yolo (11 page)

“And what about the drugs?” Brandon asked after a pause.

“We're taking the suitcase to Balducci's.”

“And then taking the money back to the warehouse?” Emily asked to confirm.

“Nope.”

Both Emily and Brandon gaped.

“Look, our original plan was to throw the cocaine in a river,
or a pond, or flush it down the toilet after, I don't know, a thousand flushes. But then we don't get anything, and we possibly get caught because of the amount of time it would take.”

“But what about taking the money back to the warehouse?” Brandon asked.

Ana shook her head. “Bad idea. We could only do that if we were sure we'd make it back before the real Liz and Chestnut made it there in the first place, and we can't be sure about that. And while we could hope they'd be understanding and let us go because the job got done, we can't be sure of that, either. So the only thing we can be sure of is that we can get the drugs to the restaurant, and then get out without anyone knowing who we are or where we came from. Then we're in the wind, and richer for it.”

Brandon nodded. “Maybe even thirty grand richer. Each.”

Emily whirled around and looked at him. “You think there's
ninety thousand dollars
' worth of cocaine in there?”

Brandon shrugged. “Sure. It's heavy as hell.”

“
Dios mio
, how would you know that?” Ana asked.

“You know,
CSI
,” Brandon said. “
Law & Order
.”

“Ay!”
Ana shouted. “That's not helpful. You have no idea how much is in there. But it doesn't even matter. They'll know how much to give us.”

“What if they rip us off?”

“Do we care? Whatever they give us is more than we had before.”

“I still don't feel great about this,” Emily said. Though
she'd set this whole thing in motion, and though she wanted to break out of her shell and do something crazy for once, the adrenaline was starting to run out and her usual careful self was starting to return.

“Here's an option,” Ana said. “We can Robin Hood it.”

“Huh?” Brandon leaned forward. “Give the cocaine to the poor? I mean, I'll admit that they might know what to do with it better than we do, but I don't know if promoting drug use is really the way to go, Ana.”

“No,” Emily said, shaking her head. “She's talking about the money.”

Ana grinned. “
Exactamente
. The money.”

“We can take the money we make from the cocaine and give it to charity,” Emily said. “We could do it anonymously. That'll make the whole thing better. Sort of.”

Brandon shrugged. “I guess that's not a
terrible
idea,” he said. “But what's to guarantee that Big Dog won't hunt us down and kill us?”

“There's no guarantee that Ana's not going to kill us on this road,” Emily said, watching as the street and other cars sped by. “Besides, I'm not really sure he'll be able to track us down. And at least this way, if we give it to charity, this whole thing wouldn't have been a waste. We'll be doing good.”

“Kinda,” Brandon said.

Ana whooped. “For charity!”

Brandon nodded and looked at Ana. “Nice thinking, babe.” There was an awkward silence for a moment as the
word “babe” floated down over them like a heavy woolen blanket.

“Babe?” Emily asked, smirking.

Ana kept her eyes straight ahead but made duck lips, and Emily saw her eyebrow twitch upward like she'd scored a point or something. Brandon immediately started coughing and sputtering and explaining it was just a habit and finally Emily turned up the music, turned around, and put a finger to her lips.

He got the hint and shut up.

As Brandon tried to recover from the “babe” moment, Emily tossed Liz's phone into the cup holder and pulled out her own. When she checked her e-mail, she had twelve new messages, all from Kyle. The subject lines were all some variation on “I'm sorry,” or “I want you back,” or “I miss you.” The most recent one was just the word “PLEASE.”

As she scrolled down the list of unread messages with her thumb, a wave of something she could only identify as nostalgia washed over her. That was the thing about Kyle: As annoying as he could be, he was so freaking cute. At times when she was exhausted, like now, he had this way of snuggling up behind her on the couch or on her bed and wrapping his whole body around hers. That was all she wanted to feel at this moment. Nobody had ever held her like he did.

Or drove you quite as nuts as he did.

