“I like Italy more.” After a few silent moments, she sighs. “When I was little and she lived in Phoenix, sometimes I would get upset and runaway to her house. I guess my parents knew where I went, but she would let me stay there as long as I wanted.
“She eventually ran away herself. She went to New Mexico and opened a restaurant so she could bake pies all day. When I got my first car, I started running away again. Every time I was upset or scared, I'd drive to her house.
“But now she says New Mexico isn't far enough from the rest of the family, so she's moving to Italy. She left me the keys to her place, so I can still runaway.” Syd turns her head to look at me again. “The house is vacant.”
At this moment, so is my brain. I don't respond. I have no idea what we're talking about.
Syd seems to figure this out.
She props herself on her elbows. “Let's go to New Mexico for a weekend.”
I have an urge to pack right then. We could leave now and arrive before breakfast tomorrow. That includes stopping for a backseat romp along the way.
The trip can't happen. I wouldn't be able to explain to her if I have to leave for work, or to Karl if he notices any charges on the cards.
I've never had to admit just how trapped I am. It's obvious now that my world involves more than just waiting for Karl to figure out the next move in the chess game that is my life.
Maybe I shouldn't have accepted change, but I'm not about to give it back.
“We'll go,” I say, but I doubt the words are even mine. “Write down the address, and I'll figure something out.”
She has no idea what I've just agreed to.
***
We lie on the floor watching TV, stirring only to refill the hookah and smoke it down. When evening fades in, we gather enough energy to put on our shoes and walk to the taco shop at the end of the block.
We eat carne asada tacos without speaking. It's a pleasant silence, where we are both just content with our food and our high and the fact we're going to screw like rabbits on Viagra after we stop being so damn lazy.
Syd looks up at me, taco in hand. “Did you know it used to be illegal to import avocados into the U.S. from Mexico?”
I'm certain I missed the first half of this conversation. “Um, why?”
“Flies,” she says. “The U.S. government thought the avocados were infested with fruit flies.”
“So, there was a shortage of guacamole and it had to be rationed?” I give her a dubious look then laugh. “Was there an underground guacamole trade? You could buy it in half pints, but it's going to cost you?”
She shrugs. “No one went to look. They just thought they had flies and wouldn't import them. The Mexican government tried to barter, but they didn't get anywhere. So they put restrictions on importing from us.”
Syd's brain must be a strange place.
Her face looks serious, and she's no longer eating. Just drifting on her thoughts about produce and insects.
“Finally, they sent someone to Mexico and they checked thousands of avocados. There weren't any flies. Never had been.” She drops her taco to her Styrofoam plate and frowns at it. “Can we go back now?”
I glance at my last taco, then at Syd. Her eyes are red. She has been hitting for a while, but I don't remember her eyes being that way when we left the house.
“Yeah, we can go,” I say, scooping up our plates and plastic ramekins. I dump them in the trash bin, and we head back to my place.
Syd is quiet on the walk and after we arrive. It's not the pleasant sort anymore. I think I'm supposed to be upset about the history of avocados. She doesn't seem angry that I'm not, but maybe disappointed.
We lie on the floor to watch TV and doze. We don't even have sex, but I'm content with the warmth of her body against mine. Around midnight, she kisses me goodbye before leaving. And I still can't figure out why we were talking about avocados.
Chapter 4
Late in the morning, Karl summons me. I expect he just wants to talk about what happened with the safe. Calling on the phone would be too mundane.
Instead, a guard passes me a manila envelope. I could probably wallpaper my bedroom from floor to ceiling with as many of these damn things I've been given.
“I need you to bring me that person, Dimitri,” Karl says.
I hate how he says my name. It has the distinct tone like he's commanding a Doberman to fetch.
“I need him alive.”
Great, another kidnapping. I want to ask if he's certain the target isn't deceased already, but I keep my mouth closed. As bitter as I am over the last misadventure, I haven't forgotten who wields the power around here.
Karl leans back in his chair. “This … I … wish.”
Satan starts humming a tune in my head again. I wait for Karl to begin our super fun version of Twenty Questions. No way he's letting go of the missing safe that easily.
He raises his eyebrows at me.
That's my signal to get fetching. Maybe he is over the safe, after all.
I don't even bother going through the case file on my way out. If I see my abductee is another minor, I'm going to lose it.
Dimitri Hayes, the cause of lifetime therapy bills across the nation.