by Liliana Hart
He had a gun in his hand and a duffle bag at his feet. The car in front of me moved forward. “Follow the car while we have our little chat.”
The spit had dried up in my mouth and I had a hard time concentrating on the road with the gun pointed at me.
“You have a lot of cops in your life. I hope you’ve been keeping our talks to yourself. I’d hate for your detective or FBI friends to end up like the cop they found this morning. Johnny isn’t too fond of the boys in blue.”
I was pretty sure the boys in blue weren’t too fond of Johnny. “I haven’t told anyone. What do you want?” Sometimes I was impressed with my ability to look like I was staying cool under pressure, but I was sweating like a pig under my hoodie.
“You’re going to go to the extended hours care clinic over on Bayonette and you’re going to take this duffle bag with you.”
I knew which clinic he was talking about. It wasn’t in the best part of town. It was a low roofed white brick building that treated a lot of meth heads and prostitutes that got on a john’s bad side. It was the area of Savannah no one liked to admit existed and where cops frequently patrolled, not that it did a lot of good.
“When you get there, you’re going to go up to the check-in station and you’re going to say, “I’m here to see Doctor Blackbeard. I have the shingles again.”
“But aren’t they going to know I’m lying since I don’t have shingles?”
“Don’t worry about it. Just make sure you say it exactly how I told you to. They’ll take it from there. You’re going to give this bag to Blackbeard and he’s going to give you a briefcase in return. If you look in either of the bags you’re going to become intimate friends with my hatchet.”
I blacked out for a second and had to swerve around a car to keep following the Toyota.
“What do I do with the briefcase?”
“I’ll let you know once you have it. We’ll be watching.” The Toyota pulled into the right hand lane at another stoplight and I pulled behind it. Tony hid his gun back in his jacket pocket and put his hand on the door handle.
“Wait! If I do this, am I off the hook with Johnny?”
“If you do this without screwing up, he’ll put you on the payroll so you can work off the debt. If you screw it up I’ll be back to visit and I’ll bring along my favorite toy. I saw your sister this afternoon. It’s been a while since I’ve done a twofer.”
Smash Nose smiled, flashing a gold tooth. He had soulless eyes, so even when he smiled, I couldn’t see anything inside that gave me hope for getting out of this mess. He got out of the truck, walked up to the blue Toyota, and got inside. They sped away and I was left sitting there in a daze. A horn blared behind me and I automatically put the truck in motion.
I checked the time and circled around so I could hit Bayonette without hitting all the town traffic. I’d missed my window of opportunity to check out Carly Mathis. I’d have to get her another day.
It was getting dark and the streetlights were flickering on. At least the ones that hadn’t been shot out. The buildings on this side of town were ramshackle at best—a lot of rusted tin siding and broken out windows. There was a 7-11 that had bars on all the windows and I’d been told the clerk kept a sawed off shotgun under the counter. He liked to shoot first and ask questions later. It was probably a smart philosophy to go by.
I don’t know if God was on my side today or what, but a parking space opened up on the opposite side of the street from the clinic and I moved into position to parallel park. The problem was I wasn’t such a good parallel parker on a good day with a small car. I was even worse in a truck. It was like docking a boat.
By the time I was finished a couple of homeless men sitting on the sidewalk were staring at me wide-eyed. I got out and surveyed the job. The back tire was up on the curb and I’d knocked over a trashcan.
“Better watch out, lady,” one of the homeless men cackled. “You knocked over Harry’s house. He’s gonna be pissed.”
“Harry lives in a trashcan?” I asked.
“Sure does. He likes it because he gets first dibs when people throw their food away. Harry’s pretty smart like that.”
“Where is Harry?” I looked up and down the street. There was a drug deal taking place in the alley up ahead and a hooker was working the corner behind me. I didn’t see anyone that might resemble a Harry.
“Sometimes Harry likes to hump things. He’s got a sickness. It’s not natural.”
