Diversion 1 - Diversion (8 page)

Bo gave him a tight smile. “Stevia is better, but Ill allow you a few choices. You like your sweet coffee. In time, youll come around.” A package labeled “Stevia” joined the sugar. “Need coffee?” Bo moved down the aisle, hand hovering over a bag of— heaven forbid!—store brand decaf.
Oh hell no! Quality could not be compromised, and decaf was for wusses! “I get mine at Starbucks.”
Bo smirked and shook his head. “You can buy Starbucks coffee here, by the bag. You can make your own for a week for less than the price of two cups.” He placed a bag of pre-ground into the cart, a familiar orange logo offering some reassurances.
Lucky stroked his chin, miming thoughtful contemplation. “That would be the logical thing to do, wouldnt it? Plus, itd save Walter one hell of a lot on expenses.” Reason alone not to make his own coffee when Florida boasted a Starbucks on practically every corner.
“Yes.” Bo grinned as though hed made a convert.
“Practical, too!”
“Yes.” Bo added a nod to his enthusiastic grin.
Grabbing the bag and slam-dunking it back onto the shelf, Lucky sniffed haughtily, nose in the air. “I dont do practical or logical, youd best remember that.” He stalked off down the aisle, stopping at the end to brandish a box of green tea. “You need some of this stuff, or you wanna stop by a hay field on the way home and get some fresh?”
“Gimme that!” Using the cart as a scooter, Bo caught up and snatched the box from Luckys hand. “I cant take you anywhere and expect you to act civilized, can I?” He put the box back on the shelf, selecting another. “I only drink decaf.”
Lucky shuddered; “decaf” was sacrilege.
A middle-aged woman peered around the corner, eyes wide and fingers twisting in her sweater. Noticing the two men staring back at her, she popped back behind the canned goods.
“See!” Bo growled. “Now youre scaring little old ladies.” “Me? Youre the one getting bent out of shape!”
A manager approached, and knowing when hed worn out his welcome—usually—Lucky grabbed Bos arm and dragged him toward the checkouts. “Cmon. Enough shopping for today.” They did stop by the dairy case long enough to pick up a few “must haves.”
While in the checkout line, Bos phone rang. “Hello?” he answered in wavering tones after checking the number on the BlackBerrys screen. “Yes, Im he.”
Lucky edged closer, trying to decipher the conversation from the other end of the line. Bo shot him a warning glare. “Sure! What time?” Bo pantomimed a pen and something to write on. Lucky started to ignore him out of spite, but in the end relented, swiping a pen from the cashier without asking and ripping off their grocery receipt to hand to Bo.
Bo jotted something on the receipt, head nodding in time with the
wah, wah, wah
coming through the line. Ear glued to his phone, he followed Lucky out to the car, forcing Lucky to haul the bags and load them into the trunk by himself. With uncanny timing, the moment Lucky put the last bag away, Bo hung up the call. “That was the clinic. They want me to get drug tested Friday before they set up my second interview.” Judging from his excitement, he might actually consider it a real job offer and not an invitation into the lions den. He beamed ear to ear. “Im in!” he crowed.
On a mission to return the man to earth, Lucky swatted his backside. “If only I could say the same.” He skipped away from Bos badly-aimed right hook.
Bo fumed all the way back to their tiny little rental cottage. The first time Lucky opened his mouth to sing, Bo snatched up his iPod, finding classic rock on the Mazdas stereo instead. Though the station played Skynyrds “Freebird,” one of Luckys favorites, hed rather crawl on broken glass than accept Bos choice. He jabbed at a button, switching the station and pretending to be spellbound by a rappers angry shouts.
Bos face twisted with disbelief. “Youre kidding me, right? You dont honestly listen to rap, do you?” He jabbed another button. Lucky jabbed it back.
They continued their fight until a button popped off the stereo, disappearing under the drivers seat. “You broke it!” Lucky accused.
