Hustle (19 page)

She smiled at Raphael like they had an inside joke and said, “
Of course. Raff, sweetie, could you fix me a cup up tea? Anything herbal, I do not need any caffeine, not after the day I’ve had.”

Raphael smiled and sang, “
Si
, Senorita.”

Gabriel could smell her perfumed funk from where he stood. It was a stale blend of flowers and must. Her hair
was clumped and uncombed and the dark clothes that hung loosely on her tiny frame were covered with cat hair.

“And, if you could, put in a dollop of that organic honey. I read an article last week
about the store-bought stuff, and I swear, I’m never going to use it again. I’m thinking of getting my own hive. Y’know, do my thing for the pollinators of this world. They’re in decline, y’know. It’s all over the Internet. They need all the help they can get.”

Dustin stood behind the short woman, feelin
g ignored, rolling his eyes. “Can we get this thing started?”

Terrence said,
“Dustin, there’s a TV in the second guest bedroom upstairs. Why don’t you go set up the VCR and I’ll help Miranda get settled in. Gabriel, would you like a cup of tea?”

Gabriel shook his head
while he watched Dustin grab the box with the VCR and run up the stairs two at a time.

“Mimosa, coffee, water, anything?”

“No, thank you,” Gabriel said, but Raphael poured him a coffee anyway. He looked again at the woman. He wondered if this was indeed the person they had been waiting on, what role she could possibly play in whatever they had planned. She was almost a caricature. An aging hippie, right down to her overpriced Birkenstocks. A thought flashed through Gabriel’s mind that she might be a witch, one of those Wiccan, earth-goddess types, but the papers peeking out from that floral valise were not spells. They looked like files, legal papers stuffed into manila folders.

“Raphael, is that one of your frittatas I smell?”
She smiled and Gabriel saw that her teeth were yellow and stained.

“Still warm,” said Ra
phael, proud that she noticed, “You like me to fix you a plate?”

“What kind of eggs? I hope not those cruel little Safeway ones.
I will not eat those little tortured orbs. I can’t stand to think where they came from.”

“Organic, free-
range, of course. We only buy organic,” Raphael lied. “Parmesan, fresh spinach, ham, a little parsley …”

“Ham?
Oh no, I couldn’t. You know I don’t eat meat. Good Lord, neither should you two. Don’t you know that meat ages you? Your body works so hard to beak it down that it deprives itself of other vital needs. It has to absorb all those antibiotics and hormones. It sits in your stomach for weeks, months even. It’s an abuse to the human body. Not to mention what the poor pig went through. I gave up pork when I was still a teen. I think one slice of bacon might kill me now.”

“Okay, suit
yourself,” said Raphael, trying not to sound as disappointed as he looked. The frittata sat unsliced on the kitchen counter.

“Now,” said Miranda, “before we get started, I just want to do a little clarification about what forms we
’re going to be using and which ones need to get recorded.”

Terrence interrupted her.
“Miranda, please, you just got here. Let’s have our tea, relax a few minutes before we get started.”

“Relax? I thought you said I was late. Your little friend there is acting like he’s about to miss the last bus to happy-town. I thought you all were in a hurry to get this thing done.”

Before Gabriel could inquire as to what that thing was, Terrence said with his rich and silvery tone, “Please, you’re here now. That’s all that matters. Let us just enjoy the morning and then we’ll get down to business.”

Gabriel looked at the clock. It was
well past one o’clock. They’d slept through the morning and he was beginning to wish he’d stayed in bed.

They arranged themselves on opposite sides of the kitchen counter. They sat, perched on the tall chairs, Gabriel and Raphael o
n one side and Miranda and Terrence on the other. Gabriel sipped at his two drinks in front of him—first the coffee, then the Mimosa—knowing the combination would probably upset his stomach, and tried to follow the conversation. The chat turned, as Gabriel guessed it almost always did with this Miranda, to politics. He was uninterested, though, in the small talk. He was thinking of what fate his hosts had planned for him.

Miranda argued
the side of the far left—big surprise—and Terrence took the side of the moderate left. Raphael sat silent with nothing to add and, at one point, even put a hand on Gabriel’s knee. After a few more minutes of the mindless banter, Dustin came down the stairs from the guest room and called to Gabriel.

“Hey, Gabriel, it’s time.”

The political talk stopped instantly. The other three at the counter looked at Gabriel as if they were on pause, soundlessly excusing him before they continued.

