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“You’re lucky I didn’t back up and finish the job.”
“Tell me about it.”
Slick was driving a sedan. He opened the back door for me, and Gimpy looked over his shoulder from the shotgun seat.
“Look who’s joining us,” Slick said to Gimpy. “Devil Woman.”
“This is a bad idea,” Gimpy said to Slick. “She’s deranged.”
“She’s all we’ve got.”
Slick got behind the wheel, shut his grille flashers off, and hit the door locks.
“I had them take the cuffs off,” he said to me. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t try to climb out a window or strangle me while I’m driving.”
“Where are we going?”
“Early lunch. My pain pills are wearing off, and I don’t want to take more on an empty stomach.”
“My brother and Hooker…”
“Would have been fine if you hadn’t stolen a car. We were staking out Salzar when you bumbled in…like always. All we ever wanted you to do was butt out.”
“Why didn’t you say that? Wait, I know, because then you’d have to kill me.”
Slick slid a look at me in the rearview mirror. “Yeah. Doesn’t seem like such a bad idea anymore.”
“You’d better be nice to me, or I’ll kick your ass again.”
“Lady, this has been humiliating enough for two lifetimes. And painful. It’d be a real treat if you kicked someone else’s ass for a while.”
“We need to do something about Bill and Hooker and Maria.”
“There’s not a lot we can do right now. We lost the Town Car. I got stuck in the police roadblock, so I went to
Plan B and rescued you.”
Slick pulled into a fast-food drive-thru, and we all put in an order. I got a burger, fries, and a chocolate milk shake. Slick got a burger and a diet soda. Gimpy sulked in the front seat. Slick parked in the fast-food lot, and we ate our food with the motor running and the air-conditioning on.
“Here’s the deal,” Slick said. “You and your brother have screwed up this whole operation and now you’re going to have to help us salvage it.”
I sucked some milk shake up the straw and slanted a look at him in the mirror.
“There are things about Calflex that you don’t need to know….”
“That’s not a good way to start,” I said.
Slick washed two pills down with some soda.
“Where’s the pain?” I asked him.
“Cracked rib.”
“Sorry.”
“Yeah, right,” he said. “Change places with my partner so I can see you without twisting. The looking-in-the-mirror thing is getting old.”
Gimpy got out and held the door for me. His foot was still bandaged. His knee was still in the brace. His face was a mess of cuts and bruises. And he was bent.
