you smothered it in Tabasco.
It’s hot, the tracker sweaty in my hand. I try to recall what the tech guy said—magnetized, underneath, rail-something. It sounded simple at the time, but the guy had a giant zit right under his nose that was about to erupt like Vesuvius. I couldn’t really concentrate on anything else.
I get down on the concrete and slide under the car as much as I can. It’s even hotter under here. I wonder how any person in a sane frame of mind could possibly enjoy working on cars.
I look for the rail, a good spot to place the tracker. There’s just so much god-darned stuff under here.
I place the tracker up, but it doesn’t stick. Shit.
I move it like you would a planchette on a Ouija board, shifting it around until finally it snaps away from my hand hard up against the chassis. I check to make sure there are no moving parts around it, but it blends in well. I activate it from the side, a tiny LED telling me it’s good to go. Wherever this car heads to now, the cops are going to know about it.
“Maddy?”
I sit up so fast I smack my head hard into the underside of the car. There’s a hollow ringing that follows not unlike getting socked with a baseball bat.
I slide out, fingers dabbing at a welt already forming right in the center of my head. I squint against the light. “Dad? I thought you were out?”
“Just tidying up the basement. What you doing under there?”
“I, uh, lost something, rolled down the drive.”
“Need a hand?”
I stand, brushing myself off, head ringing. “No, no. You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I can’t be caged up in there all day. Besides, I have to walk twenty minutes a day, doctor’s orders.”
I point to the two strips of jerky poking out of his trouser pocket. “And what about those? Doctor’s orders too, huh?”
He slips them a little deeper inside. “Now, baby, that’s my medicine. No need to inform Michelle.”
I tap the side of my nose. “Our little secret. You see Brock?”
“Yeah, he left with some girl.”
I stiffen. “A girl?”
“Hair like a flamingo.”
“Birdie?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Did he say where they were going?”
“Something about kebabs, unless that’s a kind of euphemism you kids have these days. I’m really not up to date on all this sexting and kicking and whatever it is you do on those phones.”
“Just as well. I’ll see you later.”
I jump back into Champers and head to the meeting spot. Time to get my jump on.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The sun has set by the time I come into the parking lot. Everyone’s gathered around their cars.
I make my entrance, Champers wheezing. Bemused looks follow, none more so than my brother. He comes up to the car and taps on the window. I wind it down. “Yes, officer.”
“What are you doing here, Maddy?”
He seems kind of put off by my presence. “Thought I’d say hi, check up on you.”
“Check up on me? Seriously?”
I wink. “Maybe something else?”
“It’s not a good time.”
Hernandez appears behind Brock’s back, a hand on his shoulder. He looks down at me. “Brock, you didn’t tell us you were bringing the bacon.”
“Funny,” I retort.
Hernandez smirks. “Any friend of Brock’s is a friend of mine, especially a friend like you.” He’s looking at my tits again, the creep.
Hernandez smiles, but it’s more of a leer, a mouth full of gold. “Come on. Join us. We’re just about to head out.”
Brock shakes his head as Hernandez walks away. He opens my door and offers me his hand. “You shouldn’t have come.”
Fuck you, I want to tell him, I can do what I want, but something’s not right here. I know it.
Brock directs me to Birdie’s car, a neon-pink hatch with a graphic of a Navaho princess down the side. Underneath the car glows like a halo. Inside it’s all velour trim, fluffy dice hanging from the rear-view.
“I’ll drive,” says Brock, looking quite silly surrounded by pink velour in the driver’s
It’s hot, the tracker sweaty in my hand. I try to recall what the tech guy said—magnetized, underneath, rail-something. It sounded simple at the time, but the guy had a giant zit right under his nose that was about to erupt like Vesuvius. I couldn’t really concentrate on anything else.
I get down on the concrete and slide under the car as much as I can. It’s even hotter under here. I wonder how any person in a sane frame of mind could possibly enjoy working on cars.
I look for the rail, a good spot to place the tracker. There’s just so much god-darned stuff under here.
I place the tracker up, but it doesn’t stick. Shit.
I move it like you would a planchette on a Ouija board, shifting it around until finally it snaps away from my hand hard up against the chassis. I check to make sure there are no moving parts around it, but it blends in well. I activate it from the side, a tiny LED telling me it’s good to go. Wherever this car heads to now, the cops are going to know about it.
“Maddy?”
I sit up so fast I smack my head hard into the underside of the car. There’s a hollow ringing that follows not unlike getting socked with a baseball bat.
I slide out, fingers dabbing at a welt already forming right in the center of my head. I squint against the light. “Dad? I thought you were out?”
“Just tidying up the basement. What you doing under there?”
“I, uh, lost something, rolled down the drive.”
“Need a hand?”
I stand, brushing myself off, head ringing. “No, no. You’re supposed to be resting.”
“I can’t be caged up in there all day. Besides, I have to walk twenty minutes a day, doctor’s orders.”
I point to the two strips of jerky poking out of his trouser pocket. “And what about those? Doctor’s orders too, huh?”
He slips them a little deeper inside. “Now, baby, that’s my medicine. No need to inform Michelle.”
I tap the side of my nose. “Our little secret. You see Brock?”
“Yeah, he left with some girl.”
I stiffen. “A girl?”
“Hair like a flamingo.”
“Birdie?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Did he say where they were going?”
“Something about kebabs, unless that’s a kind of euphemism you kids have these days. I’m really not up to date on all this sexting and kicking and whatever it is you do on those phones.”
“Just as well. I’ll see you later.”
I jump back into Champers and head to the meeting spot. Time to get my jump on.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The sun has set by the time I come into the parking lot. Everyone’s gathered around their cars.
I make my entrance, Champers wheezing. Bemused looks follow, none more so than my brother. He comes up to the car and taps on the window. I wind it down. “Yes, officer.”
“What are you doing here, Maddy?”
He seems kind of put off by my presence. “Thought I’d say hi, check up on you.”
“Check up on me? Seriously?”
I wink. “Maybe something else?”
“It’s not a good time.”
Hernandez appears behind Brock’s back, a hand on his shoulder. He looks down at me. “Brock, you didn’t tell us you were bringing the bacon.”
“Funny,” I retort.
Hernandez smirks. “Any friend of Brock’s is a friend of mine, especially a friend like you.” He’s looking at my tits again, the creep.
Hernandez smiles, but it’s more of a leer, a mouth full of gold. “Come on. Join us. We’re just about to head out.”
Brock shakes his head as Hernandez walks away. He opens my door and offers me his hand. “You shouldn’t have come.”
Fuck you, I want to tell him, I can do what I want, but something’s not right here. I know it.
Brock directs me to Birdie’s car, a neon-pink hatch with a graphic of a Navaho princess down the side. Underneath the car glows like a halo. Inside it’s all velour trim, fluffy dice hanging from the rear-view.
“I’ll drive,” says Brock, looking quite silly surrounded by pink velour in the driver’s
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