Cash Braddock Page 5

  “Yeah, but you have a dentist appointment in the morning.”

  Andy rolled her eyes at me and sighed.

  “Yes, your mother and I do communicate on occasion.”

  “Glad we just gave her so much ice cream,” Laurel said.

  “She’ll survive. And she’ll brush her teeth extra good. Won’t you, tiger?” I used my most condescending tone.

  “Yes, ma’am. And I’ll floss.”

  “You floss?” Laurel asked.

  “Starting tonight, I do.”

  “That’s admirable,” I said.

  “I do my best.” Andy collected our trash and tossed it in the bin. “Let’s go, buzzkill.”

  It was my turn to roll my eyes.

  Our duplex was only about five blocks from the ice cream shop. Andy wandered ahead of us, her head snapping up and down as she looked between her phone and the sidewalk.

  “That’s impressive.” Laurel nodded at Andy.

  “Walking and texting? Yeah, I’m in awe.”

  “Not so much?”

  “She almost never walks into poles now,” I said.

  “So she has goals. I like that.”

  More than once, Laurel bumped into me as we made room for other pedestrians. I held firm like it wasn’t a big deal, but she seemed to stay closer every time someone passed. By the time we got home, we were walking shoulder to shoulder. As Andy turned up the walkway, she glanced back and grinned.

  “Honey, I’m home,” Andy called into the open doorway. “Later, guys. Thanks for the ice cream.”

  “Don’t forget to have those vitals checked,” Laurel said.

  “On it.” Andy pulled open the screen door and disappeared inside.

  “So, this is your place?” Laurel followed me up the steps. I’d forgotten the porch light, but the ambient light of the city made her glow faintly.

  “Yep.” I shoved my hands in my pockets.

  “Very cool. Looks older.”

  “Built in 1903.” Yep, I was playing it cool.

  “I’d ask to come in, but I’m not that kind of girl.”

  Damn. “Obviously.” I nodded.

  “I mean. You didn’t even call me.”

  “Noted.” I took out my phone, swiped to Laurel’s name, and hit dial. Laurel’s phone started vibrating. She grinned at me. The voice mail kicked in. “Hey, Laurel. This is Cash. I had a really great time with you—”

  “A great time?” Laurel asked.

  “I had a super awesome, fantastic time with you.” Laurel nodded. “And I’d love to go out again. Call me. I’ll be waiting by the phone. Counting the minutes. Just hoping—” The voice mail cut me off.

  “Hoping?”

  “Your voice mail doesn’t really allow for monologue.”

  “Ahh, got it.”

  “I had a speech planned.”

  “You did?”

  “Totally. I can’t remember it now, but it was a good speech.”

  Laurel grinned and took a step closer. “I’ll take that into consideration.”

  She was definitely in my space now. I waited, afraid to move or speak or breathe. She leaned closer. Her face was inches from mine.

  “Good night, Cash.”

  “You’re killing me here.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good.” She kissed my cheek, spun, and walked away. “Call me.”

  “Girl, I’m calling you right now.”

  She laughed and disappeared into the dark.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “Girl, I’m calling you right now?” Andy collapsed into the lounge next to me, squinted into the morning sun, and dropped her sunglasses into place with a scowl.

  “Eavesdropping?”

  “I’d think you were spitting mad game, but you didn’t even get a kiss.”

  “The rest of us just don’t have your charms.”

  “Please. Chicks fall all over you. Oh, shit.” Andy sat up straight and gave me a hard stare. Or it looked hard. The glasses obscured too much. “You actually like this woman.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “You’re in it for the long game.”

  “No, I’m not. Stop trying to analyze me with your Psychology 101.”

  “Are you suggesting that freshman psychology did not make me an expert? ’Cause that hurts. And it was Psych A.”

  I was getting ready to mount a rebuttal when Robin stuck her head out the door. “Train is leaving, bud.”

  “Where’s the train going?” I asked.

  “Grandma’s,” Andy said.

