Continued from page 2
Jasper shrugged. Who knows?
Shake picked up the glass case, which was surprisingly heavy, to take a closer look. There was no writing or marking on any of the pieces of parchment, though each one was slightly, subtly different from the next – smooth, textured, flecked with brown, bleached white at a corner.
Shake placed the glass case back in its foam bed.
“I didn’t even know what I’m supposed to take back,” Shake admitted.
“This is it,” Jasper said. He closed the lid of the briefcase and pressed the snaps into place. “We all set here?”
Shake nodded. Don’t look over at the girl, he warned himself, just before he looked over at the girl. Her eyes were still closed. Her expression was – peaceful, almost. Cheeks flushed, a curved slice of blonde hair falling across her face.
An image flashed through Shake’s mind, startling in its clarity: Gina, standing on the porch of a nice house, watching two little boys play on the lawn.
Then the Gina in the image glanced up and smiled – right at Shake.
“Wait a second,” Shake said as Jasper took a step toward Gina.
Jasper paused. “What?”
Shake couldn’t believe what he was about to do. It was such an unbelievable thing, he had to shake his head and chuckle. Then he pulled a deep breath in through his nostrils.
“I’m gonna keep the girl,” he said. “If that’s OK.”
Jasper eyeballed him for a long time, absorbing this. Shake wondered if the big guy was a little slow, a little stoned, or just very, very calm. Hard to say. Finally –
“You gonna keep the girl?” Jasper said mildly.
“You can keep the – whatever they are. The briefcase. Take it back to your boss. Tell him the deal’s off, but everything’s cool.”
A small smile flickered across Jasper’s big, moon-shaped face, like he’d just figured out the punch line to a joke.
“I’m suppose’ to tell Mr. Moby deal’s off and everything’s cool?”
“There you go,” Shake said with a shrug to indicate how simple the equation was. He crossed to the nightstand next to Gina and picked up the phone book sitting there. “You happen to know, Jasper, where I can get some good Texas-style barbecue around here? Last fifteen months in the joint, I’ve been craving it. Hill country brisket, I’m talking about, not East Texas ribs with all the sauce.”
Jasper took another long, leisurely look at Shake – wondering, measuring, sorting his options.
“Let’s go,” he said finally, to Gina.
Shake considered, one last time, the consequences of what he was about to do. Then, as Jasper stepped past him toward Gina, Shake squeezed the phone book tight, swung hard, and hammered Jasper in the back of the head with it.
Jasper staggered forward. Shake hit him again. Jasper banged into the wall, rebounded drunkenly, and crashed backward into the nightstand. It splintered beneath him and Jasper hit the carpet hard, lamp tumbling down on top, one arm tangled in the cord.
Shake, his hands stinging, dropped the phone book and grabbed Gina’s arm. He pulled her toward the door, not looking back. Behind him he could hear Jasper grunting, already stirring in the wreckage.
Shake dragged Gina out into the parking lot. Jasper’s SUV was parked next to the Town Car. He hadn’t thought to block them in, luckily – it was just supposed to be a routine hand-off, and why would Dick Moby’s bag man anticipate anything different? Shake would have liked to yank the SUV’s distributor cap, but there was no time.
“We have to run,” he told Gina, and they did, across the hot, spongy asphalt. Gina stumbled once but quickly regained her balance. When they reached the Town Car, Shake dug in his pocket for the keys and looked over his shoulder. The doorway to the motel room was still empty and Jasper wasn’t on their tail, not yet. He turned back to the Town Car noticed that Gina was holding, in her cuffed hands, the leather briefcase.
“What are you doing with that?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I just thought, I don’t know, I thought it would be a good idea.”
There was no time to discuss.
“In,” Shake told her.
He pushed Gina into the car, then slid in after her. The last he saw of the Apache Motor Inn, as he gunned the Town Car onto South Las Vegas Boulevard, was Jasper in the rear-view mirror, staggering out of the motel room with a .45 automatic in one hand and an unhappy expression on his moon-shaped face.
