I Remember You

by Joyce Armor

  “That’s mean, Russell. What’d Roger and Bonnie do to you?”

  “They practically had me arrested for theft, for starters.”

  He strode off, with Tiffy running after. “Hashtag, Muskman walked a lot slower.”

  Sludge’s cousin Stewie watched them go, smiling. Maybe Sludge would finally respect him if he told him what he had just learned. And maybe he could figure out a way to get a cut of the money if Sludge could find those buyers.

  Russell extricated himself from Tiffy, but he wasn’t so lucky with Ellie. She caught up with him as he left the exhibition room and headed down the hallway toward the parking lot.

  “I feel terrible about this,” she said with such sincerity he felt guilty, but he had to stay strong.

  “Why? What’d you do?”

  She was taken aback. “Nothing. I…”

  “Just leave me alone, Ellie.” He sped up and reached the door. He turned around and she plowed into him for the second time that day. He was still a lot more solid than he looked.

  “Oof.”

  “You’re reading too many comic books. You even talk like one.”

  She stepped back from his hard, sinewy body that felt a little too fantastic, especially under the circumstances. Stop thinking about his sinews. “Please come back and talk this out. I know we can make this right. I know you didn’t steal the comic. I know you would never do that.”

  He looked at her and smiled. “You’re such a Holly Happy.”

  She was about to argue with him when she realized she probably was cheerful and hopeful most of the time. So sue me. “You’re a good guy, Russell. I know you wouldn’t betray the Neffs.”

  Her belief in him struck him to his very soul. He had to make her go, though. Almost to his own surprise, he suddenly pulled her into his arms and kissed her. It was meant to be a scary kiss, one that said “Leave me alone; I’m too wacked out and dangerous for you.” But when his lips melded with hers, she opened her mouth and their tongues began the age-old dance. She glommed onto his body like she was trying to unzip him and get inside, and he wanted to swallow her whole. They might have slunk to the floor and done the dirty deed if a group of aging teenagers hadn’t walked by hooting.

  Ellie pushed back, appalled at herself. What a slut, pining after Brian and jumping Russell’s bones in broad daylight. “I…I…” She couldn’t figure out what to say. Your tongue was working fine a minute ago.

  “Yeah, that goes double for me,” Russell grinned, and it annoyed Ellie. He was so presumptuous. So cocky. So…so Russell.

  “This doesn’t mean anything,” she snapped.

  He looked at her like she had just shot a kitten, then his expression hardened. He shook his head and walked outside. She hesitated a moment, then followed him. Could he be any more irritating?

  He cut through the parking lot and headed up the street. She followed close on his heels.

  “Where are you going? Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  Finally, he stopped and turned to her. “What do you want me to say, Ellie? That I’m sorry I kissed you and it lit up the sky? I’m not. Go find your old boyfriend if that’s what you want and leave me alone.”

  He stalked off, and this time she didn’t follow him, although she wanted to. She wanted to climb on his back and never let go. She had to return to the exhibition hall to fine-tune the comic recovery plans and set everything in motion. But as she headed off, she heard that little voice again. You lit up the sky? Which was a good trick since they were in the hallway.

  Then she remembered the “blah” kiss from Brian. No, that can’t be right. It should be the other way around. Shouldn’t it? Well, look at the bright side of it. At least you’re not frigid.

  * * *

  They had fine-tuned the plan up the wazoo, and the time was growing near. Everyone was so nervous the air seemed electric. And then Ellie saw him. They were right. She knew it. Sludge, dressed as neat as she surmised he ever got, in almost-clean jeans, a brown collared shirt and lightweight tan cardigan vest, entered The Electra hotel lobby. A slight bulge under the vest had to be the comic. He scanned the lobby area and followed a bellhop as he rolled a baggage cart toward the elevators.

  “Hey, pal, where’s the penthouse? I’ve got an appointment.”

  The bellhop looked at him rather arrogantly, about to blow him off, and Sludge slipped him a twenty-dollar bill. The young man took the “tip” but still hesitated a moment before he decided twenty bucks was twenty bucks. He instructed Sludge to take the elevator to the top floor, head down the hall to the left and take the stairs up one more flight.

