Cold City (Repairman Jack - the Early Years Trilogy) (17 page)

That sounded good to Jack.  As Tony headed inside, Jack shoved the keys under the driver seat and slid out of the cab.  He walked around the truck to stretch his cramped legs.  The sky behind the house was doing that rosy-fingered thing.  He could smell the ocean on the breeze flowing over the dune.  Chilly out.  Weren’t the Carolinas supposed to be warm?

He heard a door slam and saw Tony moving his way, motioning him forward.

“It’s all good.  We can stay.  Their shipment’s not due in yet, so they’ll be hanging out till after dark when the boat arrives.”

Jack felt his neck muscles tighten.  “Shipment of what?”

He smiled.  “My first question too.  I don’t want to get caught with bales of MJ either.  But these guys move hooch.”

“Booze?”

“Moonshine.  But it’s colored and flavored and sold in Jack Daniel’s bottles.”  He winked.  “Most folks can’t tell the difference, especially those that mix it with Coke.”  He made a face.  “Can you imagine – pouring real Jack into Diet Coke?  Makes a grown man want to cry.  Anyway, the markup is
huge
.  Lots more than Bertel’s cigs.” 

“But you can’t sell hooch to Arabs.”

“Not
to
them, but I’ll bet you could get them to act as middlemen.  I’m sure they’d grab a fee for handling just about anything.” 

Jack followed Tony around the side and up an outside stairway to a porch that wrapped around the beach side of the place.  He stopped and stared a moment at the bright orange crescent just breaking the surface of the Atlantic.

“Be nice to have a house like this and watch that happen every morning.”

Tony snorted.  “People around here don’t buy these houses to live in.  They buy them to rent out.  And the true locals never go near the beach.”

He led Jack inside through a huge kitchen.  He stopped at the fridge and pulled out two Coronas, used the magnetized church key stuck to the door to pop the tops, and handed one to Jack.

Jack looked at it and said, “What?  No lime?”

Tony laughed and clinked his bottle against Jack’s.  “Up yours.”

A beer at dawn.  Why not?  Not as if it was too early in the day – it was way late.

They moved on and came upon two men lounging in the family room.  Both had Coronas in hand; a porn movie was running on the wide-screen, rear-projection TV.

Jack put on a gawky expression.  “Man, I was like totally into you guys when I was a kid.”

Tony pointed to a skinny guy with long mullet hair.  “Reggie.” 

Reggie lifted his beer.

Jack wondered why anyone would name a kid Reginald – unless it happened to be the name of a rich uncle or something.

“And that’s Moose.”

Moose didn’t look up. His build fit the name.  His sleeveless denim jacket revealed pale, muscular, tattoo-bedizened arms; his scalp was bare to the middle; long blond hair flowed straight back from there.

“No kidding?  Moose and Reggie?  Where are Betty and Veronica?”

Reggie pointed to the screen.  “You missed them.  They were just getting it on together.”

“This is Lonnie,” Tony said.

Jack raised his beer.  “But you can call me Archie.”

Reggie laughed, Moose still made like he wasn’t there.

“Which bedrooms are free?” Tony said.

“Either of the streetside ones upstairs.”

“How about downstairs?” Jack said, figuring he could make a quicker exit from there if need be.

“Stay the fuck away from downstairs,” Moose said, eyes still fixed on the screen.

It speaks, Jack thought.

“You got it,” Tony said.  “Any particular reason?”

“Reserved for product.”

“Gotcha.”

Jack found a room upstairs.  The bed was stripped but the mattress looked relatively new.  He pulled the drapes closed and emptied his pockets onto the night table.  After polishing off the beer he lay back on the bed and closed his eyes.

He thought about Tony.  Should he mention sighting him in New York or let it slide?  How to bring it up?  How far to push it?  Mention that he followed him to the Kahane shooting?  That could open multiple cans of worms.

As sleep claimed him he had a feeling his life was going to take another turn.

THURSDAY

1

“Lonnie!  Hey, Lonnie!  Get your lazy ass out of bed!”

The voice finally broke through and Jack realized he was “Lonnie” for the time being.  He lifted his head and blinked at Tony standing in the doorway.

“What?”

“Let’s go get some lunch.”

Jack’s mouth tasted like stale beer.  And then his brain grasped the words–

“Lunch?  What time is it?”

