Betting Blind (15 page)

The next day I had my meeting with Tim and his supplier. I’d kept thinking I should cancel, but I never sent the text, and now it was too late. Had I really gone straight-arrow about the Forrest thing? A few days later, and the logic was feeling fuzzy. Why was he
my
problem? He wasn’t a little kid; he could make his own decisions. Maybe I’d do just this one last batch, keep it far away from him, and then quit.

Or maybe I wouldn’t. I wanted to take Irina somewhere really nice when she was off grounding, and I wanted that new car. I had enough cash for it, but it would almost clean me out. Better to build more of a cushion.

I drove to White Center, parked in front of Missy’s house, and took the steps two at a time. A rusted rake was leaning against the door; Missy’s dad must have been making his annual stab at the lawn. I put my hand on the knob, then thought better of it and knocked. I didn’t want this Jay dude to think I was the law and do something rash.

The curtain moved, Tim peered at me through the dirty glass, and a second later the door opened. “Hey.” Tim slapped my hand and stepped aside to let me through. He looked over his shoulder. “Jay, this is my man, Gabe.”

Jay was sitting on the couch. He raised a hand. He was tanned with shaggy blond hair, sporting jeans and a hoodie. He had one of those open friendly faces, like Kyle’s, the kind of face you automatically trust. His feet were kicked up on the coffee table.

“Hey, bro, you’re doing a pretty good trade on the Eastside. Thanks for the business.” His eyes were wide and blue.

“I’m doing okay.”

“More than okay. You like living over there?”

“It’s all right.”

Jay tipped his head back on the couch. “They got better restaurants over there than even downtown. Sometimes me and my girlfriend go there to eat, even though the traffic sucks.” He made a face.

“Yeah? Where do you go that’s good?”

“There’s this one Mexican place, La Casa Bonita, that makes mad fajitas. And they got this homemade salsa that’s, like, gringo beware.”

I smiled. “I’ll have to check it out sometime.”

There was a pause, and Jay and Tim traded looks. Jay nodded at the coffee table. “I got a lot of product in there. You interested in stepping up sales at all?”

There was a gray backpack sitting on a stack of
TV Guides
. I picked it up and asked, “Okay if I take a look?” Jay nodded. I unzipped the pouch and checked the contents. Bags of e, bottles of Oxies, and some blue pills I didn’t recognize. I held one up and looked at him.

“It’s 2CB. Party drug, goes for fifteen or twenty a pill. Doesn’t last as long as e, but a similar high.”

My brain started ticking. There were two or three thousand in profits in that bag, easy. It would put me over the edge from okay to comfortable, and I could get my ride with no worries. Forrest’s face popped into my head for a second, but I ignored it. I couldn’t be making business decisions based on somebody else’s bad choices.

“It’ll probably take me a month,” I said, turning back to Jay.

Tim frowned. “You can do it faster than that, can’t you? Come on, Gabe. I told him you were up for it.”

“Why does it matter?” I asked.

Jay shrugged. “It doesn’t. A month is fine.”

But Tim was giving me a begging look. I bet he had something invested, and the more product I moved, the more cash he got, and the more he could stuff back in his own veins. I ran a hand over the backpack. It was loaded tight.

“How much?” I asked.

“I’ll give you the whole kit for fifteen hundred,” said Jay.

Cheaper than I’d thought. With Claremont prices, I could make bank and take Irina to the restaurant in the Space Needle. I’d always wanted to go there.

I sorted the contents, and it was all straight. I counted out the money and set it on the table.

Jay said thoughtfully, “You know, if you want more than that, just say the word.”

“Nah, this is cool for now. I don’t know how long I’m going to stay in the game.”

“What are you talking about?” Tim demanded.

“I’m just not trying to do a bid. Dealers always get busted eventually.” I gave him a look. “So do addicts.”

“What are you trying to say, man?” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Jay never would’ve wanted to meet you if he knew you were pulling out. Don’t be weak, Gabe.”

“I never said I was pulling out. I just said I don’t know long I’m staying in the game.” I gave Tim an annoyed look.

Jay unfolded himself from the couch. Dude was well over six feet. He jerked his neck, cracking it. “Chill, Tim. He can do whatever he wants.” He turned to me. “You’re in charge. Sell this stash, and if you decide you’re done, you’re done, no worries. But if you want to stay in the game, we got plenty more where this came from. Cool?”

He looked so mellow that I felt better. But my gut was saying to leave the backpack on the table and get out.

I’ve never been that good at listening to my gut, though. I picked up the sack, nodded at both of them, and said, “Peace.”

Driving back to Redmond, I had this messed-up feeling, like I drank too much coffee, kind of sick and wired and pissed at the same time. The backpack felt like a grenade in the trunk with the pin pulled out.

I tried to focus on how much cash I was set to make. How comfortable I’d be now. Maybe it was time to do something big, reward myself. Like get that Altima.

Yeah, time to pull the trigger.

