by Les Goodrich
“Sure beats peach and aqua though,” Colin said then ducked into the bathroom to take a shower.
He shooed out a chameleon camping on the shower windowsill and took a long hot shower.
By the time he got out and put his same clothes back on Dolph had been to the store and back and was unloading a grocery bag of chips, pretzels, beer nuts, bunched bananas, bottled water and a six pack of beer onto the small dresser. He told Colin that they were provisions of brain food to plan their escape.
They sat on the beds, ate and began to discuss strategy. They talked about splitting up to distribute the labor and for the run and maybe meeting up later. They talked about getting new passports and called Richie, who was gearing up for a party, to see if his dad could have them made. Richie said he would find out and to call him back in two hours. Colin put off telling Richie about his boat.
Two hours later when the phone was answered at Richie’s it was a girl that Colin did not or could not recognize. Music, laughter, and the general sound of drunken hormones raged in the background.
“Let me talk to Richie,” Colin yelled.
“Who baby?”
“Richie!”
“Oh hi Richie. Where are you?” the girl giggled a little snort through her nose and dropped the phone. When the clamor of someone else picking up the phone came across it was Richie.
“Hello?”
“Richie, it’s Colin.”
“Colin, hola amigo! Que pasa?”
Richie only spoke Spanish if he were drunk or talking to his father.
“Listen Richie, go into your room or go somewhere quiet. Now.”
“Okay, okay. Chill out mang.”
Colin heard the sounds fade and then all but muffle as Richie closed his bedroom door behind him.
“Okay Stone I talked to Pop.”
“Richie before that, I have something to tell you. We had to use your boat.”
“And?”
“And we kind of had to abandon it. But we have money to pay for it.”
“Bullshit,” Richie laughed. “It’s over insured.”
“Oh good.”
“So you guys are really on the lam huh? Guess you won’t be back for Fall.”
“We won’t be back ever. So what about the passports. Can we get them?”
“Sure. He can get you new ones made. Actually making them only takes about three hours. Two hours if you have the originals. If not bring your driver’s licenses. But it will take a few days to bring the guys or guy in to do it or whatever. I wish I was going with you guys.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
Well anyway, you meet Pop at his restaurant in Boca in two days. Just you. Just one guy he said so just you. That’s Monday. Be there at noon. It’s called the Happy Clam and it’s on A1A, or whatever they call the closest road to the beach in Boca. I think it’s A1A. Pop’ll have a guy there to do what you need. He also said he’ll get you out of town—way out. But you two have to split up for the trip.
“We already planned to.”
Good. He’ll know how he’s gonna get it all done by Monday. Or he’ll have it all set up by then. He’ll let you know when you get to the restaurant. You fill Dolph in when you give him his passport. Got it?
“Got it.”
“Tell me.”
I go to the Happy Clam on probably A1A in Boca on Monday at noon, that’s two days from now, with our licenses and find out then how we’re getting out—way out. I fill Dolph in, give him his gear, then we split up and do whatever your dad said to do.
“And when you go Monday, how do you go?”
“Alone.”
“That’s right. If you need any hardware I have three nine millimeters stashed under the false floorboard in the little hallway closet at my apartment. Ice cold throwaways.”
“Thanks Richie. We’ll see ya.”
“Good luck my brother. Via con Dios.” Richie said then Colin heard the phone hang up.
“What’d he say?” Dolph asked.
“He said fuck the boat, it’s over insured.”
“Of course. About the passports?”
“His dad can get them made. Do you still have your license?”
Dolph felt for his wallet and nodded.
“I think they need the pictures. I’m taking them to Sonzo’s restaurant in Boca: Happy Clam.”
“Happy Clam?”
“The Happy Clam. Monday at noon alone. While I’m there you can set up our phony trail for the cops. I’ll be done by two or so. Only takes a few hours he said. Sonzo’s gonna get us outta here too.”
“Way out?”
“Exactly but we have to split up to go.”
“How? Where?”
Don’t know yet. I’ll find out Monday. When I’m done there I’ll drop your passport off at Richie’s and I’ll leave notes telling you how and where and anything else. I’ll put it behind the cabinet under that huge television he has in there. Remember it?
“The television?”
“The cabinet.”
“Yeah. Like a low grudunza holding up the big TV.”
“Credenza.”
“Fucking cabinet. Yeah I think. You’ll put my stuff behind that. Why not in it?”
“Someone might look in it.”
“Someone might see it behind it without looking.”
“Okay, in it. Christ.”
“Hey did you hear the one about the gay midget?”
“No.”
“He finally came out of the cabinet.”
Colin shook his head and laughed. He smiled at his best friend and the two of them were quiet for a minute.
Then Colin took a breath and told Dolph about the pistols Richie had stashed in his closet floor. He said he would leave one for Dolph and they finished discussing what phony trail Dolph was going to make. He would buy airline tickets to North Carolina landing on a weekday and book a hotel room just over the state line in Virginia for the next night. He would also buy two bus tickets for some other location, like Atlanta they thought, to make it seem like that was their decoy. Beyond that they figured they had done all they could and now their fate was in the hands of a gangster and there was nothing else to do but jump in and swim.
