Over the radio a pleasant and soft speaking man, probably
with a mustache, said:
"That was Al Jarreau's, I Will Be Here For You, following
up from After All, and Teach Me Tonight, concluding
this part of our smooth-grooved block-party weekend.
We'll follow him up with some Harold Melvin and
the Bluenotes, with Teddy Pendergrass on vocals. I'm Mark Redd and you're
listening KXZP, this is Wake Up Everybody"
Mose reached over to
turn down the speakers. I glanced over at him making a face, don't even
try it. My face must have been a little more than I wanted to be,
since his eyes tightened at me. I shrugged at looked back at the house across
the street. It was still warm outside. That's no problem either way. I
was told that it might rain tonight, even a light sprinkle.
Good. Extra cover is
always welcomed.
But this was a
doubled-edged sword, because while we'd be covered so would everyone
else.
I tried not to think
much. Beyond what I should have been doing, I found my mind wandering. A solution
to this was on the floor, behind front-passenger's seat. There were still a few
beers left, and two energy-drinks -- those were Mose's. The music wasn't loud
enough to muffle the sound of the stay-tab from my second or third can of beer.
"Rick, do you think
that's a good idea?"
"Where you come off
telling me how to do this kind of stuff?" After putting down a third of
the beer in one hard sip.
"Why don't you have
one yourself? To take the edge off." I continued wiping off excess beer
that I had missed, stopping it from running down to my chin.
Mose shrugged and
reached behind him for one of the beers. He opened it and took a sip that
wouldn't even quench a small bird's thirst. He rested the beer in his lap and
gazed back the house, as if he was thinking of something else other than the
assignment. His open right hand resting on the left which held his beer looked
tense. Watching him was less dramatic and more depressing. He didn't even
realize I was staring at him. He's probably moon-bound at this rate.
His face went from one of concentration to a somber reflection of yesterday.
It's probably the music. I mused.
"Do you think he's in there?" Mose asked as if he was
talking to himself.
"I don't know."
Then I took another sip. For Christ's-sake we're going to need more beer.
I couldn't focus too much on the assignment either. The music was killing me in
its own way, and I didn't like to do back-to-back high risk assignments on
short notice.
"Let's get out of
here," I said turning on the car lights first then the engine. "We've
got better things to do." I signaled, looked in the mirror, and behind my shoulder
wondering in case I missed something, and pulled onto the road. Where are we
going to go from here? I had a few places in mind, but everything seemed equally
boring.
"Rick what's going
on?" Mose apparently woke up from his semi-trance.
"We're going to get
something to eat and talk. And enough of this music." I
quickly switched over to a pre-set pop station to lighten the mood, where
surprisingly Al Jarreau was playing. "Goddamn 3 time Grammy winner, in
three separate categories."
"There's just no
escape!" Mose blurted as he theatrically raised his arms beer in hand.
"There's always an
escape." I said, as I signaled towards the freeway on ramp. Out of the
corner of my right eye I saw Mose's playful face from a few seconds ago turn
grim. He looked away from he out the window.
There's always an
escape.
Traffic was light and
what normally would take thirty minutes on the highway, took us twenty minutes.
Mose had finished his beer by then, and I was working on an extra. I parked the
rig along the curb, across the street from the only known and working pay-phone
in the city.
My car blended in the
way it should: a white Subaru 2005 Impreza. The only difference was that this
car wasn't in my name or on the insurance. It made things a lot easier for what
I did for a living. No, I didn't steal the car, but an ex-girlfriend here and
there sure did help with borrowed transportation. Clean transportation.
I learned right away
when I was still carrying a badge that using other people's car could change
things up dramatically, so would a wardrobe, and not shaving for a few days.
But the thing that I missed was camaraderie. It helped to learn and use as much as I could out here because what I did was significantly more dangerous, because out here I had to be extra careful. No cavalry is going to come and save me. Hell, if I make a mistake, they might be running me down. The clients I get don't ask me to do anything illegal, save for the Nest, but producing the results they want may require some questionable tactics. Out here with no badge, no blues,
though I still kept the suit, I'm alone. Save for Mose, I'm alone. No that's
not true, I've got others like Pe—
"What are we doing
here?" I could see Mose was getting irritable wondering why we were
stopped but doing nothing
"I'm going to make
a phone call, I've got someone to talk to. AND DON'T DRINK ALL THE BEER."
"I didn't know we had any
left." He said smiling at me.
Under the seat was a bottle of single malt. I unscrewed it a took a swig. I almost coughed a little. My nerves were slowly getting off the edge. Did I lock the car-door? Yep, I said under my breath and took another swig. I turned on the radio, "Deacon Blues" was playing. I started to lean back taking the third or fifth swig.
