Repo Madness (44 page)

“Sure, I'll take a check, as long as you can promise it won't bounce. That would be very unpleasant, if it bounced.”

“No, no, I get that. Don't worry. Come in. It's cold out.”

The repo guy didn't have to duck to come through the doorway, but he completely blotted out the thin sun for a moment as he filled the frame. “When you didn't respond to their phone calls, I guess the bank saw that as an indication of your attitude toward your payments, and they sent me to help you with your attitude.”

“The phone calls?” Mick asked as he searched for his checkbook in a drawer in the kitchen, which Marissa was still in the process of redecorating. “Oh man, like, a robocall? I got a couple when I first bought the car, trying to sell me an extended warranty, so I just started hanging up on those,” he apologized. He felt a real need to explain himself. As he handed over his check, he hesitated, his eyes widening. “Oh my God!” he blurted.

“Problem?”

“You're that guy. McCann. Robby?”

“Ruddy. We know each other?” He pulled the check from Mick's fingers, using the delicacy of a parent separating a toy from a child.

“Yeah. Well, not really. We met once. And I was deposed for your trial. On tape, I mean, but they never called us to testify.”

The repo man drew himself up, somehow getting bigger, but his voice was soft. “I pleaded guilty,” he said. “So there was no need for your testimony. And you are…”

Mick nodded vigorously. “Yeah.”

“No, I mean, who are you?”

“Oh! Right. Uh, I was parked in a van that night with some friends. My buddy Gary and I were the ones who went out in the rowboat. That was some night.”

“Yes. Yes, it was.” McCann had a reflective look on his face as he nodded. “I am sorry I never thanked you. Between the whack on the head and the water, I guess I wouldn't have made it if you hadn't pulled me out of the lake.”

“Sure. That's okay. Your dad did.”

“My dad? My dad did what?”

“Your dad thanked us. He had us in for a couple of beers at that bar? Is it still there?”

“The Black Bear. Yeah. It's still there.” McCann was regarding Mick strangely. “He did that?”

“Yeah.”

“That surprises me. He never said anything about it.”

Mick pondered what to say about the girl who died that night and came up with nothing he couldn't be sure wouldn't piss this big guy off. Instead he changed the subject. “It's funny. I'm going to see them. They're coming to the wedding.”

“I'm not sure who you're talking about.”

“Right. So Sharon and Gary got married. You have to … It's hard to explain what an impact that night had on us. I mean, we're just sitting there, smoking some weed I bought that was the worst damn marijuana in the world.” Mick smiled at the memory. “And then your car comes, and it was as if it crashed into
us
somehow. Hearing you yell for that girl, watching your car sink, barely getting you into the boat, it really brought home to us how quickly things can change, you know? Life seemed different after that. The three of us were together all the time, talking about it, and Sharon kept asking what are we doing, we're just wasting our lives, when something could happen and then it would be over, just like that.” Mick snapped his fingers. “She was kind of my date that night, but she and Gary sort of clicked. They decided to get married and move to Grand Rapids, where he started working for Steelcase, and she's into some kind of computer security. And I looked at that and thought that if Gary Burner—that was his nickname, from, you know.” Mick pinched his thumb and forefinger together and brought the imaginary joint to his lips. “If Gary
Burner
is going to get sober and get married and get a job, then what am
I
doing, you know? So I got an engineering degree from Michigan—go Blue—and now I work in the energy sector, decommissioning old oil rigs, mostly right around here.”

“Go Green,” McCann replied. Michigan State.

“So I guess what I'm saying is, you don't have to think about thanking me, that in some weird way I kind of feel like I ought to thank you. I get that it was tragic, of course. I just … If you hadn't come along, I might still be parked in that van somewhere, getting high and bitching about my existence instead of going out and doing something.” Mick impulsively stuck his hand out and, after a moment, McCann took it, shaking it gravely.

