Page 28 of It Takes a Thief

Or not.

A text from June brought me back to reality.

Are you coming tomorrow night?

Where tonight? I texted back.

Her answer was immediate. The policeman’s ball, doofis.

Oh, fuck. The fucking Policeman’s Ball. I’d agreed to go there with Ford, even if I’d only be arm candy. I didn’t even care if he didn’t bid on any fucking cruise. I was going to bid on the damned cruise, and keep outbidding everyone until I won. I’d stand right by the bid sheet, elbowing aside anyone who came near, talking about gastroenteritis aboard ships, about overflowing toilets, noisy cabins, and creamed carrot soup.

I’d win that fucking bid, and there would be no way Ford could get out of going with me! I’d pay twice the price it was valued at—I didn’t care! We could go after his highway job was done, after my sabbatical job was done. We’d be all fresh and in love again, and fuck it—I’d even been thinking about having another baby. Another girl would be nice! I would never make the mistakes my mentally ill mother had made.

Completely rejuvenated by this idea, I texted June:

Right on, sistah. Just tell me what time.

“Hey, Galileo. I’ve got to get back to Pure and Easy. I left my car at Moss’ trailer. Can you take me back?”

Galileo seemed to have regained some strength, too. He was leaning against his truck using his bandwidth to type on his phone, too.

“Oh, sure, Madison.” He waved the cell at me. It was then I noticed it was a flip phone. “Look. I can get a bird around these obstacles.”

It looked like Flappy Bird, a game my brother Speed played a lot around 2013. “Oh. How fun. No wonder I could never get ahold of you. That phone looks ancient.”

“Oh, no, not at all! I acquired this about five years ago. It’s fairly new. You should’ve seen the one I had before that. I could only play Tetris on it. I lost it somewhere between here and Albuquerque.”

“When your ‘friends’ rolled you in that rug?”

“Exactly.”

I sighed deeply. “Oh, Galileo. I don’t know how you made it this far. Come on. Let’s get back to your old trailer.”

We wandered back to our respective truck doors. Galileo mused, “Yes, those friends were like an abusive spouse to me. You’re giving me new life, new direction. Sort of like that boy band.”

I just grinned. Galileo was giving me new direction, too.

CHAPTER TWELVE

FORD

I hadn’t felt that alive in years, kicking it old school like that with a bunch of C-4.

Go old school or go home. That would be my new motto.

Andre the operator had said we needed to kick it old school and go back to the way things were. Contrary to my wife’s opinion, this didn’t fall on deaf ears. I’d been spreading myself way too thin, shouldering way too big a percentage of the burden for one man to take.

Sure, I could run the club. The business. But that left no time for my wife and kids and what kind of man was that? A man who wasn’t even there at his daughter’s fourth birthday party. Who didn’t even know whether Niko was circumcised or not. What anyone’s blood type was, what they were allergic to, what cereal anyone liked.

No, I needed to put some kind of plan in motion. And blowing the Cutlass’ clubhouse to all hell was part of that. I needed to do it alone, too, because it seemed to be a personal beef. Noodlum was up my ass on a personal level that even seemed to involve my old lady, and I was taking care of that.

Setting the fuse. The tension. Hiding. Waiting.

When the stupid rickety building in Happy Jack blew, it was a gratifying sight to see.

Happy Jack was a piney, mountainous area, but I wanted to stay within eyesight of the mark, an A-frame house with skylights. I pictured the skylights blowing straight out with the force of the blast, and that’s what happened. I had made sure to stay clear of those, my lid and goggles safely secured to my noggin. I revved my engine, wanting to make a fast getaway but desiring to see the mayhem.

I wasn’t let down.