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“Amy—” I started but Amy was warming to her theme.
“He was having dinner with her at Wazee Supper Club and Jet walked in wearing curlers in her hair, ratty slippers and an old bathrobe and started shouting at him about going out with his floozies while she was at home with their six kids.”
“I’ll never forget it,” Jody said. “We all went down to watch. That was worth missing the Broncos on Monday Night Football.”
Amy went on, “Now he’s married to Lisa and we alllikeher.”
I closed my eyes and silently asked the Good Lord if he was busy and maybe could he help me out.
“And remember when—” Amy started.
The Good Lord asked me to leave a message.
“Amy, Eddie doesn’t want to hear this stuff,” I interrupted.
“Yes I do,” Eddie said.
Wonderful.
Jody’s head came up and she looked closely at me.
“See, he does,” Amy went on, oblivious, and she made to start talking again but Jody came away from her drawer and into Amy’s station.
“I’ll help you count, Jet. I’m sure you’ve got a lot to do, what with your mom and all,” Jody said.
I felt the tension ease out of my body and I would have kissed her if I didn’t think she’d bitch-slap me for even trying.
“Thanks Jody,” I replied.
“I’m so sorry, Jet. I didn’t think,” Amy mumbled and smiled tentatively at Eddie, then started to concentrate on my deposit.
I guess the Good Lord got to his messages quickly and sent an angel in the form of Jody as his stand-in.
Whatever.
It worked for me.
* * *
We walkedout of the Credit Union, I threw myself into Eddie’s truck and snatched my travel mug out of the drink holder, taking my first sip of caffeine for the day. I needed it. I actually needed it laced with Jack Daniels, but I’d take it as it came.
Eddie got in and turned to me. “So, you used to work there.”
I avoided his eyes, looked out the windscreen and sipped more coffee.
“Yeah,” I answered.
“You’ll have to teach me the tuck and roll. Maybe I can use it during a shootout.”
Where were freak flashes of lightning when you needed them? At that point, I didn’t care if it took out me, or Eddie, or both of us.
I turned to him. “Do you get in shootouts often?”
“Not really.”
“Then you’ll be safe.”
He grinned.