“Did not!”
“Did too!”
They arrived at the house still squabbling, never letting up until theyd gotten their groceries into the kitchen. “You fix dinner. I gotta go type up a report for Walter.” Actually, Lucky planned to call in his report in the morning, but Newbie didnt know that. He flopped down on the couch, listening to the bangs, clangs, and occasional,“Oh shit!” from the kitchen, interspersed with a none- tooshabby rendition of Lady Gagas “Bad Romance.”
Lucky stepped out on the front porch for a little peace and quiet and made his call. Walter answered on the first ring. “Good evening, Lucky. I take it you had a productive day?”
Lucky ignored the attempt at pleasantries. “Get any information on the Tahoe I tagged? Please dont tell me Keith lost it.”
He wasnt above tossing a reminder of last years fiasco out every chance he got, even if it had been a one-time deal. Keith certainly never cut any slack on Luckys transgressions. Somewhere out in the wild blue yonder, a Buick roamed the highways, one of Luckys little technological souvenirs, complete with dead battery, adorning its undercarriage.
The voice coming through his cell phone sounded tired, and Lucky wondered what kinds of things made a law-abiding citizen like Walter lose sleep.
Guys like me, probably.
“As a matter of fact, we have. Its registered to a Claude W. Elledge, owner of Rx Dispose,a reverse distribution company. Its quite possible you witnessed a legitimate pickup of expired goods, bound for destruction.”
Uhhuh, and I got some swampland Ill sell ya.
Hed seen Ryersons phone records, and noticed she called Claude Elledge and Rx Dispose on a regular basis. He still hadnt found a direct link with Regency Pharma, however. “What you wanna bet its not?”
A weary chuckle vibrated into his ear. “Ive learned long ago to trust your instincts. Id never be fool enough to bet against you. After leaving the clinic, the vehicle took a direct route to the facility near Valdosta, Georgia, confirmed by local authorities.”
Lucky wondered who exactly in Georgia theyd spoken to, recalling a certain blond from around those parts with a penchant for outdoor sex, and a day hike theyd made one summer a few years back.
I do have a few good memories about this job after all.
“Any other plates turn up anything?”
“Too soon to say, although there were a handful of interest.” In other words, we know, but were not telling you.
“Theres been a new development.” Lucky took a long, leisurely breath, prolonging the moment in payback for Walters withholding information.
“And?”
“Newbies got his second interview, providing he passes the drug test.”
The conversation lagged, and resumed with Walters, “When Bo goes for his test, I want you to go with him.” The suddenly stern tone brooked no argument.
Lucky argued anyway. “Now why the hell do I have to do that? Ive got two months left and I aint slipped up once in eight years. Havent I earned a little trust by now?” He balled his free hand into a fist, nails biting into his palm, mumbling a litany of, “Bastard, bastard, bastard…”
“Now, Lucky.” Walter wafted out a long-suffering sigh. “The terms of our arrangement call for monthly testing. If it were up to me…”
“The arrangement.” More like a constant reminder of his greatest fuck up, and that though the confines of his world were no longer defined by concrete walls and razor wire, he did time nonetheless. Every member of his department, even Walter, had to undergo random testing whenever called, innocent until proven guilty. Only Lucky had to piss in a cup on a regular basis and constantly demonstrate his innocence. Monthly, like clockwork, under the watchful eyes of lab technicians, he hid his humiliation, knowing full well the smiling man or woman being nice to his face fully understood why he was there. Some might even have an idea of what would happen to him if the test came back positive. Back to concrete walls and razor wire. Lucky shuddered, swearing,
never again
.
Walter brought him back from his momentary visit to hell. “Whats the name of the lab hes going to? Ill need to make arrangements to get copies of your results. His, too.”
Huh? His, too? “Ill find out and text you.” Sounds of stirring from inside the house stayed Luckys tongue from asking too many questions. “Gotta go now.” He hung up without saying goodbye or waiting for Walter to do the same. Get the last word in and call it quits, his normal method of operation.