  At that moment, Ellie, carrying a briefcase, entered the lobby with Toni and Rob, who held the garment bag over his arm and carried another bag. When Sludge started to turn around, Ellie did an abrupt U-turn, just about knocking her friends down. They turned awkwardly and followed her back onto the street and around the corner. A moment later she strolled back into the lobby to see him walking toward the elevators. She rushed back outside to her friends.

  “Quick. Take the private penthouse elevator to the right of the registration desk and you’ll beat him to the room. I can’t believe he got here so fast. Hurry!”

  She handed Toni the briefcase and key card.”

  “Don’t worry. We got this,” Toni said, her eyes sparkling.

  Dear Toni. What a great friend. She was so into the drama of the whole thing and looked the part in spades, wearing some expensive-looking pale green linen dress and fairly dripping in jewels. Rob wore a charcoal Armani suit, and Ellie was practically blinded by the shine in his black Italian loafers.

  She had to smile. What a wonderful day it was when she hooked up with this couple. “If he gets there first, just pretend you were down in the casino wagering thousands. Go!”

  As they trotted off, she heard Toni say, “Let’s be Texans. Texans always have money. No, old money from Connecticut. A little snooty.”

  “Let’s just be filthy rich,” Rob suggested.

  “If he asks us any questions, let’s just not answer at the same time so we don’t contradict each other.”

  It seemed they had thought of everything.

  Ellie lingered outside the hotel, ready to take a call or run interference if anything went wrong, knowing she couldn’t stay here too long without looking like a hooker. Yes, the girl-next-door hooker, every man’s fantasy. She knew Sludge could be violent—he did fight rather viciously with Spencer—and she also knew he was downright mean. Everything rode on this little charade. It was frightening and exhilarating at the same time. You didn’t want a boring life. You wanted to live and gain more experience. Well, she had that now, that was for sure. She was about to head back to her hotel when it came to her. Brian had never returned her calls. He could show up at the penthouse any minute. Yikes, how could she have forgotten that? It certainly wasn’t because she had spent too much time thinking about some exasperating half man/half rodent.

  Toni and Rob made it to the penthouse floor and ran up the hall with their baggage flapping. Rob swiped the key card, thrust open the door and they bolted into the room. It looked the same as when Ellie and Brian had been there, with the exception of a fresh basket of fruit, and the giant strawberries had been dipped in chocolate.

  Rob took the luggage to the bedroom, and Toni set the briefcase down by one end of the sofa. As Rob approached her, they heard a knock on the door. Toni’s eyes widened.

  “Just in time. Tiffy, are you here?” she called out in a stage whisper.

  “I’m here, but it’s hot.” Tiffy’s voice was muffled, coming from inside the sofa bed.

  “Okay, don’t say anything. He’s here.”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

  Rob exchanged a look with Toni. They straightened up. He went to the door but didn’t open it, calling through it in his haughtiest voice. “We didn’t order room service.”

  In the hallway, Sludge fidgeted, leaning into the doorway as he clutched the folder. �
�Uh, sir…my name is…well, that’s not important, but I think I have something you want.”

  Rob waited long enough to up Sludge’s squirm level considerably and then he opened the door and looked Sludge up and down and back up again. “Son, Walter Kent Campbell doesn’t want much that he hasn’t already bought three of for himself.”

  Sludge raised his chin and focused his beady eyes on the rich SOB in the doorway. “What about the only known copy of “Muskman” Volume One, Number One?” He patted the folder, smirking, of course. Ellie had already warned her friends that Sludge was the Smirk King. He might have invented the sneering, derisive expression. He probably wore that expression when he was sleeping.

  Rob stared him down and had to admit the guy had balls. The creep looked back at him almost insolently. Rob wanted to slap the smirk off his face, but then he would have to touch him, wouldn’t he? Finally, Rob stepped aside to admit Sludge to the room. Just then Toni noticed that part of Tiffy’s red dress was sticking out of the pale yellow sofa. Why the hell was she wearing red? In the guise of straightening the pillows, she quickly stuffed the offending material, which she realized was a pale yellow dress with red trim, back into the crack.

