Insane City (28 page)

should not cry, that everything would be all right, although he knew she did not believe it.

She looked around the big room. It was empty; LaDawne and Wesley were not there. Laurette was

very afraid now. She hadn’t understood much of what LaDawne had said to her—and LaDawne almost

never stopped talking—but Laurette knew LaDawne cared about her and her children. She was a warm

and strong woman. She made them feel safe. Laurette knew that LaDawne wouldn’t have left them without

being forced to go by these men.

These were bad men.

Where were they taking her and her babies?

36

The Escalade was still headed north on U.S. 1. Cyndi was still driving, staring straight ahead,

trying not to think too hard about the fact that Trevor was less than a yard away. He was still squatting in

the second seat, motionless, his gaze locked on Cyndi, ignoring Seth. Trevor was still holding the red

velvet ring box in his right hand. Neither Seth nor Cyndi had yet come up with a plan for getting the ring

away from him.

Seth was looking back, past Trevor, through the rear window of the Escalade. He saw blue lights

flashing in the distance, caught the faint whoop-whoop-whoop of a siren.

“There’s a police car coming,” he said. “I’m pretty sure it’s coming after us.”

“What do we do?” said Cyndi.

Seth looked forward. They were approaching a twenty-four-hour drive-through convenience store on

the right. He looked back. The lights were gaining fast.

“Pull in there,” he said, pointing to the convenience store.

Cyndi veered right. The drive-through window was on an alley between the store and the building to

the right.

“Pull forward to the window,” said Seth. He looked back; the Escalade was well off the highway

and partially concealed by the building next door. He hoped the police wouldn’t look to the right as they

went by. He stared out the back window. The siren was getting louder.

A Lexus convertible pulled in behind them, driven by a guy wearing a Marlins cap. Seth was glad;

the Lexus would further block the view of the Escalade from the highway. Cyndi lowered the window,

preparing to speak to the store clerk.

Then she went rigid.

“Oh God,” she said.

“What?” said Seth.

“It’s touching me.”

Seth looked and saw Trevor reaching out his left hand and touching Cyndi’s hair with the tips of his

long fingers. He was touching her gently, with a slight downward stroking motion. She was vibrating with

fear. Seth started to reach out his hand toward Trevor’s arm. Trevor turned and looked at him. Seth pulled

his hand back.

“I don’t know what to do,” Seth said. “It doesn’t
seem
to want to hurt you.”

Cyndi remained rigid, saying nothing.

The siren was getting louder.

“Can I help you?” The clerk, a man in his fifties, was leaning out of the drive-through window.

Cyndi kept staring straight ahead, as if in a trance.

“Miss, can I help you?” said the clerk.

Cyndi said nothing.

Behind them, the Lexus’s horn honked. Seth looked back. Marlins cap guy was holding both hands in

the air in a
What the hell?
gesture.

“Look, miss,” said the clerk, “if you’re not going to buy anything, you have to move your car.”

The siren was louder.

“Cyndi, order something,” said Seth. “Anything.”

Cyndi was frozen.

The clerk opened the half door under his window and stepped out. “Miss,” he said, “you’re blocking

the drive-through.” He stepped close to the car and leaned in toward Cyndi.

Big mistake.

Trevor leaned forward, his head suddenly appearing in the window behind Cyndi’s. He showed the

clerk his fangs.

The clerk emitted a non-masculine whimper and stumbled backward.

The Lexus honked again.

The clerk, keeping his eyes on the snarling Trevor, reached back, feeling for the cash register. He

found it, glanced back quickly, punched a button. The cash drawer opened. His eyes on Trevor again, the

clerk scooped out some bills. Keeping his distance, he tossed them through the window onto Cyndi’s lap.

“Please,” he said. “That’s all I have. Please.”

On U.S. 1, the police car shot past, not slowing down, the siren now growing fainter.

The Lexus honked again—a long, angry honk.

“Cyndi!” said Seth. “Go, OK? Just go!”

This time he got through. Cyndi, still facing rigidly forward, put the Escalade in gear and pulled

ahead. Trevor, having driven off his rival for the affection of the female, settled back into his squat, no

longer touching Cyndi’s hair.

Cyndi drove around behind the convenience store and onto a side street. She pulled to the side, put

the car in park and looked down at her lap strewn with random bills. She was shaking. “What just

happened?” she said.

“I think we just committed a robbery,” said Seth. He nodded toward Trevor. “Or he did.”

Cyndi was still looking at the money. “Oh God. We should give this back.”

“I think that’s a bad idea right now. He’s gonna call the cops. We need to get out of here. Listen,

you’re pretty shook up. I’ll drive.” Seth got out and hustled around to the driver’s side. Cyndi slid over

and Seth got in. In the backseat, Trevor moved over, too, so he was still behind Cyndi. Seth put the

Escalade in drive and got back onto U.S. 1 northbound. He checked the rearview. For the moment there

were no flashing lights.

“We’re like in serious trouble, aren’t we?” said Cyndi. “With those guys back at the strip bar, and

now this . . .”

“Yeah,” said Seth. “And the whole mess back at the monkey place.”

“So what do we do?”

