The Ups and Downs of Being Dead (10 page)

Without even waiting for a response, she bolted for the
kitchen. Robert followed.

She snapped open her cell, her hand shaking as she punched
keys.

“Martin,” she hissed in a half whisper. “Robbie’s here. Yes,
at the house. With some slutty friend.”

They jabbered back and forth like magpies. Martin suggested
she get them out of the house by taking them to dinner someplace. He would join
them. Amanda thought the idea was insane. Robbie had never had a predilection
for restraint in public places. She wanted Martin to leave his office
immediately and come home. He’d started this whole mess, and he damn well
better help her see it through.

He agreed to be there within the hour. The color drained
from her face. An hour alone with her dear, sweet Robbie?

“I guess we could drive over to China Garden and pick up
some take-out.”

Robbie and Morgan had worked out their plan on the flight to
Atlanta. He would start an argument at dinner, then stomp out. Morgan would make
sure Amanda didn’t follow. He would grab all the jewelry from the open safe,
shove it into his duffle bag, then come back downstairs with both their bags
and tell Morgan they were leaving.

She was supposed to ham it up a little, urging him to calm
down, but he would insist and she would sigh and follow him. They would walk
right out the front door, climb into the rental car and be gone.

He didn’t think Amanda would do anything about the stolen
jewels. How could she have her own son arrested? Morgan had badgered him about
Martin. His mother might not take action but an attorney might. Robbie had
insisted everything would be cool.

Robert hated to side with Morgan, but she was right. Martin
would never let Robbie get away with all that jewelry. There was a million and
a half in diamonds alone. Martin would know. He’d had the whole lot appraised
as part of the initial trust/settlement of Robert’s estate.

Martin had barely finished his hot and sour soup when Robbie
asked, “Would you mind telling me how you came up with that bullshit figure you
deposited in my account for this month?”

“Certainly.” Martin calmly reached across the table for an
egg roll and a small packet of hot mustard. As he squeezed the condiment onto
his plate, he told Robbie what his total inheritance equaled.

“We’ve spread that amount over twenty years, with four
lump-sum provisos for major life events: marriage, buying your first home,
children.”

“You’re full of shit,” Robbie said. “I want the full amount
now.”

“Not possible,” Martin said, then dabbed his egg roll into
the mustard and took a bite. “The front end of the agreement has a stipulation.
The money allowance runs only for six months. If, during those six months, you
have not successfully completed a drug rehabilitation program, any subsequent—”

“Rehab!?” Robbie shot out of his chair, sending it flying
back into the wall. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Amanda whined, “Rob-bie.”

Robert had to laugh. Both Robbie and Martin held out their
hands to cut her off.

And when Robbie stormed out of the room, Morgan was on it.
“Just let him go. He’ll calm down faster if he has some time alone.” She turned
to Amanda, then Martin, flashing the top of the snakehead on her breast. “So,
have you looked into facilities in New York? I mean, for Robbie’s rehab.”

If Martin thought her interest was unusual, he didn’t show
it. They’d only been chatting a couple minutes when Robbie appeared at the
dining room entrance with a tall glass in hand. It might have appeared to be
water to someone else, but Robert knew it was vodka.

“Morgan? Could I see you for a minute?” Robbie calmly took a
sip as he waited for a confused Morgan to get up from the table. He led the way
up the stairs to the bedroom they were sharing, quietly closed the door, then
chugged a big gulp of the vodka.

She snatched the glass away. “Are you crazy? Why aren’t you
following the plan?”

He answered between clenched teeth. “Because the safe is
locked.”

“What? You said it was always open.”

“It was.” He reached for his glass. She hesitated before
letting him have it back. He took another giant swig.

“I bet Martin told her to lock it, the fucking weasel.”
Morgan paced in front of the chair where Robbie had slumped, his head lolled
back.

He sounded a lot like Amanda when he whined, “Now what are we
going to do?”

Shooing him like a gnat, Morgan closed her eyes and sucked
in her bottom lip. What was she scheming? Surely, she didn’t think she could
crack the safe. Or could she?