  “Oh, shit. That’s tonight?” My monthly date with Robin was Second Saturday. One of these days, I was going to remember before she told me.

  Robin came outside and leaned against the porch rail. “If you bail on me, I’ll be hurt.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it. Are we eating in or out?”

  “Cash Braddock, I am not a cheap date.” Robin crossed her arms.

  “Thai place?”

  Robin laughed and shook her head. “Yeah, I’ll be back in an hour.”

  “When do I get to go out on Second Saturday?” Andy asked.

  “When you ask a girl out on the second Saturday of the month. Bonus points if she’s an artist,” I said.

  “No, when do I get to go out with you guys?”

  “Never,” Robin and I said simultaneously.

  Andy gave us a sigh of epic proportions and went inside.

  Robin and I laughed at her antics.

  “There’s a new gallery on Nineteenth. It’s in that white cinderblock building,” Robin said.

  “Oh, that place that was a tattoo parlor?”

  “And before that it was that barbershop. And before that—”

  “Shut up. It was that little gallery we loved.” How had I missed that?

  “Smash? Lush?”

  “Lather? Something that sounded like a bar on The L Word.”

  “Yes.” Robin laughed. “They had that textile show.”

  “Badass. So, first stop?”

  “After dinner.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You ain’t cheap.”

  Robin nodded and went inside to gather her offspring.

  Ten minutes after they left, I started unpacking drugs. I was almost finished when there was a knock on my door. Nate. His punctuality was enviable. I led him into the kitchen. He sorted through the drugs, pulling out what he needed. Until he got to the mixed bag.

  “What’s this?” He held it up.

  I sighed. “Ecstasy.”

  “You’re not serious.” Nate dropped the baggie on the table.

  “If you don’t want to sell it, no pressure.”

  “I can sell it. People keep asking for it. It’s just…weird.”

  “I know.”

  “You’ve never had Molly before.”

  “I know.”

  “I mean, our thing is prescription, not just pills all willy-nilly.” He waved his hand back and forth.

  “Really? You’re going with willy-nilly?”

  “You heard me. How exactly—”

  “You really want to know?” I asked.

  “That cop who steals drugs from the evidence locker.”

  “Yeah. He busted a rave and forgot to log some evidence.”

  Nate shook his head. “He’s getting ballsy.”

  Not surprising, really. Henry tended to get excited in summer. It was great for my inventory. Once fall hit, he’d tone it down again.

  “I really don’t mind if you don’t want it.”

  “I’ll give it a shot.” He opened an empty bag and started counting pills into it.

  “Take it all. I don’t want it.”

  “There’s like a hundred pills here.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. But I’ll give you an extra twenty percent.”

  Nate stopped and stared at me. “You won’t make shit.”

  “I told him I didn’t want it. He offered an extra ten percent. I’m giving you ten on top of that for the risk.”


  “Okay.” He nodded. “I assume you won’t be getting any more.”

  “Not a chance in hell.”

  “Then I’ll spread it out. I don’t want anyone to expect it in the future.”

  “Good plan.”

  Nate packed the baggies he was taking. He shook his head at the X, but tossed it in as well. When he was done, he handed me a stack of cash. I put it in the flour tin.

  “Anything new from that chick at the party?”

  I almost smiled, then stopped myself. “We’ve been out a couple of times.”

  “She figure out what you do yet?”

  “She thinks I’m a farmer.”

  Nate laughed. “It will work until she realizes farming doesn’t exactly pay the bills.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  “The usual, I guess.”

  He shook his head. “Tell her you were a weed dealer in college and see how she takes it?”

  “Yep, basically.” It had never been a great move before. I didn’t have a damn clue why I thought it would work this time.

  “Good. You should have someone.”

  “Says the boy who sends all his money to Mama Xiao.”

  “Shut up. My brother made varsity track. He needs better shoes.”

  I smiled a little. “I wish you’d been my big brother.”

  “Right. Don’t go soft on me, Braddock.” Nate grabbed his bag and held out his hand. I shook it. “Later.”