They looked up at each other and Dolph whispered, “Fucking unbelievable.” And Colin just raised his eyebrows and tilted his head involuntarily.
Chapter 19
Dolph awoke at ten thirty a.m. Monday morning. He kicked the base of Colin’s bed.
“Get up. Time to go to work.”
Colin rubbed his eyes, rolled up and went to the bathroom to wash his face awake. Dolph did the same using the bathtub faucet and they split the last clean towel.
As they got ready Colin repeated his speech yet again.
“I’ll leave your passport and the note under Richie’s television. Do you remember the code?”
“Yes I remember the code.”
“What is it?”
“Six seven eight nine zero.”
Colin called a cab for himself then hung up and called a different cab company to get a car for Dolph.
Dolph stuffed the money into one of the duffel bags they had bought and Colin was trying to remember everything.
“Stephenson, do you remember where you’re gonna send the cops. I mean the trail. You got it all?”
“Dude I got it all. Relax.”
“Are you sure they’ll buy it? It’s not too obvious?”
It doesn’t matter. They’ll have to chase each one. Even if they think it’s fake they have to follow up because what if it was real and some deputy in another state arrests us for some bullshit a mile from the bus station they had a tip we were booked to? It’s all just for confusion. Okay?
“Yeah okay. Maybe I’m being too careful in my head.”
No such thing. Paranoia is a thankless job. We only have one chance to pull this off and the whole thing is way out of our league but I’m not fucking around here and neither are you so I get it.
“My bro
ther.”
“My brother. Christ,” and with that last word Dolph zipped up the bag and went out.
He crossed the dusty parking lot to the front office. His entry was jingled through the office by a bell above the door on a spring. There was a small counter with a cash register, a television (on but barely audible) identical to the one in the room and a small bowl of mints that the heat had melted together. In the corner there was a standing metal fan, like those found in auto repair garages, but it was not on. Under the fan were two wicker chairs with a wicker magazine rack between them and a dying ficus tree stood to one side and littered the chairs and the grey carpet with yellowing leaves. The entire scene was overseen by an overweight seventy-something woman wearing an orange house dress or what some older southern women called a kimono but was really just a thin, gigantic tank top that went to the floor. Her long blue hair was in a ponytail that swung over her shoulders and down the dress back and Dolph thought blue and orange. Go Gators. She smelled of Ben-Gay and coffee when she spoke.
“Did you boys enjoy it here?”
Dolph smiled and nodded.
“Your friend said you were visitin’ home from college. What college is that?” she fumbled through some papers for their room bill.
“Boston College.”
“My Daddy always said folks from Boston come down here with one pair of socks and a twenty dollar bill and they won’t change either one of ‘em for nobody.”
Dolph laughed out loud and the lady added that she was sure it was a fine school and both of them smiled.
She found the bill and handed it to Dolph telling him it was sixty-nine dollars even and that was with the long distance. Dolph handed her a hundred dollar bill and glanced at the television where his heart skipped a beat. He strained to hear what Colin’s dad was saying to the reporter. Something about do the right thing and your family loves you and for God’s sake. Then the camera panned around to Andrea Sanders, mic in hand. She was wrapping it up with the two alleged felons and grand larceny and counterfeit ring and back to you Marty. Dolph tried to steady his shaking hand as he took his change from the lady. He managed a smile and headed out across the broken concrete deck around the pool where Colin waited with their bags.
“All good?” he asked looking up as Dolph approached.
“Yeah. Just saw your dad.”
“What!”
“On TV. Asking us to turn ourselves in I think. Couldn’t hear it very well. Oh and we’re also part of a counterfeit ring.”
“Goddamnit. Did they show our pictures?”
“No. Probably saving that for the film at eleven.”
Dolph lit a cigarette.
“That or America’s Most Wanted.”
“Fucking Geraldo.”
When the cabs pulled up Dolph flicked his butt into the empty pool and grabbed his bag. Collin picked his up and got a few last words of reassurance in as they walked to the cars.
I should be done by three o’clock. Take your time. I’ll drop your stuff at Richie’s by four. Richie said his dad’ll take care of us both. Get us out. Don’t worry. I’ll see you there, wherever there ends up being.
“Via Con Dios,” Dolph said and closed his cab door.
The two cars pulled out of the gravel lot in opposite directions and left the little hotel and the lady in orange and the empty room behind them just like a thousand other colorful South Florida characters had done a thousand other times before.
Chapter 20
Colin took the cab north to Boca Raton. He did not mind Boca but he did not love it either. To him it was one of those ineffectual places that you were always passing through to get somewhere else. Boca was a name on an exit sign. The cab driver knew Boca though. He also knew the Happy Clam and went on about their shrimp and lobster bisque the entire way. He let Colin out under the stand-alone restaurant’s royal blue canopy, said, “I wish I was having lunch wit’ you,” for the tenth time, took Colin’s money and drove off.
