Root (28 page)

“
Meet you back here in an hour,
maybe two,” said Chinstrap.

They drove off.

“
Be right back,” said Tonio. “I need
to get rid of this.” He shuffled off down the street, looking antsy
and suspicious as all heck.

I entered the travel agency, savoring the air
conditioning and the minty aroma in the air. There was nobody else
waiting, but the lady behind the desk didn’t even look up at me.
She clattered away at a keyboard, shuffled papers and took two
calls before she finally glanced my way and smiled.

“
So … how can I help
you?”

“
I want to go to Rome.
Cheap.”

“
Departing?”

“
Soon as possible.”

She peeked over the rim of her glasses. “You
have to give me a date.”

“
Today. If … that works.”

“
Today?” She scrunched her mouth.
“Returning?”

“
No.”

“
What do you mean, ‘no?’ No return?
You mean one way?”

“
That’s what no means.”

“
Don’t get smart with me kid. I’m
just doing my job.”

“
Sorry. I didn’t mean to … I just
…”

She took off her glasses and squinted. “How
old are you?”

“
Old enough,” I said.
“Eighteen.”

She slipped her glasses back on and focused
her attention on the screen. I listened to flurries of keystrokes,
a pause, and then more frantic little clusters of clicking.
“Believe it or not, there are some seats available on the
red-eyes.”

“
How much?”

“
Well … this one here on Delta is
fourteen hundred.”

“
Dollars?”

“
What did you think I meant?
Rubles?”

“
It’s just that … that’s a lot … a
lot more than I expected.”

She sighed. “That’s how it is, booking travel
at the last minute. If you could wait a couple weeks—”

“
No. I’m not waiting.”

“
Well, then let’s see if there’s
something cheaper. Hmm, here’s one for eight, but you don’t want
this one.”

“
Why not? Of course I want it. If
that’s the cheapest.”

“
It’s … an African
airline.”

“
So?”

“
Their safety record is not quite up
to par … by industry standards.”

“
What’s the name of the
airline?”

“
Ethiopian.”

“
I never heard of them crashing.
Have you?”

“
Well, no. But …”

“
When does the flight
leave?”

“
Eleven-ten p.m. But that price I
quoted is just the Dulles to Rome leg. A connector from Pittsburgh
on United … um … hang on.“ She clacked at her keyboard. “Would add
another five hundred.”

“
You’ve gotta be
kidding!”

“
Nope. That’s just how it is with a
last minute reservation.”

I checked my watch. It wasn’t even one o’clock
yet.

“
Book me that Ethiopian Air flight.
I’ve got plenty of time to get to DC.”

***

She reserved the flight with the promise that
I would return within the hour with the cash to cover it. Now, I
could only pray that Chinstrap and Soul Patch came through with the
dough.

There was no sign of Tonio, so I went up the
street to the parking garage and climbed the stairs to the rooftop.
Seeing Dad’s truck in its spot, secure in its space, felt like
coming home. I went into the cab and just sat there a while,
soaking in the vibes.

I opened the glove box and fished out my
passport and registration. There was an empty CVS bag on the floor.
I took it, climbed in back and lifted the soggy mattress to winnow
what remained of my belongings into their final essence. I was
ready for the next degree of severing my physical connections to
this world.

There wasn’t much I absolutely needed to
bring. One 1964 silver dollar from the year Mom and Dad had both
been born. Two chunks of a broken boomerang I had made as a science
project for Mom—the dang thing had worked! A few family photos
picked out of frames and protected behind layers of Ziploc. My good
luck rock from a beach in the Bahamas—smooth grey basalt with a
line of white encircling. And lastly, the little plastic figure of
Mr. Magoo, the mustachioed PlaySkool mechanic who had been my
imaginary friend as a tyke. I couldn’t bear to leave Mr. Magoo
behind.

Everything else stayed. I would miss my books,
my harmonica, my music, but they were all replaceable. I locked the
truck and walked away.

***

As I turned the corner from the garage, I
found all three of my new friends pacing in front of the travel
agency. It took them a minute to spot me, but once they did, they
came storming up the sidewalk.

“
Where the fuck did
you
take off to?” said
Chinstrap.

“
I went for a walk. You know, some
fresh air, exercise. Did you get the cash?”

Chinstrap and Soul Patch looked at each other
sheepishly.

“
Not quite 2K,” said Chinstrap. “But
we got most of it.”

“
How much?”

“
Thirteen … thirteen
hundred.”

“
What? That’s unacceptable!” I
said.

“
Hey man. On short notice … it’s the
best we can do. You can hang on to some of the blow if you
want.”

“
Fuck that. I’ll keep it all! That
strip I gave you is all you get.”

“
Hey man … you said—”

“
I said 2K minimum, not thirteen
hundred.”

“
That’s just the cash,” said
Chinstrap. “We could … write a check … for your ticket … as long as
it wasn’t too much.”

“
How much is too much?”

Chinstrap shrugged. He could only hem and
haw.

“
Can you swing eight
hundred?”

Soul Patch nudged him. “We make a quick sale,
we make a deposit. Papi never has to know.”

“
I’m giving you guys a deal like you
never dreamed of.”

“
He said he could write you a
check,” said Soul Patch. “But you gotta show us the
stuff.”

“
Write the check, then we’ll
talk.”

Chinstrap looked all sweaty and agitated. He
kept looking down the street. “Let’s do it over here.” He turned
the corner onto a side stoop that opened onto an alley, sat down on
some concrete stairs and pulled out a checkbook. “How
much?”

“
Eight hundred, thirty two
bucks.”