Another thought drifted through Robert’s head. Did Amanda
still keep the combination scribbled on a notepad in her vanity? More
importantly, was Morgan smart enough to find it?

“You have no idea what the combination is?”

Robbie shook his head.

She looked thoroughly disgusted when she said, “Give me the
car keys.”

“What for?”

“I need cigarettes.” She wiggled her fingers to move him
along.

“Come on, Robbie,” Robert said, knowing it was useless.
“She’s got a whole pack in her bag.”

Without thinking twice, Robbie handed over the rental keys,
then took another healthy drink. When he woke in a fog tomorrow, would he even
remember giving them to her? Would he be surprised that she’d taken the car and
bolted?

Robert followed Morgan down the back stairs, wondering if
she would try and get a couple hundred dollars by cashing in Robbie’s return
flight ticket. He also wondered if she had her own key to Robbie’s apartment.
Maybe she planned to clean out his apartment, hock his plasma TV.

Once she’d slipped silently out through the kitchen door,
Robert wandered into the study. Amanda was perched on Martin’s lap, boo-hooing
on his shoulder. If she knew how close they’d come to a real disaster, she’d be
wailing a lot harder.

The sight of his wife and his best friend clinging to each
other drove Robert outside. He stood under the portico at the front door for a
long time, trying to decide what to do. Maggie and Sam had been right. Going
back to visit family never turned out as expected.

Now, his only option was to go back to the Cryonics Center
and hang around with those two until their stint as greeters was through. Then
what? Go on a ghost hunt with Maggie? Take a class with Sam?

What a screwed up mess. This was not how his freezing was
supposed to go. Why hadn’t he just gone to sleep like Alex Darden said he
would? Maybe the guy hanging out in the tank of liquid nitrogen with his body
had the right idea. A self-imposed sleep.

Robert needed a drink. He wanted to talk to someone about
this catastrophe. Hell, he wished he could just pound his fist or wring his
hands!

He wandered around to the back of the house and watched the
wind ripple the water in the swimming pool. He’d never been in that pool, never
even dipped a toe into the water. The only time he’d even been out there was
for Amanda’s annual garden party.

The first year she hosted the event, she’d worn a stunning
red bikini with a sheer cover-up with swirls of colors. So many guests showed
up, Robert had seriously considered turning people away. But as the years went
by, the cover-ups covered up more. And as Amanda’s enthusiasm waned, the crowds
dwindled.

No one ever swam in the pool then either, not even a drunken
guest making a fool of himself. All those years of pool maintenance to keep
forty thousand gallons of water clean—for who?

Well—Rachel.

He’d seen her a couple times swimming laps, or coming in
through the lanai, her hair still wet. Now he realized it must have been a
daily routine; she was so methodical, so driven that once she’d decided on
swimming, she’d have been totally committed.

What a contrast between her and Robbie. Rachel was smart,
confident, she had a business savvy that rivaled his when he was in his
mid-twenties. And now that he was gone, she would do a fine job running the
Audrey’s stores.

There was no reason for Robert to take boring cruises or
spend endless hours in museums. He could spend the next fifty years watching
Rachel build the Audrey’s corporation.

He remembered being stunned when Martin told him of Rachel’s
request—no demand—that he create the legal documentation for Rachel’s
emancipation from her mother and father.

She was only fourteen at the time, but her relationship with
Amanda had deteriorated to screaming matches. And it was usually about Rachel’s
appearance. If she wasn’t wearing combat boots, she had rips in her clothes
that were held together with safety pins. One day, she wore all black, and her
eyes were dark as a raccoon’s. Then the next day, she’d be decked out in a
poofy mini skirt, two different leggings, one stripped, the other polka dots,
and black patent Mary Jane shoes.

Robert thought some of her combinations were inspired, but
Amanda went bonkers. Especially when Rachel altered something Amanda had
bought.

At first, Martin had tried to humor Rachel by pointing out
that she had to be seventeen before the court would even hear her case. Even
then it was doubtful that any judge would comply.

Undaunted, she asked Martin to look into alternatives, like
adoption.