“After two.”

“Aw, hell.”  He rolled to a sitting position and rubbed his face.

Tony shrugged.  “ ‘Aw, hell’ what?  You got someplace to be?  Not as if you’re gonna miss a delivery.”

He had a point.  And Jack was starving.

Tony turned away from the door.  “Come on.  I’ll drive. I know a sandwich place up the road that’s open all year.” 

“Long as they have coffee.”

They took Tony’s Bimmer.  It had a nice smooth ride.  Jack didn’t say much as they cruised south on the only road, passing through Kitty Hawk to a town with the unlikely but cool name of Kill Devil Hills.  He knew he wasn’t exactly a loquacious sort, but he found morning small talk, before coffee, physically painful.  Plus he was thinking about Tony dressed as a Hasid and when to raise the subject.

They found a diner – appropriately named the Kill Devil Grill – where Jack washed down a foot-long ham-and-provolone sub with a carafe of coffee.  Tony poked at a clump of tuna salad on lettuce.

“Not hungry?”

“I used to have a metabolism like you.  Could down a whole pizza and a six-pack without gaining an ounce.  But once you hit that half-century mark you need to start watching the carbs.”

Fifty?  Tony didn’t look it.

“You seem to keep yourself pretty trim.”

“Yeah, but it used to come naturally.  Now I have to work at it.”

Jack liked Tony.  He seemed centered.  And best of all, he didn’t call him “kid.”  He figured the drive back would be the best time to broach the sighting. 

So, as they cruised back north toward the house… 

“This’ll tickle you,” he said when they’d reached the halfway point.  He fixed his gaze not on Tony’s face but on his hands where they gripped the wheel.  “I swear I saw you in New York the other day.”

The hands tightened their grip.

“I wish.  Nothing to do in these parts.”

“Wait.  It gets better.”

“What?”

Jack forced a laugh.  “You were dressed like a Hasidic Jew!”

The knuckles whitened slightly as Tony looked at him and grinned.  “You gotta be kidding me!”

“No, I swear.  Black hat, black coat, beard, the works. Even had…”  What had Abe called them?… “payots.”

“What’s that?”

“The long hair by the ears.”

His laugh sounded as forced as Jack’s.  “With all that, how the hell could you possibly think it was me?”

“Well, he had the same coloring, the same eyes, and, well, I never forget a face.  Can’t always come up with a name to go with it, but faces stick with me.  And that face was yours.”

Silence in the car as Tony sat rigid behind the wheel.  Jack let it run.

Finally Tony said, “That wasn’t me.”

“That’s what I kept telling myself.  But I gotta tell you, if it wasn’t you, it should’ve been.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Because he looked so much like you. You got an identical twin?”

“No.”

Another silence.  When Tony spoke again, his voice was low, almost menacing. “What was my Jewish doppelganger doing?”

Doppelganger
…Jack had suspected him of being better educated than he let on, now he was sure. 

“Getting into a cab.”  Jack had a feeling it might be wise to ease back some now.  “I hollered at him but he just drove off.”

Tony seemed to relax a smidgen.  “And this was last night?”

“No, Monday.  I’d got off the last run earlier and was coming from a couple of beers when I spotted you.”

“
Not
me.  Couldn’t have been me.  I was here.  And if I was in NYC, believe me, I wouldn’t be dressed like that.”

“Yeah, I guess you wouldn’t.  And it was too late for a Halloween party, so it must have been someone else.”

They both laughed and the tension eased some. 

After a brief silence, Tony said, “Where are you going?”

Jack wondered at the question and decided to take it at face value.

“Back to New York – ay-sap.”

“I meant in a more existential sense.  You seem like a bright guy.  You want to do this sort of thing the rest of your life?”

Existential sense
?  Yeah, this guy had more going for him than it seemed at first glance.  But Jack didn’t want to get into that, so he turned it back on him.

“How long have you been at it?  And as for brains, you seem like you should be
running
an operation instead of working for one.”

He shrugged.  “I’ve done my share of running things.  The details drag you down after a while.  I’ve found I prefer to do my job, collect my check, and be able to walk away whenever I want.  No strings.”

No strings…there it was again.  Cristin… now Tony.  He kept running into people who didn’t want strings.