“I appreciate you telling me all this,” McCann said. “No one ever mentioned it to me before. I'm happy something good came of the accident. You want, bring your friends to the Black Bear when they're back in town. I'll buy you all a beer. The place is a lot like you—it was sort of going nowhere, but my sister fixed it up, and now we get successful people, families.…” McCann shrugged in a way that indicated he wasn't necessarily sure he was describing an improvement. “Hardly ever get a fistfight anymore.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Mick said, knowing that with the wedding, they would all be too busy to take McCann up on his offer.

McCann nodded as if he knew the same thing. “Well, hey, normally there's a collection fee that gets added to the end of your contract. Two hundred dollars.”

“Oh.”

“My company will waive it though. Consider it a wedding present.”

“Wow. Thanks. That's great.”

McCann turned to go. “No,” he said over his shoulder. “Thank
you
.”

 

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

As a former repo man myself, I have to say that to do the job properly, it helps to be more than a little crazy. Picture creeping up on a house at midnight, jumping into a car, and sitting there cranking a nearly dead battery while lights come on in the house and you see shadowy figures grabbing their shotguns and running for the door. What sane person would do something like that? Yet despite the fact that I repeatedly did stuff like that, I'm not an expert on mental disorders, so in order to produce a realistic-sounding conversation between Ruddy and a psychiatrist, I received invaluable aid from Dr. Ira Handler. Thank you, Doctor, for your guidance.

I've had thankfully little exposure to criminal court, so thank you, Rob Whims, for your legal advice and alarmingly creative ideas on how to murder people.

In this era of search engines, you'd think I could research everything just by sitting at my desk, but it turns out some things require more nuance than a question that generates 345,000 “results.” Thank you, Cantor Gary Shapiro, for being my go-to on the subtle ins and outs of Judaism. And thank you, northern Michigan, for supplying me with such rich and interesting people and places—every time I go there for research it's a delight. And yes, Darlene's is there in East Jordan, the Landing is right there where Ruddy drove into the drink in Ironton, and the Red Mesa Grille is in Boyne City, as is Café Sante. No amount of Google will relate how good Darlene's cinnamon rolls are, nor how amazingly peaceful it is to sit at the Landing's lakeside tables for a fabulous perch meal on a summer evening, nor just how great the Mexican food is at the Red Mesa. Nor will Google help you find the Black Bear Bar and Grille in Kalkaska—I made that place up.

Thank you, Tucker, for being as lazy in reality as Jake is in fiction.

Thanks to Connection House for all of the social networking stuff, including web design, that you've done for, what, seven years? You've been invaluable. Is that what it's called, social networking? Whatever it is, thanks so much, with particular thanks to Susan Andrews, Andrew Gupton (they're related), and Charlie Salem. Charlie, you are unreal. And thank you, Mindy Wells Hoffbauer, for helping the more than 300,000 Facebook fans of
A Dog's Purpose
enjoy and celebrate their dogs. It's an ongoing conversation—if you're on Facebook and like dogs, books,
my
books, animal stories, or animal rescue, come to the
A Dog's Purpose
page and join us. Okay, maybe if you don't like dogs, you shouldn't bother.

Speaking of
A Dog's Purpose,
when this novel,
Repo Madness,
is published, the DreamWorks/Walden Media production of the film of
A Dog's Purpose
will either be in theaters or so close to it our contractions will be two minutes apart. This would not be happening were it not for Gavin Polone, who is honest, hardworking, determined, talented, and quite handsome with a mosquito net over his face. Gavin is the producer of
A Dog's Purpose
and has championed the book and the movie from day one. He is also involved in two other book-to-movie projects we have going at the moment—I'm honored to be working with him.

Another great producer is Vahan Paretchan of Lifeboat Productions, who is working to see that a series based on Ruddy McCann the repo man will be playing on small screens sometime in the near future. Hopefully by the time you're reading this, we will have already shot the pilot episode! Currently it's being called
Repo Madness,
but that could change—for all I know we'll call it
Ruddy's Flower Shop
.

I'm a producer myself, you know. I produced
Muffin Top: A Love Story,
which was co-produced, co-written, and directed by Cathryn Michon, who stars in the movie, which is based on her novel
The Grrl Genius Guide to Sex (with Other People).
In other words, Cathryn may have been slightly more important than I was to the whole thing, but hey, I drove her to the set every day—otherwise, there would be no movie! So maybe I should get all the credit.

