yolo (12 page)

They were so close to being back in the car with thousands of dollars that every step she took felt like a victory. This handoff had gone more smoothly than she had ever dared to hope. Emily realized she wasn't sure what she had expected, but a kind hostess and free pizza had not been the way she'd envisioned it going down. She'd pictured tommy guns from the 1930s and men in white spats. Basically, any gangster movie ever.

At the front of the restaurant Ana pushed open the front door, and as she began to step over the threshold they heard a voice boom from behind them:

“Aren't you forgetting something?”

Emily froze. In front of her, Brandon and Ana turned around first. What Emily saw on their faces made her heart sink. She was certain, without even looking, that Frank had pulled a gun on them. Slowly she turned around and caught sight of the man in the fedora standing by the door that led to the kitchen at the very end of the bar.

He was not holding a gun.

He was holding Artie.

Vito stood next to them, glaring at Emily. “How's youse gonna fuhgit yer own kid?”

Emily's terror was complete. She had no snappy comeback. Her throat was closing off a little at a time. Her tongue was a desert. Had these men been holding Artie as collateral for the deal? Had Liz known this? Had Chestnut? Could they really not have mentioned this? Could they have been okay with this plan? How could they knowingly have allowed their son to be kept in the company of these men while they were out robbing restaurants and gas stations?

And how would she explain the fact that Artie would not recognize her or Brandon? He would never go anywhere with them. Their cover was officially blown. She glanced back at Brandon. His eyes widened as if to say,
I got nothing
.

Emily briefly considered running out of the restaurant and jumping into her car. It would've been the fastest choice: just run. But something in her wouldn't let her do it. She couldn't bring herself to leave Artie with these men. His fine brown hair was straight and longish, his bangs cut straight
across his forehead, his cheeks still a little chubby, and a perfect dollop of freckles across his nose. He was even cuter in real life than he had been in the picture on Liz's phone.

After what seemed like an eternity but was only a few seconds at most, Emily took a hesitant step forward. “Hey, Artie!” she said, a smile covering the pit of fear churning in her stomach. She waited for a moment, bracing herself for the certain look of fear or confusion on Artie's face, for the moment when he blurted out, “Who are
you
?”

It never came.

Instead, Artie wiggled down out of Frank's arms and did something so surprising, if she hadn't grabbed the hostess stand, Emily might've fallen down.

A huge smile lit up Artie's face, and he threw open his arms, running toward her, all the way down the length of the restaurant. As he did, he yelled out a single word, a word that Emily decided was the sweetest sound in the English language. A word that may well have saved her life:

“Mommy!”

“Are you fucking
kidding me
?” Brandon was whisper-shouting. “Now we've got a
five-year-old in the car
?”

“
Hey
! Watch your language, potty mouth.” Ana wagged a finger at Brandon, who threw his arms up in the air.

“Calm down,” Emily said. Brandon continued his rant unabated.

“I mean a
dog
was bad
enough
. But now we've
kidnapped a child
? How could this day possibly get any
worse
?”

“It could be raining,” Ana muttered.

They were standing next to the car in a dry ditch, filled with tall grasses and weeds. Emily had driven as slowly as she could out of the parking lot of Balducci's, then down the service road along the highway for about a mile before pulling over and convening a meeting with Ana and Brandon. She'd left Artie in the backseat with Pickles, who was curled up on Artie's lap already fast asleep.

“Actually, it's worse than rain,” Brandon sputtered. “This isn't water falling from the sky.
This
? Is a
shit storm
. This is a
hurricane of calamity
. What the
hell
are we supposed to do now?”

Emily ran a hand through her hair. “Look, I never would have gone through with this whole pickup thing if I'd known that Liz and Chestnut were putting Artie in danger.”

“Ya
think
?” Brandon was red in the face. He took a deep breath and walked around in a circle. “Okay, so can we please call the police now?”

Emily shook her head. “No. I mean, not yet.”

“Oh? Not yet?” Brandon was mocking her. “What, do we need to have a pony with
wings
in the car along with the stolen dog and kidnapped child before we consider this a
crisis
?”