“You better hope Harry never finds out you said that,” the other homeless guy said. “I seen him hump a man to death before. Harry gets goin’ and he doesn’t know how to stop. If he finds out you knocked over his house he’ll probably hump you too.”
I wrinkled my nose in disgust and hiked the duffle bag on my shoulder. I locked the car, not that that would keep anyone from stealing it in this neighborhood, and hoped God was still hanging with me long enough to keep watch over Nick’s car.
I looked both ways before I crossed the street and entered the clinic. The doors were propped open with cement blocks. Probably to let whatever the godawful stench was escape. The waiting room was filled with plastic orange chairs and a whole lot of people. There were a couple of babies crying and a woman crying in big gulping sobs in the corner. Addicts sat slumped over in their chairs and other couldn’t sit still at all so they paced around.
I saw the check-in counter towards the back and a big-boned woman the color of dark chocolate manned the desk with a righteous hand. She was doing eleven things at once and talking on the phone, and she still managed to keep patients in check when they started yelling for the doctor to hurry up.
I tightened my grip on the duffle bag and made my way to the counter. She held out a finger and pushed a clipboard and pen in my direction. She hung up the phone and fanned herself with one of the clipboards. It had to be ninety degrees inside the clinic.
“Fill that out and take a seat. You might have to come back tomorrow though. We close at midnight and we’re bursting at the seams.”
I licked my lips nervously and hoped I remembered the exact saying Smash Nose gave me. “I’m here to see Doctor Blackbeard. I have the shingles again.”
She pursed her lips together and put her hand on her hip. “We ain’t got a Doctor Blackbeard here. What kind of stupid name is that? Fill out the form and Doctor Lester will see you if he sees you.”
“I’m here to see Doctor Blackbeard. I have the shingles again.” I said it louder this time.
About the most used up prostitute I’d ever seen in my life clucked her tongue. She was white as a ghost, weighed ninety pounds soaking wet, and she wasn’t wearing underwear under the table napkin she called a skirt. Several of her teeth were missing and her wig was vibrant blue. It sounded like she smoked a carton a day.
“I hate them shingles,” she said. “Got ‘em all over my privates one time. Really did a number on my business. I had to make sure the lights were turned out before I let ‘em go at me. Otherwise they’d just pick up their drawers and run out.”
I took a careful step back from the woman and turned my attention back on the nurse behind the counter. If I were her I’d make sure I Cloroxed the hell out of the chair that hooker was sitting in. I could tell the nurse was about to tell me to sit down again when another nurse came up beside me and took my elbow.
“I got this one, Hildie,” she said. She took me back to the treatment area to a bunch of catcalls and boos. It sounded like things were about to get pretty rough out there. I’d just cut in front of a room full of hos and crack heads. And probably they weren’t the most patient of people.
The nurse led me to a little room at the very end of the hall. It seemed clean enough. White walls, scarred linoleum floor, small table with white paper on top. There was a sink and all the countertops were cleaned off. Probably they couldn’t even leave a tongue depressor out in the open or it would get stolen.
“Doctor Blackbeard will be with you shortly,” the nurse said and left. She didn
’t close the door all the way so I moved so I could see the traffic coming and going down the hall. Hildie from the front desk cornered the nurse who took me back and gave her what for. I could hear the dressing down all the way down the hall, and probably everyone in the patient rooms could too.
The door across from me opened and I stepped back a little. It looked like an office of some sort. I could see a TV and a desk that had papers piled high. There was a file cabinet and a folding chair. A man in a white lab coat came out with a briefcase in his hand and turned around and locked the door before closing it. Paranoid, much? I thought.
I was leaning against the exam table, still holding onto the duffle for dear life when he came in. Doctor Blackbeard was about five foot ten and he had naturally curly dark hair and a salt and pepper goatee. He had brown eyes and wore round glasses like Harry Potter. He was also sweating like a whore in church. And I didn’t think it had anything to do with the temperature in the building. He looked scared shitless.