“But I’ve got a lot more mileage on me,” Tony added.  “Experience informs my decisions.  I’ve been there, done that, and know what I don’t want to do again.  You can’t say the same.  You ought to think about going back to college and–”

Jack stiffened in his seat. “Back to college?  How do you know I ever started.”

Had Tony been checking into him?

Tony laughed.  “Easy, easy.  I haven’t been backgrounding you.  It’s obvious you’ve had some higher ed.  Unless you’re an autodidact.  All I’m saying is that this is the time in your life when you ought to be getting drunk and laid and sleeping in class.”

“Like you said: Been there, done that, don’t want to do it again.”

“What I’m telling you is there’s a big picture out there.”

“And I want no part of it.”

“You’re sure of that?  Even if you could be part of it without strings?”

Jack looked at him.  “What are you getting at?”

“Just roll with me here.  If you could be a mover and a shaker with no strings, would you?”

Jack didn’t have to waste even a nanosecond of thought on that.  “Nope.  Not interested.”

He found Tony staring at him… for too long.

“Um…”  Jack pointed through the windshield.  “The road?”

Tony focused ahead again, saying, “If that’s really true, you’re a rare bird.  That Tears for Fears song doesn’t apply to you then?”

The reference surprised him.  “You listen to rock?”

His mouth twisted. “John Lennon and I are contemporaries – or would be if some asshole hadn’t wanted to impress Jodie Foster.  My generation
invented
rock.  And let me tell you, Tears for Fears isn’t rock.”

“Yeah, well, no argument there.”

“But you didn’t answer the question.”

“Do I want to rule the world?  Not even a little bit.  In fact, I can’t think of anything I want less.  How about you?”

He laughed.  “Oh, I definitely want to rule the world.  And as soon as I figure out a way, I’ll jump on it.  You, on the other hand, are headed for trouble.”

His tone was light but Jack sensed a serious train chugging beneath it.

“In what way?”

“It won’t take Bertel long to get another operation up and running – rent a new warehouse, get a couple of guys to man it, contact his suppliers, and he’s in business.  I mean, he’s already got his drivers and his routes.  The money’s good, so you’ll keep driving for him.  After a while you’ll get bored and start taking shortcuts and cutting corners, and that’ll lead to you getting caught.  Then you’re in the system and your options start shrinking.  Then guys like Bertel will be the only ones you
can
work for, because they’re the only ones who’ll have you.”

A grim scenario…but Jack considered Bertel a steppingstone, not a career – a way to build a nest egg that would free him up for the next step.  Trouble was, he had no idea what that next step might be.

“Speaking from experience?” Jack said.  “Was that your life story you just told me?”

Tony shook his head.  “I’ve never been caught.  I choose my work carefully.  With Bertel my only exposure’s been when I help load the truck and drive it back to the Lonely Pine.  Work a couple of hours every night, collect my generous check, and go home.  The rest of the time I play an unemployed construction worker looking for work and having no luck in this bad economy.”

“Bertel is further on in years.  If he quits, would you take over?”

Tony shook his head.  “Uh-uh.  That would mean strings – guys like you depending on me.  I don’t want to depend on anyone, and I don’t want anyone depending on me.”

Jack understood perfectly, but didn’t believe a word.

Because he
had
seen Tony dressed as a Hasid.  And that meant he had strings attached.

Who was pulling them?

2

When they pulled up to the house they found Moose waiting outside by Jack’s truck.  He wore the same denim cutoff and torn black jeans.  This was the first time Jack had seen his face straight on: his small eyes and lipless mouth seemed to have gravitated toward his large nose.  A chrome chain swung between a belt loop and a back pocket.  His skin looked fish-belly white in the sunlight.

“Tony, we need to talk,” he said as they exited the Bimmer.

“Sure.  What’s up?”

“Not here.”

“Okay.  Let’s go inside.”

As they started to walk toward the first-floor door – the level reserved for “product” – Jack followed. Moose turned and pointed to him.

“Not you.”

Tony gave him a placating smile.  “It’s okay.  Be back in a minute.”

Jack faced the sun, closed his eyes, and leaned back against the Bimmer to bask.  Probably wouldn’t have a chance again until spring.

After a few minutes he heard the screen door slam.  Tony was walking his way, hands in pockets.