Page 7 of Dick

He shrugged. “Because you’re not?”

“Because I’m fucking not,” I said with a nod.

I cleared my throat. “I wasn’t joking about your wife, Seton. She’s a pretty fucker, and with those new tits you bought her right after Christmas last year, those Mexicans would go crazy to get a shot at her. They love blondes, you know. Did you know that? About the blondes?”

I watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall. “I uhhm. I’ll get it to you.”

I walked to the couch and sat down. As he nervously studied me, I crossed my legs and continued. “I know you will. You know how I know it?”

He shook his head.

“Because if you try really hard you can imagine your wife down in Juarez sucking some fat Mexican’s sweaty cock while he’s eating a plate of chili rellenos. And my guess is that you don’t like the thought of it one fucking bit.”

His face filled with anger and quickly washed to one of concern.

“Hell of a thing, thinking that some Mexican traded a box of grapefruit for your wife, isn’t it? That’s what I’d trade her for, Seton. Just to teach you a lesson about fucking with my money. I’d trade her for grapefruit.” I chuckled. “Well, that and maybe a couple of those avocados they grow down there.”

His face was ruby red and sweat quickly began to form on his brow.

I nodded as I glanced around the room. “I’d swap that bitch for a box of grapefruit and half a dozen avocados. You ever had those Mexican avocados? Hass, that’s what they call ‘em. Hass. They’re good as fuck.”

“I said I’ll have it. I’ll have it.”

The business I was in prevented me from being a compassionate man. “I asked you a fucking question, Seton. The avocados. You ever have ‘em? They’ve got a little sticker on ‘em that says ‘Hass’.”

He shook his head.

“You should try ‘em. They’re fucking good.”

I kept my eyes locked on his until he broke my gaze. As he looked away I glanced at my watch.

“God damn it, now you’ve fucked around and damned near made me late.” I jumped up from the couch. “Go get my fucking money and don’t come back until you’ve got it. If you’re not back here by two weeks from Friday, I’m going to trade your wife for a box of fucking fruit.”

Sadly, if he didn’t pay me, I would do just that. I’d spend fifty grand hiring someone to kidnap his wife and haul her ass to Mexico. After she was safely in the country, I’d drive down, meet with the Sinaloa Cartel, and trade the bitch for a box of fucking grapefruit. I’d probably have someone make a video of the transaction, just to convince others not to fuck with my money.

I motioned toward the door. “Let yourself out. I’ve got to change clothes.”

As I heard the front door open, I shouted over my shoulder. “Two weeks, motherfucker!”

I quickly changed clothes, grabbed $5,000 from the safe, and ran to the garage. As I pulled out of the driveway, I mentally prepared my schedule for the evening. Basically, I had one thing I had to do.

Pay for a leopard.

It had been two days since I met Jess in the alley, and I hadn’t heard from her yet. I decided after I dropped off the money I would stop by the bar and see if she lost her job or somehow convinced Patel to let her keep it.

Either way, I’d find her.

I merged onto the highway, pressed down on the gas, and maneuvered around the traffic until I reached an open stretch of road. After setting the speed control, my mind faded to thoughts of Jess’ round ass.

I pressed my thumb against the button on the steering wheel, activating the phone.

“Call. The Brisco.”

After the third ring, the phone was answered. “The Brisco.”

“Hey, this is Dick. I need to make a reservation.”

“Good afternoon, Dick. How many will be in your party?”