  “Darlin’…”

  Yeah, he was going with the rich Texan act.

  “This…gentleman—he said the word as if it pained him—says he has the first issue of ‘Muskman’ we’ve been speculatin’ about adding to our collection. This is my wife…Blanch.”

  She gave him a brief “wrong name, Bozo” look.

  “And I’ll know the name of anyone I do business with.”

  “Uh…Smith. Bob Smith.”

  He thrust his bony hand out and Rob studied it for a moment before shaking it briefly with his own hand. Even then, he felt like he needed a bath.

  Sludge patted the folder again as he walked into the room, gaining confidence as he took in all the opulence. “My uncle was a San Francisco firefighter when the Full Court Press warehouse burned down. Spencer Keys gave him the first issue in gratitude.”

  “Hm…why was he grateful if the warehouse burned down?”

  “Oh…um…the fire team worked hard and no lives were lost.”

  Rob looked skeptical so Sludge plunged on, not wanting to lose his quarry. “I think there were one or two more copies at the time. They were lost or destroyed over the years. Uncle…uh, Uncle Joe threw the comic in a drawer and forgot about it. I found it recently after he croaked.”

  Such a sentimental guy. The worm was pretty inventive, though. Rob gazed at the folder, which Sludge continued to clutch like it was the Magna Carta. “I thought Full Court Press owned the only copy of the first issue.”

  Sludge guffawed and Toni pushed down an urge to scoff. Who guffawed anymore?

  “That was a fake,” the comic thief explained. “They put a computer-generated cover over another comic in their display case.”

  The guy really wasn’t too bright. How could they hope to sell a fake copy of the comic at auction?

  “How do you know this?”

  Sludge nervously shifted from foot to foot. “Oh, well, um, somebody I know knew a guy who was going to steal it from them in California, and he figured it out.”

  Rob sat down on the sofa and indicated the seat at the opposite end for Sludge, who sat eagerly.

  “Let me see it, son” Rob instructed solemnly.

  Sludge opened the folder and carefully pulled out the comic, which was enclosed in an acid-free, clear sleeve. Rob officiously pulled out thin rubber gloves from a back pocket and put them on, painstakingly adjusting them finger by finger. Toni used all her willpower to keep from rolling her eyes as she carried the fruit basket from the granite counter to the coffee table.

  As she set it down and Sludge grabbed a bunch of red grapes, nearly upending the basket. Rob carefully, lovingly, removed the comic from the sleeve and slowly flipped through several pages. Then he put “Muskman” Volume One, Number One up to his nose and smelled it. Toni had to turn away and bite her lips to keep from laughing out loud. Talk about laying it on too thick. When she turned back, Rob was meticulously replacing the comic in the sleeve. Then he nodded to Toni.

  “Are you sure, punkin?”

  She pretended to think about it for a few moments, mostly just to make Sludge more uncomfortable. “Yes, pookie, if the price is right.”

  He nodded again. She retrieved the briefcase from the side of the sofa and set it on the coffee table next to the fruit basket. Sludge eyed it greedily. She hoped he wouldn’t wet his pants on the sofa. Wouldn’t Tiffy love that?

  “How much, Bob?” Rob asked, leaning back and stretching his arms across the back of the sofa.

  Sludge puffed up. They could almost see the gears turning in his head as he tried to figure out the highest amount he could squeeze from them.

  “Half a million.”

  Greedy bastard. “Get lost,” Rob said and started to get up.

  “All right, all right. “Four hundred.”

  “You’re dreamin’, son. “One-fifty is more like it.”

  “All right, all right. Two-fifty.”

  Rob stared at him, giving him his best Italian glare. “I thought I made myself clear, Bob. One-fifty. Not a penny more.”

  Sludge sighed. “Okay. Okay. One-fifty it is. We’ve got a deal.”

  What a putz. They shook hands again. Rob punched in a code and opened the briefcase to reveal money. Lots of money. Sludge was practically salivating as Rob counted out a hundred thou and then fifty more. Rather than hand Sludge the money, he removed all the money in excess of a hundred fifty thousand, which was about another quarter of a million, shoving it into a black trash bag Toni had provided.

