chapter 94
A meeting with Pepsi finished, my cell phone was out, an email begun, when I stepped off the elevator, into the parking level, my Range Rover waiting, a navy tank of luxury.
I stopped short, the note stuck in the driver’s window, tiny and white, like cocaine, deadly in its draw. I unlocked the door, pulling the paper out and palming it, and then stepped into my truck, unnoticed. I unfolded it quickly, spreading it out on my lap.
Same place. Envelope at the desk for you. Now.
The handwriting was tight; the pen used was running out of ink. I wondered when he had written it, how many minutes I had wasted, sitting in that conference room, negotiating sponsorship details and discussing trivial items.
Same place. The hotel we had walked into, a random stop on a Bronx street.
I didn’t have to go. I could drive by it and get the name.
Call the front desk and have them give him a message.
Drive back to the house and wait for tonight’s game.
I have a hundred more ways to make you scream my name and all of them are filthy.
I texted Tobey. Going to run errands. I’ll be home in a few hours. Then I shifted the truck into reverse.
I knew it was wrong. But I was only human.
I didn’t notice the car that followed me.