Seeking Carol Lee

by Nace Phlaux

  “For what? They didn’t even notice I was gone for days. What apology can I give, Jer? ‘Sorry I raised such ignorant jerks’?”

  A crowd formed along the edges of the parking lot, and Jerry started fidgeting, repeatedly glancing at our onlookers and fiddling with his car keys. He seemed like he wanted to grab me and throw me in the car, but something stopped him. Maybe he thought I’d fight back. The way my blood boiled, I might’ve. “C’mon, babe. I’m heading home. You do what you like, but I expect you to follow me. We can finish this without an audience. He passed by me with his eyes to the ground and got into his car. Standing in front of his car crossed my mind, but I didn’t see a point.

  Once his car drove off, most of the crowd dissipated. When I left, I drove around the area in circles, trying to think of any option besides going back to the house. Eventually I found a Starbucks that was still open, so I grabbed myself a skinny peppermint mocha. The drink was too good for me to care where I picked up the habit. As I sat in the coffee shop, my phone vibrated, telling me I received a message from Richter, asking how I was doing. I told him the truth: My marriage was falling apart, along with the rest of my life.

  “I never should’ve listened to Christy. My marriage is ruined. I hate my job. I hate my life. All because I went on that stupid vacation.”

  “But then we never would’ve met,” he said. “Why don’t we meet up tonight? I think maybe we should talk.”

  And that’s where we’re at now, Dottie. Instead of going anywhere near home, I went to the hotel I stayed in and first met Richter. As I write this, I’m sitting in my car in the parking lot, and I don’t know what will happen next. Maybe we’ll run off together. Maybe he’ll talk me off the ledge and get me headed back to Jerry. I just need to talk to someone removed from the situation, and I still can’t get through to you on your phone. I hope this letter finds you healthy and happy, and I ask you to pray the next one will find us both the same.

  Fondly,

  Candy

  Eddie 11

  The kid’s burner helped with little more than pissing me off. At first. Once I got to the pub, I looked through the texts and found Christy’s requests to follow me to ensure I did my job. There was a call around the same time, so I figured that’s where she explained to him what she’d tasked me with to some degree or another. But what got the blood boiling was the fact she included a photo in one of her text messages of me exiting my apartment building with Richter. It looked like it’d been taken months back, maybe even before I had joined the agency.

  The atmosphere in Indian Creek seemed unnatural and sterile. Mostly people eating. Very quiet. Hell, a family with a couple kids ate at one of the tables. I wouldn’t have believed they even owned booster seats if I hadn’t seen one with my own eyes. After getting a couple beers in me, I asked the bartender to turn one of the TVs to the hockey game and watched as Toronto wrecked us. As I sat there with the depressing game on, I texted the boss lady with the kid’s burner, being as sexist and crude as I could muster. Dad would’ve slapped me.

  When I didn’t get any immediate response, I brought in the map I had from the Express and scanned our potential targets for the next night, picking out that Wells Fargo over on 13. With nothing but silence from Christy, I finally got a response after graphically detailing what I’d do to her ass with a beer bottle. “You’ve had enough tonight, Ian. Go home. We’ll talk tomorrow.” So I had the kid’s name in case I needed it the next day, and with any luck, I got under the girl’s skin. Mission accomplished.

  Well, almost. As I walked out of the bar into a parking lot surprisingly absent of any smokers, an idea struck me, and I drove to the beer distributor across from the Wells Fargo. Dialing 911, I put on my best Streisand and said, “The MAC machayne thaves! They’re taking the MAC machayne from Wells Fahgo on the Pawkway!” The operator asked where I was calling from, and I replied, “The Pawkway! The Pawkway! Levittown Pawkway!” before hanging up the phone. The burner got tossed along a road between there and home that night.

  I figured the cops would show up, dismiss it as a prank, and move on. That way, if someone called us in the next night, they’d have to check it, sure, but they probably wouldn’t be too quick about it. An optimistic drunken voice in the back of my head said they might track the burner to Christy and bring about a world of pain, but that sure as hell didn’t seem likely.