The thought ricocheted through her brain just as her thumb was about to tap open the first new e-mail from Kyle. She dropped her phone next to Pickles in her lap like a hot
rock, and took a deep breath. This was always her internal struggle with Kyle: Her body would let down the guard when she was tired. Luckily, her brain would kick in and remind her not to do stupid things like read all of his e-mails when she was exhausted and stressed-out. While part of her ached to be held the way only Kyle had been able to, she knew that after five minutes, he'd start blowing in her ear or tickling her or asking her if she wanted to take a bong rip, and from that point it was all downhill.

Emily knew that she was in a fragile emotional state at the moment and that if she read all the apologies from Kyle, all she'd be able to see was his perfect lips and his bright blue eyes. Right at this moment if she read the sweet promises he'd made to change, she'd feel like saying yes—even though her brain was shouting
Mayday! Mayday!

She'd been around and around with Kyle. He always promised to change things about himself that he'd never be able to, and always wanted her to change the things about herself that, well, made her . . .
her
. Yeah, so she was never going to want to get stoned and watch the X-Games all day on a Saturday. No, she was not going to cut AP chemistry so she could get drunk and play laser tag. In the end, it was bad that Kyle liked those things. It didn't mean he was a
bad
guy. It just meant that he wasn't
her
guy. It was a choice between good and better. There had to be somebody out there who was more suited to her. She deserved to be able to discuss the books she read with somebody. She deserved a guy who liked
indie films and didn't wrinkle his nose when she ate sushi, or who would suggest that they volunteer for a Saturday at Habitat for Humanity.

So, no, Emily decided. Right at this second, she would
not
read Kyle's e-mails. She scratched under Pickles's chin and he curled up in her lap, quickly sinking into a calm sleep. That's when Emily realized Ana was laughing—at something Brandon had said to her. They'd been talking while Emily was checking her messages, and Emily realized that, shockingly, she hadn't heard them arguing at all. In fact, they seemed to be cracking jokes about a movie they'd both seen recently. This was truly intriguing because during the year that they dated, Emily couldn't remember a time when they had agreed upon a single movie they'd ever gone to together. In fact, they'd pretty much fought about everything from restaurants to reality shows. Now, as Emily watched, they actually seemed to be enjoying each other's company. Actually, it was beyond enjoyment. They seemed to be genuinely fond of each other.

“What?” Ana's voice broke into Emily's thoughts.

“Huh?” she jumped, startled. “Oh, nothing.”

“You okay?” asked Brandon.

“I'll be better when we get the suitcase of drugs out of the backseat,” she said.

“Well, you're in luck,
mamacita
. This is the exit.” Ana eased the car up the ramp, and before Emily was truly ready, they were pulling into the parking lot of Balducci's.

Balducci's Pizzeria was in a strip mall, and as Emily opened the door, she half expected to see Tony Soprano and his entire family eating a slice and casually cursing at one another over beers and sodas. Instead, the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen was wiping down menus at the hostess stand. Her skin was the color of a vanilla latte and seemed to be lit from within. She had glossy black hair that hung in a short blunt cut right at her chin. And when she saw Emily, she smiled like a movie star.

“Welcome to Balducci's. Table for three?”

Emily glanced around the room. It was deserted except for the hostess, a bartender refilling the ice wells with a giant bucket, and two men nursing beers at the bar. One of them was tall and thin and wearing a fedora, which, under the circumstances, seemed somehow ridiculous. “Actually . . .” Emily's voice trailed off. She realized she wasn't sure how to broach the topic now that they were standing at the drop-off point. What was she supposed to say?
We're here with your cocaine!
She took a deep breath and smiled, then tried again. “We're here to make a delivery.” She turned to where Brandon
and Ana were standing behind her. Ana had Liz's cell phone in her hand, and Brandon was pulling the black suitcase.

“I'm Nina,” the hostess said. She glanced down at the suitcase and took it in without even the slightest flicker of concern. “We've been expecting you. Follow me to your table.”

Nina led them to a booth in the back. Once they were seated, she brought each of them a glass of water. “I'll be right back with Frank.”

As they watched Nina walk toward the men at the bar, Brandon leaned in and whispered, “These guys are total mafia.”