Seth thought for a moment, then said, “OK, here’s what we do. We stop at the next place we see that

looks safe, like a gas station, and you get out, and you call a cab and go home. I’ll take the car and the

gorilla and park somewhere near the hotel, see if I can figure out how to make it let go of the ring. It

seems to be kind of getting used to me.”

“What about the police?”

As if on cue, a police car appeared ahead on the southbound side, speeding, lights flashing. Seth and

Cyndi held their breaths as it reached them. But it shot past and kept going, apparently heading to the

convenience store. Seth and Cyndi exhaled.

“I’ll just hope for the best,” said Seth. “But look, there’s no reason why you should be involved in

this. This is totally my mess. I really, really appreciate the way you’ve helped. Especially getting me out

of that parking lot back there. But I don’t want you getting in trouble. I am so sorry you got dragged into

this.”

“What about the Haitian woman? And her kids?”

Seth shook his head. “I just have to hope her sister comes through. It’s all I can do.” He pointed

ahead. “OK, here’s a Shell station. I’ll let you off here.” He pulled into the brightly lit service plaza,

stopped toward the back, near the air pump. He put the Escalade in park and turned to Cyndi.

“OK,” he said. “I really don’t know how to thank you. But . . . thank you.”

Cyndi looked straight ahead. She shook her head.

“No,” she said.

“No what?”

“No, I’m not getting out. I’m staying.”

“Cyndi, this isn’t your problem.”

“Maybe it didn’t used to be. But I feel like it is now. I want to make sure Laurette’s OK. And her

kids.” She paused, looked down. “And I want to make sure you’re OK.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to. I
want
to. Listen, Seth, you’re a really nice guy. You didn’t have to help

those people but you did. You didn’t have to let them stay. A lot of people wouldn’t have. But you did,

even with the wedding and everything else. You did it because it was the right thing to do. I want to do the

right thing, too.”

She raised her head, turned toward Seth. “I’m staying.”

Seth turned toward her. Her eyes were shining. To Seth, even in the garish light of the Shell station

she looked beautiful. He reached out and rested his hand gently on her arm. Her skin was smooth and soft.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice strained. Cyndi smiled and put her hand over his hand. Her hand was

warm. She left it on his. Seth hesitated for a moment, the two of them looking into each other’s eyes. Then

he leaned closer to her, and she leaned closer to him, and in that instant they both knew that, wrong as it

was, they were about to kiss.

Trevor made an unhappy noise.

They quickly pulled their hands apart and sat upright. Seth, smiling ruefully, shook his head, put his

hands on the wheel. “I guess he’s right,” he said.

“It’s like having an
abuela
,” said Cyndi.

“A what?”

“An
abuela
. A Cuban grandmother. If you’re a Cuban girl from an old-school family, when you go

on a date your
abuela
goes with you to chaperone. She rides in the backseat, keeps an eye on you, makes

sure nothing happens.”

“Did that happen to you?”

“Absolutely. I went on dates when I was sixteen, seventeen years old, some boy driving me, my

abuela
sitting right behind us. And, trust me, she was at least as scary as that thing is.”

Seth snorted, his first laugh in many hours. Then he said, “You really sure about this? You don’t want

to get out now?”

“I’m sure.”

Seth put the Escalade in gear and pulled out of the gas station. “Listen,” he said. “Back there . . .”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Cyndi. “It’s been a crazy night.”

“Yeah,” agreed Seth. “Crazy night.”

They drove on, neither talking, both thinking.

37

Meghan had settled on her bench by the lawn on the ocean side of the hotel. The night was

pleasant—warm, but not too sticky, an easy breeze carrying the salty tang of the Atlantic. She sat for a few

minutes staring at the sky, then dug the baggie out of her jeans, fished out the papers and began to roll a

joint. She took her time getting it right. She enjoyed rolling joints, anticipating the buzz to come.

She finished the joint and pocketed the baggie. She was just about to light the joint when the hotel

door opened, the one that led to the elevator lobby. Meghan saw the massive form of Brewer emerge.

Behind him loomed Castronovo. Between the two big men were the much smaller figures of a woman and

a boy, both very thin and dark-skinned. They passed by a pathway light, and Meghan saw that the woman

was carrying a baby. She and the boy looked frightened.

Brewer left the path, turning right; the others followed, Castronovo herding the Haitians. They were

going around the side of the hotel apparently to avoid going through the main lobby. They hadn’t seen

Meghan on the bench. They disappeared in the darkness. Meghan guessed they were headed for the

parking lot.

She inserted the joint in her lips, dug into her jeans, pulled out a butane lighter. She flicked it,

brought the flame up, anticipating taking the first hit, sucking the sweet smoke deep into her lungs, holding

it, letting it blend with her blood, feeling the mellow descend . . .

She held the lighter an inch from the tip of the joint, staring into the yellow-blue flame.

She released her thumb. The flame went out. She lowered the lighter and said, “Fuck.” She stuck the

joint into her bra, stood up and started walking quickly around the side of the hotel.

She caught up with them on the hotel driveway, heading toward the parking lot.

“Wait,” she called.

The group stopped and looked at her. Laurette and Stephane still looked scared. Castronovo and

Brewer looked annoyed, although they kept their voices grudgingly respectful when they spoke to the