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CHAPTER 66
AT JUST BEFORE noon, a refrigerated transport van with the distinctive checked aqua trim and Chuck’s Prime logo of a snorting bull on a hill pulled into the loading area behind a Chuck’s Prime in Larkspur.
Chuck’s was one of many shops and restaurants in a busy outdoor mall called Marin Country Mart. With a yoga studio, a French bakery, a sushi joint, and a brewing company, the whole area was designed to look like a quaint country-style town offering views of Mount Tamalpais and the terminal for the ferry that took people from Marin to San Francisco.
The driver, a wiry, well-built man with dark hair and a two-day-old beard, stepped down from the van and closed the door.
He squinted at the sun, then walked around stacks of pallets and a Dumpster and rounded the corner to the front of the store, where the buff college boys and cute cowgirls were setting up tables under an olive tree. They were busy, earnestly unfurling market umbrellas, spraying Windex on the front window, polishing the chrome trim.
He shouted, “Howdy y’all.”
“Oh, hey, Walt,” one of the boys said. “I’ll get the door.”
“Thanks, Tony. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Walt unzipped his leather jacket, pulled up his hood, and went inside and ordered a Coco-Primo shake to go.
The counter guy, Arturo, turned down his offer to pay, saying, “C’mon, man, it’s on the house.”
The two men exchanged sad commentary about the fumble at the goal line last night, and then Walt took his shake out the front door. He sucked on his sweet, thick shake for a minute, taking in the sun on the water, and then continued around the stucco wall of the restaurant to the back.
He opened the cab of the van, placed his drink in the cup holder, and then walked toward the cargo doors. He set his hand truck down on the asphalt and began loading twenty-pound cartons of frozen beef patties onto the dolly.
“Let me give you a hand,” Tony called out. He was a big kid who probably played football in high school, Walt thought.
“Sure,” Walt said. “I’m running late. I’ve got a few more stops to make before I hit rush hour.”
The big kid used a brick to wedge open the back door and went to help Walt.
“You came just in time,” Tony said. “I didn’t know if we were going to have enough patties to get through lunch.”
“I’ll tell management to boost your weekly order.”
“Good. Thanks,” said Tony. “Hey, you know that girl I told you I liked? Gita?”
“Sure. In your drama class.”
“That’s her,” said Tony. “We’re hanging out now.”
“That’s fine,” said Walt. “Good luck with that.”
Tony grinned and said, “See you next week.”
Walt passed gas as he climbed into his van. He settled in, picked up his cup, and sucked up a long pull of chilly Coco-Primo before putting the van into gear.
He was whistling through his teeth as he
pulled the truck out onto Sir Francis Drake Boulevard and headed west to his next stop.
Man, he was like riding the moon.
In the back of the freezer compartment was a box of frozen patties packed lovingly with a little extra bang.
Every way he looked, it was win/win.
Money or ka-boom.
Or possibly both.
