Nap's chest was out 'cause he was feeling proud. "Ysanya called with the number yesterday, Zee."
"I back-traced it through a contact I have in the phone company It's a stationary phone and not a cellular," Wilma said. "I have the address in Ridgecrest."
I was going to ask who her contact in the phone company was. Probably some middle management dude who had his nose wide open for her. I shouldn't have been dwelling on it, but I was. "Now what?"
A waitress came over. "Can I get you something, sir?"
I gave her my order and she slipped off.
"Stadanko and Chekka have a meeting coming up there," Wilma said.
"How do you know that?"
"He's made plans to fly down to Miami for an owners' meeting this Tuesday." She tasted her drink. "The meeting is only scheduled for two days, but he doesn't get back for a week."
"Maybe he's got something on the side he's gonna see about tightening up," I said, not understanding why Wilma was so sure Stadanko and his thug cousin had this chat planned.
Wilma leaned closer to us over the table. "Look, here's the deal. Chekka came by the office yesterday. I was there for a meeting on the broadcast rights for cable and Fox. Anyway, he's hitting on me"
"He do that on the regular?"
The waitress came back with my whisky. I paid her, counting out ones. She went away.
"Relax," Nap laughed.
"Rudy says he wants me to meet him in Palm Springs on Sunday."
"Like I asked, this a new thing he's got for you?" A chick in platforms bumped against me and mumbled something, then stepped off with her girlfriends.
"He's always sniffing after money or pussy, Zelmont. He's hit on every girl in that office." She drank her drank, eyeing me over the rim of the glass.
"This is about third and goal, Zee," Nap reminded me.
He was right, but that didn't change what I wanted to know. "So you two are on your way to Palm Springs and grinnin' watermelon grins."
Wilma made a sound with her tongue. I strung him along, Zelmont. Yes, he's tried to get his hands up my dress once or twice, and that's it, understand? But it was important that I teased him a little to find out what I could." She knocked off half her drink. "Like you haven't played anyone, right?"
I let that go by. "So?"
"So Rudy hints he's got big things doing and has to be at the hideaway that's what he called it at a certain time because he and Stadanko have some business to take care of. He likes to hear himself talk and make himself look important."
She leaned back. "Stadanko comes around the corner we were talking outside of the conference room and Rudy shuts up.
He's full of himself, but he ain't crazy I don't say anything and the two of them march off.''
''So me and Zee get up there now?" Nap asked.
"No, it should be me and Zelmont," she answered.
I looked at Nap. "Why?"
"Because there might be some computer files to hack into. Can either of you do that?"
Nap and me didn't have jack to say.
"Okay, then, we go up early tomorrow morning. I have to be in New York to finish these broadcast negotiations on Friday, and I know the haggling will take me over to the following week. So once I get back, I don't want to raise any speculation should I then turn around and go out of town again. The season is almost on us, and I'll need to account for my time."
I was about to say something when some dude came over and tried to join our set. "Man, you is the bomb, home." He was pushing past me, shoving a drink toward Nap's face. "'Member that game where you knocked the shit out of Brett Farve and the ball flew up and you snatched it back down and went on in for the touchdown?"
Nap put his eyebrows up. "Sure do, I"
"Yeah he shook a finger all excited at Nap, "and that time you blew past Drake and White and got the one-hand tackle on Young? It must have been 20 below."
"He's your number one fan, Nap." Wilma winked.
The dude didn't take the hint. "You got that right, baby Ain't nothing about football I don't know, and certainly ain't nothing about the big man here I ain't up on. Like that Super Bowl game where he got six unassisted tackles."
The same Super Bowl where I made my spin and a half and caught the game-winning pass. I knew he was gonna slobber all over me any second.
"Let me buy you a drink." He got all in front of me, leaning on the table like he owned the joint.
"I'm cool, my man. Me and my friends are discussing some business, okay?" Nap said calmly. "How about I catch you a little later?"
"Aw man," the fool cackled like one of them sisters in a bingo game. He moved closer, splashing some of his drink on my sleeve but not noticing. "You ain't gonna high hand me like that, is you? Got my girl over there I want you to meet."
I looked over to where he was jerking his Jheri juice head. The chick he was pointing to had a big ass, a tight dress, and a bad weave you could tell was gank even in this light. "Nap, sign a napkin for this boy and send him on his way."
He put his drunk eyes on me. "Who the fuck is you, his motherfuckin' secretary?" He jabbed me in the chest with two fingers. "You ain't nobody but a hanger-on, ain't that right?"
"Yeah, that's right." I was getting real hot so I wasn't breathing right.
"Then skip your ass over to Office Depot and get a pad of paper for him to sign."
I was about to jack the chump when Nap put his arm around the dude. "Look here, brah, let's go over and meet your fine lady friend."
He looked up at Nap like he was a kid about to ride a merry-go-round for the first time. "Oh, that's great, man, great."
Nap took him away.
Wilma touched my hand. "We have to be circumspect from here on out, Zelmont. No untoward business that will give Fahrar an excuse to jam you or any of us up."
I was barely paying attention to what she said. I couldn't believe that gin-soaked punk didn't recognize me. I just couldn't believe it.
The drive up to Ridgecrest took over three hours, me at the wheel of the Explorer. Wilma wasn't much for rap so it was a steady diet of the CDs she'd brought along. Her taste was okay, but along with stuff like classic Led Zeppelin she had a weird-ass album by some band called the Squirrel Nut Zippers. Their music was like listening to old radio recordings, and I was glad when she slipped on Otis Redding.
"I can't remember the last time I was in the Mojave Desert," Wilma said. The sun was now up and we had the windows half cracked. The cool morning air felt good on my skin, and it smelled sweet outside. I usually didn't notice shit like that, but riding along with Wilma half-dozing on the seat beside me it seemed natural. Almost made me forget we had a job to do.
On the side of the road were those tall spiky trees with white flowers at the top. "What do you call those again?" I asked.
She didn't have to look. "Joshua trees, baby."
Ridgecrest was much more built up than I had expected. If I didn't know where we were, I might have thought it was some part of the Valley, except it looked cleanlike Disneyland does 'cause they always got them squares walking around with their brooms and dustbins on a pole picking up trash and horseshit. And every night they're scrubbing down the streets and scraping up gum before it turns black from being stepped on constantly.
"Can we stop and get breakfast?" she said.
"How many black people they got up here, Wilma?"
She turned her head at me. "We're not going to get jumped."
"We don't need to call attention to ourselves."
"Yeah, one of these old boys might recognize you. I guess we better find the cabin."
Maybe she was just saying that to make me feel better, but it did. I was starting to sweat so I rolled up the windows and put on the air conditioner. We drove, using the map Wilma had drawn after she got the address for the cabin. The houses we passed were out of a Spielberg movie about the 'burbs, the lawns very green and no cracks in the sidewalks.