Peter Leonard - Quiver

It sounded believable the way he said it at the time, but in retrospect, it was total bullshit. It was a year or so later that she found out he stole cars and sold them to a theft ring. That’s how he made his money. That, and selling weed.

She said at the time, “Were you going to tell me?”

He said, “What, that I steal cars? Are you kidding?”

Getting away from Jack was one of the big reasons she joined the Peace Corps. But he was also the person she called for help when she was in trouble in Guatemala. He didn’t hesitate-flew down and took charge. He got a black-market US passport for Marina, and he knew a pilot who made regular runs from South Florida to Bogota and arranged to have them picked up in Guatemala City and flown to Miami.

They got back together again after that, Kate feeling a sense of loyalty that lasted till he left town six months later.

She’d always been attracted to him and still was, staring at him across the table, thinking he looked like a movie star, a cross between George Clooney and Matt Dillon. But he was trouble.

Jack said, “I still have dreams about you.”

“Stop it, will you?” she said, raising her voice.

A foursome of women at the next booth looked over at them.

“Take it easy,” Jack said. He drank his beer.

“You show up after sixteen years and think you can pick it right back up, huh? It doesn’t work that way.”

“Tell me how it works,” Jack said. “What’re the rules?”

“You sound like your old self,” Kate said. “The Jack Curran I remember.”

He sat there staring at her but didn’t say anything. Kate poured more tea in her cup from a ceramic pitcher with a wicker handle. She decided to change the subject. “Are you married?”

“You think I’d be here if I was married?” He sipped his beer. “After you, I never met the right person.”

“Be patient. You will.” She looked down at her untouched piece of tuna. “Want some of this? I’m not hungry.”

He shook his head.

Kate sipped her tea and said, “What do you do?”

“You mean do I have a real job? Yeah. I sell real estate,” Jack said. “Looking for an investment opportunity?”

He was angry, giving it back to her.

“I’ve got a manufactured home development-Eldorado Estates. The pro forma offers a guaranteed six percent per year, with an opportunity to realize nine or ten percent. You buy into the LLC and split the profits with investors and the holding company. With the stock market sputtering, real estate is a viable alternative.”

He sounded like he knew what he was talking about.

“Ever heard of Sun Communities?”

Kate shook her head.

“Or Equity Lifestyle Properties? That’s what we do.”

Kate sipped her tea, eyes on him. Maybe she was wrong about him; maybe he’d cleaned up his act.

“I’d take a look at it if I were you,” Jack said. “The upside is stratospheric.”

Kate said, “I’ll put you in touch with Marty Smith when he gets back in town.” If it made sense to Marty, she might do it.

Jack said, “Who’s Marty Smith?”

Kate said, “Owen’s financial guy.”

“When’s he coming back?’ Cause this deal isn’t going to be around for long.”

“Next week,” Kate said. “He has a place in Bermuda.”

“Too bad,” Jack said. “It closes Friday.”

Kate said, “How much are we talking?”

“Minimum investment-fifty grand.”

He sounded convincing, but hadn’t he always? “Let me think about it,” Kate said.

The bill came and Jack picked it up and studied it.

Kate said, “Do you want to split it?”

“I’ve got it,” Jack said. “I think I can afford thirty-three bucks.”

He left money on the table and they walked back into the mall.

Kate said, “It was good to see you. I’m glad things are going so well.”

Jack said, “Can I take you out to dinner?”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Kate said. “There’s too much going on.”

He kissed her on the cheek and said, “Think about it, will you?”

She left him standing there and headed down the mall concourse toward Saks.

He was thinking about what lunch cost. Thirty-three dollars for a plate of chink food, a beer, tea and a piece of raw fish she didn’t even touch. He was getting low on cash now, down to about forty dollars, and he had to fill up his sister’s car with gas that cost almost three bucks a gallon.

He heard a voice with a twangy southern accent say, “Dude, you never call, never write.”

Jack turned and saw Teddy sitting on a bench outside the entrance to J. Crew: a tradesman in Levi’s, construction boots and a flannel shirt with food stains on it. Teddy Hicks, an ice cream cone in his hand-looked like strawberry-checking out the teen shoppers. His sister’d said a redneck with a mullet stopped by the house looking for him, and he only knew one guy that fit that description.

Teddy said, “Still got a way with the ladies, don’t you? Who’s that little number you was having lunch with? I wouldn’t mind some of that, I’ll tell you.” Teddy flicked his tongue out like a lizard with a mullet, licking the ice cream, keeping his eyes on Jack. “No possibility of parole, and surprise, you’re out twenty-two months early. Just missed you in Tucson.”

“That’s too bad,” Jack said. “We could’ve had dinner, talked about old times.”

“What’s too bad is how long we’ve been waiting for our money.” Teddy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I don’t have it.” Jack moved past him now, heading down the concourse.

“What do you mean, you don’t have it?”

Teddy was right behind him.

“I hid it in the motel room ceiling,” Jack said. “Adobe Flats, it was called.”

“And you’re telling me you didn’t go back and get it?”

Strawberry ice cream was running down the side of the cone into a napkin that was wrapped around the base.

Jack said, “It’s gone.”

“Maybe you got the streets wrong.”

“Campbell and Hacienda,” Jack said. “It’s a strip mall now. Got a Starbucks, a Carl’s Jr., and a few new restaurants that cater to upscale professionals like yourself.”

“Huh?”

“Stop by next time you’re out there.”

They were walking by Johnston amp; Murphy, Jack checking out the expensive executive shoes on display, fancy ones with laces, in shades of brown and shiny black, and loafers with thin soles that looked like slippers. Teddy finished the cone, licked his fingers and dropped the napkin on the tile floor.

“I know you’re a stand-up guy,” Teddy said. “Didn’t rat out your buds, didn’t complain, did your time like a man. But it doesn’t change nothing, you still owe us our money. Now you don’t have it, we’ve got a problem.”

“I just did thirty-eight months trying to stay alive and keep my butt from getting augured while you’re out fucking around, having a good time, and you think I owe you, huh? What parallel fucking universe did you just step out of?”

Teddy grinned. “That’s pretty good. You make that up yourself?”

Jack pushed through the door, Teddy following and now they were outside. Wind whipped across the parking lot, blowing Jack’s hair back.

“You made a bad decision,” Teddy said. “You lost our money, now you’ve got to pay it back.”

Jack could feel the anger rising in him, coming up from his stomach, through his chest into his head, ready to blow.

“Don’t get all mad,” Teddy said. “Let’s get back together and get back what you lost and a lot more.”

“Not interested,” Jack said.

“Sure you are. Just don’t know it yet.”

Teddy went back in the mall and got another ice cream cone, chocolate this time. He was sitting on his bench checking people out when Celeste walked up.