Janet Evanovich - Motor Mouth

Hooker just stared at me.

“Earth to Hooker.”

“Onion rings at the bar,” he repeated. “Sure, that would be good. That was my second choice.”

The Ritz has a fabulous bar set right on the beach. It’s just behind the footpath, nestled into a cement cave and garnished with palm trees. It’s shaded and South Beach glitzy. Not exactly rocking at three in the afternoon, so we had no problem claiming bar stools. We were halfway through our onion rings and Buds when a familiar figure strolled by on the footpath. It was Suzanne walking Itsy Poo.

“It walks,” Hooker said. “Who would have thought?”

Suzanne looked over the top of her sunglasses at me. “Barney? Hey, girlfriend, I thought you’d moved on.”

“I came back. Missed the heat.”

Suzanne put Itsy Poo in her bag and joined us at the bar. “You’ve been making headlines.”

“It’s all a misunderstanding.”

“Our mutual friend Dickie Bonnano seems to feel Hooker is responsible for everything evil in the world.”

“I do the best I can,” Hooker said, “but I can’t claim responsibility for everything .”

“I figured you didn’t do Oscar,” Suzanne said, “but I was kind of hoping you set Dickie up with the stiff and the coach crash.”

Suzanne was total Dolce amp; Gabbana in a gauzy leopard-print shirt, wide jeweled belt, tight white slacks, and strappy gold sandals. I was Wal-Mart and Gap. Hooker still hadn’t shaved. Hooker was Detroit wino raised by wolves.

“I thought you would have left South Beach by now,” I said to Suzanne.

“I like it here. Thought I’d stay for a while.” She lit a cigarette and took a deep drag, letting the smoke curl out of her nose, dragon-style.

“Are you still at Loews?” I asked her.

“I moved into a condo building. Majestic Arms.” She took another drag on her cigarette. “Corporate rental, so it’s sterile, but the location is prime, and it’s full ser vice. And most important, Itsy Poo adores it.” Suzanne put her face into the dog bag. “Don’t you wuv it, Itsy Poo? You do! I know you do. You wuv the new condo.”

Hooker ate the last onion ring and sent me a look that said he’d throw up if I ever asked Beans if he wuvved something.

I returned my attention to Suzanne. “How’s the boat battle going?”

“It’s been ugly, but it’s about to improve. Men like Oscar and Ray always underestimate women.” Suzanne’s mouth curved into a joyless smile. “Not a smart thing to do with a bitch like me.”

Hooker instinctively crossed his legs.

“Sounds like you have a plan,” I said to Suzanne.

She took a drag, tipped her head back, and blew out a perfect smoke ring. “I have a plan and a half.” She slid her ass off the bar stool. “Gotta go. Got a cake in the oven. Remember, I’m at the Majestic if you want a giggle.”

“Do you think she really has a cake in the oven?” I asked Hooker when Suzanne was back on the footpath.

“If she does, you’re not going to catch me eating it.”

“What happens next?”

“Ray had an appointment that he didn’t expect to last long, and then he was going to take care of Rodriguez and Lucca. Apparently there’s a buyer for the chip coming in on a flight tonight, and Ray doesn’t want to disappoint him. So we should have this nightmare wrapped up before the day is over.”

I rested my forehead on the bar and took a deep breath. I was so relieved, I was close to tears. “Do we need to go back and get the chip?”

“No. I don’t want it on either of us until I’m sure we’re off the hook. Ray said he’d call me when he had everything in place. He expected he’d be back in touch by eight at the latest.”

Hooker’s phone rang. “Sure,” Hooker said. “Barbecued chicken would be good. Just us, though, right? We don’t want anyone to know we’re here.”

“Felicia?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Hooker said, returning his phone to his pocket. “She wanted to know if we’d be back for dinner.”

We sat at the bar for a while longer, and then we took off for Little Havana. Every light was lit in Felicia’s house when we arrived. Cars were double-parked on the street and people were milling around on the sidewalk in front of her small front porch. Hooker slowed the SUV in front of the house and a cheer went up.

“Good thing we told Felicia to keep this a secret,” Hooker said. “Otherwise she’d have to rent out the Orange Bowl for dinner.”

We drove around back and parked in a spot that had been held empty for us with a sign on a garbage can. The sign read RESERVED FOR SAM HOOKER.

“Thoughtful,” Hooker said on a resigned sigh.

Felicia was at the back door. “We’ve been waiting for you! I just took the chicken off the grill. And I have hot fry bread.”

I could see Beans bouncing around behind Felicia. He saw Hooker get out of the car, and he pushed past Felicia and bounded down the stairs. He gave a woof and hurled himself into Hooker, taking Hooker to the ground.

“Guess he missed you,” I said to Hooker.

“Look, doggie!” Felicia said, waving a piece of bread. “I have a nice big treat for you.”

Beans’s ears perked up and he swiveled his head in Felicia’s direction. His nose twitched, he shoved off Hooker and galloped at Felicia. Felicia threw the bread into the kitchen, and Beans bounded in after it.

Hooker picked himself up, ambled to the kitchen door and looked in. “You’ve got a lot of people packed in there,” Hooker said to Felicia.

“Just family. And no one will tell anyone you’re here. It’s a secret.”

“I’m relieved,” Hooker said.

“Hooker’s here!” Felicia shouted into the house.

Another cheer went up.

“We’re serving buffet style,” Felicia said. “Help yourself.”

Every flat surface held food. I fixed myself a plate and looked over at Hooker. He had a piece of chicken in one hand and a Sharpie in the other. He was signing hats and foreheads and eating barbecue. Who says a man can’t multitask?

“Look at him,” Felicia said to me. “He’s such a sweetie. He’s even nice to Uncle Mickey. Everybody loves him. He thinks they love him because he’s a good driver, but everybody loves him because he’s a good person.”

Rosa was next to Felicia. “I love him because he got a cute tushie.”

They turned and looked at me.

“What?” I said.

“Why do you love him?” Rosa wanted to know.

“Who says I love him?”

Rosa forked up some pulled pork. “You have to be nuts not to love him.”

I remember when I was in high school and I had a terrible crush on this guy who worked in my dad’s garage. I’d go in after school, and he’d flirt with me and say he’d call. So I’d go home and wait, and he wouldn’t call. I’d wait and wait and wait. And he never called. And then one day I heard he got married. All the time he’d been telling me he’d call, he’d been engaged. That’s how tonight was feeling. I was waiting for the phone call. Ten percent of my mind was listening to Rosa, but the other ninety percent was dedicated to the rising panic that the call might not happen. Deep inside, I was a cat on a mouse. Tail twitching, eyes unblinking, whole body vibrating while I stalked the phone call that would make my life right.

Eight o’clock and no phone call. Hooker looked at me from across the room. Hooker was better at this than I was. He could compartmentalize. He knew how to focus on one thing and set everything else aside. If Hooker was on a racetrack, his mind was working to win. Hooker had only one sequence of thought. How do I get to the front and stay there. When I was racing, other thoughts would creep in. I had no control over which thoughts would stay and which would get set aside for another time. Why wouldn’t the cute guy in the garage call me? What if I was in a wreck and broke my nose? And there were always lists. Algebra homework, laundry, clean my room, find my house key, call Maureen, study French… So now Hooker had chosen to be in the moment enjoying Felicia’s friends and food, and my mind had chosen to obsess about the phone call.