  The next morning at work, Getsinger’s door was open, and he did a double-take when I walked toward his office. “Good to see you again, Eddie. How can we help you today?” His sleeves were rolled up, and I had to stop myself from chortling when I caught myself staring at the hairy Dutch pork rolls.

  “I’m your new secretary. Started yesterday, but you were off-site all day.”

  If what I said had struck any chord, it didn’t show on his face. “Interesting. We had an issue in the bath—”

  “Submitted a ticket last night.”

  “Hmm. Good. Call the agency and ask for two workers: one for the warehouse and one office. Bring Todd back to my office and box up any personal items on his desk while we talk.”

  “Should I notify security?” I hadn’t thought about it the day before, but the two walking slabs didn’t seem to be around anywhere. The Dutchman told me they’d been relieved since temps were more docile than the previous workers. “So what’d Todd do? Seems like a good kid. Good enough, at least.”

  “True, which is why he was given a warning about his cell phone usage. But since he can’t tear himself away, we’ll have to let him go. Ian Detweiler doesn’t get that chance. No call no show once and you’re out. I won’t have that level of insubordination.” I got up and gave him a two-fingered salute, and when I reached the doorway, he added, “And Eddie? It’s good to have you back.”

  Walking to the front of the building, I had to wonder about that Ian kid not showing up. Did I scare him off? Did the boss lady do something after all my texts? There was the genuine chance he simply didn’t show up for personal reasons. It’s not like I knew him or his life. We didn’t get a chance to exchange biographies as I kicked his ass in a bathroom stall.

  When I reached the front desk, it was just like Getsinger warned: Todd sat there with the hands-free headset for his phone hanging off his neck, the security feeds on the screens to his left, and a long string of a conversation in front of him on his cell phone. I told him the Dutchman wanted to see him and waited as he took his time to even acknowledge I’d spoken to him and then headed back to the office. Once he was a safe distance, I gathered anything that looked personal from the desk, mostly playbills for shows over at the Bristol Riverside Theatre and weird animal-shaped erasers that broke apart into puzzle pieces when I tried to pick them up.

  The door was closed when I got back to the office, and no noises seemed to come through the walls. I figured Todd was taking it well. Young guy and all, it’s not like the temp agency couldn’t get him placed elsewhere. Maybe somewhere his phone use wouldn’t be so obvious. A loud slam from Getsinger’s office woke me from my daydreaming and had me rushing into the room, only to find the noise had come from the Dutchman’s monitor falling off his desk and flickering on the floor. Todd’s head poked out from the other side of the desk as if he was kneeling, and instinct had me jump the desk, tackling the little asshole to the floor.

  My fists slammed into his face until he stopped resisting, and I could hear Getsinger’s hoarse coughing behind me between punches. Once I felt safe Todd wasn’t going anywhere, I attended to the Dutchman, whose face beamed red as he rubbed at the circle of fingerprints around his neck. He motioned he wanted a bottle of water, and once I got him one, we called 911. The rest of the day was me watching over him at Lower Bucks and giving a statement to the cops.

  Considering what we’d been doing for the past month or so and what I had planned for that very night, I didn’t want to be anywhere near the police’s figurative radar. I mean, it’s tough to tell what the township’s station is even like. You see these cop show
s where there are tons of different departments. And if this were New York City or even Philly, I wouldn’t worry about the officers dealing with an office brawl knowing anything about bank robberies. But the township had, what? About fifty-five thousand people? I doubt they were big enough to split up like that, so being recognizable by any of ‘em was dangerous.

  I wished the situation would’ve been like Gaunt’s, but there were too many people involved. Todd wound up trying to say I attacked him without provocation, but Getsinger backed up my side of the story and then some. According to him, Todd hadn’t even said anything after he was fired. Just nodded silently, looking off like there’d been a spot on the carpet. After a disturbingly long moment of silence, he leaped over the desk and wrung his hands around the Dutchman’s neck, where I came in. Well, shortly thereafter. The kid, not satisfied with just choking him, pounded his head into the floor, knocking off the monitor, which alerted me.