  *

  Robin and I walked from the restaurant to the first gallery on our list. I’d briefly looked at the gallery online. They had two shows this month. A sculptor and a painter who created three-dimensional pieces. Nothing particularly stood out, but that wasn’t the point. Second Saturdays let me indulge my desire to wander around art galleries and gave Robin the opportunity to be around adults. Which just helped drive home my whole lack of desire to have children.

  The gallery was in a squat little building. From the outside it looked cramped, but inside it was surprisingly open. Wide windows showed the street and a small wooded courtyard out back. The bright lights were hung to accentuate the art rather than the less than attractive crowd. It felt intimate, not close.

  We made our way around the inside perimeter. Robin vacillated between musings about the art pieces and updates about her life. I relaxed and listened. Robin was comforting in all the right ways. She let me have my silent moods. She knew when to let me speak.

  We were studying a found object piece when Robin decided to exercise her ability to make me talk about my feelings.

  “So what’s the deal with this woman you’re seeing?”

  “Huh?” I liked to really use my college degree.

  “Andy says she’s funny and gorgeous.”

  “Andy talks a lot.”

  “Then I shouldn’t tell you that Andy also says you’re really into her?”

  “Andy is an imaginative fifteen-year-old,” I said. Robin gave me a mom look. “Okay, she may be right.”

  “Tell me about her.”

  “I don’t know much,” I said. Robin waited. “She’s quick. She can keep up with me.”

  “You tell her yet?” she asked. I shook my head. “It will be harder the longer you wait.”

  “I know.”

  “Libby was a fluke,” Robin said. She was chiding me.

  “Libby threw things at me.”

  “Libby was crazy.”

  “I lied to Libby,” I said.

  “True. But she was crazy before that. Normal people don’t throw things when they are lied to.”

  I laughed. “What about the girl who stole my inventory?”

  “Oh, the girl you picked up while you were working and gave free drugs to? The one who stayed the night and didn’t leave for a month? That girl?” Robin’s voice climbed in pitch, but not volume with each question. By the end only dogs could hear her.

  “I don’t think I like this brutally honest thing we do.”

  She smiled and shook her head. “We didn’t even get to talking about feelings yet.”

  “Gee, that’s real disappointing.”

  Robin leaned into my shoulder and laughed. “You want to hit up Oak Park Brewing when we’re done?”

  “Yes. That’s a question I like,” I said. Robin shook her head. “Sorry, I feel good about that question. Oak Park Brewing makes me feel happy.”

  “You’re getting good at this feelings business.”

  “I know. I’ve been practicing.”

  *

  Got your message. I guess we could go out tonight.

  I’d always prided myself on my ability to throw shade, but Laurel took it to the next level. Shade and a date. All in ten words.

  I’m in Davis. Give me time to get back? Nate and I had only been working this bar for an hour, but I was sure he wouldn’t mind taking off.

  Shady Lady at 9? she asked.

  Hipster.

  You want to be the pot or the kettle?

  I grinned at my phone. Which probably made me look super cool. Kettle. See you there.

  I had a date. A fourth date. Not that I was counting. I pocketed my phone and looked around for Nate. He was across the room talking to a guy who was just a little too old to be in a college bar. I stood to get a better look and realized I recognized him. Take away the beard and a few years, and he was a dead ringer for a cop who had busted a buddy of mine for dealing in college. Fuck. I dialed Nate’s number. He didn’t pick up. I was going to have to intervene.

  I slid through a group of drunk grad students who were failing spectacularly at shouting each other down. Past that was a circle of girls attempting to start a dance floor where there was no dance floor. That asshole was closing the deal, and I still had fifteen feet of intoxicated students ahead of me. I hated the post finals partying. The undercover cop palmed a soft wad of cash and held it out to Nate. I interrupted a game of darts. Didn’t get nicked and managed to gain five feet from the open floor. The line for the bar spilled ahead of me and I had to weave around it. Nate reached into his bag. When he pulled his hand out, I could see the sheen of plastic. Six feet and I was close enough to shout.

