by TJ Vargo
He hung up, shoved the rest of the protein bar in his mouth and chewed. Angela knew something about Julia, otherwise she wouldn’t have gotten all jumpy. And according to Julia’s application, he just had to go to Massey, Ohio, to visit Angela and get to the bottom of her jumpiness.
A little face-to-face talk with Angela would move things right along. He was gonna find this Julia. Then he’d find Monroe. Then Mr. Duck would pay. It was gonna be a good time for everyone involved.
Cracker turned onto the off ramp for the interstate, heading toward Massey, Ohio. He searched for some country music on the radio, stopping when he heard an old Johnny Cash tune. Johnny was good. He played simple, straightforward music and sang the same way. Cracker turned up the volume and got himself another protein bar, taking a big bite. He chewed and hummed along with Johnny.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Curtis finished his last set of squats. He walked stiff-legged to the rack and eased the three-hundred pounds off his shoulders. He toweled off and thought back to the video footage of Cracker screaming his rebel yell before finishing his opponents. If that maniac found him, he had to be ready to run or fight. He threw the towel down and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Bruises still shadowed his torso. He stretched his arms over his head and twisted, watching his abs flex, then dropped his arms to his sides. Veins laced his arms, chest and shoulders. He’d been in better shape before, but if it came to it, he could fight. The better option was to steal the paintings, get the money and run. He turned toward the sound of a door opening. Angel walked down the steps.
“Come on up,” said Angel. “Your dad’s here. We’re gonna go over the heist.”
Curtis pulled on jeans and a white tee shirt. He wiped his face with the towel, took a sip from a bottle of water and looked in the mirror.
“Get the paintings, get the money, get Julia and get out,” he whispered. “I can do this.”
Curtis walked into Angel’s office and saw his dad sitting next to Angel’s desk. Angel came in behind Curtis, closed the door and pointed at a stack of metal folding chairs propped against the wall.
“Get a chair,” he said, walking to his desk.
Curtis brought a chair over and sat next to his dad, watching Angel spread out an architectural drawing of a house’s interior. Angel tapped the drawing.
“This is it. Louise Bromfield’s house.” He smiled. “The park system runs tours through it three times a day. It’s not gonna be hard getting inside.”
Angel went on to explain the layout, circled all the alarm systems in blue, then drew a red x on the locations of the two Grandma Moses paintings. Curtis asked a couple questions, but mostly listened. He looked at his dad, thinking how right he’d been about this job. It was going to be easy.
“So that’s it,” said Angel, rolling up the drawing. “Mickey will drop you off. You steal the paintings, get out and Mickey picks you up at Mount Jeez. I got a buyer in Europe. He’ll set up the certificate of authenticity and move both paintings through private auction.”
“How much again?” said Curtis.
“Three-hundred,” said Angel. “But I gotta pay for somebody to mule the paintings to Europe. We should clear ninety-five a piece.”
Curtis smiled as Angel slapped him on the back.
“I told you it was gonna be good, didn’t I?” his dad said.
Curtis gave his father a quick glance, then stared at Angel.
“I won’t need a driver,” he said.
Angel sighed. “Yes you will. We’re not leaving an empty vehicle sitting around to attract attention. And I can’t do it. I have eyes all over me every time I step out of the garage. Your dad’s perfect. Nobody cares where a homeless guy goes. Plus, your dad hasn’t drank since I talked to him yesterday, have you Mickey?”
“Not a drop,” said Curtis’s dad.
Curtis eyed his dad. “You got the DT’s?”
His dad gripped his hands together. “No. I feel great.”
“This goes against my better judgment,” said Curtis.
His dad grabbed his shoulder.
Curtis turned. His dad stared at him and for the first time in a very long time, Curtis noticed his father’s eyes were clear and bright.
“I’m not gonna let you down,” his dad said, tightening his grip on Curtis’s shoulder. “You can count on me.”
Curtis fixed a hard stare on his dad. “You screw this up, you’re dead to me,” he said.
His father nodded and let go of his shoulder. “I know.”
