Push Comes To Shove Part 22

"Deranged a.s.shole," Kitchie said, spite dripping from her voice. "Here I am thinking he was hanging around our booth recklessly eyeballing me, but the puto was sizing up my baby. Talking about taking pictures for some d.a.m.n online magazine." She rolled her eyes. "Now I'm really p.i.s.sed. So what about the rest of Squeeze's money?" She rested a hand on a c.o.c.ked hip.

"We're still working on that," GP said, thinking about Conrad Tharp's l.u.s.ting over nine-year-old Secret. That'll cause me to break my principle and be violent That'll cause me to break my principle and be violent. "Honestly, right now I don't have a clue as to how Squeeze is gonna get paid. I wish money grew on trees."

"That's why we're stalling him with this payment." Jewels had a few clues, though GP didn't approve of them.

He rubbed the small of Kitchie's back. "How about you call Secret and tell her that we're going to bring them home."

"A man who pays his bills a day early. Now that's what I call a proactive businessman." Squeeze offered an oversized leather chair with a hand gesture. "Have a seat. Can I get you something? Matter of fact, Hector, bring GP a shot of Louis XIII."

"No, that's okay." GP held up a hand. "It's not...I don't have all your money. Not yet, anyway."

"Yeah, hold that order, Hector." Squeeze stood with his back to a spectacular view of the sunrise. "From the sounds of it, you're not gonna have my cash tomorrow, either."

GP was already nauseous, being up so high, sitting this close to a floor-to-ceiling window facing the horizon. But he became more nervous the instant Hector stood behind him, smacking on a piece of chewing gum. "From the looks of it, no," he said while watching Hector over his shoulder.

"I warned you not to mishandle my cash when you borrowed it. Now, let me recite the fine print: I have zero tolerance when it comes to getting what's mine. Get my cash up."

"Look, Squeeze, I'm gonna handle it." He jerked a thumb toward Hector. "Would you call Hubba Bubba off? He gives me the creeps." GP dropped four stacks of rubber-banded bills on the seat beside Squeeze. "It's twenty thousand right here."

"Twenty doesn't cover your interest rate."

GP kept an eye on Hector. "Technically, my payment isn't due until tomorrow. I brought you this money in good faith. Don't trip, Squeeze."

"You know what? You're right. Come tomorrow, I'm gonna expect my hundred-fifteen thousand. If I don't get it, I'm gonna tax you accordingly."

"I'm gonna need a few weeks to clear my tab."

"You know the rules." Squeeze dismissed GP with the wave of a hand, then turned back to his picturesque window view.

Hector crossed the s.p.a.cious room with GP at his side.

"GP," Squeeze said, never looking away from the breathtaking horizon.

"Yeah."

"After tomorrow, the full court press is on."

Crutchfield entered the forensics lab and knocked on the back of the technician's head. "Hey, packed s.h.i.t, what do you make of this?"

Anderson Ford caressed his sandy-colored hair. "Why can't you ever use my name? Everyone else calls me Ford. I can go for that. Furthermore, I'd appreciate it."

"You're an ungrateful, confused sperm, you know, Ford. I was being nice. I could've chosen a few other choice names that are more befitting-fudge-packer, dookie d.i.c.k, frustrated queer, p.e.n.i.s pruner, pillow biter, c.u.m-"

Ford threw up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, packed s.h.i.t is fine."

"So, r.e.c.t.u.m fish, what can you tell me about this?"

Ford took the object from Crutchfield's hand, then adjusted his granny gla.s.ses on the middle of his pointy nose. "It's an empty watch box. I knew you possessed the awareness of a brick, but if you needed me to tell you what this is, I can no longer give you brick credit." He turned back to face a tray of bullet fragments.

Crutchfield thumped Ford's head.

"Ow." Ford rubbed.

"Nut breath, I know what type of box it is. I wanna know about the watch that was in the box."

