convey the weight and gravity of the situation. He must have seen that something was wrong, because he nodded at me.
“Right. Cool. Like a cucumber.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the bouncers. They were all reconvening now, heading back to Whitey. They seemed to have given up their search. None of them were looking at us.
“Okay, Sondra,” I whispered. “Quick as you can, sneak up into the Jeep. Stay out of sight and keep your head and shoulders down. Crawl between the seats and into the back. Don’t let them see you. Understand?”
“Sondra?” Darryl mouthed the word silently.
I glared at him and gave a slight shake of my head.
Sondra slipped the top half of her body out from under the Cherokee and slid into the vehicle, wedging herself between the driver’s seat and the gas pedal. Then she crawled in the rest of the way. She was barely dressed—skimpy blue silk shorts and a matching silk robe, more like a pair of pajamas than clothing. It was very obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra or panties. On her feet was a pair of baby blue high heels. Darryl stared at her, bewildered. Sondra wriggled over his lap and he turned to me. I shrugged. Sondra slid between the seats, and then hid in the backseat, hunkered down on the floor, keeping her head low. My heart beat faster. I glanced around again. The Russians hadn’t seen her.
Darryl was flustered. “The fuck is going on, Larry?”
“Quiet,” I said. “Not now, man. Let’s just get the hell out of here.”
I slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door behind me. Then I put the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine thrummed to life. I dropped the Cherokee into reverse and slowly backed out of the parking space, trying to drive normally, trying not to attract attention. We headed for the exit. Sondra hyperventilated. I checked the rearview mirror, making sure she was okay. Her robe had come unfastened and her breasts were sticking out. I tried to ignore them. Even though I stared at them dozens of times on stage, it seemed wrong somehow to gape at them now. I stared straight ahead.
“Hey, you!”
“Oh shit.” Darryl looked back over his shoulder. “You done pissed off the Russians, Larry.”
I glanced in the rearview mirror again. Otar was running after us, waving his hands and shouting something. His face was red and flustered.
“What do we do?” I yelled.
“Get the fuck out of here!” Darryl slapped the dashboard with his palm.
In the backseat, Sondra whimpered.
Otar got closer. I heard part of what he was saying. It sounded like ‘lights’. I slammed on the brakes.
“Go, stupid!”
“Relax. He’s not after us, Darryl.”
“Then why the hell is he chasing us? What’s he shouting?”
“The headlights,” I said. “I forgot to turn them on.”
As I grasped for the knob, Otar reached the side of the Cherokee. He was puffing hard. I could see it from where I sat. His cheeks looked like a blowfish. Before I could pull away, he glanced into the back. His eyebrows narrowed. He shouted something in Russian and grabbed the door handle.
“Fuck!”
I stomped the accelerator and we shot forward. Otar held on to the door handle for a moment, and then tumbled face first to the pavement. As we raced into the street, I saw him jumping to his feet, pointing at us and screaming. The rest of the Russians were running towards him. There was a flash of light, followed a second later by a loud explosion.
“Motherfuckers are shooting at us,” Darryl screamed. “Drive, bitch, drive!”
Sondra spoke up for the first time. “They will kill you if they catch you. Kill us all. Please go. Fast. Now.”
“Listen to the lady,” Darryl urged. “Get us the hell out of here!”
I did. The Cherokee’s tires squealed and the vehicle shuddered, as if the engine was going to leap right out of it. The RPM and speedometer needles wobbled back and forth. We sped down the road and took the on ramp for Interstate 81. There wasn’t much
“Right. Cool. Like a cucumber.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the bouncers. They were all reconvening now, heading back to Whitey. They seemed to have given up their search. None of them were looking at us.
“Okay, Sondra,” I whispered. “Quick as you can, sneak up into the Jeep. Stay out of sight and keep your head and shoulders down. Crawl between the seats and into the back. Don’t let them see you. Understand?”
“Sondra?” Darryl mouthed the word silently.
I glared at him and gave a slight shake of my head.
Sondra slipped the top half of her body out from under the Cherokee and slid into the vehicle, wedging herself between the driver’s seat and the gas pedal. Then she crawled in the rest of the way. She was barely dressed—skimpy blue silk shorts and a matching silk robe, more like a pair of pajamas than clothing. It was very obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra or panties. On her feet was a pair of baby blue high heels. Darryl stared at her, bewildered. Sondra wriggled over his lap and he turned to me. I shrugged. Sondra slid between the seats, and then hid in the backseat, hunkered down on the floor, keeping her head low. My heart beat faster. I glanced around again. The Russians hadn’t seen her.
Darryl was flustered. “The fuck is going on, Larry?”
“Quiet,” I said. “Not now, man. Let’s just get the hell out of here.”
I slid into the driver’s seat and shut the door behind me. Then I put the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine thrummed to life. I dropped the Cherokee into reverse and slowly backed out of the parking space, trying to drive normally, trying not to attract attention. We headed for the exit. Sondra hyperventilated. I checked the rearview mirror, making sure she was okay. Her robe had come unfastened and her breasts were sticking out. I tried to ignore them. Even though I stared at them dozens of times on stage, it seemed wrong somehow to gape at them now. I stared straight ahead.
“Hey, you!”
“Oh shit.” Darryl looked back over his shoulder. “You done pissed off the Russians, Larry.”
I glanced in the rearview mirror again. Otar was running after us, waving his hands and shouting something. His face was red and flustered.
“What do we do?” I yelled.
“Get the fuck out of here!” Darryl slapped the dashboard with his palm.
In the backseat, Sondra whimpered.
Otar got closer. I heard part of what he was saying. It sounded like ‘lights’. I slammed on the brakes.
“Go, stupid!”
“Relax. He’s not after us, Darryl.”
“Then why the hell is he chasing us? What’s he shouting?”
“The headlights,” I said. “I forgot to turn them on.”
As I grasped for the knob, Otar reached the side of the Cherokee. He was puffing hard. I could see it from where I sat. His cheeks looked like a blowfish. Before I could pull away, he glanced into the back. His eyebrows narrowed. He shouted something in Russian and grabbed the door handle.
“Fuck!”
I stomped the accelerator and we shot forward. Otar held on to the door handle for a moment, and then tumbled face first to the pavement. As we raced into the street, I saw him jumping to his feet, pointing at us and screaming. The rest of the Russians were running towards him. There was a flash of light, followed a second later by a loud explosion.
“Motherfuckers are shooting at us,” Darryl screamed. “Drive, bitch, drive!”
Sondra spoke up for the first time. “They will kill you if they catch you. Kill us all. Please go. Fast. Now.”
“Listen to the lady,” Darryl urged. “Get us the hell out of here!”
I did. The Cherokee’s tires squealed and the vehicle shuddered, as if the engine was going to leap right out of it. The RPM and speedometer needles wobbled back and forth. We sped down the road and took the on ramp for Interstate 81. There wasn’t much
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