Emily rolled her eyes as she saw Nina indicate their table to the man in the hat, who appeared to be in no hurry to leave his beer. “Oh, c'mon. Don't you think a
fedora
is a little . . . ?”

“What?” asked Brandon.

“I dunno,” Emily said. “On the nose? I mean, a pizza parlor, a fedora; what's next? A production number from
Guys & Dolls
?”

Ana giggled at this, but Brandon just said, “Look, stereotypes exist for a reason.”

Emily guessed that he would've said more, except both of the men from the bar were walking toward them.

“Welcome to Balducci's.” They guy in the fedora literally tipped his hat. Emily had to fight the urge to look around for a hidden camera. “I'm Frank. You must be Chestnut,” he said to Brandon, then looked back and forth between Emily and Ana.

“I'm Liz,” Emily said, raising a hand in a small wave.

“Ah, yes,” said Frank. “This is my brother, Vito.” Vito was about as wide as Frank was tall.

“Youse got something for us?” asked Vito, his Jersey accent so thick Emily wondered if he was pretending.

“Right here.” Brandon rolled the suitcase out from under the table, and Vito took the handle.

“Be right back,” said Vito.

As Vito rolled the suitcase away from the table, Frank motioned for Nina to come back. “We got fresh pie in the oven. Tell Nina what you'd like to drink.”

“Oh, I don't think we have time to eat.” Emily was creeped out by this entire arrangement. All she could think about was Liz and Chestnut pulling up to the warehouse and the look on Big Dog's face. It could happen at any moment, and she didn't want to be sitting around eating pizza when the call came from Big Dog that Frank and Vito should feel free to take them all out back. “We really need to get back on the road.” She gave Frank as sincere a smile as she could.

“I insist.” Frank tipped his fedora again and followed Vito out of the room.

Nina reappeared. “What may I bring you to drink?” she asked. “And is pepperoni okay with everyone?”

Brandon ordered a beer and, to Emily's surprise, no one asked him for an ID. Then again, they'd just delivered a suitcase of cocaine. Following liquor laws probably wasn't something she had to worry about.

Nina brought out the pizza, and once again Emily was
amazed at how much Brandon could eat (a) after all the food he'd had in the last few hours, and (b) under the circumstances. She'd felt like she was about to barf since they'd gotten to the warehouse.

“Are you okay?” Ana whispered as she pulled a piece of pizza onto her plate.

“Oh, fine,” said Emily. “Just being forced to hang around eating pizza while the men playing mobster in the back weigh the drugs I brought them.”

“I don't think they're
playing
mobster,” said Brandon around a mouthful of pizza. He took the last swig of his first beer and caught Nina's eye. He waived the empty bottle in her direction with a smile, and she signaled the bartender for another. “I think they are full-on
mafiosos
.”

“I just hope they hurry the hell up,” said Ana. “This place is stressing me out and I do
not
want a stress breakout now.”

“This is our last stop,” said Emily. “The second they give us that money, we are heading to that party. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars.”

“Oh, youse collectin' more than two hundred dollars.” Vito had appeared behind Nina. She set down a beer for Brandon, and Vito wheeled a smaller black suitcase back under the table. “Product looks good as promised. Give Big Dog our regards.”

“We certainly will,” said Emily. She started to get up, but Vito placed a giant catcher's mitt of a hand on her shoulder. “Stay for a while,” he said. When he smiled she could see
he had a gold tooth. “Let Chestnut here finish his beer. You ladies want anything? It's on the house.”

“Thanks, but we'd better get going,” said Emily. “Have to get this money back to Big Dog.”

Vito finally moved his hand to rub his stomach as he roared with laughter. “That Big Dog, he don't like to wait, eh? Looks like youse found this out.” He wiped a tear from his eye. “Tell him Vito says he's a dirty mutt.”

This prompted another fit of laughter from Vito. Emily slid out of the booth and motioned to Brandon, who was chugging the second beer. He finished and put the bottle on the table, then slid out of his side of the booth. Ana followed quickly, wrapping a piece of pizza in a napkin, and heading for the door. Brandon followed her, rolling the small suitcase of what Emily presumed was cash. Emily brought up the rear.