* * *

Hours later, a light came on inside the house. Robert
wandered back in to see Morgan tiptoeing up the stairs. Once she closed the bedroom
door, she flipped on the light. Robbie was passed out in a chair, an empty
vodka bottle wedged between his legs. She kicked his foot, and the bottle
rolled to the floor.

Robbie jerked. “What the hell?”

“Wake up,” Morgan said. “We’ve got a new plan.”

He curled to his side and pulled his knees up, trying to get
comfortable in the chair.

“Oh, no you don’t. We’ve got to work fast.” She tipped his
head back and slipped a pill into his mouth. “This’ll get you going.”

Robbie stared up with bleary eyes. “Where’d you get that?”

“We’re in Atlanta, asshole. You can get anything you want.”

Whatever she’d given him, it seemed to work fast. He
staggered to his feet and jammed his hands in his pockets.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I didn’t take your money.”

After a second glance at her fuck-me heels and tousled hair,
his lips slid in a pout. “I thought you weren’t going to do that anymore.”

“Oh, for crissakes, Robbie. I needed some cash. Now are you
ready to hear the plan?”

He flexed his jaw, and ran his tongue over his teeth. “Yeah.
Let’s hear it.”

Her body quaked with a sudden giddiness. “We’re going into
her bedroom, wake her up, and make her unlock that safe.”

“Are you nuts? What makes you think she’ll open it?”

“This.” Morgan reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out
a gun. It was wrapped up in one of those clear plastic bags newspapers were
delivered in.

“Holy shit!”

“Yeah.” Morgan grinned. “My first trick was carrying it.
Said he got off pointing it at chicks while they sucked him off.”

“He could have killed you!”

“Christ, Robbie!” Morgan shook a stringy strand of hair out
of her eyes. “I had enough sense to make sure it wasn’t loaded.”

Some of the color returned to Robbie’s face.

“But here’s the best part,” Morgan said. “I jacked the gun
when he wasn’t looking. I’ve got his fingerprints on the weapon.” She giggled
as she tousled Robbie’s hair.

“So what?”

The grin on Morgan’s face vanished. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s
go.”

Robbie tumbled back into the chair. “Jesus fucking Christ.
You are nuts.”

“Come on. You put this to her head and I guaran-damn-tee you
she’ll open that safe. And since she was going to know sooner or later that you
took the stuff, what difference does it make how you get it?”

“I don’t know—”

But Morgan wasn’t really listening. “Can you see her face
when you pull out this baby? I bet she’ll be real damn sorry she fucked with
you.” She pranced, gripping the gun through the plastic and waving it around.
“Come on, bitch. Hand ‘em over.”

God, this couldn’t be happening. Did Robbie really have the
balls to hold a gun to his mother’s head? Didn’t he know Amanda kept a gun in
her bedside table? What if Martin got to it first?

A sickening smile crept over Robbie’s face as he slowly rose
to his feet. “She’ll piss her panties.”

“Yeah.” Morgan punched the air. “That bitch is going to be
so sorry.”

She bobbed her head and Robbie joined in. They bounced on
the balls of their feet as they pumped each other up with their idle threats.
Amanda would think twice the next time she let Martin interfere, and she sure
as hell would forget about that reduced allowance.

When Morgan thought he was ready, she shoved the gun into
Robbie’s hand. “Let’s go.”

He started to take the gun out of the bag but she stopped
him.

“Uh, uh,” she said. “Finger prints.”

She swung open Amanda’s door and swept her arm to invite
Robbie in. He stood planted in the doorway, the gun pointed, so that when
Morgan turned on the lights, his mother would see his bad-ass self. God, he was
such a moron.

When Morgan flipped the light switch, the first person to
bolt up out of the bed was Martin.

“What the fuck?” Morgan and Robbie said at the same time.

She wheeled on Robbie. “Did you know about this?” she asked
him.

“No!”

Martin was already out of the covers, naked, and crawling
over Amanda, reaching for the bedside drawer.

“Oh, shit!” Morgan hissed.

Oh, shit was right. Once Martin had Amanda’s gun, it was
over. He would call the police and have Robbie and Morgan arrested for
attempted robbery. Even with Amanda’s pleadings and tears, Robert doubted if
Martin would let the two get away with their little prank.