“Lives at 303 Harold Street. I mean lived at.” Oscar smirks as he points at the screen of the phone. “Says here he has more money than brains.”
I feel triumphant. He’s got game after all.
“Don’t fucking play dumb with me,” Toper says. “311 Boys ring any bells?”
I look at Oscar. “Are they friends of yours?”
Oscar shakes his head. “Never heard of them. You?”
“They’re gonna fuck you up when they hear about this!” Toper snarls.
Brambles doesn’t like the snarl and does a better one along with a deep guttural growl low in his throat.
“Get this fucking dog away from me!”
I have seriously had enough. My tires screech as I hit the brakes and pull up to a bus stop.
Then I pull my gun, twist around and aim it at Toper. “I don’t have time for you, you piece of shit. So shut up and suck it up or I’ll pull the trigger and solve the problem myself.”
Toper looks from the gun to me then back to the gun. He doesn’t know if I’m serious, which of course I’m not. Then he presses his lips together and makes the right choice. The rest of the trip is blessedly silent, Oscar side-eyeing me all the way.
It’s a cool five-grand payday and I haven’t seen that much money since Affleck and Lopez got engaged the first time.
“Want to go for burgers?” I ask Oscar.
“Sure,” he says. Then he adds, “You wouldn’t have really shot Toper, would you?”
“Of course not. But rich boys rub me the wrong way and this one was a whiny little bugger.” I glance at him. “Would your dad have?”
Oscar shakes his head. “Not in his truck anyway.”
After burgers and the murder room, we head home.
When I get there, mom is waiting in the driveway, dressed for work, keys in hand. “How’d it go?” she asks.
“Got him,” Oscar replies grimly.
I shrug. “Thanks to Oscar.”
We then go on the describe what happened.
Mom overlooks the fact that I used a 12-year-old boy to help me catch a wanted criminal. “How much did you make?”
Oscar starts to speak but I stamp his foot. “Two grand,” I lie.
Oscar grunts in pain as Mom claps her hands. “That’s wonderful!” she exclaims.
“It is!” I reply. “And $1500 is all yours.” The rest will go towards my overdrawn credit card.
She wrinkles her forehead. “Are you sure you only need $500.”
I nod. “I’m feeling lucky, so I think I can bag a couple of other lowlifes this week. Then we’ll be rolling in it.”
Mom’s eyes light up like it’s Christmas. “That would be fantastic!” She looks at her watch. “My shift starts soon so I better go. I haven’t made lunch or anything so you’ll have to fend for yourselves.”
“We ate,” Oscar says.
“Celebratory burgers,” I add quickly before she thinks we dined at a four-star Michelin. She thinks I eat out too much. She’s probably right, but in my books, cooking ranks right down there with cleaning toilets.
