Root (14 page)

The stuff was in poor shape: veneer peeling up
from the bureau, the wicker seats of the kitchen chairs frayed on
the edges. It was pure crapola viewed in the cold light of
commercial value. But these were the things that had formed my
earliest environment and made our home a home. No wonder I was
reluctant to abandon it.

A small grey car zipped around the corner and
stopped at the end of the lane. It was the Honda from the night
before. Jared hopped out, wearing a black bandanna and fingerless
gloves.

“
Holy shit man, you got the truck!
You still going to Ohio?”

“
Soon as I load up the
truck.”

“
Whoa dude! If you can hold off a
bit, I can make you some extra cash.”

A queasy dread overtook me. What he would ask
me to do was undoubtedly illegal, but I could really use the money.
“How much and what would I need to do?”

“
How does a thousand grab you? Five
hundred now and five hundred at the other end. All you gotta do is
make a small delivery for us.”

One thousand dollars grabbed me just fine. I
only had a hundred bucks or so in my wallet, barely enough for the
fuel and food I would need to get to Ohio.

“
So you want me to be a
mule?”

“
Courier sounds better, don’t you
think?”

“
What will I be
carrying?”

“
You don’t even need to know. Just
leave us your truck for a couple hours. We’ll set it up so you
won’t even know the shit’s there.”

A thousand bucks. What was the worst that
could happen? The cops would catch me and lock me up in prison? A
rival cartel might shoot me dead? Either outcome might be a step up
from my current situation.

“
Deal,” I said.

***

I probably should have mentioned something to
Jared about the incident in the county lot. But if he knew the cops
were looking for me, and that the truck wasn’t officially mine, the
deal might be off the table.

So I stayed mum. That thousand bucks was just
too epic to miss out on

Jared’s crew showed up in a big, black
Escalade. They didn’t want me to watch, so I holed up in the
storage unit. I pulled down the door, propped up the screens and
stretched out on Dad’s old La-Z-Boy.

As soon as the gates closed, I heard them
spring into action. Overhead doors flew open. Reversible drills
whined as they unscrewed the poly bed liner.

Whatever I would be carrying would be stashed
beneath, out of side. That was cool with me. That way, I wouldn’t
have to deal with any packages.

It could be meth I would be carrying, but it
would most likely be cocaine. A ton of unprocessed blow came
through Ft. Pierce. The place was a hub. Boats constantly brought
in raw material via the Bahamas. Uncut, it served a higher class of
clientele, but it was usually reprocessed into crack or cut with
lactose into more of a street product.

The drills went back to work, re-installing
the bed liner. I heard clunks and thumps as they reloaded my
junk.

I settled back in the chair. A wash of fatigue
settled deep into my bones. Every cell ached. A pair of Timberlands
with overlong jeans bunched at the heels showed up under my door
and sent a jolt through my heart.

“
Yo James, you in there?” Jared
rapped his knuckles on the door.

I hopped up, flung the door open, and he stood
there smiling, Tampa Bay Bucs cap askew on his brow.

“
We’re just about done,” he said.
“Here’s a phone.” He handed me a pre-paid disposable. “You don’t
call no one but me on it. Got it? And never pick up unless you see
it’s me.”

My fingers trembled as I turned the phone over
in my palm. Ironic. Here was my first cell phone and I wasn’t
allowed to use it. Not that I had anyone to call.

“
You shaking?” said Jared. “Hey man,
no need to be so nervous. Everything’s cool. Your registration’s
current. You look clean and nerdy and white. Just don’t drive too
crazy and you’ll be fine.”

“
So where do I bring this
stuff?”

“
You just worry about getting your
ass up to Ohio. Once you’re there, I’ll text you the details. Thing
is, you can’t dawdle. These guys, they want this shit pronto. So no
stopping off to see your Aunt Sue or whatever. Okay?”

“
No prob. I’m just gonna catch a few
hours sleep and I’ll be good to go.”