“We can call Chestnut,” Emily said. “We'll just use Liz's phone and give him a call and sort all of this out. We can hand over Artie. We can hand over the cash, for all I care.” At this point, Emily just wanted the day, and the experience, to be over. “Okay?”

“Not okay,” Ana said, shaking her head. “First of all, don't you think Liz would've used Chestnut's phone to call hers if he actually had one.”

“We don't know that,” Brandon said quickly. “Come on, let me see the phone.”

“Well, you know . . . that's the other thing,” Ana said as she chewed her lip. “I sort of, kind of, maybe don't have the phone anymore.”

Emily and Brandon both gawked at her.

“What do you mean?” Emily asked. “How can you not have the phone anymore? We haven't done anything.”

“I'm not really sure,” Ana said. “I'm guessing I left it on the
table at the restaurant.” She held up her slice of pizza. “All of this stress-eating has made me forgetful.”

“Okay, fine,” Brandon said. “The one possible plan we had is no longer viable, meaning the only solution now is to actually
call the police
.”

Emily shrugged. She felt defeated. She'd tried to let loose, to make things fun and carefree, and look where that had gotten her. Nowhere good, that was for sure. If she could turn back the clock . . . but it didn't even matter. There was no use thinking that way, because they were already in a situation, and there wasn't any way they could fix it by going into the past. There wasn't a time-travel option. So they had to work with what they had, now, in the present, decide what to do.

And there was really only one thing to do after being involved in an armed robbery, dognapping, drug mule-ing, and kidnapping.

Without saying anything, she motioned to the car, then walked around to the driver's side and slid behind the wheel. Once Ana and Brandon were both inside and the doors were shut, she slowly reached for her phone.

“Who're you calling?” Artie asked from the backseat, where he was seated next to Brandon.

“The police,” Emily said. “We have to get you home.”

“Mom and Dad probably aren't there anyway,” he said. Pickles was in his lap and he seemed more concerned about the small dog's tattered collar than he did his parents' whereabouts.

“Hey, Artie?” Emily said as she twisted in her seat to look at the boy. “Back in the restaurant, why did you call me ‘Mommy'?”

“Well, you looked like you were in trouble,” he said. “And I expected my mom to be there, but since she wasn't, and you were, I guessed that she sent you to get me instead. But I didn't want to get you in trouble.”

“In trouble?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Mom and Dad are robbers, you know? So sometimes they have to work with bad guys, and if the bad guys knew you were the wrong people, then you would've been in trouble. Right?”

“Well . . . yeah, I suppose,” Emily said. She couldn't argue with the logic, though she was surprised, flabbergasted even, that a five-year-old had been able to come to that conclusion so quickly and efficiently.

“So did my mom and dad send you?” he asked.

“Kind of,” Emily said. “We were going to call them, but we don't have their number . . .”

“Oh, that's all right,” Artie said. “We can just go see Buck and Blanche.”

“Who're Buck and Blanche?” Ana asked.

“Do we even want to know?” Brandon mumbled as he stared out the window.

“They're my grandparents,” Artie said happily. “Sometimes I stay with them while Mom and Dad are doing jobs. It was supposed to be like that today, but I think Dad made a bad
deal, and that's when they had to take me to that restaurant, Balducci's, to leave me there. As collateral.”

“Why do you know that word?” Brandon asked with obvious disbelief.

Artie seemed to think for a moment, then shrugged. “Must've heard someone say it.”

“So, Buck and Blanche,” Emily asked as she turned on the car. “Any chance you know where they live?”

Artie laughed. “Of course I do.” He spouted out the address. “Mom and Dad always say that if there's ever trouble, I should find a good adult and get to Buck and Blanche's as soon as possible.”

“A good adult?” Ana asked.

Artie nodded. “Not like the people at Balducci's. People like you guys.”

Emily glanced at Ana, who shrugged, and then punched the address into the GPS. “Well, I guess we're off to see Buck and Blanche.”

