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“Is that loaded?” Memphis asked, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably.
He laughed again. “Of course, it’s loaded. It’d be useless if it weren’t.”
“Okay, listen. We’re here because Jersey gave us the address for this house. Told us to come here,” I spoke up quickly.
“Am I supposed to know who Jersey is?” He asked, with a side-eye that made me want to scream at him.
“Right,” Memphis said quietly. “Um, Vance Anderson sent us here. This is his car. We’ve got his wallet. We assumed this was his house?”
Vance Anderson.
And I’d picked a shitty name like Kyle for him.
I wouldn’t have guessed any part of his real name if he’d given me a million chances over the next twenty years.
“You’ve got his wallet, huh? Telling me his name isn’t going to convince me that he invited you here just because you’re carrying something that also has his name on it.”
“Who the fuck is this guy?” I asked Memphis. She let out a long sigh but held her stare at this frustrating man.
“Okay then,” she said. “His wife’s name was Elizabeth. He called her Liz. Their daughter was Faith. He was a Marine back in the day. Scary guy. Seems to be happiest when he’s frowning about something.”
His body visibly stiffened at her words and his eyes darted back and forth between us for a few seconds.
“And where is he now if he sent you two here?” He asked.
“Seriously, who the fuck are you? Is this Jersey’s house or not? He wouldn’t tell us to go to somebody else’s house. He wouldn’t trust just anybody with his name. Does he even know that you’re here?” I demanded.
He looked my entire body up and down before he laughed. “I keep an eye on the place. Keep it nice. Keep it safe. He lets me live in the guesthouse out back as long as I keep it ready for him to be here at a moment’s notice.”
“How do you know him?” I asked.
He turned his left forearm outward for us to be able to see a massive American flag tattoo that took up all the space below his elbow.
“Semper Fi,” he said. “Come on. I’ll show you around. Are we expecting him to show up anytime soon?”
I looked across the car at Memphis. She looked the same way that I assumed I did; ready to burst into sobs any second now.
“No,” I choked out. “Not anytime soon.”
“Are those bullet holes?” He asked, nodding toward the driver’s side of Persephone when I closed the door.
“Uh, yeah. They are,” I said. “Know anybody around here who does body work? I imagine he’d expect us to get that fixed.”
He laughed again. “If that’s really his car, he’ll want it parked in the garage around back with the other. I’ll call his car guy to come look at it.”
I glanced at Memphis as we followed him up the steps to the front door of the house. “So, not to sound too much like an ass, but he’s got a whole secret house complete with a groundskeeper. Apparently, a car guy who makes house calls. How much money do you guys make on jobs like me?”
The lack of an answer that came with her giggle made me feel like I could throw up right there all over those front steps.
CHAPTER FIVE
trista
“So, will you be staying now that we’re here?” Memphis asked our new friend as he stepped aside to let us both through the front door.
“I’m not going anywhere until Van tells me to.”
Van.
