Marvin nodded. “All right,” he said. “I’m going. We’ll pack some things tonight, go to the bank tomorrow morning for some money, then we’re gone.”
17
Way we figured it, Leonard was going to keep working his security job, which had switched from days to nights. Brett was going to put in for her two weeks the next day, and since my job had played out, I wasn’t going to look for anything right away. Truth is, if it wasn’t for the money I’d just hang out and not work. I should be ashamed, but I’m not. I’m so lazy Leonard has to call me and remind me to work out, threaten me a little. I actually like the workouts soon as I start them, but it’s easy for me to get sidetracked and want to read a book or see a movie or eat a sandwich, or do the bump with Brett.
I drove Brett to the hospital the next morning, very early while it was still dark, and they let her have the two weeks. She said it was an emergency, that she might be back early, before the two weeks were up, but right now her daughter was sick and she had to go check on her.
They grumbled a bit, but they allowed her the time. Brett was a hell of a nurse.
Brett had her suitcase in the pickup, ready to go. I started driving us through town, on my way to drop her off at Marvin’s place. It was a very still morning, no traffic except for a beige Cadillac that was going our way. The moon was still up, a silver scimitar in the sky, and we had the heater on low because it was chilly out, though not exactly cold.
Brett was armed, had the little .38 automatic she sometimes wore strapped to the inside of her thigh. That was when she had on a dress. Today she had on jeans and a T-shirt and she had an ankle holster. I was armed too, with the gun that was registered to me and the one I had the conceal/carry papers on. A nine-mil automatic in a clip holster snapped to the back of my belt under my open windbreaker. I had a twelve-gauge pump shotgun in the backseat under a blanket, and of course, a pocketknife for whittling and a clear throat in case I had to resort to vulgar language.
We didn’t go around armed normally, so for us the guns weren’t fashion accessories. I hated the damn things, but, alas, I ran with a rough crowd from time to time, and of consequence, so did Brett. Way things had been going lately, I thought it best we be prepared.
She sat close to me that morning, like a teenager on a date. She kissed me on the cheek, and when she did, I felt wetness. She had tears.
I turned and looked at her, said, “Come on, baby. It’ll be okay.”
“I’m not scared,” she said, as I turned to look back at the road, check the mirror to make sure the Cadillac behind us wasn’t about to run up our asses. “I just don’t want to leave you to it by yourself.”
“I have Leonard.”
“I know. And I’m glad. But that’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant.”
“I could stay, Hap.”
“I need you with them. Rachel might need an ass whippin’, and you’re just the gal to do it.”
“She’s okay,” Brett said. “She’s just protecting her family, but you know what?”
“What?”
“There’s a part of me that would like to throw down with her, just to see how it would come out.”
“I know how it would come out. You’d lose a bit of that beautiful red hair and she’d be in the hospital.”
“You’re just saying that to make a girl feel sexy.”
I laughed.
The Cadillac passed us. I gave it a glance. Four guys were in it. No one from Tanedrue’s trailer was inside the car. Not even the dog. The car went on ahead, got about three car lengths in front of us. The driver was, as so many drivers are, on the cell phone. Who the hell do you call at this time of the morning? I thought
We crossed Gibbon Street, and as we did, a shiny black crew cab pickup with a big sunroof and tires about the size of a small planet came burning out and swung in behind us. I glanced in my rearview mirror. I recognized the truck’s driver. Tanedrue. Beside him I could see the ball-kicked guy and in the backseat the guy who was mad about me tossing his dog, and beside him some red-faced guy I had never seen before. Between them was Gadget.
“It’s them,” I said. “And Gadget’s with them.”
Brett turned to look. “That bitch.”
“I’m going to try and outrace them,” I said. “Call Leonard.”
As Brett popped open her cell phone, I hit the gas and started around the Cadillac. The Caddy weaved in front of me.
“Get off the phone, asshole,” I yelled at the Cadillac just like the driver could hear me.
I heard Brett say, “Leonard, we got trouble. We’re on Main, just crossed Gibbon, about three blocks from our street. Yeah.”
Brett clapped the phone shut. “He’s on his way.”
“This goddamn Cadillac,” I said, and weaved the other direction. It weaved with me. I glanced in the rearview mirror. The red-faced guy in the truck had a cell phone to his ear. I glanced at the Caddy. The driver was still on the phone.
“They’re in cahoots,” I said.
Brett was looking back, she said, “Oh hell.”
I looked in the rearview. Red Face was lifting up through the sunroof with a shotgun. It looked as big as a howitzer to me.
I tried to get around the Caddy. No luck. They had us between a patch of houses and trees, no side streets.
I turned quick, bumped over a curb, went through a lawn, bashed a couple of lawn gnomes and a pink flamingo, which might be considered a public service, then bounced through a driveway and clipped the tail of a parked car just enough to knock it out of our way. I weaved between an oak and an elm and took out a yard swing, a birdbath, and a Vote-for-Some-Republican sign. I gave myself an extra two points for that.
The Caddy and the truck ran along beside us on the street. Red Face’s shotgun banged and a back side window went out on my truck. Brett let out a yip like a surprised dog.
“You hit?” I asked.
“Just my pride.”
I saw an alley between two houses up the way, took a sharp right, and saw it was a screwup immediately. There was a wooden fence at the end of it. I yelled to Brett to hang on and put my foot to the floor. The pickup jumped and I hit the fence and lumber went out in all directions and we roared on through and down a little hill. There was a clump of trees in front of us and a low area I knew was a creek, so I hung a hard left and took out another wooden fence and went through a backyard and made a cocker spaniel jump for cover. I took out a matching fence, whipped hard left through a side yard in time to see our pursuers whisk by on the street, make several car lengths ahead of us.
I started back in the direction we had come, saw people in the yards now, out rubbernecking. I don’t know what possessed me, but I waved at a couple of them. In the rearview I saw the truck had turned and so had the Caddy. They were coming down on my ass pretty snappy-damn-quick. I had my foot all the way to the floor when I tried to make a turn, and that’s when I lost it. My truck skidded, fishtailed, then got itself together and looked like it was going to be all right. Another shot banged behind us, and this time the back glass of the pickup shattered. I caught some sting in the back of my neck. Brett yelled, “Goddamn it,” and flipped over the seat and got the twelve-gauge and brought it up and started pumping. She poked it out the busted window in the back, got off three rounds faster than a buck rabbit can fuck, and their truck spun to the right, went into a yard, right into a house with a sound like a cannon going off. Steam rose up from their hood.
I checked the rearview, saw the Caddy was still behind us. I turned my head and saw the truck rammed up in the house, bricks in the yard. Red Face and Tanedrue were out of the truck, guns in hand. Red Face was moving quickly. Tanedrue was limping toward us, due to his gunshot, but he looked lively enough and dangerous enough to me.