The car people lived a little north of Bellevue on one of those winding roads with lots of trees. The lady who answered the door was tiny and red-haired, a leprechaun lady, with a little kid peeking from behind her and a baby hanging in a sling in front. She had that wiped-out look that moms of little kids always have. When I’d called earlier to set up the meeting, she’d sounded so thrilled that I knew I could do some lowballing.

She waved me toward the garage. “It’s in there. It’s in perfect condition. We got the SUV for these guys.” She looked down at the kid wrapped around her legs. “The keys are on the front seat if you want to take it for a test drive. Take as long as you want.”

I didn’t need long. My buddy Mike’s dad was a mechanic, and back in elementary school, he’d taught us everything about engines, upkeep, and the rest. He let us practice on the cars he repaired, and we used to hammer around in engines with screwdrivers and stuff. One time a customer caught us at it, and Mike’s dad said he needed us for our “small hands.” Anyway, I knew what I was looking for, and the lady was telling the truth: the car was in perfect condition. I took it around the block twice. It was no Nissan GT-R, which was what I really wanted, but it was a fine car, nothing to be ashamed of.

I knocked on her door again, and she opened it, looking hopeful. “It seems okay,” I said. “This is all I got. If you want it, I’ll buy the car today.” I handed her an envelope I’d gotten ready with the amount written on it. It was a lot less than she was asking, but it would leave me with the cushion I wanted. And there’s nothing like the sight of straight bills to get people in a negotiating mood.

She counted it. “I’ll have to call my husband.”

“That’s cool,” I said. But I was nervous while she dialed. This was where it could fall apart; he was a dude, and he wasn’t looking at the cash. Two strikes.

I was in luck: he didn’t answer. The woman put down the phone, brushed her hair out of her eyes, and jiggled the baby, looking totally unsure. “Can we call you later?”

I kept eye contact. “Nah, I need to know now.”

She sighed. “Okay. I want to get it off my hands. But you’re getting a great deal,” she said accusingly.

I kept my face cool and handed her the envelope, no victory dance until I was outside.

She gave me the keys and fished the title out of a drawer. “I’ll sign this over to you now, but is it all right if my husband handles the rest of the paperwork later?”

“Sure. Can I leave my old car parked out front for the night?”

She smiled. “I don’t own the sidewalk.”

I took that magic paper, and those beautiful keys, and walked as calmly as I could out to my new ride. I emptied my old trunk into my new trunk, slid into the leather bucket seat, and pushed in the key. The engine purred like a lion.

As I drove away, blasting Roots, air coming in the windows clean and cold, the trip to Tim’s started to fade. The bass was strong and powerful, and the interior smelled like leather. I decided I was being too hard on myself. Of course I was in this game; look what I’d just gotten out of it. I tested the gearshift and switched to third. I’d always wanted a manual—gears meant you were really driving.

I hadn’t meant to tell Mom about the car right away; I needed to come up with a good story first. But she and Phil were standing on the step saying good-bye when I pulled up. It made me sick to see them hugging. Phil wasn’t much taller than Mom, but he was about twice as wide, and I could see the bald spot on his head.

There was an awkward moment when they looked at my car, looked at each other, and then looked at me. Phil didn’t bother saying hi, just ducked his head and hurried past me on the way to his Benz.

Mom waited on the step, her eyebrows up. “That’s a nice car.”

“Yeah, I’ve been saving up.” I tried for casual, but it came out nervous.

“Gabe, where did you get the money for that?”

“Working!” I pushed past her and thumped up the stairs. I was hungry, but I didn’t stop at the fridge. The only way to escape was to pretend to do homework.

But Mom was a bulldog. She followed me, and when I tried to hit my room, she said, “Gabe, look at me.”

Crap
.

I looked at her, and her green eyes were
loving
in this horrible way that made me feel sick with guilt. “Yeah.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday. I’ve noticed the new clothes and the fancy phone.”

I fiddled with my shirt—I would have fiddled with air if there wasn’t anything else. I couldn’t look at her.

“You’re not working that much. Tell me the truth, Gabe.”

“The truth is, the car looks nice, but it needs a lot of work,” I lied. “It was cheap. I couldn’t drive the other one anymore. You know how bad it was. And people tip a lot around here.”

Mom didn’t say anything, just stared at me, searching my face. I felt like the worst jerk in the universe. Mom was always being lied to by guys, and I’d promised myself I wasn’t going to ever be one of them. And now here I was, lying worse than all of them put together. Because this would hurt her even more than getting cheated on.

“Really?” she said softly.

“Yeah.” I could barely get it out.

“You’d come to me if you needed money, not try to make it some . . . illegal way?”

I nodded.

“Okay, honey.” She hugged herself. “Okay, I believe you.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

I turned to go, and she said, “What about insurance?”

“I’ll transfer the policy,” I said.

“It’s probably going to be more . . .” She trailed off.

Phil had been paying our bills for a while now. She was saying, in code, that he might not appreciate the price hike.

“I’ll pay it myself,” I said.

“Well, call and see how much it is, and maybe I can talk—”