by John L. Monk
I came back and found Anna with a bottle of pills on the kitchen counter and a purple-colored baggie of something I guessed was meth but could have been heroin, though I didn’t see any needles.
“Don’t worry,” Anna said. She took two of the pills and swallowed them dry. “I’m throwing the rest away, all right?”
I nodded, not trusting myself to talk. I’d seen people use drugs before, mostly at random, but never this close and never by someone I knew. I felt sad for her.
She dumped the rest down the garbage disposal followed by whatever was in the little purple baggie. When she flipped the switch, it made loud crunching sounds until she remembered to turn the water on. Almost as an afterthought, she leaned over and slurped water from the tap.
I needed to know. “That guy you were with—that wasn’t Fruit, was it?”
Anna shook her head and said, “No, that was Manny. Manny hurts people.”
We went to the living room and sat on the couch. She leaned her head on my shoulder.
I couldn’t stay quiet. “Shouldn’t you go to rehab or something?”
Anna snorted. “Been there, already know what to do. I’ll be fine in a few days. Even better in a few minutes.”
Moments later, she lifted her head away and said, “Oh no!”
“What?”
“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” Anna said, feeling her neck and then her pockets. “Oh shit, shit, shit!”
“What, what, what?” I said.
She hammered her legs, crying now. “I’m such a fuckup, Bo, I’m sorry.”
“Hey,” I said, putting an arm around her. “Calm down. Just tell me what’s wrong, okay?”
Between sobs and hiccups, Anna said, “I left my ring in Manny’s car, in my purse. You know, the one you got me that night? I never wear it when I’m … out like this.”
I asked her what kind of car he drove.
She said he had a white SUV, then caught herself.
Looking at me with pleading eyes she said, “No, don’t even think about it. I don’t want you dying over some … for nothing.”
She lay down in my lap, holding my hand and being with me, someone who didn’t want to use her. Her eyes were closed. Her face was still smooth and pretty. Not like those awful before-and-after mug shots of drug addicts you sometimes saw online. I wanted to protect her, but knew I couldn’t. Just like no one could protect me from the way I felt coming out of Doug and Linda Oster’s house high on adrenaline. My drug of choice.
When I heard light snoring, I carefully stood up and got her a pillow and blanket from the bedroom. Then I removed her shoes and socks. I didn’t think she’d appreciate me going any further, but her pants looked really tight, and I grew worried she’d develop a blood clot.
Shrugging, I said, “She’ll get over it.”
I slid her pants off and covered her with a blanket from the bedroom. As an afterthought, I searched her pockets and found several business cards with the same phone number and address Debbie had told me. At the top it read: “Fruit Basket. Invitation Only.”
“Idiot,” I said.
I went to the car, grabbed a pen and a crumpled piece of paper and wrote, “I’ll be back in the morning. Don’t go anywhere. We’ll work it out, I promise.”
After a final check upstairs to make sure Anna was still breathing, I left the brochure on the table for her and then returned to the car.
I took out my taser and popped on my third and last cartridge, then drove back to my real apartment and picked up a slim jim and a small flashlight. Back in the car, I hid the slim jim in a tear in the ceiling upholstery. One of my biggest fears was being pulled over for something trivial and getting caught with burglary tools, something that could get me as many as ten years. Probably a lot less on a first offense, but still, any kind of time was bad.
Just as I pulled onto I-66, heading to DC on the advice of my GPS, my phone started buzzing. I answered it.
“Heya Fruit, how’s it going?” I said.
“Motherfucker you’re dead, just want you to know,” Fruit said. “I got a girl works for the phone company. She’s gonna get your name and address, and me and Manny gonna find you. What you think about that?”
“Let’s see,” I said. “I think it’s kind of mean, you calling me motherfucker. But you’re not going to take it back, are you?”
Fruit laughed. As laughs go, his was sort of scary. “Man, you don’t even know. I’ll see you soon.”
He hung up.
