collection. With luck I would snap a few bubbles of airborne saliva. When the chancellor finished his tirade, the meeting adjourned. I started the Civic and headed back to the expressway with a chancellor, two license plates, an address, and two new faces—all part of some kind of equation. Time to call in a favor.
14
Punim sat on my lap and stared at me. As I dialed the phone, she blinked.
“I love you, too,” I said, and as if on cue, she dug her rear claws into my thigh and leaped off. Our love was complicated.
A female voice answered, “Johnny Bonds.”
“Jules for Johnny,” I said.
On hold for two seconds, then, “Don’t tell me, Jules needs bail?”
My pal Johnny Duggan found me after taking a pile of business cards from a restaurant’s fishbowl, thus depriving someone of a free lunch. A classy guy.
“I need a favor, my friend.”
“Whaddya got?”
Johnny credited me with saving his marriage because I proved his wife was not cheating but really meeting her girlfriends at a diner, and that Sean could also be a woman’s name. His wife worked for police communications and ran background checks on the side.
“Two plates and an address.” I gave him the information and then decided Tate deserved more attention. “Just for fun. LJI1158. See if he’s got parking tickets. I need locations, days of the week, times of day.”
“Give Sheila an hour,” Johnny said.
Before hanging up, I gave Johnny my cell phone number. It was time, I thought. After all, guys like Johnny were the true heroes. Without guys like him, guys like me wouldn’t stand a chance. I prepared a sandwich of textured vegetable protein, wheat gluten, lettuce, tomato, red peppers, and Dijon mustard. Punim got a chicken heart and a kidney from an anonymous donor. I ate while relaxing in the recliner and letting the events of the previous days drift around my consciousness. If they could see me now .
15
A young woman sat in The Kitschen chair while Audrey worked on her shoulder. Audrey’s black dress stopped at mid-thigh. I wondered how many short black dresses she owned. Lightning Bolt was there again on the waiting bench, this time paging through Guns & Ammo . “Getting the owl touched up?” I said.
He turned to me but said nothing. I’d never seen eyes so bloodshot. Then he said, “You takin’ a fuckin’ survey or somethin’?” I didn’t know what shocked me more, his rotting teeth or putrid breath.
“Be nice, Jason,” Audrey said. Jason threw the magazine down and stormed out.
I walked to the edge of the work space. “I don’t think he likes me.”
“He gets jealous when men come in,” Audrey said without looking at me. “He’s a great character.”
“Your character is a meth-head.”
“As long as he’s a paying meth-head,” Audrey mumbled. “I think this man has a crush on me,” she said to the girl in the chair.
“I’m not sure I was supposed to hear that,” I said. “I don’t think you’re my type, but how about having dinner with me anyway? Tomorrow night?”
Audrey looked up at me. “Ooh! What happened to your eye?”
“I fell.”
Audrey gave me her as if face then said, “It’ll be a late dinner. I’m here until ten.”
“The later the better,” I said. I had no idea what I meant.
“What do you do?” the girl in the chair said. She was short, cute, with long black hair like Audrey’s, and big blue eyes. She wore a denim skirt with a white spaghetti strap T-shirt. Her eyebrows were bright red and stuck out like neon signs. Her voice matched her appearance—that is, small and trusting.
“He’s a private investigator,” Audrey said and introduced her friend, “L.A.”
“What does L.A. stand for?”
“It stands for L.A.,” L.A. said. “You don’t look like a private investigator.”
“And you don’t look old enough to be getting a tattoo. And you should tell your tattoo artist to keep a gun handy with clients like Jason.”
Audrey stood and swiveled L.A.’s
14
Punim sat on my lap and stared at me. As I dialed the phone, she blinked.
“I love you, too,” I said, and as if on cue, she dug her rear claws into my thigh and leaped off. Our love was complicated.
A female voice answered, “Johnny Bonds.”
“Jules for Johnny,” I said.
On hold for two seconds, then, “Don’t tell me, Jules needs bail?”
My pal Johnny Duggan found me after taking a pile of business cards from a restaurant’s fishbowl, thus depriving someone of a free lunch. A classy guy.
“I need a favor, my friend.”
“Whaddya got?”
Johnny credited me with saving his marriage because I proved his wife was not cheating but really meeting her girlfriends at a diner, and that Sean could also be a woman’s name. His wife worked for police communications and ran background checks on the side.
“Two plates and an address.” I gave him the information and then decided Tate deserved more attention. “Just for fun. LJI1158. See if he’s got parking tickets. I need locations, days of the week, times of day.”
“Give Sheila an hour,” Johnny said.
Before hanging up, I gave Johnny my cell phone number. It was time, I thought. After all, guys like Johnny were the true heroes. Without guys like him, guys like me wouldn’t stand a chance. I prepared a sandwich of textured vegetable protein, wheat gluten, lettuce, tomato, red peppers, and Dijon mustard. Punim got a chicken heart and a kidney from an anonymous donor. I ate while relaxing in the recliner and letting the events of the previous days drift around my consciousness. If they could see me now .
15
A young woman sat in The Kitschen chair while Audrey worked on her shoulder. Audrey’s black dress stopped at mid-thigh. I wondered how many short black dresses she owned. Lightning Bolt was there again on the waiting bench, this time paging through Guns & Ammo . “Getting the owl touched up?” I said.
He turned to me but said nothing. I’d never seen eyes so bloodshot. Then he said, “You takin’ a fuckin’ survey or somethin’?” I didn’t know what shocked me more, his rotting teeth or putrid breath.
“Be nice, Jason,” Audrey said. Jason threw the magazine down and stormed out.
I walked to the edge of the work space. “I don’t think he likes me.”
“He gets jealous when men come in,” Audrey said without looking at me. “He’s a great character.”
“Your character is a meth-head.”
“As long as he’s a paying meth-head,” Audrey mumbled. “I think this man has a crush on me,” she said to the girl in the chair.
“I’m not sure I was supposed to hear that,” I said. “I don’t think you’re my type, but how about having dinner with me anyway? Tomorrow night?”
Audrey looked up at me. “Ooh! What happened to your eye?”
“I fell.”
Audrey gave me her as if face then said, “It’ll be a late dinner. I’m here until ten.”
“The later the better,” I said. I had no idea what I meant.
“What do you do?” the girl in the chair said. She was short, cute, with long black hair like Audrey’s, and big blue eyes. She wore a denim skirt with a white spaghetti strap T-shirt. Her eyebrows were bright red and stuck out like neon signs. Her voice matched her appearance—that is, small and trusting.
“He’s a private investigator,” Audrey said and introduced her friend, “L.A.”
“What does L.A. stand for?”
“It stands for L.A.,” L.A. said. “You don’t look like a private investigator.”
“And you don’t look old enough to be getting a tattoo. And you should tell your tattoo artist to keep a gun handy with clients like Jason.”
Audrey stood and swiveled L.A.’s
Similar Books
