Page 37

Chapter Five

Pulling over a block away from the restaurant, in case someone is watching for us and the stolen car, I get out of the vehicle. He follows me as we rush down the darkened street. Everything on this side of town seems to close by eight since there are no bars. The only thing still open is a convenience store with a flickering light out front.

We hurry past it as I glance at Dylan who really isn’t very easy to hide, even at night. “Are you sure you want to help?” I ask, hoping he isn’t going to regret this later because I really do want to take him on a real date.

“Just because I didn’t enjoy my job in law enforcement doesn’t mean I don’t know anything. It’s just that handling people isn’t my strong suit. I’m not cut out for it.”

To me it seems like the physical aspect of dealing with either aggressive people or having to use his strength to detain someone has taken a toll on him. Strangely enough, I can now see how much better suited he is as a professor where the only thing he’ll be snapping in two is the hopes and dreams of young adults who don’t pay attention in class.

Or maybe better yet, the hearts of all of his students dreaming of a professor/student tango in the back room.

We could play professor/student any day.

“What’s wrong?” Dylan asks, probably because I’ve stopped with a blank look on my face as I have this weird fantasy of me going, “Please, Professor, I’ve been a bad boy. The dog ate my homework.”

God, what’s wrong with me?

Or right with me?

I don’t know. It’s somewhere between the two, like a feels right but is probably wrong kind of scenario.

And that’s when I see Ann’s car…

What the hell is her car doing here? “No… no, no, no… she’s not supposed to be here,” I say as panic wells up inside me. The restaurant is closed. I assumed they’d try to break in and worst-case scenario, I’d owe Ann some new locks which I’d have fixed before she even got there in the morning. She never works this late.

“What happened?” Dylan asks.

“The place was supposed to be empty,” I say as I take off running for the front door which is closest to me. If my brain had more of a say, I’d go through the back door or call the cops for real this time, but all I can think about is getting to Ann as quickly as I can.

The front door is hanging ajar, and I see that just inside, the tables are pushed to the side, chairs lying on the ground like there was some kind of scuffle.

No, no, no…

I’m feeling frantic as I rush back into the kitchen and stop quickly at the sight before me.

“Ann…”

Ann pushes her black hair back with one hand and lowers Fryer Fran with the other. The skillet clatters as she drops it on the counter then looks down at where Weasel lies moaning on the ground. “You broke my fucking arm,” he cries as he rocks a bit.

“Shouldn’t fuck with me. I might look older, but I’ve seen a lot more things than you have,” she retorts as she lights a cigarette.

“Oh my god, I about had a fucking heart attack,” I say.

“Why?” she asks, like Weasel wallowing on the ground with a broken arm is of no concern to her at all. Like he hadn’t broken in here and she hadn’t beaten his ass with Fryer Fran.

I grab her in my arms, hugging her tightly.

The smell of her cigarette makes me choke a little, but I’m too happy that she’s okay to care too much.

“Don’t get so damn sappy. Is this your date?” she asks.

“What? Focus on what’s happening!” I exclaim.

“I am. He’s suspiciously handsome. Don’t tell me you’re paying for a date again.”

“Again?” Dylan asks.

“Oh my god. I didn’t pay that guy,” I hiss. “Okay, can we please focus on how you’re alive and well?”

“Why? Did you think you’d get an inheritance if I wasn’t?” she asks.

I sigh and pluck the cigarette out of her hand before tossing it in the sink. “Stop smoking. You quit, remember?”

She makes a scoffing noise before poking Weasel a little with her foot, like without her cigarette she has little else to do. “There was another one. A scrappy girl who made off with something out of your office.”

“Shit…” I groan. “You didn’t happen to kung fu her in the back?”

“Does it look like I know kung fu?” she asks as she picks up the skillet and shows me her swing instead. “Best softball player my school will ever know. The rest of the team was utter trash.”

“She’s modest, in case you can’t tell,” I tell Dylan.

“I see that,” he says.