Dustin’s
serious tone was ominous and suddenly Gabriel felt like he didn’t want to leave the kitchen conversation so soon. He started to feel like maybe a slice of Raphael’s frittata sounded quite tasty, perhaps another Mimosa was in order. 

Dustin, this time with his teeth clenched, said, “Let’s go,
Gabe
, I ain’t got all day.”

Gabriel, not wanting Dustin’s anger to flare, hopped off the tall stool and, securing
his robe, padded after him in his borrowed slippers. He followed him up the stairs and down the hall to the empty guest bedroom. Inside, the curtains were closed and it was dark. The only light came from a TV that sat playing the infinite static of no signal.

Chapter 18

After they’d crossed the Golden Gate Bridge, both the boys had fallen asleep. Bear drove Highway One in silence, preferring to concentrate on what lay ahead of him instead of distracting himself with his usual classic rock. The road began to wind as they got further into Marin County. Bear started taking the curves and corners faster than he needed to. He enjoyed hearing Rich’s oblivious head bounce against the window with its dead little thump. He checked the rearview. In the backseat, Donny sat with his head straight back on the seat, his jaw hanging, a light snore whistling out of his nose.

When the road straighten
ed and they reached the town of Stinson Beach, Bear pulled off the highway into a gas station. He drove around the back of the building and positioned the car beside a dumpster. He cut the engine and the sudden disappearance of its steady vibration woke the two boys up.

“Where are we?” croaked Rich.

“Stinson Beach.”

“It stinks.”

“That’s the dumpster.”

“It stinks like rotten fish,” said Donny from the back.

“Oh,” said Bear, “then that would be the ocean. I mean, it is called Stinson
Beach
. Must be low-tide.”

Bear got out of the car and walked around to the trunk and unlo
cked it. He took the blanket from the wheel-well and looked at his weapon cache. First, he took his hunting knife and stuck it back into his right boot; then, checking that the safety on the Walther .380 was on, he stuck the gun between his belt and the small of his back. He took two clips and placed them into his jacket pockets, one on each side. He felt weighed down now, encumbered with metal. He picked up the .38, wondering where to put it, and decided it was fine to stick under the driver’s seat. He returned to the car with the revolver in his hand and settled in behind the wheel.

Rich
watched him hide the gun under the seat, gave him a quick fraternal nod and said, “Packin’.”

To which Bear replied with a simple, “Yup.”

Rich asked, “You got Donny’s piece, too?”

“You meant the one he stole from
Gilly? Fuck no. That thing is hidden away. You boys can have it back when this is all over,” Bear lied. “We need something we know we can count on, which is why I brought what I brought.”

Big Rich was disappointed, and his face showed it, but he knew better than to start arguing about it now.

In the backseat, Donny was reminded they were on a dangerous mission. It’d all been dangerous, he knew, but seeing the snub-nosed .38 being placed beneath the seat crystallized the situation for him. They weren’t only going to get their phones back, they were going to rescue the old man. They had to if they ever expected to see a dime from him.

“What’s the plan?” asked Donny. “Is there a plan?”

Bear made a sound that was half-sigh, half-growl, and said, “I guess the plan is to go find this house, see what the fuck is going on there, then make up the rest of the plan.”

Big Rich clapped his
hands together with excitement. “Sounds good to me. Let’s go.”

Donny, not sounding as confident as his friend, asked, “Bear, you ever done anything like this before?”

“Like what?”

“Like we
’re gonna do, rescue Gabriel.”

“Fuck no,” said Bear without even thinking about it.
He reached into his jacket for his pack of Camels. “Nothing like it at all.”

***

While Gabriel was upstairs with Dustin, the other three prepared for the big event. They moved from the kitchen counter to the large oak dining table. There, they spread out the necessary documents and papers. Miranda got herself ready by making sure her tools of the trade were in order, Terrence skimmed over the documents and placed them in their proper stacks, and Raphael set out glasses, empty ceramic cups for coffee, and a carafe of iced water.

When they were done, they sat quietly waiting for Gabriel and Dusti
n’s return. They were patient. It was a somber moment for the three and they sat sipping at the water and fiddling with their empty cups. Raphael wasn’t really sure what was going on, he only knew it was very important to Terrence and his guests. Miranda sat ready to do what she needed to do. She wasn’t really sure why the VCR was necessary, but she told herself that it didn’t concern her; she was here to do a job and that’s what she was going to do. Terrence sat stone-faced. He was the only one at the table with any stakes involved and he knew exactly what was going on upstairs.

