Trouble is a Friend of Mine

‘He was weird, asking me for a taxi,’ Sloane said.

‘He was asking if you knew Taxi Driver. The movie,’ I said. Sloane’s face was blank. ‘Jodi Foster? Teen prostitute? Because you look kinda … you know. Never mind. Just stay close.’

‘Whatever,’ Sloane said.

‘Where is everybody?’ Digby said.

Felix was still reading Archie. He muttered, ‘I don’t understand why I don’t have this one.’ Henry was beside him, sucking on his Slurpee and reading a Sports Illustrated.

‘Where’s Bill?’ Digby said.

She wasn’t in the aisles, outside the store, or in the parking lot.

‘Where’d she go?’ Digby looked at the security monitors under the register. ‘Oh, man. Trouble.’

Digby hunted around under the counter. I went to look. There, on the monitor showing the back alley, I saw Bill cowering from a big, bearded man looming over her.

‘Digby, she’s getting attacked,’ I said.

‘I’m aware of that.’ Digby kept searching under the counter. ‘It’s got to be here somewhere.’

‘What the hell are you looking for?’ I said.

On the monitor, the guy grabbed Bill and shook her.

‘A-ha!’ Digby came up with a baseball bat.

‘Whoa … you’re not even holding that right. Gimme,’ Henry said. ‘Sloane, stay with Felix.’

‘Great, now I’m the nanny?’ Sloane said.

We ran to the alley. From behind a Dumpster, we watched Bill’s situation get worse. Bill whimpered. The guy said, ‘You scream and I’ll break your neck.’

‘Digby, what are we waiting for?’ Henry made practice swings with the bat.

Digby pulled Henry back and pointed at the attacker’s waistband. ‘He’s got a knife. Clothes are brand-new. Look at his jeans, his jacket. The creases – they’re straight off the shelf. The tattoo on his neck. Clock, no hands. That’s a prison tatt for doing time,’ Digby said. ‘He’s probably riding Greyhound on his prison-issued ticket. I’ll bet he just got out.’

‘Then now what?’ Henry said.

‘We got to get him off her without a fight. I don’t feel like getting shivved. If this doesn’t go well, go pull the fire alarm.’

Digby took off his jacket and handed it to me. Then he took a running start. By the time he got to Bill and her attacker, he’d built up some speed and was panting convincingly.

‘Hey, man, did they come this way?’ Digby said.

The ex-con touched the knife in his waistband and covered Bill’s mouth. ‘Who?’

‘Two cops chasing me. They come this way?’ Digby said.

The ex-con shook his head.

‘Then look out, man. If they come this way, tell them you ain’t seen me, okay?’ Then Digby jumped onto a trash can and hopped the fence.

Alone with Bill again, the ex-con said, ‘If you tell anyone, I’ll find you when I get back out.’ Then he grudgingly shoved her and ran in the other direction.

Henry and I ran to Bill as soon as he left.

‘Let’s get you in the car,’ Henry said.

Bill was crying hard, but from what I understood, she’d been talking to the goth girls after we’d erased her photos. One of them suggested they go out back and smoke something more interesting than cigarettes. When they got there, the ex-con offered the goths twenty bucks to leave Bill. The idea of being sold for twenty bucks was so awful that I hugged Bill and let her cry all over me.

Sloane and Felix joined us in the limo.

‘What’s the matter with her?’ Sloane said. ‘And where’s Digby?’

‘He’s coming,’ Henry said.

‘Well, I don’t want to wait anymore. Obviously, it’s dangerous,’ Sloane said. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

‘Technically, this is Felix’s limousine,’ I said. ‘Felix, do you want to leave Digby here?’

Felix shook his head. ‘No. That would be a crappy thing to do.’

‘You could take the bus back if you want, Sloane,’ I said.

The door opened and Digby slid in, breathing hard from his run.

‘We were about to leave you,’ Sloane said.

‘Henry, you should take them back to the dance,’ Digby said.

‘Finally,’ Sloane said.

‘Wait. What are you doing?’ I said.

‘I’ll find my way back.’ Digby put his jacket on.

‘On your own? No,’ I said. ‘I’m staying.’

‘Me too,’ Felix said.

‘That’s ridiculous. We’re not leaving anyone,’ Henry said. ‘Digby, what’s going on?’

‘I need to go around the corner,’ Digby said. ‘A motel called the Tropical Hut.’

‘That hole? Ew … why?’ Sloane said.

‘You know the place?’ Digby said.

‘Dad’s campaign manager makes disgusting jokes about dead prostitutes in that place,’ Sloane said. ‘Why there? Can’t you two hook up behind the cafeteria like normal people?’

‘Is this about …?’ Henry said.

Digby nodded. Henry put the car in drive.