Chapter 9
I scanned the scene in front of me, trying to make sense of it. The police cruiser was parked on the opposite side of the dark sedan. The lights were still flashing, giving the faces in the crowd an odd, disjointed appearance as people craned their necks for a closer look.
Two uniformed police officers stood behind the defaced car. They studied the trunk with expressions that I could only describe as perplexed.
I turned to the guy next to me, a lanky guy in a black wool coat. "What's going on?" I asked.
"Not sure," he said. "Every time I try to get close, the cops tell me to back off."
I glanced at the car. Something near the rear was thumping. The thumping sounded familiar.
"Sweet!" said a voice behind me. "Something's in the trunk. I'm betting it's mobsters. It's always mobsters."
Damn it. I recognized that voice. I turned around, and there he was. Shaggy. He was holding out his phone again, capturing whatever was in front of him.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I said.
"Hey, you paved the way," he said. "I just followed in your wake." He grinned. "Nice job with the elbows, by the way. I could learn a thing or two from you."
Suddenly, my fondest wish was for the guy to be gone. "What about your girlfriend?" I said, thinking of the redhead. "Are you ever going back inside? That's a hint, by the way."
"Yeah? Well what about my waitress?" he said. "Is she ever going back inside?"
"Oh shut up," I said. "I'm not your waitress anymore. They sent me home."
He shrugged. "That's the breaks, Betty."
With a sigh of irritation, I turned around to face the commotion. The trunk was still thumping. Mobsters, my ass.
A second later, Shaggy jostled his way between me and Wool Coat. "I'm telling ya," he said, "ten bucks says it's mobsters."
"You're on," I said. My gaze narrowed. "But I wanna see the cash up front."
Shaggy made a show of patting his pockets. "I'm a little short," he said. "Take an I.O.U.?"
"Hell no," I said.
Wool Coat spoke up. "No sense in betting," he said. "It's not mobsters. It's just a couple of frat boys."
"Really?" I leaned around Shaggy. "How do you know?"
"The police have been talking to 'em ."
"How?" I said.
"Through the trunk."
"If it's a frat thing," Shaggy said, "it's gotta be Sig-Eps. Those dudes are totally whacked." He elbowed me in the side. "Heh, whacked. Get it?" He chuckled at his own joke. "See, maybe they are mobsters."
"If anyone's whacked," I said, "it's you."
He beamed. "Thanks, Betty."
"It wasn't a compliment." I leaned toward Wool Coat. "Why don’t they just open the trunk and get it over with?" I asked. "What are they waiting for?"
Just then, a big tow-truck rumbled up behind the police car, moving slowly to allow the crowd time to shift out of the way.
Wool Coat pointed to the truck. "They're waiting for that, I guess."
"Alright, people!" the shorter of the two police officers yelled. "Everybody back!"
Soon, a burly guy with a beard emerged from the tow truck. He grabbed a tool box from the back and approached the officers. And then, flanked by them, he approached the back of the car and went to work.
A few minutes later, the sedan's trunk flew open. The crowd grew absolutely silent, waiting and watching. The officers leaned in for a closer look.
Between them, the tow truck driver scratched his chin. His eyebrows furrowed. "Now, that's a first," he said.
Slowly, a couple of figures emerged from the trunk – two half-naked men in ski masks.
At first, no one made a sound. And then, a woman behind me snickered. That's all it took. A second later, the crowd burst into laughter as the two guys stumbled out onto the pavement.
Next to me, Shaggy was practically salivating onto his phone. "Oh man," he said. "This is gonna be the best payday ever."
Aside from the masks, the guys wore only two things – bling and their underwear.
"Huh," Shaggy said. "You know what? I've got underwear exactly like that."
I glanced at the guys. One wore striped boxer shorts. The other wore tiny black briefs that left very little to the imagination. I gave Shaggy a sideways glance. "Uh, the boxers?"
Please be the boxers. Please be the boxers.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" he said.
I shook my head. "No. I'm pretty sure I know way too much already."
Unsteadily, the two guys crawled out of the trunk. They looked beyond ridiculous, especially with all the jewelry – thick gold necklaces, expensive looking wristwatches, and giant rings that glittered on almost every finger.
They'd worn the same kind of the night I'd first met them. I'd been their waitress, unfortunately. They'd been the customers from hell – drunk, rowdy, and obscene, just like their dates, Brittney and Amber, the skanky duo.
"Look at those rings," Shaggy said. "See, they are mobsters." He turned to smirk at me. "Goes to show what you know." He held out his hand, palm up. "I'll take my ten bucks now."
I glanced down at the hand. "Dream on," I said.
Besides, those guys weren't mobsters. They were two player wannabees who had tried to kidnap the wrong girl.
Me.
On instinct I backed up, trying to melt into the crowd. As far as I could tell, neither guy had noticed me. And for some reason, I definitely wanted to keep it that way.
When the guy in the black briefs finished climbing out of the trunk, he turned to face the crowd and yelled, "What the hell are you looking at?"
On the side opposite us, a heavyset woman spoke up. "You tell us, Loverboy!"
The crowd burst into fresh laughter.
"Hey, Loverboy!" Shaggy hollered over the distance. "Take off the mask, will ya! Show us your face!"
The guy lifted both hands, extending both middle fingers. "F*ck off, a*shole!" he yelled. "I'm not showing you dick!"
The nearest cop grabbed him by the shoulder and hustled him toward the police car. A moment later, he and his friend were shoved unceremoniously into the backseat. The car door slammed behind both of them with a decisive thud.
"Why would I want to see his dick?" Shaggy said. "God, what a dumb-ass." He held out his cell phone and started circling the vandalized sedan, stopping every few seconds to zoom in on something or other.
Nearby, the rest of us watched as the police cruiser pulled slowly out of the lot, leaving the tow truck driver to deal with the defaced sedan.
I never did see the guys' faces. But unlike Shaggy, I didn't want to.
But there was someone I wanted to see. And probably not in the way he wanted.
As I stood shivering in the cold parking lot, an even colder rage settled over me. I hated drama. For years, I'd been trying to escape it – the drunk-ass mom, the psycho stepmother, a dad who was indifferent at best.
Even tonight, I'd forced myself to walk away, not just from Lawton, but from the chance to give him hell for what he'd done. And he had done plenty.
So what does he do? He brings drama literally to the doorstep of where I worked. What the hell was he thinking? Did the guy think at all?
I looked around. He had to be here somewhere. I just knew it.
Maybe I hadn't given him what he deserved earlier, but I sure as hell wasn't going to miss the opportunity now.
That f*cker had earned a piece of my mind. And drama or not, it was time to give it to him.