“
Um … actually, we were thinking you
could leave a little sooner. Like now?”

“
Now?”

“
Truck’s gassed and
loaded.”

“
It’s been a long day.”

“
Shit man, you’ve been laying around
all afternoon. We did all the work. And this truck … like I said,
it’s loaded. You can’t just leave it parked somewhere while you
nap. Are you insane? Do you know how much—?”

Jared’s eyes were getting wild. His spit was
starting to fly.

“
Whoa! Calm down. It’s not a
problem. I can leave now. I’m just saying I’m a little beat, is
all.”

Jared fished around his pocket. “Here.” He
tossed me a snack-sized baggie with some little white pills. “Take
a couple of these. They’ll keep you awake.”

“
What is it?”

“
Ritalin. Gives you a nice, mellow
buzz that lasts. You’ll be like a laid-back Energizer
Bunny.”

“
Oh. Okay. Thanks.”

Jared stepped into the unit and peeked inside
a box of old National Geographics. “Need help loading your crap? I
can get the guys over here to help.”

I looked around at all the other boxes stacked
on the furniture in the back of the shed. There was plenty to be
sentimental about: family albums, my old comic books. But I already
had all the tokens of remembrance I needed. Might as well jettison
the rest.

“
Nah, I’ve got everything I’m gonna
take.” I worked the key to the storage unit off my key ring and
handed it to him. “It’s all yours, if you want it. I ain’t coming
back.”

Jared looked a little startled, but he
pocketed the key. He thrust out his hand. I thought he wanted a
handshake, but his palm held a slender roll of hundreds bound with
a rubber band.

“
Five hundred here,” he said. “Five
hundred more on the other side. You got two days. Shouldn’t take
more than one, even if you drive like a grandma, which I don’t
recommend. I mean, don’t speed but going too slow’ll raise a
trooper’s eyebrows just the same.”

I followed him back around the corner. Jared’s
friends all seemed quite a bit older than him, but they were oddly
deferent, tossing their butts and straightening up on his arrival.
Jared couldn’t be much more than nineteen. I knew he’d been held
back at least a year. I wondered how a punk so young had ever
garnered so much sway in a drug gang, if that’s what this
was.

Jared looked me in the eye. “Remember, these
guys up north are serious about their timetables. They get jumpy
when there’s major property in transit.” He slapped my back. “Key’s
in the ignition. Happy trails, dude!”

Chapter 16:
Mule

There was something electric about pulling out
of that Handi-Stor in Dad’s truck. My body thrummed with purpose
and empowerment. Every contour and texture of that road passed
through the steering column and into my fingers.

My mysterious and lucrative cargo added to the
vibe making me feel like a pirate, coursing through a sea filled
with peril and opportunity. But the intrigue and those
hundred-dollar bills in my pocket were just part of what fueled my
excitement. I was leaving Florida, returning to my childhood home,
starting a new life of professional landscaping, in snow country,
no less.

Yet, something felt hollow about the whole
affair, like it was all a big bubble about to pop. Feeling hopeful
in light of what had just happened to my family seemed
inappropriate.

But why not glory in such a glorious moment? I
ignored the imps trying to gnaw away my fragile
optimism.

Instead of making a bee-line for the highway,
I meandered around Ft. Pierce, in the darkening twilight, circling
Dreamland Park, gathering a last glimpse of the place I used to
hang out, the place where I met Jenny, for my memory
banks.

I found myself turning down
32
^nd
—Marianne’s street. I slowed down as I went approached her
place. I felt like a stalker, even though that wasn’t my motivation
at all. I just felt bad for being so rude to her and Jenny at Mom’s
funeral party. I’m sure they had cut me some slack considering the
circumstances, but that didn’t make it right.

There was a light on in her house, someone in
the kitchen. What would it take to park the truck, run up the walk,
ring the doorbell? A quick apology, maybe give her Uncle Ed’s
address or phone number, whatever, and then I could be on my
way.