What he didn’t know was that he’d called my throwaway phone. I’d had it for more than a year and kept it going with a pre-paid credit card. I used it to call house phones to see if someone answered before committing myself to an entry. Keeping people like Fruit from finding me and ripping me to pieces was another good feature.
I’d been to Southeast once or twice, but only because I’d gotten turned around in the city and found myself in a worsening cascade of one-way streets and overpasses with no way to turn around. GPS made this trip a lot easier.
Worming my way in, I passed boarded-up houses, faded sublets, and crumbling sidewalks. Here and there, groups of teens and adults sat on corners watching everyone who went by. Though the streets were dreary and inhospitable, almost every parked car I saw was new.
Eventually I found what I was looking for: a white Ford Explorer parked outside a large house with a purple awning and the lights on inside. I drove past slowly, but didn’t see anyone. After turning the corner, I parked next to a hydrant and waited while nothing happened. In truth, I was nervous. Climbing through windows was one thing. Messing with muscly bruisers and the pimps who employed them was another thing altogether.
“Just do it,” I said and got out, tucking my slim jim under my shirt.
Down one way, I saw flashing blue and red police lights. Back the other way, the street was clear. All I had to do was find that purse and then I’d be home free.
As a rule, I never stole cars. It always seemed smalltime and unnecessarily risky. I’m not saying I wasn’t above stealing something from a car, but stealing one and taking it to a chop shop wasn’t me—even if I knew where to find a chop shop.
I approached the SUV from the shadows and angled my face near the window to look inside, being careful not to touch it. There were little blinking lights on the door where manufacturers used to put locks.
I heard a door open and then a man stepped out of Fruit’s house—I simply refused to think of it as the Fruit Basket. It wasn’t Manny from the bar. It was a smaller, normal-sized black guy with an untucked dress shirt, rolled-up sleeves, and a shiny gold watch. He crossed the street, heading my way. Just as he got to the driver’s side, I came around.
“Who the fuck are you?” Fruit said.
When he reached under his shirt, I shot him with the taser and watched, fascinated, as his muscles seized up and he screamed in the same weird, vibrato whine the other guy had. He fell to his knees, then over onto his side. Not taking chances with whatever he’d been reaching for, I kicked him in the back while he was down, then turned him over and checked him. He had a gun all right. Not too big, about the size of my hand.
“That’s what you get for calling me motherfucker,” I said, pointing it at him like you were supposed to when you took someone’s gun.
“What?” he said, blinking rapidly. “Bo?”
“Keys,” I said.
“Huh? Man, shit,” he said and tossed me the keys.
I clicked the button to deactivate the alarm, then opened the side door. I felt a brief moment of panic when the purse wasn’t there, but then found it under the seat: a small patent leather clutch purse.
On the way to the car, I chucked Fruit’s keys into a storm drain. A quick look back showed Fruit on his feet hunched over with his hands on his knees breathing heavily. After rounding the corner, I wiped the gun down with my shirt, dropped it in some weeds, and ran for the car. Then I got out of there.
Chapter 8
The morning after kung fu fighti
ng in the streets of DC, I opened the door to Ted’s apartment and strolled in with a giant bag of breakfast. I didn’t know what Anna liked, so I got two of about half the menu, figuring whatever she didn’t eat I’d eat for her.
Anna was still sleeping when I walked in. It was already eleven. I wasn’t going to let the day slip away, so I dropped my keys on the table and added some extra jangling.
“Morning,” I said with a big cheery smile.
Anna opened her eyes and lay there staring at nothing. Then she got up and went to the bathroom. A few minutes later, she came back and sat in the chair opposite me.
“Eat,” I said. “Partake of our plentiful bounty.”
She stared at the food, curling her lip like it wasn’t the most awesome breakfast ever, then chose an egg and cheese biscuit.
“Mind if I have your sausage?” I said, pointing.
She shook her head, which I took to mean I could have it.
“Don’t forget your orange juice,” I said, and slowly scooted it over to her with the straw already popped in.
