on her, hugging and kissing her neck from behind and talking in a low voice, play acting that she was Channing Tatum, who Julia had a crush on. All fun all the time, that was Angela. Her only crappy trait was how she bitched about Karen, their boss, talking about how Karen only had her job because her dad was on the school board. It was true, but Julia never had a problem with Karen. People used connections all the time. It was just the way things worked, but it sure chapped Angela’s ass. And it probably explained why Angela had been distant right before Julia left.