1 Margarita Nights (22 page)

His eyes looked everywhere but at me. “I got out of bed mad on Monday. Jimmy was lousing up your life.”

Nice, but I wasn’t buying it. “And you were worried that he’d ruin Noble’s too. You’d do pretty much anything for Noble.”

He said simply, “Yes.”

“And Jimmy seemed to be a threat to Noble?”

“Noble met Jimmy coming out of the Jutebox. Jimmy said we were such a good story he was having trouble keeping it to himself. Jimmy thought it was a big joke.” Evan studied the undergrowth. “You don’t know how hard this is on Noble. Falling in love with me turned his life upside down. We met the first day of classes. It was a thunderbolt. Noble claims he didn’t even know he was gay. That Thanksgiving he went home to tell Cordelia he couldn’t marry her, their engagement was off. He never got the chance to tell her. Cordelia told him she was pregnant and they were married before he returned to school.” He looked at me, the misery of every lost love etched on his face.

“Noble didn’t think there was any other choice for him. Besides,” his eyes went back to studying the toe of his shoe, “he always wanted children, the one thing I can’t give him and if he leaves Cordelia, he’s afraid he’ll lose them.”

He looked at me and smiled. “But for one little sperm traveling upstream Noble and I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“And that’s pretty much the story of all of us. Jimmy wasn’t going to tell your secret.”

His jaw hardened. “Jimmy thought we were a big joke. You’ve told me a hundred times he was capable of anything.

He didn’t care who he’d hurt.” “Did you rig the motor on the
Suncoaster
?”

I wanted to take the words back as soon as they were out of my mouth. A week ago I would have trusted Evan to the ends of forever: now I was calling him a murderer. We stared at each other in shocked silence, not believing we’d come to this.

A yellow cab swung into the parking lot, spraying shells as it braked beside us. We swung away from each other in relief.

“Sherri,” Eddy Ortiz called through the open window, his white teeth flashing in his dark face.

“Talk to you later,” Evan said. He threw his duffle bag over his shoulder and jogged for the stairs.

“Evan,” I called. But he didn’t stop or look around.

Eddy got out of the cab.

“I have good news and bad news.”

“Gimme the good news first. I could sure as hell use some.”

Eddy folded his arms and leaned back against the car.

“I saw Andy.”

“Great,” I said.

He held up a hand. “But I couldn’t convince him to get in with me.”

“Bad. Where was this?”

“I was coming back from delivering a fare to the airport in Sarasota. He was out on Tamiami Trail near that big fruit stand. I called to him. He stopped. He knew me. I said you were looking for him, said I’d give him a ride but he took off.”

“At least we know he’s still around. The fruit stand is near the center where Marley and I looked for him. He may go back there.”

“Sorry I couldn’t help.”

“There’s someone else I’m looking for. He drives a white SUV with a license plate ending in OFF. The guy stiffed me for a bar bill.” A lie was simpler than the truth but it was beginning to scare me how easy they were coming. “Will you keep an eye out for the SUV?”

“Sure. I’ll tell the other guys to watch too.” And they would. They’d all been done for a fare sometime and would stick together on this.

“Thanks, Eddy.” A thought occurred to me. “Do you ever play golf?”

He laughed. “Not what you’d call golf. My brother, Angel, he’s almost an accountant now, you know.” His voice was full of pride. “We rent clubs a couple times a year out at Hidden Lakes and tear up some turf.”

“Good. I’ve got a little pressie for you. C’mon.” I opened the lid to the bed of the pickup. “There,” I said, waving a hand at Jimmy’s clubs. Alive or dead, Jimmy wasn’t going to need them and I didn’t want them around.

Eddy looked at the clubs and then looked at me. “You’re kidding!”

“Nope. I can’t use them and I wouldn’t feel right selling them.”

He rubbed his upper lip with the edge of his hand while his eyes searched the ground.

Had I made a big mistake here? He was really uncomfortable about something.

“Look, if you don’t want them, sell them. I don’t care. I just don’t want them around.”

He nodded and stuffed his hands into his back pockets. “Hey, Eduardo, what’s happening? Have I screwed up?” He laughed and looked up at me. “Nah, you didn’t screw up. Not by a mile. It’s just . . . well it’s just a surprise.”

“Good. For a minute there you had me worried.” I reached in for the bag but he beat me to it. He pulled the black leather bag out of the truck and slung the wide shoulder strap over his left shoulder. The red embroidery of Jimmy’s initials flashed at me.

“When I show up with these, my little brother’s gonna shit himself.”

“And if you want some lessons, I’m your girl.”

“How do I look?” he asked, standing stiffly upright with the bag over his shoulder and grinning like a fool.

“Like a cab driver with a set of Pings.”

“Not like a pro?”

“You’ve always been a pro, Eddy. You don’t need a set of used clubs for that.”

Clay called. Cool and reserved as if we hadn’t been pawing at each other like ravenous beasts.

“Just wanted to be sure you were still upright and taking nourishment,” he said.

