Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 07 - Kidnapped in Paradise (36 page)

“Now what?” Fab scuffed the sidewalk with her flip flop. “My feet ache from these crappy rubber things. How do you do it?”

“My
feet
don’t know any better. The few times they
’
ve graced a pair of designer heels, they stung all night. I will admit, flops weren’t made for hiking across town. But thank you for snatching them up, or we
’
d be barefoot and our feet would be beyond thrashed.”

A flatbed rumbled down the street, back firing, brakes screeching as the driver came to a stop.

“Hey girlies, you want a ride?” An old man, what little hair he had sticking straight up, shouted out his window. He leered, running his eyes up and down our bodies, starting with Fab.

“He likes you,” I whispered. “Step up and work your magic.” I nudged her. “Maybe he
’
s got a phone and we can decline the ride.”

Fab had a high success rate with men in general, old men in particular. The chat seemed to go well, no shouting or threats of law enforcement. I don’t know what she told him, but she turned and gestured me over and gave me a hand up onto the back of the truck. We settled with our backs against the cab. When he put it into gear and lurched forward, I clutched Fab
’
s leg.

“Too tired to lie. I told him the truth. He uttered a curse word, mumbled something about hoping to get his whistle cleaned by the two of us. Blowjob, I presume.”

“He must be old,”
I laughed.
“I eavesdropped on my grandfather once and heard him say that. It was the same trip when I brought home the condoms and put them on my fingers to show Mother. She gave a flimsy explanation that they were balloons and not to waste them. I assured her that Grandfather had a giant box of them. It wasn’t often I rendered her speechless, but I was too young to savor the moment properly.”

“I never knew mine. He
’
s a face in a family photo on the fireplace mantel.”

Fab rarely spoke about her family. They didn’t approve of their free-spirited daughter, and they expressed their displeasure at her not meeting their expectations. They had cut ties long before I met her. Mother embraced her as a second daughter, and I knew they both enjoyed the relationship.

“
Herb doesn’t
have a cell,” she said. “He
’
s giving us a ride to Kay
’
s; turns out she
’
s an ex-hooker with a big heart.”

With no traffic and only the occasional car passing by and a few red lights to contend with, I guessed at ten minutes to get to our destination. I was happy to get the ride; the walk would
’
ve been painful and long. Herb pulled up in front of an old blue square building. I jumped off the side and waved, while Fab went over to the driver’s side to thank him.

It was a quiet waterside area, no signs that it attracted the late night illegal trade. The sign across the street said Mobile Home Community
. I
t took up at least one block, and it was in decent condition. Besides Kay
’
s, there were a couple of nondescript commercial warehouses.

“I told him free meal at Jake
’
s anytime he was passing through,” Fab said. “He apologized for misjudging us as down-on-our-luck hookers. Said he couldn’t remember the last time he did a good deed, and that it felt good.” She headed straight for the phone, walking around it before lifting the receiver. “Now what do I do?”

“Wait for the annoying woman and her recorded message. If you
’re impatient, press
‘0
’
and see if that gets you an operator.”

“No answer.” Fab slammed the receiver down.

“
Nooo,
” I stamped my foot. “Did you have the right number? You promised the guys would answer.”

“We
’
ll have to wait until daylight and hitch a ride.”

“Mother will kill us when you tell her it was your idea to hitch rides.” I scooted around her and grabbed the phone off the hook, this time no dial tone. I beat the phone against the pole and listened again.

“What in the hell are you two bitches doing?” a bleach blonde, wrinkled up woman yelled. “Breaking the only pay phone in town. I make good money off that phone.”

“It doesn’t even work,” I yelled back.

“It takes a while to start working again after someone makes a call. Like your friend just did. Get moving, and if you come back, I’ll fill you full of bird seed,” she threatened and raised the rifle from her side.

“Birdseed?”
I sneered.

“You spend a few hours picking it out of your ass, and you won’t come back here!” She racked it, the sound unmistakable.

Fab cut me off in my foolhardy attempt to confront the old woman and pushed me behind her back.

“I
’
m Fab Merceau,” she stuck out her hand. “You must be Kay. I think we can come to a mutually beneficial deal that doesn’t have us touching your money maker over there.” Fab tossed a glance over her shoulder.

Kay ignored her hand. “You don’t have anything I want, so go, or I’ll call the police.”

“
Look we’
ve had the worst day ever,” I yelled as I tried to get around Fab, who blocked me with her arm. “Old Herb brought us here to use the phone. He said you had a big heart, where the hell is it?”

“
Ignore her.
” Fab waved her arm behind her back. “Listen to my deal. You say no and we
’
ll leave; you
’
ll never see us again. I can promise you that.”

“You got one minute, and then I
’
m calling the cops,” she pulled her cell phone from her pocket.

