almost okay

SEVERAL DEATHS IN
THE FAMILY
Chapter Ten: 'Crazy' Doesn't Begin To Cover It

As I was pulling away from Crystal's place around five-thirty A.M. the rear window on the gold Chevy HHR I'd been driving since San Francisco exploded into a million chips of tempered glass. I hadn't heard the shot. I could see in the rearview through the broken window, though, that Crystal was standing naked in the middle of the street aiming a pistol at me. The pistol recoiled with a flash and I heard a mild pop that echoed between the buildings. After another second or two of aiming, Crystal heaved the gun down the street with all her might, screaming at me and stomping her feet, growing smaller and smaller as I put some distance between us.

I turned the corner, squashed the gas pedal and never saw Crystal again.

I didn't realize until later that the pistol she was firing was the .32 I'd stashed in my bag for my overnight stay at her place. The one I'd bought from James. The one that, luckily for me, only had three bullets left in it. The crazy bitch must have gone through my things while I was sleeping and found the gun, which made me feel less guilty for swiping that envelope of cash I'd found in her nightstand as I was leaving.

Crystal hadn't wanted me to go. “You said you were falling in love with me!” she screeched as I sat on the edge of her bed and tied my shoes.

“I believe what I said was: 'I can see myself falling in love with you'. It's not the same thing. Besides,” I told her, “guys say all kinds of shit to get laid. You know that.”

“I hate you!” she screamed as I hoisted my tool bag and walked out of the bedroom. “I hate you! I hate you! I HATE you!” I just kept walking.

By the time I'd made it to the front room I could hear Crystal's bare feet slapping on the hardwood floor as she lumbered down the hallway. The next time I saw her she was standing naked under the glow of the street light pointing my own pistol at me, her soft rolls of belly flab draped around her, her thick thighs squashed together and the flesh on the backs of her arms sagging and jiggling as she pulled the trigger again and again while I sped away.

By the time I hit I-70 headed west, the sun was just starting to crack the horizon behind me, the sky a watercolor of pink and gray washes, the clouds feathering up into the still-black night, a full moon - cold, white and plump sitting low in a dazzling sea of stars. I thumbed the satellite radio on, found the jazz channel and turned up the volume. It was Bird and Miles from one of their very first sessions together. 'Embraceable You'. I hummed along to the melody, then just smiled and dug it when Bird launched into his solo. I gave it a little more volume against the wind and highway sounds roaring through the broken window, checked the morning sky one last time, then never looked back.

The sun was full up and I was still digging the satellite bebop when I took the ramp onto I-35 South towards Texas.

* * * * * * * * * * *

“I swear to you Sherman, I didn't know anything about that.” I was sitting on the bed in my room talking to the boss. After checking into a Motel 6 just outside of Dallas, I'd finally decided to give him a call. It was a little after six local time, an hour later in Detroit.

“Then why were you so surprised to hear my voice that first time after Pittsburgh? Tell me you didn't think I was dead.”

“You're right, Sherman. I did think you were dead.” He sounded sincere. “I always check the local papers on-line when my people are on the road. And that dead Mexican you left in your hotel room made a minor splash in the news there. I figured they'd be all over your ass before you could get out of town.”

“So you were worried about me?”

“Hell yeah! What did you think?” I was starting to believe him.

“I thought you were in on it, Boss,” I told him flatly. “That's what I thought.” Earlier I had related the entire scheme to the boss just as Ricardo had laid it out to me two days before in that filthy warehouse in K.C. where I sent him to hell. “I figured you had to be. How else would they know where I was? But then I started putting two and two together on my drive down here...”

“Where are you now?”

“It's probably best if you don't know. Anyway, I figured since you never shut off my money supply and did try to call a couple of times, you just might still be on my side.”

“I am, Sherman,” he pleaded. “You've got to believe me. I'm relieved to hear your voice. I really and truly thought that you were probably long gone dead.”

There was a knock at the door. It was the mobile glass repair guy. “Hang on a sec, Boss,” I said. I put the phone face down on the bed and went to the door. The guy was wearing a red tee-shirt and matching baseball cap with the company logo on it. 'Andy' was embroidered over his heart in white stitching. “That was fast,” I told him. Andy smelled of stale cigarette smoke. He smiled and handed me a ball point pen and a metal clipboard with a receipt for me to sign. I scribbled something at the bottom. “Two-seventy-five seems kind of high to me, though,” I said.

“You were lucky I had it in stock,” Andy told me. “If I hadn't, it would have been tomorrow before I could get it and it's looking like it's gonna rain.”

I glanced at the sky, saw some heavy dark clouds gathering to the north, peeled the cash out of Crystal's envelope. “Thanks,” I told him. “I appreciate the speedy service.” Lightning flashed across the horizon in the distance. I closed the door.

“You still there, Boss?”

“Listen, Sherman, just bring your ass back home, you hear?”

“Was it true that they paid up front like you said?” I asked him.

“It's here waiting for you. That's a fact.”

“And what's to keep Gonzalez from reaching out and touching me when I get back home? He must have people in Detroit.”

“Sherman, you and I...” Boss seemed to struggle for the words. “You and I, we don't work for a bunch of chumps you know. The people at the top are some pretty heavy hitters. They're connected, and they don't take shit from anybody, understand? Gonzalez doesn't have the juice to run with them. He knows it. Why do you think he cooked up this crazy plan?”

“Because he's crazy?”

“Ha ha, you kill me Sherman! Just get your ass back here. I can personally guarantee you that you won't have to worry about Gonzalez anymore.”

“I've got a couple more errands to run,” I told him. “I'll call you when I'm back in town. What's the weather like up there?” I could hear fat raindrops striking the window of the room, thunder rolling low in the distance.

“It's nice,” he said. “Sunny and in the upper seventies.”

“That's good, because where I am it looks like it's about to storm.”