  According to Todd’s statement, Getsinger promoted him, and I, enraged at the turn of events, attacked him. I don’t think he realized a box of his possessions had already been collected. The Dutchman had more statements to make and more injuries to nurse, so they released me long before he could finish talking. At one point, we crossed paths, and he told me none of it mattered anyhow. The meetings he’d been in the previous day centered around the company being sold to a local competitor. He told me, drugged up on whatever pain killers they’d provided, that the primary buyer had blatantly stated they’d lay off everyone. They just wanted the brand. Being that jacked up on drugs, he seemed the most genuine I’d ever seen him.

  * * *

  I hesitated when I got to your place because the scene was just like over the weekend. You and Hayleigh and the kids around the table as Sydney buzzed around the kitchen. If the conversation with Hayleigh had gone like I expected, I figured I’d be expected this time. Swallowing hard, I got over myself and knocked on the door. Sydney opened it, but instead of letting me in, she shuffled herself outside and closed the door behind her. “I was hoping to see you, fam” she said. After giving a quick glance over her shoulder into the kitchen window, her eyes scanned me over. “Who dressed you?”

  “I could say the same for you.” But I didn’t have to. Instead of the oversized Penn State hoodie and tiny skirt, she wore Hayleigh’s hand-me-downs. Still a little big on her tiny frame, but definitely warmer and cleaner. A shower certainly didn’t hurt her, and it looked like either Hayleigh shared her makeup or you paid her enough to pick some up. Hell, Bri, I wouldn’t be surprised if you noticed guys getting their oil changed more often just to come into the shop. “So what’s up?”

  “Whatever jawn you doing tonight, can I come? Hayl’s wants me partner up with her book club or whatevs, and I don’t wanna be babysitting the White Girl Wasted crowd, you know? If ya’ll’re doing something, having a boys night and get out, that can be my excuse.”

  “No. Hell no. Not a freakin’ chance. Lie to Hayleigh if you like, but you’re not coming with us. Not tonight.”

  “C’mon. What’re ya’ll doin’ anyway? Club Risqué? Slots at Parx? Some sleazy bones in Croydon? How do ya’ll do you?”

  I looked into the kitchen and saw you playing with your dinner to entertain the kids. Hayleigh was staring straight at me, though, and averted her gaze when she noticed me looking back, laughing instead at your antics with the girls. “She’s making you ask, isn’t she? Trying to find out what we’re doing?”

  “Nothing like that, brother man. Just tryin’ to get outta her BS, you know? Please?” She clasped her hand together and bounced, mouthing the word “Please” over and over. It was downright cute and made me think of one of those Japanese cartoons or what’s that cat all the little girls have and the punk girls get tattooed? Hello Kitty? Annoying and adorable. “C’mon, man, I helped you out.”

  “And I helped you, didn’t I? We’re good. Square. So, no, you stay put tonight.” I edged past her, and she followed me into the kitchen.

  That’s why, when we came in, she said to the girls, “Ladies? Tell Uncle Eduardo he’s a meanie,” causing the girls to simultaneously shout “Boo” and blow raspberries. “You want any dinner, Eduardo?” She was halfway to fixing up a plate by the time I turned around to say I wouldn’t mind some. The next thing I knew, we were all sitting around the table eating dinner and telling each other about our days. Probably the first so-called normal family meals I’d had since before Ma passed.

  You and Hayleigh didn’t seem fazed when I said I’d beaten an employee within an inch of his life, but Sydney and the kids certainly seemed interested. I gave them the best, easiest story I could give, making it more like a comic book tale for the kids’ young minds, something where the good guy beat out the evil bad guy without any levels of morality corrupting who was on what line of hero versus villain. Sydney seemed hooked, finally taking her eyes off me when your wife noticed the time and said she had to get going.

  “Coming with?” Hayleigh asked Syd. And color me surprised when you were the one who said no, she’s coming with us.

  “I wanted to show Eddie that ‘68 I told you about, and it’s a nice chance to show Syd a Frankensteined Camaro with ‘67 taillights and a ‘69 grill.” And she freakin’ bought it. What the hell, man? Or so I thought at the time.

  Me, being the genius I am, brought up the kids to distract everyone. Someone had to watch ‘em, right?

