loud noise from right behind the back wall, the distinctive almost-train-like sound of the horn of a big rig.
“I’m too damn scared of ’em to cross ’em. Plus, I’m on trial for beating up a cop. You think the police are gonna believe my black ass if I take this story to them? No. No way. And at the end of the day, I can’t let anything happen to my wife and girls.” Alan shuddered, then opened his eyes. “That’s probably a delivery outside. I gotta go see.”
Jack nodded but said, “If it’s them, don’t let them know we’re onto you guys.”
Alan snorted. “No way in hell.” He reached up with both hands and rubbed his cheeks, hard. “I can’t take a chance you’ll be seen, but you can listen from the hallway if you want.”
Jack nodded and motioned to the doorway at me with his head. We went inside, one of us on either side of the door.
“We should get his license plate number,” I whispered.
Jack shook his head no.
“I could walk out the front door and around the back.”
“In an alley in a bad part of town. No one has a good reason to be back there, certainly no former Miss Rodeo Texas.”
I growled.
First runner-up.
“You’re letting this go? Chances like this are about as rare as . . . as . . . as . . . as wings on a cat.” As soon as I said it, my cheeks heated. Whatever I’d meant to say, that wasn’t it. Well, surely Jack would get the point.
His left eyebrow shot sky-high.
I lifted my chin to match it. “In my experience, anyway.”
He grinned and put a finger over his mouth. “Shhhh.”
The horn honked again. I heard a roll-up door ascending, and then Alan’s voice. “You’re early.”
“So sue me.”
“I have customers. If I’m not expecting you, I haven’t cleared my schedule. Chill, man. You’re drawing attention back here blasting your horn.”
“Fuck you.”
“Where’s Chuck?”
“How the hell should I know? Are you going to help me unload or not?”
Alan didn’t answer, but moments later we heard the two men grunt and something heavy land with a thump. A squeaking that sounded like wheels turning came closer, then more grunting, louder, and another thump. More squeaking. Clanking. A resounding clang followed by lesser similar noises.
“I won’t be here next week. Christmas.”
Alan answered, “Good.”
“Yeah? Well, fuck you, too.”
The rolling door descended noisily and a scraping sound and click followed. The thud of rubberized footsteps approached.
Alan came around the corner. “He’s gone.”
Jack nodded. “That’s a pickle you’ve got yourself in.”
“Man, you have no idea.”
“You gonna let this continue?”
My eyes swung to Alan. He said, “I don’t know what else to do. My family . . .”
“We could offer this information in return for the DA dropping the assault and resistance charges.”
Alan backed up, his foot hitting the wall behind him. “No way, man. No damn way. I’d rather do time than mess with these people.”
Jack held his hand in the air. “Okay. I don’t want to see you end up in worse trouble later.”
Using my least nosey and most winning voice, I asked, “You don’t happen to have that driver’s name or license plate number, do you?”
Jack took a giant step over to me and stepped on my foot.
“Ow,” I said.
Alan shook his head. “What? No.” He walked quickly into the storage room again and came out with the cigar box. “Take these, and your saddle. Please. I’m sorry as hell about ’em. And if you can send me a list of what else you have missing, I can see whether it ended up here.”
“Thank you.” Jack took the box. “Oh, before all of this, we had come by to tell you that your trial is continued until mid-January.”
Alan’s shoulders slumped farther. “I don’t know which is worse. The trial sooner, or worrying about it longer and having it later.”
Jack smiled, but it didn’t reach his dimple, or his eyes. “I’ll send you that list.” He
“I’m too damn scared of ’em to cross ’em. Plus, I’m on trial for beating up a cop. You think the police are gonna believe my black ass if I take this story to them? No. No way. And at the end of the day, I can’t let anything happen to my wife and girls.” Alan shuddered, then opened his eyes. “That’s probably a delivery outside. I gotta go see.”
Jack nodded but said, “If it’s them, don’t let them know we’re onto you guys.”
Alan snorted. “No way in hell.” He reached up with both hands and rubbed his cheeks, hard. “I can’t take a chance you’ll be seen, but you can listen from the hallway if you want.”
Jack nodded and motioned to the doorway at me with his head. We went inside, one of us on either side of the door.
“We should get his license plate number,” I whispered.
Jack shook his head no.
“I could walk out the front door and around the back.”
“In an alley in a bad part of town. No one has a good reason to be back there, certainly no former Miss Rodeo Texas.”
I growled.
First runner-up.
“You’re letting this go? Chances like this are about as rare as . . . as . . . as . . . as wings on a cat.” As soon as I said it, my cheeks heated. Whatever I’d meant to say, that wasn’t it. Well, surely Jack would get the point.
His left eyebrow shot sky-high.
I lifted my chin to match it. “In my experience, anyway.”
He grinned and put a finger over his mouth. “Shhhh.”
The horn honked again. I heard a roll-up door ascending, and then Alan’s voice. “You’re early.”
“So sue me.”
“I have customers. If I’m not expecting you, I haven’t cleared my schedule. Chill, man. You’re drawing attention back here blasting your horn.”
“Fuck you.”
“Where’s Chuck?”
“How the hell should I know? Are you going to help me unload or not?”
Alan didn’t answer, but moments later we heard the two men grunt and something heavy land with a thump. A squeaking that sounded like wheels turning came closer, then more grunting, louder, and another thump. More squeaking. Clanking. A resounding clang followed by lesser similar noises.
“I won’t be here next week. Christmas.”
Alan answered, “Good.”
“Yeah? Well, fuck you, too.”
The rolling door descended noisily and a scraping sound and click followed. The thud of rubberized footsteps approached.
Alan came around the corner. “He’s gone.”
Jack nodded. “That’s a pickle you’ve got yourself in.”
“Man, you have no idea.”
“You gonna let this continue?”
My eyes swung to Alan. He said, “I don’t know what else to do. My family . . .”
“We could offer this information in return for the DA dropping the assault and resistance charges.”
Alan backed up, his foot hitting the wall behind him. “No way, man. No damn way. I’d rather do time than mess with these people.”
Jack held his hand in the air. “Okay. I don’t want to see you end up in worse trouble later.”
Using my least nosey and most winning voice, I asked, “You don’t happen to have that driver’s name or license plate number, do you?”
Jack took a giant step over to me and stepped on my foot.
“Ow,” I said.
Alan shook his head. “What? No.” He walked quickly into the storage room again and came out with the cigar box. “Take these, and your saddle. Please. I’m sorry as hell about ’em. And if you can send me a list of what else you have missing, I can see whether it ended up here.”
“Thank you.” Jack took the box. “Oh, before all of this, we had come by to tell you that your trial is continued until mid-January.”
Alan’s shoulders slumped farther. “I don’t know which is worse. The trial sooner, or worrying about it longer and having it later.”
Jack smiled, but it didn’t reach his dimple, or his eyes. “I’ll send you that list.” He
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