Once inside the Jeep I check the time and then decide to stop by a camera store to wait her out. Because Lanie and I have an arrangement. We don’t hang out for a reason. And even though I like her a lot and I’d love to take her out to dinner and show her a nice time, we can’t. Because no one can know who the girl in these movies is. No one can connect her to me in any way.
Otherwise, both of us could be killed.
I head east to a strip mall and park the Jeep in a spot outside a hardware store and think.
About the girl, mostly. Her hair color. Blonde. But it was a dark blonde when I saw her because it was wet. What does it look like dry? What do her eyes look like when they are not puffy from tears? What does her mouth do when it’s not downturned?
Who the fuck did this to her?
It’s an answer I think I need. I’m not even sure why, because I have not thought about shit like this for a long time now. A year, at least. Possibly closer to two.
Money does that to you. Money changes you. I said it never would, but I was wrong. Something happens when you no longer have to worry about buying food and paying rent. It’s a subtle shift. Or at least it was for me. I came to town with enough to get started, and Ray was right to be suspicious of that. He does not want to know how I got that money.
But that’s not the kind of money I’m talking about. I’m talking about enough money to buy a new car every month. Enough money to pay cash for a penthouse condo in LoDo. Enough money to set up a secret bunker filled with private servers. Buy a new ID and passport. Stash a few million away in secret bank accounts offshore.
Enough money to do whatever the fuck I want, whatever way I want.
No. No one saw that coming, not even me. When I came here I had no clue how fucking easy it would be to get lost in the business.
But that question… it’s nagging at me. Who the fuck is she involved with?
At first I suspected Ray. I mean, that makes sense. He’s in the same business as us. But I know it’s not Ray. Ray is not into the violent stuff. I know this for sure. I’ve seen his private collection of movies and none of them are weird. They are almost boring, that’s how vanilla his tastes are.
I don’t think it was Ray Blue was working for, but I know for sure she was involved with someone. And that is something I’m going to find out.
I contemplate calling JD just to see if he’s gotten any more information out about her, but then decide that’s a bad idea. I’m not sure how I want to proceed yet. I need to think this through. I need to know all my options before I go pissing him off over a girl I don’t know. And I need to consider all the consequences of each action I do decide to take.
Plenty of risks to go around, that’s for sure.
Just then I spot Lanie crossing the street. She took the bus like she’s been told to, so it’s good to know we’re still going by protocol, even if we haven’t seen each other in a year.
She walks right past my Jeep and I watch her, but she doesn’t look at me. Her dark hair is red now. A wig. And her raincoat is long, reaching down past her knees. She’s wearing jeans and some knockoff sheepskin boots.
I don’t watch her once she’s past my line of sight. Instead I check my phone, messing around on the Public Fuck Facebook page—which has two likes, JD and me, since we haven’t launched yet—and exactly ten minutes later I get out and walk down to the discount cinema where I know Lanie went in, even though I didn’t watch her.
Inside it’s a madhouse of kids and video games as parents on a budget endure this ruckus so they can buy a little entertainment. I check the movies, choose the next show time for the last one listed on the board above my head, and pay for a ticket.
Thankfully, it’s not a kids’ show. It’s a two-and-a-half-hour murder drama that has been playing for the better part of six months—because this cinema only gets movies just before they go to DVD—and there’s only a handful of people seated when I walk in and find Lanie sitting up in the last row with her boots propped up on the seat in front of her.
I walk up the steps slowly, trying to gauge her mood as I make my approach. She smiles when I sit down and I take her hand like we’re a couple. “Missed you,” I say softly.
“I wish I could say the same,” she shoots back with a smile.
“Sorry about this. You know—”
“I know,” she says, cutting me off. “Forget it. Just tell me what you need.”
She winces when I say, “Two.” And I try my best to make it sound like no big deal. “One in here and one in the car once it gets dark.”
“Jesus Christ, Ark.”