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Axel probably expected we were committed now.
I didn’t want to disagree with that thought, but I also had a few other people in mind.
When I was finished with the self-loathing and left the bathroom, Marc greeted me with a loaded bagel and coffee.
“Rushed down to grabbed something before they closed up breakfast,” he said. “Hope you’re good with eggs and bacon.”
I almost kissed him. He brought me food. I downed it as I followed him through the hotel.
He opened the door to the SUV and I got in. I said barely anything trying to wake up enough before I said something stupid, like that I’d kissed Axel the night before.
I wondered where Axel was now. At the moment, I didn’t want to call or even try to talk to him. I was afraid he’d say he was drunk or had made a mistake. I forced it back, trying to focus. “What’s the plan now?” I asked.
“What we need is information,” Marc said. “That bond agency is twenty steps ahead of us right now.
“They know where he is?”
Marc turned the SUV out of the parking lot and headed toward downtown. “They know the area, probably already hassled his friends, and they had people watching the place. They’ve got a few people to play Judas.”
“A what?”
Marc smiled. “Someone to tattle on Fred. The ex-wife would be the main Judas, but you can put a few more out there, put pressure on them to give up Fred if they spot him. It’s probably how they knew you were there.”
“How do we get ahead of the bond agency if they have spies all over?”
“Talk to them,” he said.
“Just walk in and ask them where Fred is?”
“Or let someone else bring it up and listen in. Either way.”
“We’re going to spy on the bail bond agency? That has to be against the law.”
Marc laughed. “They aren’t the police if you’re worried about that. They don’t have the authority to arrest us for just asking questions. But we should still be careful. They can work around a lot of laws and lie and do things that the police can’t do.”
“So they’re like you guys?”
Marc smirked and looked at me. “They’re not at our level.”
I made a face. “Well la de dah.”
He laughed.
Marc played a rock station as he drove. He cracked the window, letting the breeze in. It was another warm day, with just a hint of the crisp chill on the wind that I’d felt the night before. On the way, I checked the phone. There was a message and for a moment, I had a heart attack, worried it was Blake and that I had been careless to leave such evidence lying around.
It was Corey.
Corey: That fish last night was good. Want to go back again tonight?
Corey was the only one I didn’t feel a smidgen of guilt about being nice to, and I clung to that thought. Maybe Axel and the others could lie about their feelings and fool me, but Corey felt so genuine.
Kayli: If we can, yes. Good morning by the way.
Corey: Morning! Be safe.
I wished him well and put the phone into a back pocket. If I messed up with the others, maybe I could still find a way to be friends with Corey.
That small bit of brightness suddenly had me feeling better about what might happen. Maybe Axel would tell the others about what happened with us. Maybe Marc and Brandon and Raven could be friends with me, too. If only I didn’t screw up again with them, they’d have to understand.
I glanced at Marc as he drove, trying to smother my interest in him, to drown out the wriggly sparks with thoughts of Axel.
Maybe it took practice. A lot of it.
We rolled into the vicinity of the local jail, where all the bond agencies seemed to be stationed.
The one we were looking for resembled a hamburger shack. It was painted a bright blue, with surfboards and blue water images painted in the windows. There was even a bright white wood porch in front built like one of those beach ramps to help tourists get over sand dunes.
The bond agency across the street was a drab gray brick building, with gold gilt paint in the windows. No porch, just tinted glass doors.
“Let’s say you were looking for a bond,” I said. “Do you go to the one that looks like a lawyer’s office, or the one that looks like a tiki bar?”
“The one that looks like the cheapest,” Marc said as he pulled in next to a parking meter along the sidewalk.
“Good point,” I said.
Even though we were parked, Marc didn’t move. He sat, looking through the windows, checking out the surroundings.
“Is this too close?” I asked. I stared down the police station nearby. “Isn’t it a little risky to do something that’s possibly illegal right here close to the station?”
“Where are you going to feel safest and let your guard down? Your office across the street from the police station. He’d feel safer to talk, he won’t think anyone will be spying on him if he can just yell and the police are right there.” Marc shifted in his seat to look at me. He did a deliberate scan of what I was wearing. “Feel like being useful?”
“You want me to go in and ask for the time?” I asked. “See who is working the front desk?”
He reached for the middle console and opened it. “Maybe plant a bug or two.”
“How do I plant a bug?”
He closed it, presenting me with a cell phone and an MP3 player. They looked like the ones Corey and Raven bought when we came here. “Drop these somewhere.”
“And leave them?”
“Somewhere near the main office. Preferably in the main office.”
“That sounds risky. You can’t do this?”
“Someone’s got to watch your ass.” He held out the devices. Then he held out a familiar looking ear piece. “Or are you saying Kayli doesn’t like doing the risky jobs?”
I was familiar with the ear piece, and stuck it into my ear. They’d be able to talk to me, and I could talk to them if I needed to. I still had my cell phone, too. “How am I supposed to walk in with two cell phones and an MP3 player?”
“Someone needs a purse,” Marc said. He stuffed his fingers through his hair, combing the longer locks of brown hair away from his face, and smiled big. “Are you a Coach girl? Or something more expensive? And maybe something pink.”
I snorted, and ended up stuffing my cell phone and the MP3 player into the back pocket together. They fit tight and might have fallen out when I sat down so I’d have to watch out for them. I held the bugged phone in my hands. “You owe me,” I said, opening the door.
“I’ll buy lunch,” Marc said. “Wherever you want.”
I slammed the door shut on him, but hoped he wasn’t kidding about food. The tiki bond place made me think of hamburgers.
The inside smelled like them, too.
The front lobby was opened to a rear kitchen that had a conference table in the middle of it. The lobby itself was lined with chairs and a television blaring the news with two doors on the right. There was a water cooler in the corner.
The doors were closed. The space was silent. Was anyone home?
“Remember to plant one in the office,” Marc said through the ear piece. “As close to the boss as possible. We’re not going to hear much in the waiting room.”
It was odd to hear Marc’s voice and not say something now. He could hear me if I did, but it would look like I was talking to myself.
I moved to the kitchen area, checking it out really quickly. When it was clear I was the only one in the space, I went to one of the doors and knocked.
“Come in,” said a male voice.
Lazy bastard. Wouldn’t even open the door. Did southern manners not extend this far south?
I twisted the handle and peeked inside.
There was an L-shaped computer desk in the corner. A big guy with a shaved head and wrinkles on his neck hunched over the computer monitor, clicking at things with the mouse. A couple of ugly wooden chairs were nearby the desk, and the room was littered with boxes of files, and a couple of fake palm trees in wicker pots.
The man looked up, and his eyebrows shifted when he spotted me. “Hello,” he said, in a tone that suggested he’d been bored and now perked up.
I slapped on a smile. “I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”
“No, you’re fine,” he said. He clicked on his computer for a second and then released the mouse. He twisted himself in his chair so he could turn toward me, put his hands together like he was praying but used it to prop his chin up as he studied me. When he talked, he pointed his fingers temporarily at me and then replaced them under his chin. “How can I help you? Your boyfriend in jail?”
Steepled hands under the chin is a sign of an asshole. Superiority complex. He thought he was the smartest person on the block. I’d met too many people like him when I was in high school, usually teachers who didn’t like how often I skipped class or didn’t complete the homework. I bit back the desire to grit my teeth and instead tried to look as pretty as I could muster. “Oh, no, sorry. I heard… or someone thought I could get a job here.” I don’t know why that came out. It was the first thing I could think of that didn’t involve getting a bond.
