Chapter Thirty-One
THIRTY-ONE
Shepherd sat there for a long moment, hot, humid air hitting the back of his throat, before a guttural laugh escaped. Charlie just grinned at him.
Ginny, though, touched his knee and gave him a look. Shepherd closed his mouth and put a hand over it for good measure.
Her fingernails scratched inside a plastic groove of the picnic table. “Mr. Cardello,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “As your legal representation, I cannot condone theft of any kind.”
Charlie nodded, still grinning, and gave a little wave with his free hand as if to hurry her along her point.
“But as a … friend? What, um, kind of stealing are you talking about?”
Shepherd’s hand fell from his mouth and smacked himself in the lap. Fortunately, it landed two inches away from the danger zone—which is what he called it whenever he used the urinal. “Virginia,” he admonished. “You can’t be serious. He brought us here to discuss crimes.”
“I’m a defense attorney,” Ginny said. “Was. Was a defense attorney. And, really, Shepherd, you of all people should know about crimes.”
“Excuse me?”
“There are crimes, right? And then there are crimes. And really, Shepherd, there are so many laws. So many stupid laws and it’s just … almost no one can get through an entire day without committing at least one crime.”
Charlie hmmed and nodded as if he were attending Ginny’s TEDx Talk. “Exactly. You’re so smart, Ginny. I like that about you. That, and your pretty face.” He winked.
Shepherd grabbed the arms of his plastic chair to help him stand up. “We’re done,” he announced with a creak.
“Wait, wait.” Ginny touched his leg again. “Let’s just hear him out, Shepherd.”
“Yeah,” Charlie chimed in. “Just hear me out, Shepherd.”
Shepherd lowered himself back down, glowering the whole time. That’s all he wanted right now, some canned-cheese-eating retired gangster hitting on his not-girlfriend in front of him.
Charlie took a deep drag of his cigarette, watching them watch him as he made them wait for it. “I’ve got it all figured out already. But it takes three people, which is the only reason I haven’t done it myself. Don’t have many people around that I can trust, anymore.”
Shepherd hadn’t let go of the arms of his chair. “Go on,” he said, graciously, all things considered.
“You ever heard of the Tire Irons? The biker gang?”
Shepherd and Ginny exchanged a look and shrugged in unison.
“They got this logo—it’s like a skull and bones except it’s a skull and tire irons—on the back of their vests? You see that when you’re driving around?”
Shepherd, in fact, hadn’t seen that logo when he was driving around. He had, instead, seen it when he snuck into a house carrying a baseball bat. Shepherd and Ginny exchanged looks again, but these were looks not of confusion, but rather of thinly veiled terror.
“They’re the mark. But that’s as many details as I’m willing to share until I know you’re on board.
It’s my heist, you understand.” He stubbed out his cigarette on the table, reached for another without even a breath between.
“If you’re worried about experience, I can assure you both.
This ain’t my first rodeo. I’ve been planning heists since before cell phones could fit in your pocket.
And my track record speaks for itself—isn’t that right, lawyer lady? ”
Any hope Ginny might have had about crimes versus crimes was gone from her pretty face.
The face that Charlie winked at. She turned to Shepherd, her eyes wet again, and he sighed and rubbed her shoulder.
“Thank you, Mr. Cardello. But I think we’ve heard all we need to hear.
You’ll have to find two other, uh, teammates. ”
Charlie raised his eyebrows. He pointed his new cigarette at Ginny. “That right?”
She nodded, lip between her teeth. “As your attorney, Mr. Cardello, I must warn you against perpetrating such a heist. Not only is there danger to your freedom if the law catches you, but there’s danger to your life if the bikers do.
I can also promise that what you’ve told me will be kept quiet under client confidentiality.
And as your friend, thank you for trying to help me find a way to save my mom.
But I can’t heist scary bikers, Mr. Cardello. That just isn’t who I am.”
Shepherd shook his head. That was definitely not who either of them were. They were pizza people who worked in a pun shop.
No, pun people in a pizza shop.
Both.
Either.
He stood up, creaking again, and reached for Ginny’s hand. “I’m sure we’ll be seeing you,” he said, not sure at all. In fact, he was hoping he’d never see this particular gangster ever again.
Charlie grinned, the burning cigarette hanging out of the corner of his lopsided smile. “I’m sure you will.”
Shepherd barely pulled the car out of the drive before he started complaining. “I hate that guy.”
Ginny sighed, collapsing against the passenger seat as if her bones had turned to jello. “I know, Shepherd. But you hate everybody, so that isn’t saying much about his character.”
“I’m so glad you didn’t listen to him. You had me worried there for a minute. Crimes and crime crimes.”
Ginny laughed so suddenly and so loudly it was more of a snort. She slapped her hand over her mouth but the laughter didn’t stop; it changed shape and sound until it was the lovely sort of giggle that made him desperate. Shepherd smiled, his eyes crinkling as he looked at her.
“What’s so funny?”
She wiped her eyes. “I don’t know. The crime crimes got me. Or maybe I’m losing my mind.” She sighed, the laughter fading. Ginny leaned against the window. Palm trees blurred behind the sunlight halo of her head, the sky blue and cloudless. “Maybe both.”
“Yeah,” Shepherd said with a sigh of his own. “I get that. Where, uh, where do you want to go? Noah’s got the restaurant covered and I don’t have Lex until tomorrow, maybe. She might opt to stay at her friend’s house all weekend since she’s got the pool.”
“And two bikes, don’t forget,” Ginny added. “Unfortunately, I think I need to go home. I mean, my dad’s house. Maybe my brother’s press conference did some good and a tip has been called in. Or something.”
If they were really a couple, he’d reach over, put his hand on her knee and give a squeeze.
He wouldn’t have to say anything. His presence, his desire to be there, his refusal to leave would all be enough.
But they weren’t really a couple. And Ginny’s joke that Hayley had been the loser for marrying him still stung, even if it wasn’t real.
There were often truths hidden inside jokes like that.
So, he held on to the wheel and sighed again.
“Back to hell.” He switched lanes so he’d be ready for the exit. “Got it.”