Crow's Row

When I got out of shower, he was sitting at the kitchen table, engulfed in the paperwork

strewn in front of him and mumbling into his phone. I ate my cereal and listened as he rhymed

off numbers to Spider’s voice. “Forty, ten, eighty …” These didn’t seem like big numbers,

but I expected that several zeros probably followed the double digits.

Cameron grinned when he caught me peeking at his papers. I couldn’t make anything out anyway. I

found it odd that they would have any kind of records. I didn’t know much about criminal

enterprises, but I had watched enough TV to know that leaving any kind of evidence behind was a

really bad idea.

“Aren’t you afraid that those papers are going to fall into the wrong hands?” I asked when he

finally got off the phone.

He slid the papers over the table to me. “Here. You can look if you want.”

Though the papers were now right in front of me, I still couldn’t make out anything. All I

could see were jumbled letters, numbers, and symbols—nothing that made any sense.

“We have an encryption system,” he explained. “Carly came up with it. Every letter, symbol

means something else.”

“Wouldn’t someone eventually figure it out if you gave them enough time? Like the FBI?”

He shrugged. “Sure they would. But we take extra precautions, like changing the meaning of

codes every couple weeks and only writing down what we absolutely need to. Once we’re done with

the paperwork, we destroy it right away.”

“So how do you keep track of everything if you don’t keep any records?”

He smiled deviously and tapped on his head with one finger. “I’ve got everything I need in

here.”

One smile from Cameron, and I had already forgotten what I had eaten for breakfast a few seconds

ago.

I pushed the papers back over the table. “I guess it’s back to work today.” I wasn’t even

trying to mask the sadness in my voice.

“If I don’t get some work done soon, Spider will have a heart attack.”

“You got in trouble for playing hooky,” I teased.

“Yeah, Spider was pretty upset. He thought something had had happened to us.” He smirked.

“But I just blamed it on you, so we’re good.”

“Thanks.”

With no TV and nowhere to go, I wondered what I was going to do to occupy my time. It occurred

to me that I would have to be alone, which suddenly made me hyperventilate.

“How long are you going to be gone for this time?” My voice slightly cracked, but I was trying

to keep calm and brave for Cameron’s sake.

“A day, if we leave within the next five minutes.”

“We?”

“I’m not going to leave you here alone. You’re coming with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“I have to go see one of my distributors and check on the new shipment.”

“Drug dealers?” All of a sudden, the thought of staying alone for a day seemed like a better

alternative.

“Distributors,” he corrected.

“Cameron, I don’t think it’s a very good idea.” I was going to add I wasn’t like him, but

we had already established that, more than once.

“I have no choice. I don’t know how long it’ll take for things to settle down. The business

can’t wait any longer,” he said.

“What do I have to do?”

“You have to be scary like me for a day.” He looked pleased with himself at the thought of our

role reversals.

“I don’t think I could pull that off.”

“Actually, you’re already really good at it,” he said dismally. “Pretend that I’m standing

in front of you after you just overheard me tell Manny that I don’t love you—because that

reaction was pretty scary … except, without the crying … and don’t start ripping your clothes

off just to prove your point. I don’t think it’ll have the same effect on them.”

I blushed as I remembered that night. “I was feverish. I wasn’t myself.”

“Right.” I thought I saw him roll his eyes as he turned to put the papers away.

“You better get dressed. We need to get going if we want to be back at a decent time,” he told

me.

I was wearing shorts and a T-shirt. “I forgot to pack my cocktail dress. I didn’t realize that

drug dealers were so formal.”

“Distributors,” he corrected again. “You’ll be cold if you don’t get changed.”

It was early August. Even though it was still early in the morning, the cottage was already

steaming from the sun’s rays.

He headed to my duffle bag and grabbed the pair of jeans that was on top. When he took them out,

they unrolled and out fell my Rumble Fish book, my Rumble Fish movie, and the letter I had

written him. He pitched the jeans to me and picked up the letter. While I anxiously got

redressed, he carefully unfolded it, read it and re-read it. Then he folded the paper several

times until it was the size of a credit card, slid it into the front pocket of his jeans, and

took possession of it. When he returned to me, his smile was perturbed, but genuine.

We walked out closely together.

Outside, Cameron’s smile had turned suspicious. This only grew as I started to walk toward the

Audi.

“We’re not taking the car,” he finally announced when I pulled on the car handle.

He handed me a backpack and walked to the tool shed that was next to the cottage. He opened the

door; my heart dived.





Chapter Twenty-Four:

A New Calling

Julie Hockley's books