Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Henri
Oscar seems relieved. “Yeah. So we get some cash, then talk to her.”
“What if we get caught?”
“We’re not gonna get caught. And besides, most everyone’ll be drunk. It’s easy pickings.”
There are a bunch of men and a few women outside, smoking and talking loudly. Oscar’s right. They’re all very drunk.
I follow Oscar as he walks up to them. “Bum a smoke?” he says casually.
Without blinking, one of the guys hands him two. “One fer her,” he slurs as he winks at me.
I wrinkle my nose as I pluck the cigarette out of Oscar’s hand. “I need a light,” I say and about six lighters flick towards me.
I grin. This is starting to get fun. “Now which one do I want?”
While I’m distracting them, Oscar’s moved outside the circle, then rejoins it on the other side, cigarette tucked behind his ear. “We don’t have to time to actually smoke it,” he says to me. “We’ll do that later. Thanks guys.”
As we stroll towards the parking lot, he whispers, “I only picked up two wallets. Hopefully, they got cash in them.”
Crouching down behind a car, we check out the wallets. The first one is a dud - only 20 in it, but we hit paydirt on the second. “240 bucks!” I exclaim.
“Shh,” Oscar says sharply.
I bite my tongue at his superior tone of voice. Well almost. “I’m shushing, bossman.”
He pockets the money and this time I do get snooty. “Why do you get to keep the money?”
“I got the money, didn’t I?”
“Yes. But we’re partners.” I don’t know where the ‘partner’ thought came from and Oscar seems surprised too, but he digs the money out of his pocket and counts out five 20-dollar bills.
“In case we get separated,” he says, like it was his idea to share the money.
Even so, my heart beats faster as I think of being without him.
He’s so cool, the way he bummed the cigarettes, then took the wallets and dragged me away without ever having to light one.
Good thing, because I’ve never smoked, never will and I probably would choke and get sick if I tried to.
As we pass the smokers, Oscar casually drops the wallets. No one notices.
We’re blocked by Tyler, gramma’s boyfriend, when we try to get inside. That’s how gramma met him. He’s the bouncer. “You’re underage, kid,” he says to me.
“We’re 21,” I retort.
Oscar rolls his eyes. “We need to talk to Elle. Matter of life or death.”
Tyler rolls his eyes. “If it was that important, why didn’t you call her?”
Oscar and I look at each other. “My phone’s dead,” he says.
“Mine’s at your dad’s house.” I heave a sigh. “Doesn’t matter anyway. Gramma doesn’t answer her phone when she’s working.”
“Gramma?” Tyler says.
Oh hell! “I mean auntie. She’s Auntie Elle.”
“How fuckin’ old is she?” Tyler asks, not quite buying my quick fix.
I shrug. “I don’t know. She’s older than my mom.”
Oscar interrupts. “Whatever. We still gotta talk to her.”
Tyler crosses his arms. “Too bad for you. You’re gonna have to wait until she finishes her shift.”
I groan. After Monty’s closes, she stays to clean up and have a drink herself. She isn’t usually home until 4 AM.
Oscar’s glaring at the bouncer. Oscar looks like his dad and in a few years, that scowl will probably make a man pee his pants. And a woman. And everyone else. He says, “This can’t wait.”
Tyler tilts his head. “What do you need? Elle isn’t exactly a problem-solver.”
He’s so right. “We need a ride to Reno,” I reply. It’s kinda strange that no one including Tyler has asked what two kids are doing wandering around in the middle of the night.
Tyler doesn’t seem to pick up on my thoughts. “You got money?”.
“Yeah,” Oscar says. “You gonna drive us?”
“Depends.” Tyler crosses his arms. “How much you got?”
“How much you want?” Oscar says.
He sizes us up and down. “$200.”
I open my mouth to say, done, but Oscar elbows me. “We don’t got $200. Best we can do is $140.”
“I don’t believe you,” Tyler says.
“We’re kids. You’re lucky we’ve got $140.”
Tyler scowls. “You’re lucky you’ve got $140.” He adds, “Be right back,” as he goes into Monty’s.
“He isn’t coming back,” I say to Oscar.
“He’s coming back,” Oscar says flatly.
“Why didn’t you just give him the $200?”
“Shut up,” he hisses as Tyler returns with a backpack in hand.
“Let’s go,” he says as he nods towards a real nice-looking jeep.
“How can you afford that jeep on a bouncer’s salary?” I ask as I jog to keep up with him.
“Henri, would you just shut up?” Oscar says.
I clamp my teeth together. He’s such an ass.
I don’t protest when Oscar holds the passenger seat forward. I don’t wanna be up front with Tyler.
“Money now, kid,” the bouncer says as he starts the truck.
“Half now, half when we got to Reno.”