“And you’re suspiciously handsome,” she says as she points the skillet at Dylan. “Are you being catfished? I watched a show about that one time. This is why I trust no one on the internet.”

“You think I’m catfishing him?” I ask in disbelief. “You’re brutal.”

She shrugs before nudging Weasel with her foot. “Get your ass out of here.”

“No, no, no. I think we should do something. I don’t know. Torture him or get info out of him somehow,” I say.

Ann raises an eyebrow at me. “Reed, you’re just not torturer material, and I say that in the nicest way possible.”

“Thanks? I guess?”

She nods and puts a foot on Weasel’s chest. “Where’d your lady friend take the file?”

Weasel’s eyes get wide, impressively wide considering the woman standing over him is someone he could throw quite easily.

“I-I don’t know.”

“Yeah? Well, why don’t you call her and ask? If you let her know we’re here…” Ann picks up a knife. “Let’s just say I know how to castrate things.”

What? What the hell has she ever castrated ?

It doesn’t matter that the threat is largely inaccurate, Weasel seems to think his balls are on the line as he starts blubbering something before taking his phone out.

He must call the woman up and even puts her on speaker for us. Hell, I would too if Ann was my torturer. “Where are you going?”

“You got away? That’s impressive. I almost stayed to watch the beatdown. I’ll be reliving that moment in my dreams for weeks to come,” Bob says with a blissful sound to her voice.

“You’re such a bitch!” he cries. “Why didn’t you help me?”

“Because I didn’t feel like it?” she says.

“Where are you now?”

“Meeting to pass the papers over. They want to meet at Nick’s Pizzeria. Don’t come inside. No one wants to see your ugly face. Just wait outside for me.”

He mumbles, “You’re hella evil,” which seems to make her cackle, and then he hangs up.

Weasel looks into the eyes of the devil—I mean Ann. “Can I go?”

“Can you go what?” Ann says.

“Please?”

“Hmm…”

“Please, ma’am. May I go?”

“Fine. Get out of my sight.”

He crawls to the dining room door before scampering out. Ann pulls her pack of cigarettes out which I grab and chuck in the trash. She scowls at me but seems to remember Dylan and smiles at him. “I’m sorry you were catfished.”

“I wasn’t,” he says like he’s equally confused. “I actually knew Reed when he was younger.”

“He tried arresting me,” I explain.

Ann shrugs, clearly not too concerned by this. “That was before I whipped his ass into shape. If he does that shit again, he will be praying to Jesus because I’ll be sending him to hell.”

“She shows love by breaking you down and making you cry inside,” I explain. “Yet I still love her the most.” I squeeze her, and she pats my arm. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“What’s your date’s name?” she asks.

I feel like there are way, waaaaaaaay more pressing matters, but I must appease her. “This is Dylan. We met through a dating app?—”

“Ah, this is who you were talking to when you were playing with your doodlydat.”

“That’s not my penis,” I clarify just in case Dylan mistakenly thought it was. “My phone.”

“Thank you for that clarification,” he says with a smile hovering at the edges of his lips.

“You’re welcome.”

“He was all smiles and giddy as he burnt up a poor unsuspecting family’s food,” she says as she tsks, like she’s disappointed in me.

“I didn’t burn it! I caught it before I burned it!”

“Turned it to rubber.”

“I did not!”

“I had to feed it to alley cats,” she says.

With a sigh, I realize that I will not win this conversation, but Dylan seems to find it hilarious at the very least.

“This is why I used to call you a witch, remember?” I ask. “I asked where you got the brooms you fly in on.”

She looks pleased by her moniker. “Good. Now you better help me clean up this room when you’re done with your date.”

“I will. I need to get those papers back,” I explain.

“I’m not sure why you think you need to play hero but be safe. Here…” She hurries off into the back room and comes out with a baseball bat and a taser. “Do me proud.”

“I’m not going to beat someone.”

When I don’t take the stuff with a smile on my face, she looks confused. “No, you tase them first. You drop them, Reed, you hear me? You drop them down then a good wallop will keep them down. You call me if you need to hide the body.”