  “Nathan.” Nate didn’t respond. Five feet. “Hey, Nathan, right?” I finally got close enough to stand between them. I spared the narc a glance, then backed up a step as if in apology. “You were in Nineteenth Century Lit with me.”

  Nate stuck his hand in his pocket. “Yeah, man. I’m really starting to hate Brit Lit.”

  “Same. I have to take Nineteenth Century B over summer.”

  “Me too! I’m never going to finish the upper division requirements.”

  I nodded in sympathy. “They’re the worst. Actually, I was wondering if you had notes on De Quincey. I did not get that dude.”

  Nate laughed, but it was strained. “Yeah, why would you want to romanticize such an ugly subject?”

  “Exactly. Give me Shelley any day. Adonais was kinda hot, you know? Oh. Well. Not for you I guess.” The narc was listening to the whole conversation, but he looked like we were speaking something other than English.

  Nate leaned back against the wall and settled into his borrowed subject. “I can appreciate the appeal of the homoeroticism, but no, not really my scene. The language is brilliant, though. The way he weaves his love of the poet into his love of romanticism and all that it entails.” Nate had been studying. Which was good. It lent an air of legitimacy.

  “Yeah, but then he flips it with the shifting genders of gods.”

  “And people.”

  “Man, where have you been all quarter? My study group was all hung up on incest and I’m like, that’s not the point, you know?”

  The narc coughed. “Hey, uhhh.”

  “Oh, yeah, man. Talk to Jerome. He’s around here somewhere.” Nate made a show of looking around. “I think he went out back. I’ll point him out to you. Just give me a second.” Nate turned back to me. “Can I give you my number? I’m meeting some Brit L
it people for coffee tomorrow. You’re welcome to join.”

  “That would be great. As long as you bring that Opium shit.”

  The cop looked like he’d been handed a million bucks. “Opium?”

  “You know, De Quincey? Confessions of an English Opium-Eater? Hey, are you taking Brit Lit too?” I asked.

  His face fell. “No.”

  Nate grinned at me. “Number?”

  “Yeah.” I gave a halfhearted pat to my pockets. “Shit. My phone is in the car. Walk me out? I’m taking off anyway.”

  “Sure.” Nate glanced back at his botched sale. “Back patio. Five minutes?”

  “Okay.” He seemed caught. I’d seen it before. The guy was pretty sure he’d lost his mark, but was still holding out hope that Nate would show up.

  I led Nate to the front door. We kept up appearances until we got to Nate’s car parked at the far, dark corner of the lot. I got in and he drove away at a nice sedate pace.

  “You almost got nailed,” I said.

  “Shit. Yeah, I noticed. Thanks.”

  “Hey, I can’t have your mother coming after me. That woman is terrifying.”

  Nate nodded a bit too emphatically. “Try coming home hungover and covered in debauchery at seventeen. Now that’s a terrifying lecture.”

  “I believe it.”

  “Fuck. I’m sorry. That was bad.”

  “Don’t sweat it. I only caught it because I recognized him.”

  “Either way. You totally saved me.” Nate took his first full breath since I’d walked up to him. “I guess that bar is off the list.”

  “It would be dead in a week anyway.”

  “But that killed our night.”

  I shrugged. “I was about to call it anyway.” Nate looked at me sharply. I smiled. “Laurel texted. We’re meeting in forty-five.”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Will not.”

  “Look at you. Going on a date like a normal human.”

  “That’s me. Normal.”

  “So normal.” Nate started laughing. He thought he was so damn funny.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The Shady Lady was packed. That wasn’t very surprising. Weeknights were bad. Weekends were worse. The fact that it was summer just poured gasoline on the whole thing. I scanned the patio as I walked up. Laurel was in the shadows on the edge of the patio, sitting sideways with her feet up on one of the church pew benches. A young couple was subtly glaring at her oxfords and bare ankles as if that would make her give them more than the scant inch of room between them and her. I smiled at her tactic.