  But there you went with your, “Hayleigh’s friend, Jennalee, will watch them while we’re out. Needed a little ‘me’ time anyhow, right?” And then you looked at your wife and blew her a kiss? For Christ’s sake, brother. Almost made me throw up Sydney’s dinner.

  Didn’t anyone notice Hayleigh winking at me after shooing us out, promising she’d wait for Jennalee? I suppose not since you and Syd grabbed your jackets and went outside. Before I could do the same, I had your wife wrapping herself around me, whispering, “Thank you.”

  Outside, when Syd asked what we were up to first, you beat me to it, saying, “Time for some liquid courage.” As we headed to Bill’s, I noticed her shivering and put my jacket around her. She leaned into me as we walked behind you, and I instinctively put an arm around her. It was like we were back in high school again, a group of us heading out to raise some hell.

  * * *

  I was surprised when Syd wound up being a lightweight, drinking a few Redd’s before we got back to the shop. Years with the steel had me expecting women drinking as heavy or heavier than the guys around them, but given her small frame, I suppose she had to tread lightly. Hell, even I drank conservatively that time, my nerves kinda on edge with Hayleigh’s expectations and Syd joining us.

  Your setup impressed the crap outta me once we got back to the garage. White pickup with a utility box? Could get into just about anywhere without anyone questioning much. The same cooler rack from our previous heist was on the front, am I right? Didn’t look as natural on that truck, but we knew it’d be effective.

  While you grabbed the coveralls and masks, I tried my best explaining how the night would progress and what we’d been doing for more than a month. Honestly, I thought Syd would’ve heard about our shenanigans, but as she pointed out, “Local news don’t feed hungry mouths.” Regardless, she seemed on board.

  The ride was probably the most chatty of our heists. Where the two of us took the time to steel our nerves on the way to our targets, Syd almost nervously wanted to talk, especially when we got near the target and she pointed out St. Mike’s, telling us how she’d have to explain to the girls why she was laughing so hard the next time she took them to the church’s fair in the summer. There were a few places around town the past month had made me look at in a new way like that.

  I loved how she squealed and clapped as you got the truck in position, saying “Brace for impact” in your best air pilot tone. She seemed ready to watch the whole thing until the last second, where she buried her face in my shoulder and screamed, that screaming turning into laughter once the now-familiar t
hunk occurred. It was unbridled like a toddler playing with a puppy for the first time and echoed throughout the parking lot as you and I hopped out, moving to place the machine in the rear.

  It wasn’t until I jumped back into the truck that I heard Syd shouting, “Guys! Guys, we got a problem here!” as she cranked the ignition with jack and squat happening.

  I knew before I even asked that you’d tell me the truck was in for alternator issues. “But Syd was supposed to take care of the belt.”

  “I was! I was, Mr. Mazzaro, but Hayl came in and...” Normally I’d enjoy listening to someone mutter curses about your wife, but I had to think of a way out of the situation, deciding to return to her calling you “Mr. Mazzaro” later ‘cause that shit’s just weird to hear. As you and your new sidekick worked under the hood, sirens rang out from the distance, and I could’ve sworn I saw someone at the Beer-A-Rama snapping photos of us.

  You and I know playing with the engine may’ve gotten us somewhere if we had enough time, but that obviously wasn’t the case. There was nowhere to run, and even if we did, the truck would get traced back to you. We could claim someone stole it from the garage, but there wouldn’t be enough time for the three of us to get home and create credible alibis. I figured there was only one thing to do, the only thing possible to save our family, both blood and the ragtag group of adopted messes I had pushed on you.

  “We’re broken down in the Levittown Shopping Center in the middle of a heist and need help,” I said on the voicemail. “Look up the coordinates of the burner if you need specifics. Time isn’t our friend, but Carol Lee is. I talked to Milnes, and I know everything you’ve been looking for. Save them and I’ll tell you everything.”

  Sirens seemed to be getting louder. The irony of the situation, being held back by an alternator when I used that trick myself on Gaunt, wasn’t lost on me either. But if karma had begun to take its licks in now, then there’d be a long list of sins coming back my way. If the girl or one of her lackeys could hook us up this one time, I’d be grateful she saved you and Syd from the shitstorm I dragged you both into.