Artie cheered. “Everything's going to be great. I can tell.”

Emily just shook her head. At this point, she wasn't convinced anything would be great ever again.

The house Emily pulled up in front of was small, but had a long front porch with a porch swing at one end, and several old wooden rocking chairs at the other. A woman with gray hair pinned up into a French twist opened the front door as Emily pulled into the driveway. She was tall, and Emily quickly noticed that she was wearing bright red high heels, boot-cut jeans, and a leather jacket that looked like it came straight off a Paris runway.

“Are you lost?” the woman called out.

“Blanche!” Artie was out of the car in a second, racing across the front yard before leaping to the woman to give her a hug around her waist.

The woman, Blanche, gave Artie a warm hug in return, then turned to the others with obvious suspicion. “Who are you, and what are you doing with my grandson?”

Emily got out of the car slowly, not really sure how to explain. Ana and Brandon trailed behind her as they approached the house, stopping at the bottom of the porch steps. Emily held out her hand to shake Blanche's, but the older woman didn't make any move to reciprocate, so Emily let her hand fall to her side.

“They picked me up,” Artie said. “I was at a pizza place.”

Blanche's eyes narrowed, then she untwined Artie from around her waist and said, “Go on inside and find Buck. I think he's down in the basement watching TV.”

Artie nodded and started to go inside, but then stopped and let out a loud whistle. In a second, Pickles was at his feet, hopping around as they both trekked inside. Blanche barely even blinked at the dog.

Once Artie was gone, Emily decided to try again.

“So . . . it's all kind of a funny story,” she said.

Blanche slipped her hand into her jacket pocket and pulled out a long slender cigarette, which she lit with a sleek silver lighter. She inhaled deeply, and then let the smoke issue slowly from her lips. She took another slow draw, then said, “Let me guess. Artie's parents somehow roped you into running an errand that resulted in unexpected free babysitting for them, and maybe a bad deal for you.”

“Well . . . not exactly,” Emily said. “I don't really know how to explain.”

“I'll do it.” Brandon strolled to the car and quickly pulled out the black suitcase, which he brought back to the porch and dropped next to Blanche unceremoniously. He tugged on the zipper and popped open the bag, revealing stacks and stacks of bills. Hundred-dollar bills.

“Well, would you look at that,” Blanche said slowly, though her facial expression said that she wasn't all that impressed and had seen much more in her life. “Well.” She
took two more long drags on her cigarette, then delicately put it out on an ashtray that rested on the porch railing. “Why don't you collect that and come on inside. I'll make coffee.”

Inside, Emily was somewhat surprised to see that the house was fresh, modern, and well put together. Each room had the look of an interior design catalog, with not one item out of place. The kitchen was especially put together, and she, Brandon, and Ana simply stared as Blanche bustled around, getting a fancy, expensive coffee machine brewing before setting out four mugs.

While the coffee machine sizzled and spurted, Blanche moved to the hall and called down to the basement, telling Buck and Artie to come on up to get something to eat.

“I don't suppose you know whether he had pizza at that parlor?” she asked.

Emily shook her head. “Not sure.”

“Well, then!”

Emily, Brandon, and Ana all jumped when the voice boomed behind them, seeming to shake everything in the room. Emily turned to see a man with a salt-and-pepper beard and black horn-rimmed glasses stroll into the kitchen. He was taller than Brandon, and just as well put together as Blanche, with black slacks, a white shirt, and an unbuttoned vest.

“What's going on in here?” he asked, giving Emily, Brandon, and Ana a broad smile.

“That's what we're in the process of figuring out,” Blanche
said. The coffee machine dinged, and she got to work pouring out cups. “Buck, pull that cheese and meat plate out of the fridge.”

Emily frowned at Ana and Brandon when she saw the full-fledged antipasti platter that Buck pulled from the state-of-the-art refrigerator and set on the island counter. It was only a moment before she and her friends were seated on wooden stools, sipping rich, hot coffee, and eating artisan cheeses and cured meats.