18.
I think Jewel will be a pilot. She’s calm under pressure and nothing seems to rattle her.
She’d be that soothing voice over the intercom saying, “We’ve lost engine power, but if you look to your left, you’ll see the mountain we’re about to hit.
Have a pleasant day, and thank you for flying You’re So Fucked Airlines. ”
Stoffer
ZIGGY
I had driven about four blocks when Jewel’s father finally spoke up.
“Before we get any closer, I’ve got a few questions for you.”
“Actually, I’m not sure which direction to go.”
“That’s fine. Whether we get there or not depends on how this conversation goes.”
“Would you rather I drop you somewhere else?” I asked.
“No, but I might be dropping you in a field, so just keep driving.”
I chuckled, knowing this was the standard If you hurt my daughter, I’ll kill you speech. I’d given it to a few young men myself since my girls started dating. However, I also knew the importance of showing respect to Jewel’s father, even if he couldn’t actually hurt me.
“I know you’ve got two men following you in that black truck back there, but they’re not gonna help you if I don’t want them to.”
His cockiness was getting to be a little much, so I asked, “And what makes you think that?”
“There’s no thinkin’ to it. I know so.”
“You do realize that I’m not some pimple-faced sixteen-year-old taking your daughter to prom, right?”
“Your skin is clear, but it’s the same scenario. I told every boy who ever looked sideways at my girls that if they fucked up, I’d turn their life into a memory that people forget about over time.”
“Jewel and I missed prom season this year, but if we decide to attend next season, I’ll make sure to come get an updated warning from you.”
“Listen, smartass. I know that where you come from you’ve got balls swinging right and left and you’re untouchable, but this ain’t New York and . . .” Mr. Parker slowly reached out and poked my arm. “You’re very touchable.”
“Can we skip the part where you threaten my life and get into what my intentions are?”
“I don’t give a chicken-fried fuck what your intentions are.
My Jewel is just like her mama–strong enough to handle whatever you throw at her.
She proved that with Captain Douche, and the fact that she hasn’t killed him yet is a miracle I never prayed for.
But to get back on track, let’s go over your intentions as long as they include making sure whatever bullshit made you tuck tail and run from your hometown isn’t going to follow you to my hometown and cause a ruckus. ”
“Should I turn here?”
“If you’d like.”
“Which way?”
“If you’re turning, my guess is left or right. Those seem to be the only two options.”
I started to laugh, but choked it back to avoid offending the man Jewel respected more than anyone else.
I knew his opinion of me mattered to her, whether either of them wanted to admit it or not.
I also knew she was well aware of the surprises her dad might throw at me on the ride home–she’d tried to warn me but I hadn’t listened.
The longer he sat there in silence, the more I wished I had.
Finally, I couldn’t stand it anymore. “I’m in love with your daughter.”
“Good luck with that.”
“Now you’re a man of few words?”
“I’ll give you a few more. When my Jewel loves, she loves hard.
When she hates, she does it with a passion brighter than a thousand blazing suns.
She runs her mouth even when keeping quiet would make life easier, curses more than a sailor with Tourette’s, and never learns her lesson the first, second, or even the third time.
She’s made some great decisions, but so many questionable ones that I’ve wondered if she does it for excitement or just doesn’t grasp repercussions.
The one thing I am positive of is that no matter how old she gets, my Jewel should never be unsupervised.
Hell, none of my children or my grandchildren should be, but that’s an entirely different discussion so I’ll save it for another day. ”
“Please do! Holy shit, Grunt! I’m getting a crick in my neck back here!”
“What the fuck?” I shouted, twisting around to stare in shock as a man crawled off the floorboard and onto the backseat. The wheel jerked out of my hands, I whipped back around–finding Mr. Parker steering, since I’d obviously forgotten how in my moment of terror.
“Are we killin’ this fucker or not, man? The boys are wondering if they need to load up the backhoe or sit down and have a beer.”
“Like they’re not already working on a cold one while they wait,” Mr. Parker scoffed.
“What the fuck is going on?” I asked as I veered to the right so I could park the truck and catch my breath.
“Keep driving, city boy. No sense giving the guys behind us more of a scare than you already have. Jesus, where did you learn to drive anyway?”
“How in the fuck did you get into my truck?” I asked the man who was now sitting in the middle of the backseat, typing on his phone between glances at me in the rearview mirror.