"You should have said that." He glanced at the box once more. "The watch that was in here is the best GPS watch on the market. It's big amongst ROTC students. It's capable of storing up to fifty routes of over a hundred miles apiece, or the routes can be combined for more distance." He slid the watch box across the table to where Crutchfield was now standing. "If a person were wearing that watch and somehow managed to get lost, they could hit the Mark Home Mark Home b.u.t.ton and the watch will guide them to the location they started from. Crutchfield, this is a good watch if you're into GPS gadgets. You can even trace your children's hourly whereabouts from a computer with this thing." b.u.t.ton and the watch will guide them to the location they started from. Crutchfield, this is a good watch if you're into GPS gadgets. You can even trace your children's hourly whereabouts from a computer with this thing."

"So what you're telling me is if someone had that watch on, I could find them anytime I wanted to."

"Duh, didn't you just hear me say that? But not anybody can find someone wearing one of these."

"Why not?"

"Because the seeker has to have the code to this particular watch. Do you have any idea of how many of these things are out there? Literally millions. Why does this watch concern you?"

"I have reason to believe that j.a.p Silex-"

"The missing high school kid? ROTC honoree?"

Crutchfield sat on the edge of the table. "Bingo. I think he's wearing the watch that came out of this box. Can you track down the code?"

"Can I squeeze your Charmin?" Ford made his brows jump.

Crutchfield's stomach flipped as his anger swelled. "Don't make me put on a pair of gloves and pound you until my unborn daughter graduates from college."

"I'll have to get around some red tape, but it's possible that I can get the code. I'll start with j.a.p's service provider."

"How long will it take?"

"Few days, few weeks..."

"I want it in a week." Crutchfield went for the door.

Ford made an ugly face and stuck out his tongue.

"I see everything," Crutchfield said without looking back.

CHAPTER 15.

Destiny's Child was on the radio crooning a love ballad about catering to their men. Kitchie increased the volume a notch. "Papi, if I could blow, I'd sing this song in your ear all night long."

"You can pretend. That'll be cool with me."

She blushed.

Wendy's parking lot was nearly filled. GP filled in an available s.p.a.ce. "I hope you really like the apartment. It's not much, but it'll do for the time being."

She ran a hand over her ponytail. "Liking it isn't a concern of mine. All that matters to me is that it's ours. I can't wait to furnish it and have Social Services inspect it. I'm too ready to bring the kids home."

He traced the length of her arm with a fingertip. "I apologize for all that I haven't been. I never meant for any of this to happen. What I should've done was taken that job. Kitchie, I swear, if I could go back and change it all, I would."

"Papi, things happen. It's the way of this screwed-up world. I haven't been...I could do a much better job at controlling how I say things when I'm angry. I be tripping, I know. You accept my apology?" She closed her eyes and puckered up.

GP forgave her with a pa.s.sionate French kiss, reminiscent of their first.

She licked her top lip. "Let's somehow get Squeeze's money, move in our apartment, and store this entire ordeal in the past. You, me, and the kids will start brand new."

GP opened the door.

"Hey, wait a minute. You didn't ask me what I wanted."

"We can't afford to eat out. I have to handle something; that's all."

She watched him bop his way into the restaurant. "I love that man with every heart beat."

Jewels's car phone rang.

Kitchie put the radio on mute. "h.e.l.lo."

GP bypa.s.sed the line, excusing himself as he made it to the counter. "Can I see the manager, please?"

The cashier looked him up and down, then crinkled her lips. Another f.u.c.king complainer Another f.u.c.king complainer. She picked up a phone and told the manager that he was being summoned.

GP found contentment as he observed a young couple interacting with their infant child. It reminded him so much of Kitchie and himself when Secret was just a little bigger than a football. Proud parents.

"Is there something I can help you with, sir?"

He turned to face a clean-shaven, buzz-cut wearing, middle-aged black man who reminded him more of a drill sergeant than a Wendy's manager. GP looked into his murky irises and braced himself for the worst. "You don't know me, but you more than likely remember the incident. I was in your drive-thru about a month ago. I ordered about fifty dollars' worth of food that I took off with without paying for."

