Seven #2
I sighed heavily. “So what’s your plan?”
He leaned forward on the table. “You’re my plan.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Jory, I have spent the last two weeks watching Dane Harcourt, and I can say with certainty that, beyond a small circle of close friends, you are the only person he allows access to his life.”
“His girlfriend is—”
“I see him dating a lot of women, but I did not see a girlfriend.”
I shrugged.
“And like I said, he’s got a super-tight circle, but trying to talk to the bank manager or the lawyer or the CEO… I mean, forget it. No one but you is gonna give me the time of day.”
I stared into his pale blue eyes.
“But you… I see the way he looks at you, and he cares about what you think.”
“You’re confused. He does exactly as he wants.”
“I followed you guys down to the Miracle Mile last week.”
“So?”
“All he did was follow you around.”
“That’s ’cause shopping’s my deal, not his.”
He gave me a look.
“What?”
“If you could see how he is with you, really see, I think you’d be surprised. It seems like he sort of relaxes when he’s yelling at you.”
I gave him the grunt of agreement. “Well, that I believe.”
“It seems to me he’s himself when it’s the two of you.”
I knew what he was talking about. People mistook my ability to finish my boss’s sentences as something more than it was.
The fact that I picked up his dry cleaning, bought his vitamins, scheduled his medical checkups, knew exactly what to order him at any restaurant, and bought gifts for him to give so all he had to do was sign the card was not indicative of a deeper relationship.
I was his guy Friday. I was like a butler who didn’t live in.
Caleb was trying to make more of it than it really was.
“Jory, please—”
“Lookit,” I said, leaning back in the booth, “I’ll talk to him tomorrow, all right?”
Deep sigh as he smiled at me. “That’d be great.”
“Listen, don’t get all excited. He’s not gonna care what—”
“He will.” He nodded. “You’ll see.”
But I wasn’t convinced.
After dinner, I was walking toward the curb to get a cab when Caleb called out to me.
“So you’ll call me tomorrow?”
I smiled at him. “If I haven’t been murdered, I will, but don’t—”
“Jory!”
He was running toward me, and I turned around to see what was there.
I saw a man and I saw his fist, and when he hit me it felt like my right eye exploded.
I saw the other guy behind him and I saw the gun.
I scrambled to my feet, but I fell back down when everything tilted to the left.
Arm around my neck as I was pulled backward.
Caleb was standing with his hands up, asking the guy to please not hurt me.
I saw spots, and everything got really dim even as I realized I was being pulled into a car.
Tumbled into the back seat, I heard the door close and felt the jerk of acceleration as we pulled away from the curb.
Instantly I remembered everything my friend Tiffany had ever said in her self-defense classes that I took.
Never let anyone put you in a car. If you end up in one, get out as quick as you can.
So I fought—I bit and kicked, and the hands all over me just couldn’t quite find their grip.
“For crissakes, just fuckin’ shoot him!”
“In the car? Shoot him in the car? You know what a mess that’ll be?”
“He’s what, eighty pounds? Break his neck!”
“I’m trying, I just can’t get—”
“Pull over.” Another voice. “I’ll get back there with him.”
“Pull over where? We’re in the middle of the goddamn expressway!”
“Fuck, he’s bleeding all over me!”
I squirmed free and caught one guy’s head with my knee as the car pulled over.
The door opened, and I saw the gun. I kicked out as hard as I could, and he moved just a little.
And for the first time in my life I was glad to be small.
Detective Kage’s shoulders never would have cleared the space between the man and the car door.
I threw myself out and hit the pavement hard.
I heard the first gunshot and got my legs under me.
It felt like I was running the way I did in my dreams, like I was treading through caramel.
It seemed like it took me forever to get moving.
I tripped over something, probably my own feet, and went down on the road again.
When I heard the car, I got back up and ran.
It was either run down the side of the road or take a left and cut across the expressway.
The chances of dying were about the same, and at least if I got hit by a car, I wouldn’t suffer.
Being killed was one thing, but I would pass on the whole torture scene.
So I veered into oncoming traffic and ran, darting toward the median as it started to rain.
When my hands touched the cold concrete, I turned to look over my shoulder.
These weren’t thugs from a movie, they weren’t mindless flunkies, so it wasn’t surprising that they didn’t come after me.
They didn’t shoot at me either; the three of them just whipped out their cell phones at the same time.
I wasn’t about to wait for the cars to thin out and so they could come after me. I hopped the center divider and started running down the other side.
As soon as I saw a break in the traffic I darted across the expressway and collapsed on the other side.
I couldn’t catch my breath, so I decided to sit down for a minute, but it ended up being more of a fall.
And it was weird, but the pavement had hurt before.
This time the ground just felt solid, and that was good, since I felt like I was lying in the middle of a roulette wheel.
That was my last thought, as the spinning got too fast and everything went black.