Angel put a backpack on the desk. “Okay, then. Now that we’re all a happy family, here’s what you’ll need to get the job done.” He unzipped the backpack. “Just remember, if you get caught, you’re working alone. Same goes for you and me, Mickey. If any one of us goes down, you serve your time and keep your mouth shut.”
Angel handed Curtis something that looked like a flashlight.
“That’s your saw,” said Angel. “It’ll cut through anything. Extremely low vibration. Six point seven inches long. Ten thousand strokes per minute. It’ll get you in and out fast.”
Curtis examined it. “You sure the paintings don’t have vibration sensors?”
“No. They’re contact sensors,” said Angel. “If the frames are moved, or if the glass is broken or removed, the sensors will trip. But you’re cutting through the wall behind the paintings. The sensors won’t trip.”
“How do I know where to cut?” said Curtis.
Angel took a magnetic stud finder out of the backpack. “Use this to mark the bolts anchoring the frames into the wall.”
“They’re gonna see the cuts in the walls behind the paintings,” said Curtis.
Angel shrugged. “Don’t matter. You’ll be gone by then. And both of the back walls are in areas that aren’t part of the house tours. It’ll be weeks before someone notices. Maybe longer. The paintings will be auctioned off by then.”
“What about getting out?” said Curtis.
“Good question,” said Angel. “All the doors and windows are alarmed, so you’ll need go up in the attic and cut your way out through the bottom of the cupola.” said Angel. “It’s marked on the drawing.”
Curtis turned to his dad. “You sure you’re up for this?”
His dad took a deep breath and exhaled. “Yeah,” he said. “One hundred percent sure.”
The room was quiet. The phone rang on Angel’s desk. Angel answered it and handed it to Curtis.
“It’s Ronnie from Los Dos,” said Angel. “Says he’s got something for you.”
Curtis took the phone. “What’s up, Ronnie?” he said.
He stood.
“Did she have a scar on her face?”
He listened and smiled at Angel and his dad. “Yeah, she does have a nice body,” he said, laughing. “Why do you think I’m looking for her.” He clicked his fingers and whispered, “Pen and paper.” Angel handed him a legal pad and a pencil. “So where’s this strip club?” he asked. He wrote down the address, tore the paper off the legal pad and started pacing. “You’re the man, Ronnie. You and Pedro bring your bikes over to Angel’s anytime—you got a freebie coming.” He hung up the phone and whooped, holding out his hand toward Angel.
“Give me the keys to your Camaro,” he said. “Ronnie and Pedro saw Julia stripping at a club in Massey last night. I gotta get over there.”
Angel shook his head. “It’s the middle of the day. Barry’s crew will see you leaving.”
“Are you kidding me?” said Curtis. He clenched his jaw and pointed at Angel. “Give me the keys.”
Angel stared at him.
Curtis stepped toward Angel and felt his dad grab him.
“Hold on Curtis,” said his dad, turning to Angel. “What if I go?” he said.
“You’re not going to a strip club alone,” Curtis yelled. “You’ll be drunk in two minutes. Plus Julia doesn’t know you. There’s no way she’ll come back with you. It’s gotta be me.” He looked at Angel. “C’mon Angel. Give me the
keys.”
Angel shook his head. “No way. I took a big chance letting you go out today. I’m not taking a second chance.”
Curtis lifted his chin. “How about later, when it gets dark? Nobody will see me.”
Angel bit his lip, thinking. “Where’d you park the car?” he asked.
“Down the street. No where near the garage,” said Curtis.
Angel sighed. “You are a pain in the ass, you know that?” He pointed at Curtis as he handed him the keys. “You better not get caught.”
Curtis grabbed the keys from Angel’s hand and pulled him in, hugging him. “Thanks, man. I owe you.” He watched Angel walk out of the office and close the door, then turned toward his dad. His dad took a deck of cards of out Angel’s desk drawer and started shuffling them.
“You got time to kill,” said his dad. “Want to play rummy?”