“I’m not a kid,” Anna said.
“I know. That’s why I didn’t get you a Happy Meal. Besides, those toys are choking hazards.”
She shook her head again.
“You’re really not that funny,” she said, smiling through the middle of it, pursing her lips to make it stop. “Noodle-brain.”
I placed Anna’s purse on the table. Her eyes widened in surprise and she smiled in wonder.
“How did you get this?” she said.
“I’m a thief, remember? I stole it from his car. He didn’t even know.”
Close enough to the truth without upsetting her too much, while still casting me in a heroic light.
“I told you not to!” she said. “You could have been killed. No, really—he’s dangerous. He has a gun, I’ve seen it.”
Now that she mentioned it, I grew worried about Fruit’s gun, sitting in the weeds where any kid could find it.
“What’s done is done,” I said. “He won’t shoot anyone if we play it cool.”
I told her she could stay as long as she wanted, forever if need be, and that Ted only used the place to claim Virginia residence for business purposes.
Anna said, “I thought you said he was just out of town for a few weeks?”
I started to reply, but she said, “Forget it,” and made a brushing away motion.
She’d gotten grumpy awfully quickly. Remembering the pills she’d taken last night, I wondered if she was going through withdrawals or crashing or something. Having never tried anything harder than alcohol, I had no idea.
“Here’s some money,” I said, handing her a wad of hundreds and twenties. “And don’t worry about it, it’s stolen.”
Unlike a lot of burglars, who stole furniture or smashed into houses to swipe televisions, my criminal career had actually paid off. Ted’s accounts had more than fifty thousand from a year and a half of unspent paychecks. My personal account hovered nearly half that, and my safe deposit box had about forty grand in cash and even more in gold and silver bullion—all this after rent, food, and entertainment. I even had some collectable proof currency I hadn’t figured out what to do with yet. Which was fine. I had to pay the bills, sure, and it was a serious game, but it was still a game. Money was just a useful way of keeping score.
Anna glanced at the cash but didn’t reach for it.
“You don’t have to take it,” I said. “I understand if you disapprove.”
She shook her head and said, “Bo … don’t you see? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you did what you said you wanted to do.” She giggled. “You’re a thief. And I’m a junkie whore.”
“Hey…”
“I can’t take your money, Bo. I’d only buy drugs with it.”
I’m sure she didn’t expect me to laugh at her, but I did.
“Anna, if you want to buy drugs, go ahead. If you want food instead, that’s fine. I’m not your dad. I’m just a friend with a little extra cash. And you are not a junkie whore—you’re a junkie exotic dancer.”
“Stripper,” she said.
“Whatever. You’re also what, twenty-eight? You have time to work it out, just like everyone else.”
“Even you?” Anna said, smiling.
“Whoa, easy there sister—though I admire your enthusiasm. Now, are you going to put that on or do I have to steal your hash brown?”
She opened her purse and took out the ring—still lovely as ever and strung on a length of blue yarn. She held it up dangling from her hand, her eyes welling with tears. Then, like I’d done back in that old library years ago, I took it and put it over her head. When I did, her eyes met mine and she kissed me, just like before.
“There was more after that,” Anna said, teasing.
“Yeah,” I said. “Then you had to go and leave with your parents.”
Anna leaned back and stared at her food. “It didn’t last. I ran away again as soon as I got home.”
I wanted to ask why she ran away the first time, but knew she wasn’t ready. Maybe I wasn’t either. I switched topics and told her about my flight to the Bahamas, Sunday morning.
Anna frowned.
“You’re leaving?” she said. “So soon? I’d hoped…”
I stretched a smile around my lying mouth and said, “If only I’d known I’d see you again. I got the tickets and hotel reservations months ago…”
Anna sat there staring into her food. A moment later, she raised her head and smiled.
“It’s fine,” she said. “I mean, how could you know? So what are you gonna do when you get there? Sounds like a blast.”