He swivels his head and tries to stare down Oscar. “I could pound you into the ground, fucker, and leave your body in the woods.”
Oscar holds his eyes. “You could, but my dad’s a member of Hell’s Jury and he wouldn’t like if you did that.”
Tyler drops his eyes. “Why didn’t you call your dad and get him to help you out?”
The lie rolls easily off Oscar’s tongue. “He’s out of town. But his brothers aren’t and I don’t want them involved in this, but that won’t stop them from retaliating if you mistreat us.”
He counts out half the money and shoves it at Tyler. “Let’s go.”
At this time of night, it only takes us 45 minutes to get to Reno because Tyler’s heavy on the gas pedal.
None of us talk during the trip. My throat hurts from staying quiet so long, but I distract myself by thinking of Oscar.
I always thought he was this rule follower who was easy to push around.
But he isn’t. He just bummed a smoke, stole some money and threatened Tyler, who’s a pretty big guy. And not once did Oscar seem afraid.
I don’t like admitting it, but what he did was the coolest thing I ever saw.
It makes me feel like an immature brat. All I do is talk and argue and play pranks on him.
I think of my mom and realize I’m just like her.
Then tears spurt into my eyes as I think how much trouble she might be in.
What if she gets killed? What will I do then?
Spend the rest of my life pretending to be gramma’s niece? I shudder at the thought.
What would Oscar do if his dad died? Probably raise himself.
Hang with Hell’s Jury, eventually become one of them.
Maybe even the president one day. I imagine what it would be like be part of a motorcycle gang.
Mom says they’re misogynist because they don’t let girls be members.
But that wouldn’t happen with me. I’d get to be a member because Oscar is in charge and I’d make him let me.
My thoughts help me feel better and I’m back to my old self when we get to the Grand Sierra. Oscar hands the rest of the cash to Tyler.
“Don’t tell Gramma,” I say to him as I hop out of the truck. “I mean Auntie Elle.”
“Are you fuckin’ kidding me? She’d eat my balls for dinner if she found out I gave you two a ride to Reno.”
That doesn’t really sound like gramma, but who knows. Maybe she’s a cannibal.
“Okay,” Oscar says to me as we stand outside the casino. “We need a plan.”
“I got one,” I say quickly before he can shoot me down. “We walk straight through the lobby to the elevator. I know the floor.”
“What if someone stops us?” Oscar asks, for once letting me take the lead.
“We tell them mom and dad just dropped us off so they could go to another party. We’re tired and wanna go to bed.”
No one pays the least bit of attention to us as we head to the elevators. It’s weird that no one has challenged us on being out on our own at this hour. Maybe we look more grown up than I think. I look shyly at Oscar. Maybe they think we’re girlfriend and boyfriend.
Which would be horrible, Henri. He’d be giving me hell for everything I did.
When we reach the elevator, a maintenance man walks out of it. Oscar trips into him.
“Watch it, kid,” the guy says grouchily.
“Sorry,” Oscar mutters as we step into the elevator.
I push the button to the floor below the penthouse suite.
“What are you doing?” Oscar says with irritation. “I thought the guy was in the penthouse.
I huff. “He is, but the elevator beeps when it gets to the floor. We don’t want to wake anyone up.”
Oscar glares at me but keeps his mouth shut for the rest of the ride.
“Follow me,” I say as I step out of the elevator and enter the staircase.
“Duh,” Oscar sneers as he shoves his way in front of me. “You follow me. I’m used to this stuff.”
I almost trip backward, but he catches me in time.
“God. I thought we were gonna call a truce!” I say.
“Sorry,” he mutters as he lets go of my arm. He still doesn’t stop leading though.
When we get to the top of the stairs, Oscar cracks the door and peeks out. “This is a weird floor.”
Whatever. The main thing is we’re at the place where mom is. And maybe Oscar’s dad. My stomach is churning and my heart is beating way faster than usual. “Is anyone there?” I whisper. Talking always calms me. My mom calls it my valium.
“No. C’mon.”
We tiptoe into the floor lobby and walk towards the door.
Oscar produces a key card. “Hope this works.”
“When did you…” I start, then remember Oscar bumping the maintenance guy. “Oh.”
He smirks as he swipes the card over the car reader. There’s a quiet beep, but it seems unnaturally loud to my ears.
It’s not too dark in the room because the lights of Reno are shining through the big windows. Luckily, there’s no on in the living room.
He points at a set of double doors. “She won’t be in there,” he whispers. “That room’s for the main guy.”
“His name is Kozlov,” I whisper back, feeling smug over my knowledge.
“Right,” he says tersely.
It makes me grin. It makes him scowl.
There are three other doors, and an open one that leads to the bathroom.
Oscar tries the handle of the first door, then steps back. “Locked.”
