Of Sisters & Brothers Pt. 01

He shook his head, "There you go again. You think I'm stupid, don't you? Quit the verbal fencing."

"What the fuck are you talking about, man?" I countered thinking it was another Jerry Garcia moment.

"Jenny. I'm talking about Jen. Don't fuckin' blow it. You get one chance if you're lucky; one real chance, amigo, that's all this life gives you!"

Now I was really shocked. How the heck did he know about us? I was about to grill him when I saw him looking past my shoulder.

"Shit! Look at what just blew in," he said.

I turned, my head pivoting backwards, and was as amazed as he was.

The woman was tall, very tall, an amazon. A blonde, built like a wet-dream. She must have been over six-four or six-five with a body that was dealt on the wrong side of sin. And, she wasn't shy about revealing it. Her tiny t-shirt, straining against braless twin peaks, was strategically ripped under her breast-line boasting abs that women would kill for. The low cut, hip-huggers were painted on tight, so tight that the flagrant camel-toe screamed in the face of convention, "Yeah, assholes, I fuck for fun!"

She stood towering over the waitress, scanning the room with obvious disdain, unperturbed that every lot lizard, trucker and wrench transient in that sleazy lay-by was eying her. She was clearly used to it. She walked by our booth with an exaggerated wiggle, a catwalk strut, hips swaying, butt swishing, fully cognizant of the covetous stares glued to the tramp stamp on her ass. She took a table in the corner across from me but didn't venture a glance and it was that ordained indifference which piqued my curiosity.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm no Adonis but it's unnatural not to look around, to get familiar with the surroundings. She stared at her menu like it held every secret to the meaning of life. Hey, the menu at Le Perroquet was not that interesting so I was getting really curious about this Diana, this Amazonian Goddess of the Woods.

"I'd love to scale those peaks but let's go! The party's starting." Clay said getting up and gulping down the last of his coffee. I saw him take a quick look through the window before grabbing his coat and heading for the door.

I tossed a ten note on the table and followed after him. I got as far as the front counter when the owner of the dive stopped me.

"Your tab, mister?" It was a statement and a question.

He was a squat dude; no neck, hairy arms, obsidian eyes and a lined, craggy face that told the story of an interrupted life lived between sleazy dumps and the slammer.

"It's on the table. I'm in a hurry."

"I don't give a shit. You've gotta bring it up here, brother," he said eyeing me coldly, sizing me up.

I was about to brush past the lawless buzzard when the waitress walked up, "Here it is."

She slipped the bill and the money on to the counter and looked up at me, "Gee, thanks mista!"

She was a painted gargoyle cemented to the foundation; a trashy, worn out, used up, middle-aged sleeper with garish eye-makeup and heavy lipstick. She was hoping to get lucky and hoping that I was myopic or desperate or both but I smiled and winked and walked out.

When I stepped into the dimly lit parking lot there was no sign of Clay or the Charger. I stood staring at the vacant space now unsure of where we had parked and after a quick look around, called Clay. Eleven rings but no answer and no voice mail. That was bizarre. I did another recon of the cluttered lot, being more thorough this time around, peering between cars, pick-ups and eighteen-wheelers but apart from the soft buzz of traffic and the desperate grunts of a trucker fucking a pavement skank, there was nothing. Clay had literally vanished.

I walked back to the front and tried Clay again and again there was no answer so I dialed Sam and gave him the lowdown on what had happened.

"Who has the case?" he asked when I was done.

"It was in the trunk of the car so I guess Clay does," I paused, thinking the unimaginable, and added, "or whoever nabbed him!"

"Fuck! I knew this was going to happen! I told you to waste that German motherfucker but you just don't listen! No, you suddenly develop a fuckin' conscience!"

"Sam, I don't give a fuck about the briefcase. If something's happened to Clay I swear ..."

He cut me off.

"Fuck Clay! You hear me? Fuck Clay and fuck you! You stupid motherfuckers don't listen and now you start bitching about shit that could have been avoided!"

"Listen to me, you little shit-eating worm! If something's happens to my friend I will make it my sole purpose in life to hunt you down. I will fuckin' kill you, you sorry, motherfucking turd! I'll ..."

I was on a roll. It felt good cussing at the little shit but that's when I noticed a pair of high beams coming straight at me. I squinted trying to identify the driver and was ready to jump when the metallic blue X5 swerved, tires screeching, and pulled alongside the curb. I caught the whiff of rubber singeing the pavement while the passenger side window rolled down.

I peered in and heard a throaty, "Get in. Quick!"

It was the amazon blonde.

To be continued ...

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