Doofus really was a good boy. He was still sitting in the back seat where we’d left him. He had his head down playing Candy Crush. I knocked on the window next to him and ducked out of sight. I crab walked around to the other side of the car and knocked on that window. I could hear him moving around. I could do this all day, but Miu Miu was sure to get help soon, so I knocked on the back window for grins then the driver’s side back window. Doofus opened the door and stuck his left leg out. I stepped up and stomped his foot with as much force as I could muster.
"Ouch. That hurt," he said. While he was looking down, I grabbed for his gun. It was holstered and hanging on his side. As I flipped his jacket aside, he slapped at my hand, but I was fast and had removed the gun before he could stop me.
"Hey, give me that back."
"I don't think so. I've got a better idea. You lay face down on the concrete, and while you're at it, shut your mouth."
"It's hot and someone spilt their drink. I don't want to get it on my suit."
"Stop whining."
He laid down when I rammed the gun between his back ribs.
“Where’s Katalina?” he asked. He was out of breath from the little bit of activity I'd forced on him. I didn't feel sorry for him at all.
“She got held up. She’ll be out to get you before you can say, “Damn that woman made me take my pants off.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Sure, I would. Now do it.”
“No.”
I kicked his butt.
“Don’t make me shoot you.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“You sound like a broken record. Now take off your pants like a good boy and hand them over.”
“I can’t while I’m face down.”
“Roll over. If you’re really good, I’ll give you a doggy biscuit.” I checked the parking lot for activity, but everyone was inside. Doofus rolled over and tried to give me the evil eye, but it really just looked like a snarling dog to me.
“Ruff, ruff,” I said. “Speed it up. I can’t wait to see if you’re a boxer or brief man.” That brought a snarl. I shook the gun at him until he sat up, took his shoes off, and started unzipping. It was unpleasant to watch him wiggle out of his pants. And thank god he was a boxer guy. Hanes classics in a red, green and blue Scottish plaid. His socks matched. Honestly, some things you can never unsee. This was one of those things. Lord, what I do in the chase for my freedom.
“I’m going to catch you. And when I do, I’m going to make you pay for this,” he said in a menacing tone.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, big boy.” He squirmed out of his pants and held them up for me. I took them, making sure his ID, wallet, and keys were in the pockets. Didn’t want him to have an easy time explaining his state of undress to the folks in Chipotle. Just as I got in behind the steering wheel, I had a thought, so I got back out.
“How’d you track me after I removed the tracking device earlier?”
He stared at me with hate in his eyes but said nothing.
“I will shoot you,” I said. “How?”
“We always install two. One that’s easy to find, another one that’s harder to locate.”
“So where’s the second one?”
He crossed his arms.
“Don’t piss me off.”
“Shoot me, damn it. But stop talking shit.”
I’d had it with this bozo. I stomped on his shin. I would have shot a toe to piss Miu Miu off, but I had no silencer and didn’t need the attention. People were starting to come out of the restaurant.
“Face down. Now.”
For once he complied.
“Hands behind your back.” I wished I had that roll of duct tape, but you gotta go with the tools at hand. I looped his belt around his ankles, jerked his feet up and looped the rest of the belt around his wrists. It wouldn’t hold, but all I needed was enough time to drive away. I hopped in, backed out and saw Miu Miu exiting Chipotle’s at a run. I hit the button to roll the window down so she could see me blow her a kiss as I drove away. I didn’t know where the second tracker was hidden, but I’d find it. I just hoped I found it before Cat Woman called in reinforcements. I was getting tired of this game. I needed a place to rest. My apartment was out, Jimar’s was too. It was times like this that I wished I had a least one girlfriend.
That’s when I remembered Mrs. Massingill. The woman whose apartment was beside mine. She was a sweet old lady that made the best peach cobbler I’d ever tasted. She could never eat a whole cobbler, so had taken to sharing with me. She rarely left her house to do anything more than a run to the grocery store or a doctor’s appointment. Good thing was, she was stone deaf. The way we’d met was when I saw her taking her garbage bag out to the dumpster and stopped to ask her to turn her television down after midnight. She falls asleep with the thing blaring in the same room, oblivious to the noise. I’d never complained to a neighbor before, but there was just so much Gunsmoke I could take. She took me under her wing after that, because she said I had asked so nicely. Go figure. Anyway, she had gone to visit her sister in Arizona for two months. I knew her place was empty, and her closet backed up to mine – the one with my jewelry and weapons. All I needed was a saws-all.
But first I had to ditch the Escalade. I drove it to the Galleria and parked in the covered parking lot. While there, I ran inside and bought a java chip Frappuchino from Starbucks to take the edge off my nerves. Sipping my drink, I strolled through the parking lot on the opposite side of the huge shopping mall with my eye out for my next ride. Something shiny and fast. A twenty-something guy with a man bun on top of his head exited a bright red Mercedes GLE SUV. As the sliding glass doors to the mall slid shut behind him, I slid into the driver’s seat of his car. He was too young to afford the car. My best guess was that his daddy bought it for him when he started law school. He wouldn’t be out a thing, and his old man might think twice about offloading so much money on such an irresponsible child next time. Hot wiring is not my favorite thing to do, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do. I started the engine and found the reggae station; jammed all the way to Home Depot. As soon as I had the tools I needed, I was on my way back to the Heights and Mrs. Massingill’s apartment. She was a sweet heart, so I planned to leave a hidden entrance to her apartment from mine that I could use again, you know, in case she had an emergency heart attack or something.
Two hours later, I had my Glock, ammo cartridges, a bag of weed and rolling papers, some cash, three wigs, two changes of clothes and four pairs of shoes in Mrs. M’s apartment. I’d found two listening devices in my apartment that I’d left in place. When I was ready to move on, I planned to move them to Mrs. Massingill’s bedroom. When she got back, the creeps who’d been listening in on me would have their ears full of Marshall Dillon and Chester. Served ‘em right. I drove away singing, “Don’t Worry about a Thing,” with Marley.
The Escalade was still in the parking space in the Galleria. I imagined Miu Miu and Doofus hoofing it and smiled.
I texted Tashid:
Black Escalade, Galleria, Yellow Level, 2nd entrance, license plate JDR 4321.
He sent back:
Y U bein nice?
I sent: Feeling generous.
He said:
On it.
I smiled and drove back to Mrs. Massingill’s apartment. Parked four blocks away. Didn’t want anyone watching my place to notice the hot new car I was driving. I’d been running too much. It was time for a nap. She had a very comfy couch.