What would it take? Apparently, a lot more
courage than I could muster. I kept the truck rolling, right past
her house, right up to the stop sign at Boston Avenue.

I sat there a good few minutes, trying to
gather something that couldn’t be gathered. It was futile, like
trying to herd wisps of smoke. And then I powered across the
intersection all the way to Orange Avenue.

I turned left, towards the freeway. It was
getting pretty dark. I followed Orange Avenue in a daze as it split
and widened. The bloom on my excitement had already faded. I was
dreading the night ahead of me, all alone on that road.

I signaled right at the entrance ramp to 95
North, but there was a car there, all dark, on the grassy verge. It
was a Crown Vic, the kind cops use to go semi-incognito, with no
bank of lights on the roof.

I freaked and couldn’t bring myself to turn. I
kept going straight, all the way out to King’s Highway, where I
headed north, figuring I’d keep on the local roads until I got a
little farther out of town.

My heart was thumping like a sack of
squirrels. Was this going to happen to me every time I saw a cop?
No way would I ever survive the scrutiny of a routine traffic stop.
Every twitch of my body announced my guilt.

I turned on the radio and tried to drown out
my anxiety with some loud and jangly alternative rock.

***

I finally made my way onto 95 North somewhere
near Vero Beach. I was almost shocked to have made it that far
without getting pulled over. Maybe I was being overly
paranoid.

Two hours later, I was approaching
Jacksonville. It had taken almost that long to calm down, and once
I did, I started to feel drowsy. I had those pills Jared had given
me, but I was grimy and hungry. Every motel and fast food billboard
taunted me. I needed a shower and a meal.

I booked a room at a Motel 6 just outside of
Jax for forty-two bucks a night, practically a month’s rental at
the Handi-Stor. But what the hell. I was feeling pretty flush for a
change.

I didn’t wash up right away, I was too dang
famished. I found a Pizza Hut down the road and ordered a large
anchovy and artichoke pizza for myself, and almost managed to eat
the whole thing. And I had room for dessert—an Oreo CheeseQuake
Blizzard from DQ.

Back in my room, I took a glorious shower. I
must have stood under that stream a half hour, purging the grime
from every pore, steaming up the place. I put on the fresh undies
and T-shirt I’d been saving, hopped into bed, and watched TV for
the first time in weeks.

My morale rallied from the depths. Life was
becoming a damned rollercoaster ride. I felt a little weirded out
about blowing so much cash in just a couple hours. I tried
convincing myself that I deserved a treat, but I had been dumpster
diving so long, it had become my identity.

It had actually felt painful handing over that
money and seeing that crisp hundred dollar bill rendered into
change. But before my self-doubt could set its teeth too deep,
sleep settled over me like a merciful succubus.

***

I awoke with the TV still blaring and a musky,
mushroom-like smell lingering in my nostrils. The early morning
news had something about a mass killing in Acapulco. Drug wars. Not
the thing I needed to greet me this morning of all
mornings.

That smell. It wasn’t the mildew in the
bathroom. It had to be Root. Could I have been visited and not
remembered it? It didn’t seem likely. All of my previous
visitations had been so vivid.

The only dream I remembered was some stupid
thing about wandering around a mall with no pants on, looking for
Mom and Dad while trying to replace my missing jeans. I had been
having recurring dreams like that one for years. God knows what it
symbolized, but seeing Mom and Dad interacting again was kind of
bittersweet.

That odor was already fading. I wondered if
Root lurked someplace near, just beyond the scope of my vision,
waiting for an opportunity to come see me. That was not an
unpleasant thought.

I had little appetite for breakfast after
gorging so much the night before, so I just lay there in bed,
letting the Today show shine its faux cheer and fluff news all over
me. Checkout was at eleven. I stayed put until the last possible
minute before getting up and dressing. I wanted my full money’s
worth. I even considered taking another shower, but I made do with
just brushing my teeth.