"I remember quite well. You caused-"

"Please don't tell me; just let me explain."

The line of patrons hushed and zoomed in on GP's conversation.

He could feel that he was under observation. "All I wanted to do was break up the monotony at home. Sit down with my wife and kids to share a decent meal together. It's no excuse, but it doesn't happen often in my household. I'm fully aware that what I done was wrong, and I apologize for any harm I may have caused." He placed a hundred dollar bill on the counter. "If I could have paid it back sooner, I would have. The extra is for your troubles."

Even the staff was now gathered around the manager, listening to GP's confession.

"Why?" The manager removed the money. "Why did you make it a point to come back here under these circ.u.mstances? I don't understand; you'd gotten away with it. People who are faced with hard times would've kept going and never looked back."

"Because I want my family to always be proud to have me as a husband and a father."

He offered GP a hand. "Thank you. Things will work out for you. Honorable things happen to virtuous people. You're proof that there is still some good in the world. If there's ever anything I can help you with, don't hesitate to ask."

"How about a job? I could really use one."

"Come see me the day after tomorrow, and we'll talk about it."

One person clapped, which urged the staff and patrons alike to follow suit.

A mahogany-colored woman wearing a straw hat and a sundress nodded in approval. "That was all right. Now that's something you don't see every day," she said to no one particular.

GP turned to leave, feeling good about himself, and saw Kitchie standing there.

"Papi, I don't think a day will ever come that I won't be proud that you're my husband. They don't make them like you anymore." She took his hand. "Come on; Jewels is on the phone. She said it's important."

GP put the phone to his ear while backing out of the parking s.p.a.ce. "What you know good, Jewels?"

"It took you long enough to come to this motherf.u.c.king phone, punk. Attorney Green is on the three-way."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Patterson." Vivian chewed on a pen cap, a nasty habit she had while talking on the phone.

"I'm putting the phone down," Jewels cut in. "Y'all hang up when you're finished. I got a move to make."

He tapped the turn signal and eased into the left lane. "What's up, Vivian? I had planned on calling you today."

"I have some good news and some bad news. How do you want it first, the pain or the pleasure?"

"By definition, all news is bad news. So how about you give me the version of what you think is good."

"Conrad Tharp dropped the charges against you and Mrs. Patterson yesterday."

"s.h.i.t, I'm on the verge of believing the definition of news is wrong."

"The District Attorney refiled. The state is going to prosecute you and your wife because of the severity of the charges."

"f.u.c.k! I can't stumble on a break."

Caribbean Cutty pushed four bundles of money across the hood of a Porsche as he looked at Squeeze. "At what point did you convince yourself that it was cool to test my intelligence?" He used the nub of his missing finger to emphasize his words. "Don't you ever come around my way, trying to pa.s.s this bogus bulls.h.i.t."

A vein throbbed at Squeeze's temple. "Cutty, I don't know what you're talking about, but make that your last time you ever come at me sideways, tropical sucker."

Hector eased his narrow suit lapel back, revealing a gun stuffed below his protruding belly. "You heard the man."

A man in greasy coveralls came from beneath a hydraulic car lift carrying a torque wrench. He let out a piercing whistle, alerting others in the garage. Within seconds, six men were standing behind Cutty. Three other men appeared on a tier above the lopsided standoff with automatic weapons.

The torque wrench carrier positioned himself beside Cutty. "I see you got your chest all poked out, Squeeze. Need some help letting that hot air out?"

"Self-checked coward, I don't see you. Shut the f.u.c.k up." Squeeze shot Cutty a warning look. "Let me get this straight. I've spent hundreds of thousands of dollars with you, and all of a sudden my cash ain't good no more?"

"Nah, it ain't. I don't accept counterfeit money. There's a small-time crew on the rise over on Hayden; go beat them out of their rides."