There was a slight line for lunch but Colin went past it to the hostess like he had been instructed. The hostess was a cute, overly friendly, peppy school spirit type of girl probably at her swell job and she was all too happy to tell Colin he would have to retire to the back of the line. She tilted her head, smiled and consciously did not look at his biceps or chest.
“I have a reservation.”
“I’m sorry but we take no reservations for lunch.”
Her head and smile straightened, her eyebrows lifted a notch in disbelief and the next party in line, an older couple, leaned in a bit to look from her to him.
“It’s under Sonzo,” Colin answered expecting a flustered reaction but he got none. The hostess took that in stride and simply said, “Oh right.” She pretended to jot something on her seating book then asked that he follow her and the two of them left the older couple looking at each other.
“Right this way,” she sang and weaved her way among tables toward a door in the back wall beyond the bar and a few more tables. She made a sweeping curved left turn back toward her station and pointed to the door with an outstretched right arm and open palm as she swung by it.
“Just in there,” she said as she passed Colin on her way back to the front and him still moving toward the door.
“Just go in?” Colin asked when she passed.
“Just go in then knock,” without breaking her stride and, “You are expected,” she said to the ceiling.
“Thanks,” Colin said to himself because she was already gone and no one else was around to which he added, “Go in then knock?” He stood for a second and knocked first anyway. Waited. A second more. He opened the door and went inside a small room with two chairs, a table and another door. He knocked the second door then opened it at the sound of a buzzer.
He entered a conference room with a large table in the center flanked by smaller tables and chairs in various spots along the right wall. No windows. A pudgy man was standing at the near end of the conference table shuffling through papers on the glossy black tabletop and twittering with a few pieces of small equipment. He completely ignored Colin who stood there watching. Another man, Hector Sonzo, stood at the far end of the table.
“Colin. Hola my young friend. Come.”
Colin walked the length of the table and Hector Sonzo leaned slowly forward to extend his hand but never looked away from Colin’s gaze. Colin looked into Sonzo’s eyes as well and thought him to be of average height and build but with the aplomb of an emperor. His skin was dark tan and his eyes were as black as those of a Mako shark. His charcoal suit seemed to reflect no light but his gold and grey hand sewn Bolgheri tie radiated an inevitable wealth. His hair was black but with a few wide streaks of grey and it seemed damp but not shiny and was combed back in a way that suggested he was a man beyond the thought of hairstyle. He was impeccably neat and polished but well above conceit. It was clear that Sonzo owned this place and God knew what else and Colin had the distinct feeling that he should probably listen more than speak.
“Colin, so nice to finally meet the young man who is such a friend to my son. My son has asked me to help you and I hope I have and will again.”
“Yes sir,” Colin said and focused to look Sonzo in the eye as he shook his hand firmly. A solid look in the eye and a firm but not macho handshake exactly the way his father had taught him.
“That says much about a man,” Sonzo commented aloud yet to himself. “A firm handshake and a straight look in the eyes means a man you can trust,” he added. Then he held Colin’s hand for a millisecond longer than Colin expected and in that millisecond there was a lifetime of blood and power and an absolute pure understanding that Hector Sonzo was someone who cultivated trust and that such a contract was binding and for life and that you might as well offer your purest crystalline trust or it would be exacted from you and that he would never fail or even falter or lose any contest and that if you thought it possible to get the best of him the fact that you never would was just made exceedingly clear in the f
inal extra one millionth of a second at the end of a handshake and Colin damn well knew it.
Sonzo sat and pulled in his chair at the head of the table and indicated a seat to his left for Colin, who sat also and continued his plan of listening.
Trust, Colin, is something I value. That is why I must apologize to you. I am afraid that today the value of a dollar often exceeds the value of trust. Ultimately it was my judgment of character, not another’s lack of it, that is responsible for failing you and.
“Dolph.”
Si, Dolph. Please extend my apologies to Dolph as well. You see, I will always admit when I make a mistake. I believe a person who makes no mistakes is shrinking from the action of life. Sadly, this mistake of mine-this lack of foresight—has cost me what will amount to a great deal. But that is in the past and if you accept my apology has been dealt with.
Colin nodded and Sonzo stood and walked around to speak with the man at the other end of the table. He then walked to leave and stopped to shake Colin’s hand again but with no pause at the end this time and he explained to Colin that he would be back to see him again before he left.
As Sonzo closed the door on his way from the room the other man immediately took over asserting a previously unseen authority. He kept fiddling with his equipment and shuffled papers past Colin and spoke rapidly.
“Okay Pal, sit down right here and fill out this form. Give me the licenses and I need a signature of this name here. This is you.”
He handed Colin a blank white notecard to sign and a small slip of paper with a name typed on it: Victor Flint.
“Victor Flint, not bad,” Colin said and the man just looked at him for a second and went on with his work.
Colin wrote the name a few times on a blank pad then signed it to the card. The man took it and gave him a second card and paper.
“And a signature of this one here. Make it easy for your friend to write. Real sloppy like a doctor. Just the first letter and a shaky line. Okay.”
