Tom stepped over Stanley, who looked up at him with furious eyes, and retrieved his clothes from the front footwell.
One by one, he drew the slabs of tightly bound money from his various pockets, and set them on the roof of the Thunderbird. ‘That’s it,’ he said.
Dark Glasses jerked his head at one of the others, who rechecked the jeans and jacket to make sure that Tom hadn’t held anything back.
‘This is it all?’ The young man seemed unwilling to be handed the money so simply after they’d come prepared for trouble.
‘I spent a little,’ Tom admitted.
‘Oh, yeah? On what?’
‘This car.’
‘Sonofabitch!’ Stanley lashed out at Tom with his feet, and received a swift blow to the face from his personal captor. It didn’t knock him out, but it temporarily shut him up.
The young leader nodded slowly. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Take the guns and the car too.’
Now they had their orders, the crew moved efficiently, frisking the Weasel and Stanley, removing two hand-guns from each and a hunting knife from Stanley, binding their wrists in the same way Tom’s had recently been bound, transferring the money to their own cars. Minnie Mouse watched the proceedings sulkily, her arms folded across her non-existent chest, until the leader got into the Thunderbird and whistled for her to come, like a dog.
First she stepped over to Tom and glared up into his face. ‘You cheater!’ she spat at him. Tom could see the truth in her eyes, and the bravado she needed to keep that truth hidden. But he was more grateful for the Yakuzas’ interruption than angered at the girl’s lies, so he just told her quietly, ‘Get a new job.’
‘Fuck you,’ she said, but she didn’t look at him when she said it, just tossed it over her shoulder as she got into the Thunderbird.
They drove away and Tom shivered, gooseflesh raised over his naked torso as the invisible sun coloured the smog a dirty orange.
He started for the apartment, then glanced at Stanley and the Weasel, both helpless, in the middle of the road, with their wrists and ankles bound. He quickly dragged the silent Weasel to the sidewalk then went back for Stanley, who was apoplectic with rage, grinding his teeth and jerking against his bonds. Tom was a little afraid to approach him, even tied up. The guy was a psycho.
‘I’m gonna kill you, Patrick. I’m gonna fucking kill you!’
‘Okay,’ said Tom, reasonably. ‘Then I’m gonna leave you in the road.’
He turned away, grabbed his clothes from the gutter, and ran back to Lucia’s apartment block, ignoring the torrent of abuse Stanley hurled at his back, but confident that it would wake many a local resident, one of whom was sure to find it in his heart to pull Stanley out of the road so he wasn’t squashed by a truck.
Or not. Tom really didn’t care.
He burst through the front door of Lucia’s apartment and narrowly missed having his head knocked clean off his shoulders by a pool cue. He dropped under the strike and fell on his ass, his arms covering his head – better late than never.
‘Lucia! It’s me!’
She stepped from behind the front door, still in her so-called pyjamas, her face streaked with tears. She was shivering with fear.
Tom scrambled to his feet. ‘Are you okay?’
She nodded slowly, letting the cue hang loosely beside her thigh. Tom took it from her gently and put his arms around her trembling shoulders. ‘You have your own pool cue? I knew you were a hustler.’
She half laughed but it turned into a sob, which became a flood of choking tears against his bare chest. ‘I thought they were going to kill you.’
‘Me too,’ he said, and shuddered, because he knew they would have. He held her until the sobbing subsided.
Then, as the sound of police sirens broke with the dawn, he said, ‘We’ve got to get out of here.’
39
SUDDENLY $112,000 POORER, Tom considered his escape options while they sat in a diner a few hundred yards from Lucia’s place. They obviously knew and loved Lucia in here: the tubby owner smiling and bringing her little extras ‘to build you up’. Lucia ducked her head shyly, warmth flaring briefly in her troubled eyes, and Tom wondered how he could ever have thought her anything but beautiful.
*
His landlady, Mrs Roseman, cackled in genuine enjoyment when he asked for his thousand-dollar security deposit back. ‘Have you seen your apartment?’ She chortled. ‘It’s going to cost at least that just to replace the broken furniture.’
‘But I didn’t do that!’
‘Well, I didn’t!’ she said, and hung up on him.
*
Halo had no spare cash. He and Vee were redecorating and had paid the guy up front.
‘Up front?’ Tom exclaimed. ‘You know he’s gonna rip you off, right?’
‘He seems like a nice guy.’
‘That’s how he rips people off.’
Halo sounded hurt. ‘At least he’s painting the house for the money, not asking for a free handout!’
‘Yeah, well …’ Tom was too tired to fight.
‘You okay?’ Halo’s voice lost its bite and became concerned.
