“What?”
He didn’t answer on our primary topic, instead he said, “Tonight, you be sure you take lead. Tex is a nut and Tex is an ex-con. Do not let him do anything crazy. You go down, you got no priors. He goes down, he’s fucked. The cops want you off the streets and they’l be aimin’ for you. Take Tex’s Camino, your Camaro’s too visible. And for fuck’s sake, keep sharp.”
Disconnect.
Cal number ten came when I was in my kitchen, punching in my alarm code and Boo was shouting at me for treats, very unhappy with my trip to the mal and my gab with Roxie at California Pizza Kitchen and not afraid to tel me.
I dumped my shopping bags and purse on the kitchen table and snatched out the phone. Vance.
“What’s this about Tex?”
Jeez.
“Crowe –”
“I don’t have a good feeling about this.”
Time for evasive maneuvering. “Jet wants to know if you want to have Thanksgiving at Eddie’s Mom’s house with her and Eddie, Tex and Nancy, Roxie and Hank, Al y and her parents. Or do you just want to have it with Nick and me? Or, erm… did you, um, have to work or something?” Oh my God.
I was such a dork.
When Vance answered, his voice was pure silk. Evasive maneuvering was effective and it was clear Vance didn’t think I was a dork.
“What do you want, Princess?”
I felt the warm whoosh in my bel y. “Just you and Nick,” I replied.
“That’s what we’l do then.”
I smiled at the phone. Again.
“I’l make pumpkin pie,” I said.
“We’l get one at King Soopers.”
Disconnect.
I stared at the phone.
“I am so sure,” I said to the phone.
“Meow!” Boo said to me.
*
Tex drove a bronze El Camino and Tex played his rock ‘n’ rol loud.
Therefore when we went barreling into the parking lot toward the drug deal, the Doobie Brother’s “Listen to the Music” was blasting.
Tex screeched to a halt, swinging the wheel at the last minute so we did a 180 degree turn.
We were such a sight to see (and hear), instead of running the buyers and sel er stared at us in frozen shock and I didn’t blame them.
Then during the Doobie Brothers singing the chorus, Tex got out his side, I got out my side and we lobbed the smoke bombs. Three for him, three for me. The buyers and sel er started choking, spluttering, cursing and scurrying.
Tex and I jumped into the car and Tex peeled away.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about, turkey!” Tex shouted at the windshield and banged his fist on the steering wheel. He did this every time we’d seen action, except once instead of “turkey”, he said, “sucka”.
It had been an active night. We were out of smoke bombs.
Make no mistake, The Law and her sidekick, Tex, the Crackpot Coffee Guy were on the job.
“We’re out of smoke bombs,” I told Tex.
“Could swing by your place, pick up the tear gas,” Tex suggested.
Um.
No.
“I don’t think smoke bombs are il egal. I’m not sure about tear gas.”
Tex was silent for a moment as if contemplating this.
Final y he said, “See your point.”
“Maybe we should cal it a night?”
“We goin’ out again tomorrow?”
Hmm.
He said “we”.
I was a loner or had been until recently. I hadn’t seen a lot of alone time in awhile and that had been at night when I thought Vance and I had broken up.
That time wasn’t fun.
Furthermore Tex was huge, burly and relaxed. He caused mayhem like it was second nature. He made me feel safe.
It was a new experience, being out making life a pain for drug dealers with Tex.
I liked it.
“Sure,” I said.
“Fuckin’ A, woman!” Tex boomed.
I smiled.
We went to his house and he stood on the sidewalk and didn’t make a move toward his door until I was in my car and headed down the street.
*
I was negotiating the al ey toward Nick and my garage when a car reversed out of a back drive right into the al ey, right in front of me. To avoid it I slammed on the brakes and came to a bone-jarring halt. I stared out the windshield. The car was dark, no lights.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I threw the Camaro in reverse and looked over my shoulder but al I could see was a motorcycle parked perpendicular to my car.
I’d wasted precious time shifting to reverse. I should have locked my doors. I didn’t even get a chance to move when my door was thrown open.
Before I could grab my gun or stun gun on the seat beside me, someone reached in, undid my belt and yanked me out of the car.
He slammed the door and then slammed me against the car and got up close, his hard body to my soft one, his heat slamming into me like a physical thing.
When I got a look at him in the hazy al ey streetlight, I went stil .
He looked like a somewhat younger, tougher, rougher but just as red-hot-handsome version of Eddie Chavez.
This had to be Hector Chavez, Eddie’s brother.