  As Toni hauled the surprisingly heavy bag away, Rob counted out the money to Sludge, who honestly just about drooled. Then Rob placed it back in the briefcase, snapping it shut so suddenly that Sludge flinched. Toni had to turn away again to hide her grin.

  “I’ll even throw in the custom leather briefcase so you don’t have to stuff the money in your long johns,” Rob chuckled.

  “Well, that’s right friendly of you, Walter.”

  Rob raised an eyebrow. “That’s Walter Kent, Bob.”

  God, Toni loved her husband. He was brilliant, and he grabbed life by the horns and didn’t let go. And he worked as hard as he played. She had never seen him have more fun.

  “Yes, Walter Kent. Sorry.”

  Sludge was obviously getting antsy, hoping to take his windfall and disappear. Rob rose abruptly. This calls for a drink. C’mon, Bob, let’s hoist one to the deal.” As he headed for the wet bar, Sludge hesitated. “Are you comin’, Bob? Time stops for no man.”

  Whatever the heck that meant, Toni silently chuckled. She watched, fascinated, as the greedy slimeball glanced at the briefcase, torn between leaving the money and not offending the mark before he got out of Dodge. At that point, Rob came back to the sofa, picked up the briefcase with a flourish and set it on one of the soft leather cushions with the handle facing inward.

  “Your money will be safe and sound right here, Bob. Sitting on the sofa, it won’t even get bruised. Now let’s have that drink to seal the deal.”

  “Sure, sure, okay, why not?” Sludge said as if he were trying to convince himself. He got up and followed Rob back to the wet bar. “You got any of that really good Kentucky bourbon?”

  “Neat or on the rocks?”

  “Just a double shot.”

  While Sludge was distracted, Toni tugged her linen dress down to show a little more cleavage and joined them at the little bar. “I’ll have my usual, sweetie. Mr. Smith, do you live in Las Vegas?”

  She leaned over to flick a piece of imaginary lint off her skirt and give Sludge a prime view of her chest. Now it was Rob’s turn to try not to roll his eyes.

  While the couple worked to hold Sludge’s attention, Tiffy’s hand slowly inched its way out of the sleeper sofa and began feeling around for the briefcase. Meanwhile, Rob slid a piece of paper and a pe
n across the bar to Sludge. “Write down your email address, Bob, and I’ll send you the code for the briefcase as soon as you leave.”

  Sludge looked nervous. Robe knew it was only a matter of time before he looked back at that briefcase. Tiffy had better get her ass in gear.

  Chapter 16

  Down the hallway from the penthouse, where the drama continued to play out, Ellie leaned against the wall, rotating her head, trying to get the crick out of her neck. Once they had firmed up the plan, she had called Brian three times to make sure he didn’t show up at the penthouse, but he hadn’t returned her calls and she was afraid to leave a voice mail lest Cindy hear it. Even though nothing had happened…Yet?...it could sound incriminating. She had stationed herself here in the hallway, after she’d worn out her welcome pacing in front of the hotel, just to make double darn sure he didn’t arrive unexpectedly and screw everything up. She kept her eye on the penthouse door, ready to dive around the corner if the door started to open. And then she heard it. The penthouse elevator was coming.

  Damn! She’d screwed up. Why hadn’t she stationed herself on the other side of the penthouse, near the elevators instead of near the stairs? The elevators looked closer when she’d picked her spot. Now they looked a mile away. If it was Brian, she had to reach him before he reached the penthouse door. Come to think of it, if it was just about anybody she needed to intercept the person. Security? Management? Room service? A maid? She took off running and reached the stairs just as the door opened. She had come around the corner so quickly, she banged her elbow on the wall. Ow! That hurt! But this is no time for pain. And then Brian stepped into the hallway.

  “Brian! You’re here,” she said lamely as he walked toward her. She stood right in front of him to block his way. Still, she was so relieved, in a panicky sort of way, that it was him. He stared at her, obviously dumbfounded.

  “Ellie? What are you doing here?”

  “Uh, you said I could come any time, remember? I called you. Several times.”