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“Fuck that,” Warren snarled. “They’ve broken in and stolen shit like thieves in the middle of the night. Parts. Accessories. Entire cars, even.”
I winched at the ‘thief’ comment, but either my father didn’t hear it or he glossed over it. He was searching his memory. Tapping a finger against the side of his cheek.
God, it was soweirdseeing him here like this! Standing in the garage, instead of sitting behind Plexiglas. A totally free man.
“Looks like I need to have a talk with John Payne,” he spat.
Every hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Warren’s eyes went wide as the sun.
“No, no, no, no, no,” Warren said quickly. “Don’t do that! You going over there is the last thing I want.”
“And why’s that?” my dad asked.
“Because they’re trouble!” he replied, as if the answer were blatantly obvious. He looked around the garage before lowering his voice a bit. “You just got out, Mr. Mannix,” he said placatingly.
“Sammy,” my father corrected him. “Not Mr. Mannix.”
“Fine, Sammy then,” Warren replied. “Please, don’t sweat it. We’re moving anyway. You don’t want your parole officer finding out—”
“I don’t have a parole officer,” my father replied calmly. “That’s why there’s beer in my fridge and I’m out past ten o’clock.” He stared back at me and smirked. “It’s one of the perks of riding out your entire sentence. I’m a totally free man.”
I wasn’t sure what he had in mind, but I wasn’t looking to find out. I didn’t want my father anywhere near that place, especially considering what Warren and I had planned for later tonight.
“Give it a few days first,” I said, laying a soft hand on my father’s shoulder. “See if it doesn’t work itself out.”
He scoffed. “I was never much good at waiting.”
“Considering where you just came from?” I joked. “I’m pretty sure that’s bullshit.”
His ensuing chuckle told me he at least had a good sense of humor. He dropped his arms at his sides.
“Piss off and show your old man around then?” he asked.
Grinning happily, Warren stepped in and threw his arm over my father’s other shoulder.
“We can do that.”
Forty-Nine
WARREN
He moved like a panther, way faster than I remembered. Staying low. Keeping his head down, as his legs carried him from car to car, and eventually, to one side of the dumpster near the Payne’s massive garage.
In the winter of our junior year I’d convinced Adrian to go out for track, which I ran all year long to keep my cardio up for football season. He’d never conquered the hurdles and he sucked at the high jump, but he could throw the hell out of a shot put. And on a straight hundred-yard dash, it turned out he almost couldn’t be beat.
Right now the silence was our enemy, and for once I’d prayed for rain. Anything that could mask or muffle our approach would’ve been welcome. We’d parked five blocks back to avoid detection, with hoodies pulled over our heads to avoid identification even if we happened to be caught on camera.
Not that they wouldn’t know who we were anyway. By this time tomorrow, it wouldn’t be—
“Pssst!”
Adrian motioned me over, once he was securely set. He set the black duffel bag down as I ran the short distance across the lot, passing the rusting hulks of some very beautiful vintage cars and trucks. I got distracted easily, just checking out their inventory. Twice already he’d had to make noise to get my attention.
Up ahead, the interior beyond the windows was well-lit. The Paynes had an operation that went beyond their garage; they practically lived on the property, which explained why the gate was still open when we got here. They had a secondary building that was one part office, three parts living space. Although I’d only been inside once, I remembered a large rec-room complete with a pool table, couches, a card table… even a bar.
The air was heavy with the threat of rain, all pregnant with humidity. We were wet without being sweaty. A light fog hung over the yard, but it wasn’t thick enough to keep us obscured.
“Last chance to back out of this,” Adrian murmured. “Speak up now.”