Telling her I was going there to rob someone didn’t seem like a good idea just then. I said how I planned to go snorkeling, hiking, and even try my hand at the casino they had there. Halfway into it, I trailed off. Anna was looking at her food again, the smile gone from her face.
“Bo?” she said in a small voice. “There’s a reason I didn’t want to stay with Mrs. Swanson last night.”
“Why not?”
Anna gazed at me intently, as if evaluating me against a set of standards known only to her.
“Jeez, Anna, what’s wrong?” I said, and wished I’d stayed quiet.
Anna glanced down, then up again, smiling like we hadn’t just shared a weird and uncomfortable moment together.
Pushing the breakfast bag my way, she said, “If you want my hash brown you can have it.”
***
Later that day, I called Fruit from my throwaway phone.
“Hey, Fruit. It’s me, Bo.”
“Mo-ther-fucker, you got to be a crazy. You know what I’m gonna do to you? I’m—”
“—I know, jack me up, wop me or pop me or something. I totally get it. Listen, that gun of yours, it’s over in the weeds around the corner. It was dark.”
I couldn’t shake the image of little kids shooting cans off each other’s heads.
“Yeah?” Fruit said, sounding pouty. “And what about my keys, motherfucker?”
“Again with the motherfucker? Your keys are in the first drain as soon as you turn the corner.”
He huffed loudly. “You mean I gotta crawl in the sewer to get my shit? You know I’m gonna kill—”
“—yeah, I know, pop me or whatever. If someone sees you, just say you’re diving for low hanging fruit. Get it?”
With that parting salvo, I ended the call.
***
The next day, I showed up at Ted’s with a small fortune in entertainment equipment—Blu-ray disks and video games—and spent the morning setting it all up. I’d never expected anyone to stay in that apartment, and hadn’t furnished it beyond the basics.
With movies to watch and games to play, I hoped Anna wouldn’t get bored and decide to go buy drugs. I’d been totally lying to her about not caring what she did—a little female psychology, that.
The other things I bought were extra pillows, sheets, and covers.
“I swear,
” I said. “Ted’s going to be so surprised when he sees all the new stuff.”
Anna rolled her eyes in mock disgust.
“I’m not stupid,” she said. “There is no Ted, is there?”
Found out and tired of lying about it, I told her the truth—a little. What I said was I’d gotten the apartment using a fake name and used it to lie low sometimes. I didn’t tell her about the real Ted and his difficult life, nor how I’d called his poor parents to “confirm his social security number.” Listening to Ted’s mom shuffling papers and struggling to remain coherent was awful, and I swore that no matter what happened, I’d never do anything so cold again.
Anna and I spent the rest of the day watching movies and playing video games. She even let me win a few times. Around 7 p.m., I reminded her I had a flight in the morning and needed to pack.
“I wish I could go somewhere,” she said wistfully.
“If you had a passport, I’d take you.”
“Sounds like a nice vacation.”
I laughed. “Well, I’ve never had a vacation before. I’ll send you a postcard.”
“No one’s ever sent me a postcard before,” she said. “I can’t wait.”
In case she needed to reach me, I gave her the number to my smartphone, not the throwaway.
“There’s a shopping center just down the street,” I said. “If you drive me to the airport tomorrow, you can have the car. Deal?”
Anna nodded, smiling in a way that never reached her eyes and breaking my heart to pieces.
When I got home, I packed my backpack, my laptop, and a few useful things I thought would clear through security with no problem. My ring of ten bump keys would get me into ninety percent of all houses, whether they had deadbolts or key-in-knob pin tumbler locks, and they’d look like normal keys to the casual observer. I also packed five skeleton keys for various warded locks. They’d look a shadier if examined closely, so I put them on a garish purple key ring with a happy smiley face thing on the end. My RF jammer was far too sinister-looking to take, so I’d have to do without it.
The last thing I packed would hopefully clear customs as an expensive vacation toy: my neato night-vision goggles.
