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“It’s just inside.” Valentina pointed to a metal door with what looked like a homemade sign taped to it. “I’m gonna grab the stuff from the trunk. If you just want to open it up for me, I’ll be fine. Pauli usually sits here and waits with Big Blue. Not sure of the life span of the car in a neighborhood like this …” She chewed on her bottom lip.
“For once, you and I fucking agree. There’s zero chance that this Caddy would last five minutes here.” Hal looked past her to the sidewalk where a few crack-heads had started to line up near the warehouse door. “If you think I’m gonna let you step one foot out of this car without me, you’re as messed up as they are.”
“I’ll be okay, it’s fine …” Valentina frowned as she looked at the grimy door. “But Father Michael does usually have a light on by now.”
Hal dragged his cell out of his cut, punched in several numbers, grumbled a few words, and hung up. “I got a couple of prospects on their way. They’ll watch Blue for us—should be here in a few minutes.”
“Few minutes?” She raised doubtful eyebrow. “And how are they going to manage that? We’re nowhere near your clubhouse.”
“Prospects don’t live at the club. Ain’t my problem how they get here. But trust me, those boys’ll do whatever they have to do make it hereASAP.” Hal watched the door to the warehouse with interest. “Lines starting to get longer—rankest looking bunch of junkies I’ve ever seen.”
“We aren’t here to judge, Hal.” Valentina reproached him.
Hal snorted in response as a dim glow lit up the grimy window on the first floor of the neglected building. The metal door creaked open, and just inside stood a small, stooped, wrinkled man with a full shock of gray hair and eyes that twinkled blue, even from a distance. The clerical collar he wore stood out like a beacon of hope against the dreary backdrop of squalor and decay.
As if on cue, the loud rumble of Screaming Eagle exhaust pipes came thundering down the mean streets. Two men wearing Hells SaintsProspectcuts pulled up behind Big Blue. With an order for Valentina tostay put,Hal got out of the car and went over to talk to the recruits. After a few moments of discussion, the slighter one with the long, bushy black beard moved to the front of the car. He stood as if at attention with his legs apart and his back ramrod straight—his sinewy arms were crossed and flexed over his chest. The second man was shorter and heavier. Sporting a ginger-colored handle bar mustache and a Celtic cross inked on the back of his neck, he took up guard duty directly behind Big Blue’s back fender.
Hal opened the door for her. “We’re good to go.”
He helped Valentina unload what seemed like hundreds of loaves of bread from the huge trunk of the vintage 8-cylinder and carry them up the stairs into an empty staging area. Father Michael stood behind a long-improvised table made up of a few sawhorses and a couple of sheets of plastic covered particle board. Next to him were two nuns dressed in full habit — and impossible as it seemed, they looked even older than Father Mike himself.
After some cursory introductions, Hal watched on closely as Valentina and the clergy passed out the loaves of bread and some pantry staples to the long line of—down on their lucks.That was the term Sister Mary Angela had whispered into Hal’s ear after one particularly vile, scabbed up, bag bitch had passed through the line.
Damn depressing was what it was. No wonder Pauli had waited in the damn car.
Hal’s hyper-vigilance was set in overdrive as he studied the parade of unwashed, decaying, zombie-like creatures stumble their way through the Bread Dayline. His skin crawled, and he was doing some jonesing of his own—for hand sanitizer.
Or a hep shot.
But Valentina, on the other hand, was completely at ease. Smiling and serene, she appeared to be an angel of mercy or a well-loved princess holding court. She greeted most of thedown on their lucksby name and inquired about their health, legal status, and family issues—Did you ever mail that letter to your daughter, Harry? Make sure you remember to call your probation officer on Thursday, Abraham. How is that library card working out for you, Virginia?
On and on and on, Valentina smiled at them, touched them, and to Hal’s absolute and total horror, kissed a particularly crusty, old guy right on the cheek in apparent hopes of eliciting a winsome, toothless smile from him. Which she got—in spades.
Go figure some shit out.
“So, that was fun,” Valentina commented as she waved goodbye to the two sisters and Father Michael after Hal had insisted on seeing them safely to the church van. Once he had them securely locked in the vehicle, Hal ordered the two prospects to give the saintly three musketeers a motorcycle escort, MC-style, out of the neighborhood.
“FUN?” Hal looked at her with such incredulous disbelief that Valentina laughed at him.
And it wasn’t just a small giggle, Valentina shocked Hal by letting out an unrestrained, blissful, bright and bubbly, joyful noise.
Gone was the sullen, pouty, and willful child who had been his reluctant passenger the last week or so, and in her place was a magical creature. One with bright, shining eyes, a killer smile, and a laugh that sung out like a magic flute.
Hal would have followed that sound anywhere.
“You hungry?” He took a shot.
“I’m starving, you?” Her voice registered surprise but no hesitation.
“I could eat.” He shrugged casually then added smoothly, “I know a place I think you’d really like.”
“I’m definitely in. But I have one condition,” Valentina replied instantly.
Here we fucking go.
“And what’s that?” Hal’s voice was guarded.
“It’s such a beautiful day, do you think we could put the top down on Big Blue?” Valentina’s eyes shone out with excitement.
