“I am. Why?”
“If anyone asks, flex a muscle, wink, and say you’re guarding Beyoncé. She lives out there.”
“Good to know. Talk later. And Honey?”
“Mmm?”
“Don’t worry none. I got this.”
At my wife’s advice, I remove my leather jacket and ring the bell of a similar mansion two doors down where music blares from an upper floor.
The noise increases when a teenage boy cracks open the entrance. “Yeah?”
“Hi, I’m here about the house for sale. Has anything suspicious been going on there?” I dig out a business card while inhaling the pungent scent of marijuana.
Lids swollen, eyes dilated, he points. “These dudes were shooting a movie but it’s no big deal. Some low budget, indie horror shit.”
“You didn’t by any chance take a picture?” I hold my breath as he tilts his head and reads my shirt’s logo.
“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.” Thumbing his phone, he whistles through his teeth. “Holy shit. You’re that dude on the video; the car chase guy. Fuck, that was awesome. How can I get a job like that?”
Enlist, endure SEAL training, get blown up, and hit rock bottom.“You got to know people in low places. Here’s my email. Could you send me what you got?”
Wasted, it takes him a few tries but eventually, he sends me photos dated the day Sam visited. Needing more intel, I locate the town’s municipal building, park out front, and stroll inside.
A cougar lady with red dyed hair leans her DD’s over the counter. Botox lips curve up in her otherwise frozen face. “Can I help you?”
I shoot her a big ‘ol southern grin. “Wahl, you sure can, sugar. I was wondering if you could give me any information on the movie shoot at this address a couple days ago?”
She slides on sparkling green reading glasses, peers at the image on my phone, and scrunches up her nose. “All I heard is they stiffed the owner the rental costs. Give me a second.”
Long red nails clack her keyboard, a printer comes to life, and she hands me a sheet of paper. “Here you go. This is all I have.”
“Why thank you ma’am.” On the way out the door, I pause.
Ah hell, across the street, a couple of goons with bent beaks and leather jackets lean against my vehicle. Whistling, I meander on over and watch their hands for movement.
“Can I help you gentlemen?”
The bulges under their coats indicate they’re carrying but with a police station right across the road, they’d be idiots to try anything. I have to assume, whoever they are, they think they can scare me which is pretty funny, when you think about it.
The bigger of the two thugs, the one with a prison tat on his bald head, steps forward. “Get in the car.”
I raise my hands. “You two got the wrong guy.”
The smaller man types in his phone and shows me a picture of myself, taken a few years ago. “Dis is you, right smart-ass?”
I point to the building next to the town hall where a cruiser exits the driveway and another turns in. “You do realize that is a police station?”
The tatted dude’s brows raise. “Just tell us where Joey’s at.”
The younger one, not nearly as bright, throws a sucker punch to my stomach. The other, not wanting to be shown up, connects a solid fist to my jaw.
It just goes to show ya. Never under-estimate the stupidity of some people.
Doubled-over, I raise up and bang the back of my head to the first guy’s nose with a sickening crack. Simultaneously, I break the knee cap of the second. With near lethal force, I bash their brains together.
On cue, sirens whoop and I put up my hands.