Cathryn lowered her standards about five years ago and married me. I get credit for that, too.

Maybe by the time this book is released, our movie
Cook Off!
will be in theaters. I produced that one as well, and Cathryn's efforts on that project was just as intense—without her, there would be no
Cook Off!,
which was based on another one of her books:
The Grrl Genius Guide to Life
. (I drove her to the set on that one, too.) Oh, I'm actually
in
that movie, in a brief scene that I will modestly tell you is the best in the whole film, even though it's only a few seconds long.

Tom Rooker and Elliott Crowe were intimately involved in both of the above projects. And, I'll cheerfully admit, so were hundreds of others—Tom and Elliott get special attention because they, like Cathryn, are still working on both movies. Turns out, when you make a film, you're never really
done
. You just occasionally go into remission.

Cathryn also reads nearly every draft of all of my books, providing substantial notes and helping me craft novels I can be proud of. I used to stand right there and ask her what she thought of each page, but through selective use of negative reinforcement she has corrected my behavior.

If this is the first novel in my “repo” series you've read and you'd like to read more, check out
The Midnight Plan of the Repo Man,
which introduced Ruddy, Alan, and the cabin-fevered folks at the Black Bear to the rest of the world. There is also a sweet little short story entitled “The Midnight Dog of the Repo Man” that is available in e-book format—it tells the story of how Jake and Ruddy came to live together.

And, if you liked
A Dog's Purpose,
please consider reading
A Dog's Journey,
the direct sequel. It's got an even higher reader rating than
A Dog's Purpose
!

Thanks to Steve Younger and Steve Fisher for representing me in Hollywood. Thank you, Scott Miller, for rescuing my career and deftly repackaging me as a novelist after I'd spent years as a humor writer, though I thought we agreed that everyone's name should be Steve.

Sheryl Johnston is not only the name of Ruddy's preferred psychiatrist, but she's also one of my dearest friends and a former NASCAR driver. Thank you, Sheryl, for getting me places quickly. Very, very quickly.

I am lucky enough to know some very talented writers on a first-name basis. Remember how Marlene Dietrich said, “It's the friends you can call at four
A.M.
that matter?” Well, it's talented and caring writers like Claire LaZebnik, Jenna (not Jenny!) McCarthy, Samantha Dunn, Jillian Lauren, and Andrew Gross that I can call on when I need help (sometimes desperately) who really matter. Busy with their own successful careers, they've all taken time, occasionally with little notice, to step in and assist me when I was considering dropping this whole author thing and going back to what I was always good at, which was stealing cars. I will be forever grateful.

The astoundingly talented Nelson DeMille and Lee Child were early supporters of this franchise—thank you so much; what an honor to have your names associated with mine.

You know who else has been supportive? My publisher, Forge. You'd think they would have turned up their collective noses that the “dog book guy” wanted to write a sort-of detective series based on a washed-up football star turned repo man who happens to have a voice in his head, but they've all gotten behind Ruddy McCann and supported my novels every step of the way. It's a huge team, but I want to specifically thank Tom, Karen, Kathleen, Patty, and Linda for everything they've done to promote my work and my career. And thanks, of course, to Kristin Sevick for being my editor and friend through the rewrite process.

Thank you, Carolina and Annie, my goddaughters, who still pretend I have relevance in their lives despite the fact that they're cool college kids now.

Lauren Potter has just joined the team of working dogs at the Cameron World Wide Headquarters. Hopefully by the time this novel comes out she'll still be there. Thank you, Lauren, for making my in-box look so gloriously empty.

There are very few people I can write and say, “Quick, I need a disease!” I may not be the only person with this particular problem. My sister Julie Cameron, my “doctor sister,” has very patiently stepped into that role and guided me back to reality whenever I started to make up illnesses that don't actually exist. Meanwhile my “teacher sister,” Amy Cameron, has written study guides for my novels and offers advice on what teenagers are like today. (No less horrifying than they were when I wrote
8 Simple Rules for Dating my Teenage Daughter.)