Page 11 of Duke
“Put it in park and show me your hands, and I’ll ease off.”
His hands went up, he shoved the shifter into park, and then Duke let go of his shirt, yanked open the driver’s door and hauled him out of the driver’s seat. Scrambling to his feet, the kid backed away, hands up by his face. “What’re you gonna do with my ride?”
“Take it downtown,” Duke answered. “Like I said, this ain’t personal. I don’t even plan to keep it. I’ll park it somewhere as safe as I can and put the keys under the mat. It’ll be LoDo, somewhere near Decatur Street.”
“Man, it’s as good as gone, you do that.”
“Yeah, well, unfortunately for you, that’s the best I can do. I’m trying to be nice, here, kid,” Duke said. He glanced at me, and then gestured at the car. “Get in, Fancy.”
I quickly rounded the back end of the car and settled into the passenger side. The interior was cloudy with pot smoke, thick and acrid, giving me an instant contact buzz. I rolled open the window and waved at the smoke, trying to clear it before I got totally high.
Duke kept his gun trained on the erstwhile owner of the car as he backed away, toward the open driver’s door. He paused halfway there, went back over to the driver and snatched the blunt from his mouth. And, to my stunned disbelief, took a big drag on it, held it, and then let the smoke out in a slow exhale, then handed it back.
“Good shit.” Duke turned away, moseyed confidently back to the driver’s seat. And, of course, the second Duke turned his back; the owner of our new ride stuck his hand behind his back, reaching for his waistband.
“Duke!” I shouted, meaning to warn him.
I might have saved my breath, though, because Duke didn’t even bother turning around. He already had his pistol up without looking, trained on the kid as he opened the driver’s door.
“Don’t do it, kid,” Duke said, settling behind the wheel, right hand aiming the gun across his body, left pulling the car door closed. “You won’t even get a shot off.” He said this as he pulled the car into gear.
The kid kept his hand behind his back, probably on the butt of his own gun, but he was hesitating, staring down Duke. Or, trying to.
Duke gestured with the barrel of his pistol. “Hands up, kid. You got exactly three seconds or I’ll put a hole in your skull.”
His hands went up slowly, reluctantly, realizing discretion was, in this case, the better part of valor.
Duke started to lower his gun, but then jerked it back up again. “We really are lost, though. Which way to LoDo?”
“Man, you for real? Jack my shit, and then ask me for directions?”
“Which…way?” Duke demanded.
“Crazy white mothafuckas.” He pointed behind himself. “That way. Go straight, turn right when that street ends, and then you’ll see signs for the highway.”
Duke mashed the accelerator so the engine roared and the car bolted forward, pushing me back against the seat.
Thirty, maybe forty minutes of awkward silence later, Duke pulled into a fenced off, pay-to-park lot and paid the fee with cash he’d found stashed in the glove box.
After parking, Duke led the way across the street to the intersection and turned right, then followed that street for two more blocks, shouldering through the occasional groups of pedestrians—most of them locals on their lunch breaks. We entered a nondescript apartment building, four stories, fairly new. It wasn’t a nice enough building to have a doorman, but there was a desk with an old, overweight security guard behind it, ostensibly watching the camera monitors.
He looked up, saw Duke and I, and lit up. “Dan Stephens! Nice to see you again, sir.”
Duke took the security guard’s hand and shook it vigorously, roughly clapping the older man on the shoulder. “Bruce, my man. How’s the missus?”
“Ah, you know how it is. She’s an ugly old bitch, but I’m too old and fat to upgrade, so I hang on to her.”
“Bullshit, Bruce, you know you love her.”
“Got me there, Dan, got me there. Thirty-eight years next week I’ve been married to her, so I guess I like her okay.”
“Got any big plans for the big three-eight?” Duke leaned up against the desk as if he had all the time in the world, content to shoot the shit.
“Nah. Been saving my paychecks to take her to Jax’s, but that’s about it.”
Duke managed to work up a surprisingly convincing look of embarrassment. “So, my girlfriend and I popped into town on a whim, you know how it is, and I…well, I sort of forgot my keys back in LA. Can you help a brother out, Bruce?”
“I really shouldn’t.”