“
Phew-ee! Just to go to Italy?” He
wrote out the amount, signed it, but left it attached in the
book.

“
Okay,” I said. “Here’s what I got
to give.” I pulled out the truck keys, the registration, the
parking garage ticket and a screwdriver.

“
What’s the screwdriver for?” said
Soul Patch.

“
You’ll need it to get at the stuff.
That’s all I’m gonna say. But there’s one other thing I need—a ride
to the airport.”

“
Oh! No problem man,” said
Chinstrap. “The airport’s just up the road.”

“
Not Pittsburgh,” I said.
“Dulles.”

***

They made Tonio drive me to Dulles in a little
Ford Focus with pink seat covers and a cotton candy-scented air
freshener. He had borrowed the car from his older sister. I had
suggested that he drive me in my own truck, but Chinstrap and Soul
Patch insisted on keeping it off the street.

It felt weird being chauffeured. And it made
my stomach all queasy, realizing I would never see Dad’s truck
again, never mind drive it.

Tonio didn’t say much at first. He just kept
flipping through the radio stations, never satisfied with what he
found. “Shoulda brought some fucking CDs,” he muttered, at one
point.

“
Yeah? What kind of stuff do you
like?”

“
Dubstep, believe it or not. The
guys make fun of me for it, but what can I say? I like it. What
about you?”

“
Me?” There was an awkward pause. I
had to think pretty hard to realize that I had no preferences,
really. “I’ll listen to anything. Country. Hip-hop. Gregorian
chants. Some days it all sucks and I can only handle the songs I
make up inside my head. Other days it all sounds good.”

“
You’re a fuckin’ weirdo. You know
that?”

“
Yeah.” I sighed. “So I’ve been
told.”

We crossed into Maryland and Tonio slurped the
last of the Big Gulp he had gotten from the Seven-Eleven before we
left Pittsburgh.

“
Shit, this is a long drive,” said
Tonio. “Why couldn’t you fly from Pitt?”

“
Too much money,” I said. “If you
guys came up with the cash you promised, maybe it wouldn’t have
been an issue.”

“
Say what?” he squeaked. “You got
more than two grand if you count that check.

“
Yeah, but you guys also ended up
with a truck.”

“
Which they was gonna get
anyway.”

“
Listen, you all got a good deal.
Admit it.”

“’
You all?’ Pedro and Robert got the
deal. You think I’m gonna see any of that? I’m just their go-fer.
And as for how good it is, we’ll see how good once the shit comes
down. If they had asked me, I would’ve said no. Whoever you got
that shit from, that’s some big machotes we’re messing with. I wish
they had just stuck with the small stuff.”

“
You guys’ll be fine,” I said.
“They’re never gonna know if you just sit on it a while. Wait till
things cool down. Sell a little at a time. It’s not like the stuff
is perishable.”

“
So why didn’t
you
do that instead of giving it up
like a fire sale?”

“
No time,” I said. “I got places to
go, people to see.”

“
Yeah? And who’s that? Who’s so
important you gotta dump a shit load of prime blow to run off to
Europe?”

“
A … friend.”

Tonio giggled. “Oh, don’t tell me it’s some
bitch.”

“
Yeah, she’s a girl.”

Tonio rolled his eyes. “Puta madre! Them
fucking bitches get you every time. Every man’s
downfall.”

“
You got a girlfriend,
Tonio?”

”
Um, nah. Not at the moment. I’m in
between.”

“
Not a bad place to be.”

“
Unless you want to get
laid.”

“
So what the deal with you and the
other guys?” I said. “I assumed you were equal
partners.”

“
Yeah, right. I’m just their
lookout. Fucking errand boy.”

“
Hey listen. If you want to stop and
get something to eat. Go for it. It’s on me.”

“
Mighty big a you,” said Tonio, with
a bit of sarcasm.

“
I mean it,” I said.

“
Thanks. I ain’t that
hungry.”

***

As we hurtled through the outskirts of
Frederic, I studied the AAA map I had found in a side pocket. Tonio
was counting on me to do all the navigation. He had never driven
this far outside of Pittsburgh before.

“
You want 15 South,” I told him as
we whizzed past a mill dam with a rampaging spillway. “We need to
cross the Potomac.”

“
But the sign says DC that a
way.”

“
We don’t want that. Dulles is in
Virginia.”

“
Say what? You mean I don’t get to
see the Capitol?”

“
You can do whatever you want once
you drop me off,” I said. “But the airport is this way.”

Tonio gawked at the river as we crossed the
steel frame bridge at Point of Rocks. Despite his grumblings, I
think he was enjoying this drive. The scenery sure was pretty, with
all these rambling fields and barns.

Traffic got a bit heavy in places and slowed
us down. I had expected to have reached Dulles by now, but it was
only a little after five. Still plenty of time.

As we crept through the center of Leesburg’s
business district, Tonio got a little antsy.

“
Man, where the fuck you taking
me?”

“
Short cut,” I said. “Trust
me.”

A couple blocks farther, a big sign for the
airport redeemed me. We turned onto 267, a toll road that cut
straight down to Dulles.

I went to gather my things, but there was not
much to gather, just that CVS bag, the passport in my shirt pocket
and a boarding pass.

As we closed in on the airport, Tonio’s cell
phone buzzed and he answered it. At first he was all calm and
loosey-goosey—it sounded like he was talking to Chinstrap. But then
all of the jokiness went out of his voice, and his face set like
Bondo.

“
Yeah? No shit? Shit. Fucking
Christ. Yeah. No Problem.” He threw me a worried glance. “I can
handle it.”

He jerked the wheel and pulled onto a ramp one
exit too soon.