“I hear you have shingles,” he said, nodding at the bag in my hand.
“That’s what they tell me.” He sat the briefcase down beside me on the table and I handed him the duffle bag.
“Tell our mutual friend my interest payment is included. I don’t want any misunderstandings.”
“No problemo.” I took hold of the briefcase and hugged it close and followed him to the door. He went directly to his office, looked both ways and unlocked it. He went in, unlocked the file cabinet, and then put the duffle bag in the bottom drawer.
I didn’t wait around. I needed another shower and maybe a bottle of wine. I went back through the waiting room and several people threw little paper cups at me they’d gotten from the water dispenser.
When I got outside I breathed in as much fresh air as was possible in this part of the city and started back across the street to Nick’s truck. I stopped and stared as soon as I stepped foot into the street. The truck was rocking from side to side in a steady rhythm, but I couldn’t see anyone inside or in the bed of the truck from where I stood.
I heard the beat of drums and a small crowd had gathered on the other side of the truck. I crept across the street and watched in slackjawed amazement as, who I assumed was Harry, humped the shit out of Nick’s truck. He was going at it right on the front tire and the two men I’d been talking to earlier were laying down a good humping rhythm on the bottom of Harry’s trashcan.
Harry was about a hundred years old and he wore nothing but a blanket wrapped around him like a diaper. I could count his ribs and his beard hung down to his chest. I didn’t know if it was all Harry in the diaper or a summer sausage, but I wasn’t about to look closer to find out.
I hit the car alarm and the drums stopped. About a dozen people turned to look my direction and I opened the door and put the briefcase inside, ignoring the stares.
“What you doin’ bitch? Can’t you see Harry was windin’ up for the finale?”
“Guess he’ll have to finish up on that Honda in front of me.”
The truck started rocking again and I jumped onto the side step and held onto the door for dear life.
“I can’t hump on no Honda,” Harry called out. “You see those tires? Hardly got any tread on ‘em at all. These tires are just right for Harry. They got real deep grooves.”
The drums began again and the humping started in earnest. I kept losing my grip and couldn’t hoist myself the rest of the way into the truck. Harry had really found his rhythm. I finally managed to get into the driver’s seat and slam the door shut just as the crowd broke into applause and the truck stopped moving.
I revved the engine and I might have run over a foot as I sped out of there.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I was halfway out of Savannah and I’d been debating going through a car wash or Dairy Queen. I was having trouble making up my mind. I was probably going to settle on Dairy Queen. Nick could get the truck washed in the morning, and I needed a hit of something real bad. A hot fudge sundae seemed like the right choice.
I left the line at Dairy Queen and went to pull back onto the road when a familiar blue Toyota pulled up next to me. Smash Nose got out and rapped on the passenger side window. He tried the door handle, but I’d learned from my mistake the first time. It was locked. I rolled down the window a crack to hear what he was saying.
“Did you get the case?”
“I’ve got it.” I leaned down to get it from the floorboard and when I came back up Smash Nose had a gun pointed right at my head.
“Hand it over.”
“Are you going to shoot me?”
“Yes, but I’ll do it in the head so it’s fast.”
“Well that’s comforting.” I started to hand the case over and then at the last second I shoved it at him. A shot went wild and pinged of the edge of the truck door and I laid pedal to the metal. I squealed out of the Dairy Queen parking lot and felt another bullet ping off my bumper. Nick was going to be pissed. He really liked his truck.
I’d almost gotten my breathing back under control by the time I hit the highway and the single lane road that led to Nick’s house. Smash Nose hadn’t followed me. At least not that I’d noticed.
I checked in with Phoebe and she said all was quiet around the house and that she’d been invited to a Dr. Who party the following night. I reminded her we were expected to eat dinner at home, but she said the party didn’t start till after ten. She also wanted to let me know a scary looking dude that said he was FBI kept knocking on the door. She was afraid he was there to arrest her for smoking pot with Norman Hinkle.