“Sure,” said Curtis, walking over to the desk and taking a seat. He looked at his dad. “Thanks for offering to get Julia.”
“Anytime,” said his dad.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Julia ate a bowl of corn flakes while she watched Angela straighten her hair with a flat iron. “What time are we working tonight?” she said, crinkling her nose at the smell of burnt hair.
“We don’t have to be there until eleven,” said Angela. She put down the flat iron and looked in the mirror, throwing her long blonde hair over her shoulder.
“You think I’ll be able to do any lap dances tonight?” asked Julia.
Angela picked up a pair of tweezers and examined her eyebrows in the mirror. “I showed you what to do yesterday, didn’t I?” she said.
Julia wiped milk off her chin. “Yeah, but I didn’t know if I was gonna have time since we’re going in late.”
Angela put the tweezers down and sighed. “We’re open till two. I’m sure you’ll have time to find a redneck who’ll want your ass in his face.”
“I’m just nervous,” said Julia. She stepped back as Angela pushed by her, mumbling, “Get over yourself.”
Julia ate the last of her corn flakes and walked downstairs. She felt bad about last night, but she couldn’t be with Angela like that, not while she had Curtis in her head. She washed out her cereal bowl and put it in the sink.
“You better get your makeup on and stop dragging ass,” yelled Angela from upstairs.
Julia rolled her eyes. As dark as Sweeties was and as drunk as the guys were, she doubted that much makeup was needed, but she trotted upstairs and went into the bathroom, putting her face together. Anything to shut Angela up. By the time she was done, Angela was standing in the doorway, holding a pair of stilettos.
“Put these on,” Angela said, handing them over.
Julia held onto the sink as she put on one stiletto.
“You know, you don’t have to dance with me tonight,” said Angela.
“What are you talking about?” said Julia.
“Just saying,” said Angela. “If you’re not into it, don’t worry about it.”
“Can you stop it?” said Julia, slipping her foot into the last stiletto. “If you don’t want to dance with me, that’s fine, but I have no problem dancing with you. I’m even looking forward to it, if you want to know the truth.”
Angela’s eyes softened. She took a deep breath and held it, like she was on the edge of saying something.
“What?” said Julia. “Spit it out.”
“It’s nothing,” said Angela, turning away and walking downstairs.
Julia glanced over at Angela, watching her drive. She was still acting weird. All quiet and pensive. Julia sighed. Pushing her away last night really got under her skin. Well too bad—that’s the way it was, but this driving without talking was stupid. She turned on the radio and ran through stations, stopping on a station playing Possum Kingdom by the Toadies. She cranked it and Angela bopped her head.
“Haven’t heard this one in a long time,” she said.
Julia grinned. “Creeps me out.”
“Yeah,” said Angela. “Guy wants his girl so bad he’ll kill her to keep her.”
Julia wiped absently at her scar. “Tell me about it. Been there, done that.” She looked at Angela, waiting for her to agree or say something sarcastic. Angela stared straight ahead, gripping the steering wheel. Julia could see the muscles in Angela’s jaw flex. Then Angela glanced over, her brow tight.
“You’re talking about James, aren’t you?” she said.
Julia stared out the passenger window, watching trees and mailboxes and houses fly. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said.
“Maybe you should,” said Angela, flipping on her turn signal. She waited for a car, then pulled into Sweeties gravel parking lot. The front of the lot was full—it was a packed house. She stopped, looking for an open space. A pick up truck pulled in and stopped in front of her bumper, its headlights blinding her. “Asshole,” she whispered, shielding her eyes as she put the car in reverse. She pulled around back and parked next to a dumpster near the back entrance.
“So what did James do?” she said, cutting the engine.
“Let’s just go inside,” said Julia. “Billy’s probably wondering where we are.”
“Fuck Billy,” said Angela. She put a hand on Julia’s knee. “Do you think James would hurt you?”
Julia squinted. “Would hurt me?” She pointed at her scar. “He did hurt me. But Curtis put a beating on him. He won’t ever touch me again.” She got out and looked back at Angela. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”
Angela grabbed the keys hanging from the ignition.
