on cruise control, let it drive itself. When the cop finally swung around and alongside me, we looked at each other a moment. Did he have a family? Children at home? Then he gunned it up the road like a jet.
Â
From the dirty motel in De Funiak Springs that night, I called Kate. "We're in the same state," I told her. She yelled at me, "This is a fucking nightmare!"
Later, I called Eric Deveny. He said, "I'm ready and waiting for you, my man."
I didn't sleep, hadn't in days. Still, I took my time in the morning, as though I didn't really want to leave that room. This was it, the whole thing at hand. I thought of that gun Eric had. What if he wouldn't give me my money?
At one o'clock that afternoon, I pulled onto his street. There was his same big house, his same long, black car. Suddenly I felt like I was dreaming.
"I'm outside," I said when I called him.
"Side door's open," he told me.
I left the weed in the car, went in through the unlocked side door to the kitchen. The gun wasn't there this time. Eric was wearing a white tracksuit, like he was heading to the gym. "Welcome back, my man," he said and winked at me.
"Your brother here?"
"I sent him away."
"I'm freaking out."
"Believe me, I know that."
The coffee table in the den had been cleaned and cleared; the gun wasn't in that room either. The orange Nike box was open on the table with the money in it. "James, there's your money. Doesn't it look pretty? It's still short a couple Gs. I have to run out right now and finish it. If you want, you can drive around town and I'll call you when I'm done. Or you can just chill right here."
What should I do? If it was a sting, I was busted already. If he was going to rob me, there was nothing I could do. I said to him, "You want to see it?"
He said, "If you're ready to show it."
I went out to the car, looked around the neighborhood. No one else was there. I pushed the button on the clicker, the hatch popped open. I carried the duffel bag in on my shoulder, unzipped it, dumped the pounds out onto Eric's couch.
Eric picked one up, squeezed it, fingered a bud through the plastic. Then he tore it open. "Beautiful work," he said as he smelled it.
He left me alone in there. If the cops were going to rush in, now was the time. But a minute passed, then another, and the cops did not rush in. The house was silent around me. I sat on the couch beside the weed, took the rubber bands off the stacks, counted the money. Forty-five thousand in tens and twenties. It took me twenty minutes.
I was numb, cold, exhausted. I zipped up my jacket. What was taking him so long? Was I really alone in here?
I began to walk around the house. The rooms in the front were as dark and empty as they had been before, his loft upstairs the same as it had been with the flag. Behind the flag when I pushed it aside was only the bare wall. The unfinished basement was empty and silent. When I went back upstairs to the den, the weed and the money were still there.
A few minutes later, Eric came in through the kitchen and tossed two more bundles in the Nike box. Then he closed the lid and gave it to me. "You want to have lunch?" he asked.
"I want to go home," I said.
We went out on the deck, had a cigarette together to end it. I held the money in the box under my arm the whole time. Eric told me, "There was a day when I'd done all the work and my first big payoff was sitting right in front of me. I was exactly like youâI couldn't believe it. There's so much about this that isn't about the money. You know what I mean yet? You will. Enjoy the moment, James. Inhabit it. It only feels like this once."
As I left, he grinned and said, "Call me when you've settled down, my man. I know you'll want to do it again."
The money was in the shoebox on the passenger seat, JoJo Bear sitting on top of it. When I added the money I'd collected from Rita and Mason, the total came to $54,000; $29,000 of that was profit.
I counted down the mile markers to Sarasota,
Â
From the dirty motel in De Funiak Springs that night, I called Kate. "We're in the same state," I told her. She yelled at me, "This is a fucking nightmare!"
Later, I called Eric Deveny. He said, "I'm ready and waiting for you, my man."
I didn't sleep, hadn't in days. Still, I took my time in the morning, as though I didn't really want to leave that room. This was it, the whole thing at hand. I thought of that gun Eric had. What if he wouldn't give me my money?
At one o'clock that afternoon, I pulled onto his street. There was his same big house, his same long, black car. Suddenly I felt like I was dreaming.
"I'm outside," I said when I called him.
"Side door's open," he told me.
I left the weed in the car, went in through the unlocked side door to the kitchen. The gun wasn't there this time. Eric was wearing a white tracksuit, like he was heading to the gym. "Welcome back, my man," he said and winked at me.
"Your brother here?"
"I sent him away."
"I'm freaking out."
"Believe me, I know that."
The coffee table in the den had been cleaned and cleared; the gun wasn't in that room either. The orange Nike box was open on the table with the money in it. "James, there's your money. Doesn't it look pretty? It's still short a couple Gs. I have to run out right now and finish it. If you want, you can drive around town and I'll call you when I'm done. Or you can just chill right here."
What should I do? If it was a sting, I was busted already. If he was going to rob me, there was nothing I could do. I said to him, "You want to see it?"
He said, "If you're ready to show it."
I went out to the car, looked around the neighborhood. No one else was there. I pushed the button on the clicker, the hatch popped open. I carried the duffel bag in on my shoulder, unzipped it, dumped the pounds out onto Eric's couch.
Eric picked one up, squeezed it, fingered a bud through the plastic. Then he tore it open. "Beautiful work," he said as he smelled it.
He left me alone in there. If the cops were going to rush in, now was the time. But a minute passed, then another, and the cops did not rush in. The house was silent around me. I sat on the couch beside the weed, took the rubber bands off the stacks, counted the money. Forty-five thousand in tens and twenties. It took me twenty minutes.
I was numb, cold, exhausted. I zipped up my jacket. What was taking him so long? Was I really alone in here?
I began to walk around the house. The rooms in the front were as dark and empty as they had been before, his loft upstairs the same as it had been with the flag. Behind the flag when I pushed it aside was only the bare wall. The unfinished basement was empty and silent. When I went back upstairs to the den, the weed and the money were still there.
A few minutes later, Eric came in through the kitchen and tossed two more bundles in the Nike box. Then he closed the lid and gave it to me. "You want to have lunch?" he asked.
"I want to go home," I said.
We went out on the deck, had a cigarette together to end it. I held the money in the box under my arm the whole time. Eric told me, "There was a day when I'd done all the work and my first big payoff was sitting right in front of me. I was exactly like youâI couldn't believe it. There's so much about this that isn't about the money. You know what I mean yet? You will. Enjoy the moment, James. Inhabit it. It only feels like this once."
As I left, he grinned and said, "Call me when you've settled down, my man. I know you'll want to do it again."
The money was in the shoebox on the passenger seat, JoJo Bear sitting on top of it. When I added the money I'd collected from Rita and Mason, the total came to $54,000; $29,000 of that was profit.
I counted down the mile markers to Sarasota,
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