I decide that maybe I’ll just take the taser as a worst-case scenario thing. “Ah, thank you for allowing me to borrow Sparky. I know how much you like to use him to threaten people.”

“Remember, tase first. Wallop later.”

“Thank you,” I say as she forces me to take both. I’m really not all that confident with Sparky and Wallop in my hands and probably show it from the expression on my face.

Then she pats Dylan’s muscular arm. “Let him have the bat, Reed. Your noodle arms can’t wallop.”

“Gladly,” I say as I hand Dylan the bat. He seems unsure of what to do with it but gives her the brightest smile.

“It was really nice meeting you.”

“This one is so much nicer than the guy who stole your underwear,” Ann says.

“Ah yes, thank you for bringing that up and making me seem normal. Is there anything else you’d like to get out there for all to hear?”

She thinks about it for a moment before a look of delight crosses her face and I realize I need to get Dylan out of here quickly.

“Well, that’s plenty for you to hear and off we go,” I say as I hurry him out the door with the plan of him never meeting Ann again. She holds too many secrets that she really needs to just take to her grave.

“She seems nice,” Dylan tells me.

“Does she?” I ask curiously. So far, all he knows is that she’s A-OK with walloping people and has a wicked right swing with a frying pan. She also wants to talk about every dating failure I’ve ever had. “I swear I’m not strange. Those people she mentioned… I didn’t pay the first and I don’t know for sure the second one stole my underwear.”

“You specified not paying the first, so did you pay the second?” he asks with a grin.

“No! There was no exchange of money besides the one time this guy told me he needed money for an Uber and I found out later he just wanted it to meet up for drinks with another guy who was ‘less.’ I don’t know what that means? Less boring? Less annoying?”

“Less handsome,” Dylan says, which is ridiculously sweet and makes me smile like an idiot. God, do I beam.

“You’re good at this,” I say.

“Thank you,” he replies as I head back toward our borrowed car. His brow furrows. “You’re taking that again?”

“Yeah, I mean, they were kind enough to let us borrow it, it feels a bit weird to revoke that kindness.”

Dylan seems uncertain but willingly gets back in the vehicle with me. I’d left it running, but clearly no one wanted the piece of shit and had let it sit.

“You guys seem really close,” he says.

“Yeah, Ann kind of took me in after I ran away from home. I wouldn’t be where I’m at today without her. She’s been unbelievably helpful and kind to me. I honestly don’t think I could have done it without her.”

“I could tell,” he says with a kind look on his face. It’s such a sweet expression and I can’t help but wonder why he’s still hanging with me after the day’s events.

Bam!

The noise makes me hit the brake just a little, and that’s when I hear something slam into the back seat. Slowly, I glance over at Dylan.

“Did… did you hear something strange?” I ask.

“Pull over.”

“What if I’m afraid to pull over?” I feel like this is a pretty legitimate question.

“I still think you need to pull over,” he says.

Slightly nervous, I pull over onto the side of the road and grab my taser. He hesitates, then grabs his bat.

“I’m sure it’s just like a jug rolling around back there,” I say.

“A big jug,” he agrees, nodding.

I nod back. And suddenly we’re both just nodding as we stare at each other and consider what might be inside the trunk. The possibilities are endless, and I’m almost positive it’s not going to be a cute puppy or kitten.

Thump-thump!

“Well, in good news, it sounds alive,” he says.

“Did we kidnap someone?”

“Is it kidnapping if you didn’t know they were in the trunk?”

“Don’t you teach a class about this?” I ask.

His eyes get wide. “I’m sorry, I actually don’t teach a class about what to do after you hotwire and steal a car and find a live human in the trunk. Pop the trunk.”

I hesitate before doing it quickly and dashing out. Dylan uses his baseball bat to push the trunk up as I hold my taser before me like I’m prepared to tase the shit out of whoever might be inside.

When I recognize the person inside, I’m quite surprised.