“We live in Tarpon Cove and got stranded here. As you can see, we have nothing. Make a call for us, and when our ride gets here he
’
ll pay you a hundred dollars––throw in a sandwich and water for each of us, and you'll make double the money.”

“Where am I calling?” she asked.

“A funeral home. They
’
re good friends and will come pick us up.”

“Three hundred,” she countered.

“Larcenous heart more like it,” I said loudly. “We want chips.”

“Deal.” Fab held out her hand.

“Keep your hands to yourself. I
’
m making the call. Not saying I don’t believe you, but I don’t.”

Fab gave her the number.

“Do you know someone named Fan?” Kay asked whoever answered the phone.

“Fab,” I hissed.

“What
’
s she look like?” She asked next. After a pause, “Does she have a friend?”

“This guy says you
’
re the calm one.” She looked at me and belly laughed. She held out the phone after hitting the speaker phone. “Some guy named Richard Vanderbilt.”

Fab reached for the phone and Kay jerked it back, putting it on speaker. “Dickie, this is Fab. We
’
re stranded in Key West; we need a ride and three hundred dollars.”

“Are you two okay? I’ll have Raul drive; he ignores speed limit signs. It will take us an hour and half, maybe sooner since he
’
s driving.”

Kay told him the address and easy directions off the highway.

“Do you like peanut butter and jelly?” Kay asked Fab.

If I hadn’t been so hungry, I would have been tempted to launch myself on her and beat the hell out of her.

“How much extra for a decent sandwich?” Fab growled.

Chapter 43

We took our sandwiches, pretzels, and nuts outside and ate them on a tired old bench. We sat in full view of Kay, who worked behind the bar and kept one eye on us with a threat that if we moved, she
’
d shoot us.

It seemed like forever, but as it turned out, only an hour later, Raul and Dickie rolled up before us in their Navigator. They both did a double-take, not concealing their shock at our shabby appearance.

I looked down and got a whiff of salty fish stink from my clothes. A thin layer of gritty sand covered my arms and lower legs, and my cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. I hoped I didn’t stain their leather seats.

Fab got cash from Raul and took care of Kay. The two of them had called a silent truce, but she and I continued to trade glares.

Kay followed Fab out the door and checked out the SUV. “I honestly thought you two were full of it. When your ride didn’t show, I planned to offer more peanut butter in exchange for you washing the dishes and cleaning during lunch rush.”

I turned away, clasping my hands together, so I wouldn’t be tempted to give her the finger. Her high-pitched giggles followed me to the passenger door. I climbed in.

“If I said thank you five hundred times it wouldn’t be enough,” I said to Dickie and Raul. “I’ll pay you back tomorrow. Anytime you need anything, you call one of us.”

Fab gave me a butt shove and slid in next to me. They stared, horrified at our condition.

Raul looked in the rearview and backed out. Fab and I smiled. At long last, we were on our way home. He smiled at both of us. “We are honored that you called us. You
’
re our best friends in the Cove. The only two people who don’t think we
’re weird.
”

Dickie nodded his head in agreement. “Don’t worry about us ever telling anyone anything.”

“I feel bad if we took you away from your work. You were the only ones we knew that would answer the phone in the middle of the night,” Fab said.

“We
don’t have a funeral until tomorrow. I have Martha Livingston to dress, but she
’
s not going anywhere,” Dickie said and they both laughed.

Fab and I smirked at one another. We were finally getting used to funeral humor.

“Dickie and I want to hear every word about what happened. We made a bet the story would be great. We worried after you left, tried to keep up through town gossip, but no one was talking. We even called Jake
’
s several times and we got the same response every time:
‘Not here’
.”

Happy to be alive and headed up the Overseas Highway, I let Fab fill them in as I leaned against her shoulder and closed my eyes.

“Have them drop us off at the main beach parking lot, and we
’
ll sneak in the back way,” I whispered.

It seemed fair that they got all the details, since we used their business as a hide out. Fab got into her role as storyteller before her rapt audience of two. She made our escapade sound exciting and more in control than it really was. Several times she threw in details that never happened, making the story sound like an exciting adventure.

“Come back and stay with us,” Raul offered, and Dickie seconded. “Anyone shows up asking questions, we
’
ll hide you in the crematorium.”

“It just got a good cleaning,” Dickie said.

“No!” I screamed inwardly, shuddering at the thought, and kept my eyes closed.

“We
’
ll be fine,” Fab reassured him. “We need clean clothes. And frankly, I
’
d rather shoot Bonnet than stay on the run the rest of our lives.”

* * *

Dickie and Raul threw out good reasons as to why we should remain their house guests. Much to their dismay, and under protest, they dropped us off at the beach. We reassured them and promised to stay in touch on a daily basis until we could come out of hiding.