Trouble is a Friend of Mine

‘Ew … is this where you emo types go for a good time?’ Sloane said to me.

Three goth girls who looked our age huddled around a payphone, smoking. One girl had dried blood caked on her cut upper lip. Some old guy rooted through the trash, collecting half-eaten food. Leather-and-chains bikers were partying around a cluster of bikes parked to one side. Even through the thunderous vroom-vrooming of their bikes, we could hear them cursing and shouting.

‘They aren’t speaking English,’ I said.

‘French-Canadian bikers riding the interstate to the border. Stay away from them. Those guys are serious,’ Digby said. ‘In fact, let’s pair up and stay close.’

‘Ooh … my bodyguard,’ Bill said. It was sickening watching her fawn all over Digby.

Digby pointed at the bikers and the goth girls. ‘Most of this crowd’s not local. They hop off the interstate and hop back on again without seeing the rest of town. Bikers, truckers, hitchers … people on the Greyhound.’

‘I bet those girls are hitching.’ Bill photographed them with her phone. One of the goths flipped us the finger when the flash went off. ‘They’re amazing.’

‘There’s my guy Pedro,’ Digby said.

‘That’s your guy?’ I said.

Pedro’s hood was pulled up over a baseball cap so I couldn’t see his face, but he had the height and build of a ten-year-old.

‘Jeez … isn’t his mom worried he’s out so late?’ I said.

‘What are you talking about? Pedro’s twenty-eight. He has a ten-year-old daughter,’ Digby said.

‘I think he’s even smaller than I am,’ Felix said.

We got out of the limo. Close up and in better light, I saw Pedro was definitely not a kid. He had a stringy mustache and a gold tooth. I couldn’t help staring.

‘Like what you see, Miss Beautiful?’ Pedro sucked air through his teeth and blew a wet kiss. ‘Hey, Digby, I like your friend.’

‘She’s with me tonight,’ Felix said.

‘This is weird,’ Sloane said.

‘Henry, why don’t you guys go ahead? Princeton and I will meet you inside,’ Digby said.

While they were walking away, Bill tripped and fell inches away from the goth girls. When the one with the cut lip walked toward her, Bill defensively curled up into a little ball.

‘Chill.’ The goth girl was holding Bill’s hat. ‘You dropped this.’

Bill made a ridiculous face that I was still trying to describe to myself, when Sloane said exactly what it was.

‘You’re looking at her like she pulled you from a burning car. It’s a hat. A fugly one. If she’d wanted to do you a real favor, she wouldn’t have given it back.’ Sloane stepped over Bill, still lying on the ground, and said, ‘You’re an idiot.’

‘Pedro, you saw my guy? What time?’ Digby said.

Pedro held out his hand. Digby patted his pockets, then turned to me. I was familiar with this move. I took a twenty from my clutch and gave it to him.

Digby slapped the bill into Pedro’s palm. ‘When?’

‘An hour ago,’ Pedro said.

‘Was he alone?’ Digby said.

‘He was with some guy, but not one of the ones on your list,’ Pedro said.

‘What list?’ I said.

‘My persons of interest list that my guys look out for,’ Digby said. ‘I can’t be everywhere all the time.’

‘Persons of interest? Who else is on it?’ I said.

Pedro looked at me. ‘Starbucks, yesterday at four thirty, bookstore, then the number six bus at five forty-five,’ he said.

‘I’m on your list?’ I said. ‘You have people follow me around town?’

‘Just watching out for you, Princeton. You don’t always look both ways when you cross,’ Digby said. ‘So, Pedro, did you see where he went after he left here?’

‘Sure …’ Pedro stuck his hand out again. ‘But that was overtime.’

Digby turned back to me. I fished out the second, and last, twenty from my purse.

‘Tropical Hut. Room twenty-three,’ Pedro said. ‘Want me to take you?’

‘No, man, I know the place.’ To me, Digby said, ‘Sloane’s driver took Marina to that motel.’

Digby and Pedro pounded out good-byes.

‘Tropical Hut? You think Ezekiel and Marina are together?’ I said.

Digby showed me the photo Pedro texted him of Ezekiel walking out of the 7-Eleven. Digby zoomed in on a package Ezekiel was holding. ‘Same motel and a huge bag of CornNuts? Maybe that’s a coincidence, but it’s worth a look.’

Digby and I walked into the 7-Eleven, where his order that everyone stay together had clearly never taken. Sloane was checking her lipstick in the sunglasses rack’s mirror. Henry was pouring a giant Slurpee. Felix was reading an Archie comic. Bill was spying on the three goth girls through the store window.

Digby and I walked to the counter.

‘Wait. You hear that?’ he said.

I froze. Nothing. Just 7-Eleven sounds.

‘No,’ I said.

‘Hm … it’s gone,’ Digby said.

We started walking. After a few steps, Digby froze again. ‘There it is again.’

‘I don’t hear it,’ I said.