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Shake picked up the glass case, which was surprisingly heavy, to take a closer look. There was no writing or marking on any of the pieces of parchment, though each one was slightly, subtly different from the next – smooth, textured, flecked with brown, bleached white at a corner.
Shake placed the glass case back in its foam bed.
“I didn’t even know what I’m supposed to take back,” Shake admitted.
“This is it,” Jasper said. He closed the lid of the briefcase and pressed the snaps into place. “We all set here?”
Shake nodded. Don’t look over at the girl, he warned himself, just before he looked over at the girl. Her eyes were still closed. Her expression was – peaceful, almost. Cheeks flushed, a curved slice of blonde hair falling across her face.
An image flashed through Shake’s mind, startling in its clarity: Gina, standing on the porch of a nice house, watching two little boys play on the lawn.
Then the Gina in the image glanced up and smiled – right at Shake.
“Wait a second,” Shake said as Jasper took a step toward Gina.
Jasper paused. “What?”
Shake couldn’t believe what he was about to do. It was such an unbelievable thing, he had to shake his head and chuckle. Then he pulled a deep breath in through his nostrils.
“I’m gonna keep the girl,” he said. “If that’s OK.”
Jasper eyeballed him for a long time, absorbing this. Shake wondered if the big guy was a little slow, a little stoned, or just very, very calm. Hard to say. Finally –
“You gonna keep the girl?” Jasper said mildly.
“You can keep the – whatever they are. The briefcase. Take it back to your boss. Tell him the deal’s off, but everything’s cool.”
A small smile flickered across Jasper’s big, moon-shaped face, like he’d just figured out the punch line to a joke.
“I’m suppose’ to tell Mr. Moby deal’s off and everything’s cool?”
“There you go,” Shake said with a shrug to indicate how simple the equation was. He crossed to the nightstand next to Gina and picked up the phone book sitting there. “You happen to know, Jasper, where I can get some good Texas-style barbecue around here? Last fifteen months in the joint, I’ve been craving it. Hill country brisket, I’m talking about, not East Texas ribs with all the sauce.”
Jasper took another long, leisurely look at Shake – wondering, measuring, sorting his options.
“Let’s go,” he said finally, to Gina.
Shake considered, one last time, the consequences of what he was about to do. Then, as Jasper stepped past him toward Gina, Shake squeezed the phone book tight, swung hard, and hammered Jasper in the back of the head with it.
Jasper staggered forward. Shake hit him again. Jasper banged into the wall, rebounded drunkenly, and crashed backward into the nightstand. It splintered beneath him and Jasper hit the carpet hard, lamp tumbling down on top, one arm tangled in the cord.
Shake, his hands stinging, dropped the phone book and grabbed Gina’s arm. He pulled her toward the door, not looking back. Behind him he could hear Jasper grunting, already stirring in the wreckage.
Shake dragged Gina out into the parking lot. Jasper’s SUV was parked next to the Town Car. He hadn’t thought to block them in, luckily – it was just supposed to be a routine hand-off, and why would Dick Moby’s bag man anticipate anything different? Shake would have liked to yank the SUV’s distributor cap, but there was no time.
“We have to run,” he told Gina, and they did, across the hot, spongy asphalt. Gina stumbled once but quickly regained her balance. When they reached the Town Car, Shake dug in his pocket for the keys and looked over his shoulder. The doorway to the motel room was still empty and Jasper wasn’t on their tail, not yet. He turned back to the Town Car noticed that Gina was holding, in her cuffed hands, the leather briefcase.
“What are you doing with that?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I just thought, I don’t know, I thought it would be a good idea.”
There was no time to discuss.
“In,” Shake told her.
He pushed Gina into the car, then slid in after her. The last he saw of the Apache Motor Inn, as he gunned the Town Car onto South Las Vegas Boulevard, was Jasper in the rear-view mirror, staggering out of the motel room with a .45 automatic in one hand and an unhappy expression on his moon-shaped face.
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