It’s my turn to show off. “I can pick it.”
Disbelief flickers across his face. “I doubt it.”
“Why? Because you’re the only one that can be a criminal?
” I dig into the pocket of my jeans and produce a lock picking set.
It’s one of mom’s. She showed me how to pick locks in case I ever needed to get out of a locked room.
So far, I haven’t. She wouldn’t just let me have one, but she has quite a few, so she’s never noticed that one of them occasionally goes missing.
“You carry those around all the time?”
“Of course not.” I do carry them around a lot of the time so I can practice.
There are a bunch of locked doors at school and when no one’s around, I unlock them.
That’s how I can get into Oscar’s locker and steal his lunch.
“I picked them up at home when we were there and brought them with me just in case.”
I kneel down and slip the pick into the lock then insert the bobby pin. There’s a rattle, but I can’t help it so I carry on. Oscar is standing close to me, looking over my shoulder. It makes me really uncomfortable. Also, he’s starting to smell. And not in a good way.
The lock clicks. I twist the door handle and open the door about an inch.
We’re both so absorbed in what we’re doing, when the light flicks on in the living room, we almost jump out of our skulls.
“What have we got here?” Mr. Kozlov’s voice comes from behind us.
I twist around and stare at him. “Ah…” Then I almost start crying. Mom would have been able to say something cool right away. It makes me feel stupid.
Oscar is calmer. “Mr. Kozlov,” he says as he pushes me behind him. “I’m Oscar, Eight’s son. He’s a member of Hell’s Jury.”
I roll my eyes just a little bit because for some reason I know that politeness won’t cut it. Name-dropping won’t either.
I give Oscar a little push in the back and step out next to him. “We came to get my mom,” I announce. Sure, my legs are shaking, but whatever. Mr. Kozlov’s gonna do what he’s gonna do no matter what I say.
He gives us that smile that adults do. Like he’s being indulgent. “Your mom’s not here, Henri. I let her leave.”
Relief floods me but is quickly replaced by anger. “Why’d you take her in the first place?”
“And why’d you punch her?” Oscar adds scornfully.
His eyebrows shoot up. They’re really furry and they look like caterpillars on his forehead. “I didn’t punch her, young man. One of my…” he hesitates, then grins, “…henchman did.”
Oscar and I look at each other. Most grown-ups are ridiculous but he wins lamo-of-the-year. “Don’t be such an adult,” I say.
Oscar elbows me. “Stop it.”
Mr. Kozlov approaches us. “Listen to your boyfriend, Henri. Given my reputation, you should be very respectful.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say quickly.
At the same time Oscar says, “No way is she my girlfriend.”
I shouldn’t be hurt by that because I just said the same thing, but for some reason I want to kick Oscar in the shin. No, I want to kick him in his balls. That’s what mom would do. Not to Oscar but you know. Other people. “Where’d she go?” I say.
He stares at us like he’s deciding how much to share. Then he grins like the Joker – not Heath Ledger, but Jared Leto in Suicide Squad. “She left with your grandpa, who was mad at her because apparently she picked up Reese Toper, who is a member of the 311 Boys.”
“My grandpa!” I exclaim. I’ve never met him, but mom sees him sometimes. She says he’d be a bad influence on me. I doubt it. He can’t be worse than mom and gramma. I kinda feel thrilled that I might get to meet him.
“I told her it was stupid,” Oscar mutters. “She doesn’t listen to anyone. That’s why she gets in so much trouble.”
That pops me out of my excited vibe. I feel the need to defend my mom, but I don’t, because Oscar’s right. She always seems like she’s in trouble. “You think my grandpa took her to their leader?”
He nods. “Maybe. Your grandpa suggested she apologize.” To Oscar, he says.
He tilts his head towards the phone. “Maybe you should call her.”
Oscar pushes me towards the phone. “Call her, Henri. See where she’s at.”
I shove him back. “I don’t know her number. It’s in my cell phone.”
Kozlov says, “I know it.” He leaves the room, then returns with his phone.
I pick up the landline as he rattles off the number. It rings a long time then goes to voicemail. A chill goes up my back. My mom always answers her phone. “She’s not picking up,” I say to Oscar in a hoarse whisper.
“I’ll call dad,” Oscar announces. He dials Eight’s number, which makes me feel bad that I don’t know mom’s number.
A few seconds pass, then Oscar says, “He’s not answering either.”
Kozlov raises his caterpillar eyebrows. “That’s not good news. Maybe your dad went too. The 311 Boys might have both your parents.”
Tears start trickling down my face and this time I don’t care if Oscar sees. “We gotta get them back, Oscar. I need mom back.”
Oscar rubs my shoulder. “Do you know where the 311 Boys clubhouse?”
“Oh, indeed I do,” Kozlov says, then tells us.