Julia smiled. “Let’s go. I can’t make out with myself on stage.”
Angela closed her eyes and shook her head. She pulled the keys out of the ignition and got out.
Julia followed Angela toward the back door of the club. The smell of sweat, alcohol and smoke enveloped her as Angela pulled her inside.
“Shut the door and lock it,” said Angela.
Julia closed the door and slid the deadbolt.
Angela took her hand and led her toward the dressing room.
The dance with Angela went off without a hitch. The guys loved it and there were even a bunch of girls that came to watch. Money rained on the stage. Julia got into it, backing Angela up against the pole and making out with her while they danced. The girls in the audience really liked it when she took charge, maybe more than the guys. She let the lights and the music and the crowd’s energy swirl around her and become part of her. She was a goddess the crowd couldn’t get enough of, legs spread wide, swinging her ass in time with the music, playing sex machine while Angela took off her bikini top and swung it over her head, squirting baby oil all over both of them. It was a good time, but there was one weird moment.
A big redneck with a bad haircut wearing cowboy boots, jeans and a white muscle shirt had shoved his way through the crowd to the stage. Muscle roped his huge shoulders, arms and chest. He stared at her for a while, then shoved a dollar in the back of her g-string and said her name. Not just her first name. The whole thing.
Julia Adriani.
When she turned at the sound of her name, he eyed her and then slipped back into the crowd. Somehow he knew her name, which wasn’t surprising—she’d lived and worked in Massey for years before she moved to Tombs—but she didn’t recognize him. The whole thing felt weird. But now it was over and they were in the dressing room. Julia took off her g-string, stepped out of her stilettos and toweled the baby oil off. She watched Angela kick off her high heels and grab a clean towel from a laundry hamper.
“That was wild,” said Angela. She took a seat, lit a cigarette and wiped baby oil off her legs.
Julia picked up a stack of cash. “I think I like wild,” she said.
Angela busted out laughing, bending over in her chair. When she came up for air, Julia dropped her money on Angela’s lap.
“That’s for letting me stay at your place,” she said. “And for being a good friend. Sorry if I made you feel bad la
st night.”
Angela turned as the owner, Billy Kelley, walked in.
“You girls got lots of fans out there,” he said. He handed Angela a folded piece of paper and winked. “Here’s that contract you been waiting on.”
“What contract?” said Julia.
“It’s a private thing,” said Billy. “None of your business.”
Angela stood, holding Julia’s money in one hand and the folded contract in the other. She held the contract out to Billy. “Here,” she said. “Tell him I don’t want it anymore.”
Billy raised his hands and shook his head. “Sorry. Ain’t mine to take back. Tell him yourself.” He picked up Julia’s g-string and bikini top and handed them to Julia, then kicked her stilettos over to her. “Get dressed and follow me. You got a private lap dance waiting on you.” He grinned at Angela. “First one’s always the best, isn’t it, Angela?”
Angela dropped the contract on the ground and reached for Julia. Billy smacked her hand. “Pick that up,” he said, pointing at the paper she’d dropped. “My floor ain’t a trash can.”
“Julia. Don’t go,” said Angela, her voice tight.
Julia finished tying her top and looked at Angela. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” said Billy. “She’s probably just worried about this being your first time and all. Ain’t that right, Angela?” He smiled, showing his gold tooth. Angela hung her head. “See? That’s all it is,” said Billy. “She’s just worrying like a good friend does. Now let’s get moving. You got a paying customer waiting on you.”
Julia didn’t like how Billy squeezed her elbow as he led her out of the dressing room. Just before they were through the curtain, Billy glanced back at Angela.
“You stay here until Julia is done taking care of her customer. You’ll just make her all nervous hovering around like a mother hen. Ain’t that right Julia?”
Julia turned. Angela looked stricken. All the color was gone from her face. “I’ll be fine,” said Julia. “Really. Just take it easy, Angela. I’ll see you in fifteen.”