They all heard the upstairs
bedroom door open and shut. They didn’t look at each other; they only turned their heads toward the stairs. Gabriel came down first. He was pale and drawn; he looked exhausted, like a condemned man on his final walk to the gallows. Miranda wondered what in the world that boy had shown him on the video. Terrence, on the other hand, knew what was on the video, but he hadn’t expected it to hit the old attorney so hard. He figured that Gabriel must have known, on some level, what was coming. But the look on the old man’s face told him that Thaxton was caught by complete surprise.

Behind Gabriel, though, Dustin was absolutely
beaming. He wore the first real smile of his stay there at Terrence’s house. His normal pale, almost bluish pallor showed faint roses of blush on his cheeks. He looked both proud and triumphant.

Only Raphael said something, “Okay, who wants coffee and who wants a drink?”

No one answered but Gabriel. He said quietly, “I’ll have one of those Mimosas.”

Terrence got up and pulled a chair out for Gabriel.
He took him gently by the elbow, treating him with great sympathy and care. Gabriel took the chair and sat down with a grunt. Terrence went around the table to the other side and sat down directly across from the old lawyer. Dustin stood behind Gabriel, arms crossed, still smiling.

“Okay,
Gabriel,” said Terrence, changing his tone from nursemaid to businessman, “let’s get down business. Miranda here is a notary. She’s going to help us execute the transfer of a deed today. We have everything prepared, so this shouldn’t take too long. Then, after, we can all have a drink and you can be on your way.”

A second wave of realization swept over Gabriel. He blinked in astonishment and half-turned to Dustin and said, “
This
… this is what you want?”

Dustin stood silent
and made no eye contact with Gabriel. His expression hadn’t changed; the smile had only tightened on his face. His plan was on the verge of becoming a reality. He was having trouble holding back his excitement.

“We’ve done the necessary
prep work,” continued Terrence, “all you need to do is sign. Miranda will notarize them, I’ll give you copies for your records and we’ll be done.” Terrence brushed his hands together, like he was wiping them clean. He was doing his best to keep it businesslike, trying to ignore that the old man was close to breaking down in tears.

Gabriel still spoke to Dustin, “How did you get these?” he said pointing to the papers.

“The only shit you kept locked in that fuckin’ safe of yours was your cash and my speed; you never thought I’d want anything else. You never thought I was smart enough.”

Dustin’s word’s came fast, nothing was holding him back now,
he was glaring at Gabriel, “You think the shit we were doing was free? You think I liked that shit? No, I’m gettin’ what’s mine. Nothing in life is free, and it’s time for you to ante up.”

“What do you plan to do there?”

“Sell it. Maybe I’ll live there for a few months and then I’ll put in on the market. Sell it, pay my taxes like a good citizen, and get the fuck out of San Francisco.”

“You realize who I am, you understand I know the law, I’m going to come after you for this.” As Gabriel said thi
s, out of the corner of his eye he could see Terrence shaking his head ever so lightly. He was letting Dustin know that it would be okay, that the deal would go through. Dustin had been coached from the beginning. Terrence had let him know that bank account transfers, living trusts, and wills, could be more complicated, leave a paper trail that could bring felony charges. The transfer of the deed was the simplest way of stinging him for millions.

Terrence interrupted again.
“Okay, so here we have the Grant Deed. Gabriel, if you would be so kind as to sign as Grantor, I’ve marked the spots with the yellow stick-ums.”

Gabriel looked down at the little plastic arrow
s he’d used thousands of times to help a client navigate through documents.

“Also, here’s
a letter, just a formality, which states you own the house and property in question free and clear.” He turned his head to Miranda, “And sweetheart, what do you need from Mr. Thaxton?”

Miranda, who was looking
more and more uncomfortable as the gears turned in her head, stammered, “I know you are who you say you are, but just as a formality, like Terry said, I’d like to get some information off of your ID.”

“That’s to smooth over any bumps down at
the City Recorder’s Office, you understand,” said Terrence.

Gabriel sat with the pen in front of him.
He felt nauseated. He knew Dustin had painted him into a corner. His mind raced for tactics to prevent the transfer from happening.

Dustin put his cold, bony hand on Gabriel’s shoulder and said, “You
wanna take a minute and go upstairs and watch TV again?”

“No,”
Gabriel said. He picked up the document and began to read.