I assured her Savage was a neighbor and not really all that scary once you got to know him. And probably the FBI didn’t care all that much that she’d been smoking pot with Norman. They were probably much more interested in the fact that Norman was growing enough pot to make the entire state of Georgia high as a kite. I hoped to God Summer’s Eve Assisted Living never burned to the ground. We’d all be in trouble.
I hung up with Phoebe and pulled into Nick’s driveway. The garage door was closed and I assumed the Cabriolet was tucked away inside. A few lights were on in the house, and I took a deep breath before I found the courage to get out.
“Just trade keys and then get out. Easy as pie.”
I knocked on the door and Nick opened it a second later.
“I was just about to call you. It’s going on ten o’clock.”
“I had a little detour on the way to bust Carly Mathis for cheating on her husband.” I filled him in on Smash Nose getting in the car with me and the exchange made at the clinic.
“I’ve got to call that in,” he said, pinching his thumb and his forefinger at the bridge of his nose. Nick wasn’t happy. In fact, he was down right furious. “Why didn’t you call me as soon as he gave you the duffle? We could have intercepted the drop.”
“He said he was watching. And he was. By the way, your truck might have a couple of bullet holes in it. It turns out Johnny Sakko didn’t want me to work for him on a full time basis after all and Smash Nose got a couple of shots off. Also, you probably want to run your truck through a car wash in the morning. It got humped on a little.”
“You must have parked by Harry’s house.” Nick went to the phone and dialed into the station, and he relayed that he got an anonymous tip that a deal had taken place at the clinic on Bayonette earlier tonight. He made a few notes and then hung up the phone.
“We can at least get the ball rolling and find out the background on the clinic. Go through it one more time with as many details as possible and I can start running backgrounds.”
By the time we were finished, it was after one in the morning and I could barely keep my eyes open.
“I need to get home and get some sleep. I have to drive to Jacksonville in the morning.”
“It’s probably a good thing you’re going to be out of the city for a while. We can maybe make some headway without anyone trying to shoot you.”
I got up and headed toward th
e door, and Nick stuck his finger in the waist of my jeans and pulled me backward until he was pressed against my back. “You might as well stay here for the night.” He kissed the back of my neck and all of a sudden I wasn’t so tired anymore.
“I—uhh—didn’t bring any clothes with me.”
“That’s okay. You’re not going to need any.” And then he was kissing me and my brain short circuited.
I’m not sure how we made it to the second floor and Nick’s bedroom, but by the time we got there we were both completely naked and I’d stopped worrying whether or not I’d worn my good underwear. He hadn’t taken the time to look at them anyway.
I was about foreplayed out. It seemed like we’d been leading up to this for days, so I had no complaints when he slid home right off the bat. Everything after was a blur of one sensation to another, and when I finally dropped from complete exhaustion the sun was just coming up.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Tuesday
It was nine o’clock when my alarm went off and I dragged myself to the shower. There was no part of my body that had gone untouched, and I’d be walking funny for days.
Nick had gotten up for work just as I’d fallen asleep, and I remembered him kissing me on the head before he left. I got a look at myself in the mirror and almost screamed. Black mascara smudged under my eyes and my hair looked like it had been brushed with a hand mixer. I had beard burn on my neck and chest.
I showered and wrapped a towel around myself as I went to find my clothes. My jeans and underwear were on the stairs, my shirt was draped over a lamp, and my socks and shoes were by the front door. I had no idea where my bra was.
I looked around for a few minutes and gave up hope of finding it, so I put my clothes on minus the bra and prayed my mother never got word of it. Though the way she’d been acting lately, maybe she was all for going without a bra.
Nick had left the keys to the Cabriolet next to the coffee pot with a note that said we should talk later. I had no idea what that meant. Was it the good kind of talk or the bad kind of talk? I thunked my head against the kitchen cabinet and ran out the door, locking the door behind me.