“Do you think I teleported or something? I opened the door and crawled right in.”
“You’d think being from New York, he’d know that leaving a nice truck like this unlocked is not smart.
Rojo is much tamer, but we’ve still got crime.
” Mr. Parker paused to consider before adding, “Probably a lot more crime than people might like to think about, but we’re still safer than all those people in the city. ”
“As if you’d fucking know,” the man in the backseat muttered. “Have you ever been to New York?”
“Like you have.”
“I’m a well-read man, Grunt. My guess is I know a bit more than you do on one of your good days, and a whole lot more than you do the rest of the time.”
“How in the fuck did you get into my truck, and what the . . . holy shit, all of you are fucking crazy!”
“Well, I guess I should find my manners and make introductions. Hank, this is Ziggy, Jewel’s little boyfriend. Ziggy, this is your second-worst nightmare. He’s got a fondness for our Jewel and always has.”
“She’s always been a genius psychopath, and every time I talk to her, I’m reminded of both.” The man leaned forward, resting his arms on the center console. “Hank Grissom. It’s a pleasure.”
“I’ve met you both before.”
“Eh. Maybe,” Mr. Parker said with a shrug. He winced. “You got any good stuff, Hank? Those pills the girl gave me aren’t worth a shit.”
“Our wives will kick our asses if you start mixing, Grunt. We’ve been there and done that, and I distinctly remember the polar vortex that was the fallout.”
“How did you get into my goddamn truck?” I roared.
“He’s awfully high-strung. I’m not sure how long she’ll tolerate that,” Hank announced. “Hell, I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to tolerate it.”
“While you were in there piddle-fartin’ around having a tea party with your bouncers, I called my friend and asked him to hang out in the backseat so he could jump in if he thinks I missed something during your interrogation .
. .” Mr. Parker cleared his throat. “I mean our get-to-know-you conversation.”
“You drove to the doctor’s office, broke into my . . .”
“Technically, I was there the entire time. I just waited in the shade while he went in to see Jewel because I didn’t want to be guilty by association. If I don’t know what the doctor’s orders are, I can’t be expected to harp at him about them, can I?”
“You should be taking notes. We’ve been with two women who are each smarter . . .”
“And more devious,” Hank interjected.
“. . . than all three of us put together, and we’ve managed to stay alive all this time by learning from what few mistakes we’ve made . . .” Hank snorted, and Mr. Parker flipped him off before continuing. “We’ve learned from them and shared that information with each other.”
I guess I wondered what my foot tasted like, because I suddenly blurted, “Jewel said you and Hank share a brain that shorts out regularly.”
“She did, did she? That little shit!” Hank muttered.
“I’ve heard our women say that more than once, but usually they lump a few of the guys in with us. Ups the numbers and all.”
“Am I going anywhere specific? Because by now, I’m sure Jewel’s tracking this truck via satellite in real time to make sure nothing happens to either of us.”
“He gets her,” Hank said in awe.
“Micah got her, too, and you remember how that worked out,” Grunt argued.
“What about Robert?” I asked.
“I’m just waiting for both of those boys of hers to reach eighteen so she can get good and mad.
She’s vindictive when she’s mad, and it’s a sight to behold,” Grunt boasted.
“The people who have felt her wrath–the real wrath, not just playing-around bullshit when she makes them cry–those are the real victims.”
“Do you have any good stories?” I asked, honestly curious.
“Depends on which category you want. If we’re talking what she’s done to ex-boyfriends after they fucked her over for the last time, or women who crossed her in a way she couldn’t forgive, then I’ve got a million.”
“Some of them are whoppers,” Hank chortled. “The clown thing was fantastic.”
“That wasn’t nearly as good as the stripper,” Grunt argued.
“Do I just keep driving in a circle while we chat, or can you give me a destination?”
“Oh, I can tell you where to go, but then my daughter would get pissy and tattle to her mom, who would tell all of her friends, and then I’d be hearing about it for the next decade.”
“Take a right up here,” Hank instructed.
As I put on my blinker and slowed to turn, he announced, “Did you know that about fifteen percent of otherwise neurologically healthy adults can’t tell their right from their left?”
“Ignore him. He’s got Jeopardy Tourette’s.”
“What?” I asked, turning right. When neither man answered, I pressed, “Now where do I go?”
“Oh, I don’t care. I was just sick of you making left turns over and over again.”