“Had any more unwelcome visitors?”

“No one’s interested in me.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” he said with a soft laugh. “I know at least one person you’ve turned upside down.” I smiled as I said, “Strange, I haven’t thought of you once.”

“There you go, women are tougher than men.”

“Except, well except, I have this incredible itch.”

“Which I’d be happy to scratch. Just don’t have any strange visitors until I get back.” “They have the tape. It’s over.”

“Let’s just hope Jimmy’s tape was all they were looking for. I’ll be back tomorrow. Are you working?” “Mondays are always my night off.”

“Oh, yeah.” Like he’d forgotten. “Maybe we could do something,” he suggested. I roared with laughter. “What?”

“Yeah, let’s do something. You do it so well.”

“It’s a date.”

Before I headed for the squatter’s city behind the box stores, I picked out a nice clear picture of Andy. My plan was to ask anyone going in or out of the field if they’d seen Andy. How much trouble could that get me into right? Silly me.

The first person to come out of the wilderness was an elderly man who looked far too frail and ill to be living rough . . . or to be any danger to me. His left hand trembled and his gait was unsteady as he dipped through the fence and came towards me.

“Excuse me,” I said holding out Andy’s picture.

“Do you know this man?”

He rheumy eyes flickered over me. “Get lost, bitch.” He staggered away.

“Charming. It was lovely to meet you too.” This was a different crowd from the people David looked after.

Fifteen minutes later a pair of guys in their twenties came around the end of the building heading for the jungle. “Have you seen this guy?” I asked. I was a little more wary this time, staying way back and stretching out my arms to their limit. “Do you know him?”

They didn’t even look at it. “Yooooo, mama. I’d like to know you.” Baggy shorts moved towards me and his friend circled around to come up behind me. The fence on my left side held me trapped between them.

“I’m a cop,” I warned. “Don’t mess with me.” The guy facing me stopped. “You’re shitting me.” His eyes went sideways to his partner to see what he was making of me.

“Don’t even think of it,” I said.

Baggy pants backed off a step.

My heart was thudding against my rib cage; my voice was husky with fear. “Have you seen him?” I repeated.

He shook his head, sidling around me to the opening. The other guy was already through the fence and disappearing fast.

A slow learner I may be, but I’m not totally stupid. I went back to the pickup and dug out the nice heavy handle of the tire jack and laid it across the seat. Then I parked Big Red right next to the hole in the fence. If they wanted to go in or out they had to walk right along the driver’s side of the truck. The window was up and the door locked. The keys were in the ignition, ready to go. If anyone got between me and escape I’d run them down.

I leaned over the seat to dig around in my bag for writing material. I block-printed “Have you seen this man? Five dollar reward for information.” Cheap, but I didn’t want anyone to decide they might like the reward without the information and bash out my window. I waited. Although it was only in the sixties outside, heat built up in the cab and made me sleepy—but I was too afraid of the animals coming out of the jungle to crack the window. What had happened to all the defeated tired people who asked for spare change on the street? Maybe only the strongest had the courage to live out here in the underbrush.

It was nearly an hour before a chubby man with wild hair came hurrying through the field, along the path to the hole in the fence. I started to hold my sign and the picture of Andy up to the window but there was something familiar about the way he walked, forward on the balls of his feet. I lowered the picture. He saw the truck, hesitated and then came on warily.

Still cautious, I rolled down the window and stuck my head out. He was bending to the opening when I called, “Andy?”

He jerked upright, still holding the wire mesh, frozen in indecision, off balance, one foot sticking through the opening, while he tried to decide if he was going to bolt back into the underbrush or go on.

“It’s Sherri. Please don’t run,” I begged. I tucked the sign and the picture down behind the seat.

He drew his foot back through the opening, holding onto the fence with both hands, staring at me.

“It’s Sherri,” I said again.

“I know,” he answered. Like how dumb do you think I am? It was hard to see the old Andy in this person. He’d always been skinny, even emaciated; now his once strong and well-defined features were hidden and flattened under an extra layer of fat. His face and body were bloated and personal care and hygiene had gone out the window some time ago. Now Andy had his own kind of funky dreadlocks thing happening. A video could be hidden in that rat’s nest, no problem. Betsy Crown would not approve.

“Hi, Andy.” His jaw worked from side to side; his body tensed. I slid the tire iron under the seat and opened the door cautiously, afraid sudden movements might make him bolt. “I’m glad to see you. I’ve missed you.”

He pointed behind me. “You’ve got Jimmy’s truck,” he said. He walked along the fence to the truck, craning his neck to see inside. “Is Jimmy with you?”

“No.”

“Are you two back together again?”

“No. Jimmy and I aren’t together.”

His head swung rapidly to the left as if a voice had called him and he was searching for that person. “I know, I know,” he said, annoyed and impatient. His jaw worked from side to side and he bounced on the balls of his feet. Erratic movements and raw energy turned the once charming man into a terrifying individual.