After some of his anger had simmered down, Lucky made his way back to the kitchen. Figuring dinner must be about done, he felt it safe to offer, “Need some help?” Something tomato-y and Italian smelling scented the air, making Luckys stomach growl.
“Can you cut the vegetables and toss the salad?” A wickedly sharp knife pointed to a plastic container of baby field greens, a bag of baby carrots, a cucumber, and a tomato.
Well shit. Id never have offered if Id known he take me up on it.
Dark thoughts took shape in Luckys mind as he whittled away at the carrots.
“What the hell is this?” Bo stared at the salad bowl a few minutes later, a storm brewing in his eyes.
“What the hell do you think it is? You told me to
cut
the veggies right? Theyre cut now, at least, this one is.” Lucky snatched up a tiny carved carrot penis and tossed it into his mouth. “That ones uncut, if you prefer such,” he said, pointing to a rather misshapen lump.
“Do you ever think about anything other than sex?”
“Sure, on days ending with T. You?”
“Of course.”
“Like what?” Lucky propped his chin on his folded hands, feigning rapt fascination.
“Like the political situation, unemployment, world hunger. The hole in the ozone layer.”
“Ah-ha!” Lucky shouted triumphantly.
“Ah-hawhat?”
“You said
hole
. Youre as sex-crazed as I am and dont want to admit it.”
If looks could kill, Bo would have to explain to Walter why Luckys unrecognizably charred body lay splattered on the kitchen floor. Wanting to prolong their battle, Lucky tossed out, “I wonder how much lube itd take to grease up that big of a hole,” to see what reaction hed get.
Bo slammed a pan full of pasta down on the scarred Formica tabletop. “Shut up and eat!”
“Oh, you said
eat
. If I eat dinner will you eat me?” Lucky quickly claimed the head chair before Bo had the chance. A dishrag flew at Luckys head, missing him and hitting the wall with a juicy
splat.
“Temper, temper,” he taunted. “Hey, whats wrong with these noodles? Theyre funny colored.” He gazed skeptically at the brownish strands hanging from his fork.
“Nothings wrong with them.” Bo plopped down across from Lucky, back inches away from the stove. “Theyre whole wheat; much better for you than the regular kind.”
They looked almost normal once covered by a ladleful of sauce. “Did you get any shake cheese?” Lucky jumped up and poked around in the refrigerator, trying to recall what theyd bought.
“The cheese is on the table. Grab the bottle of wine off the counter, will you? Theres a corkscrew in the drawer.” Under his breath Bo added, “Or you can keep up the ignorant redneck act and chew the cork out with your teeth.”
“I heard that!”
“Good!”
Regardless of the mans opinion of him, Lucky did know how to work a corkscrew, vaguely—back in his wine and roses days, Victor had a butler for such menial tasks—but it proved unnecessary. “A twist-off top? Dude, Im disappointed. Dont you have any class?”
Was that a growl?
Goblets sat beside their plates. Lucky poured each one-third full, sliding both across the table. He swilled from the bottle, letting out a hearty
brrrrppp
.
“Not too bad for twist-off wine.” He stared at the label before settling the bottle by his plate. “Guess it cant all be Boones Farm. Lets eat.”
He munched daintily at his salad, pinky hanging in the air, eyeing Bos vicious mutilation of his carrot masterpieces. “Methinks youre a little frustrated. Not getting enough lately?”
Bo shot daggers with his eyes. “Not all of us are hormone driven lunatics!”
“Been a long time, huh?” Baiting Bo proved the most fun Luckyd had since his arrest. “A hot-blooded guy like you doing without? Limited to a little hand on gland action? Thats plain…sad. Of course, if you needed a favor…”
“My sex life is none of your business.” Oh yes, definitely a growl.
“Oh no? What if you
are
a hormone driven lunatic and attack me in my sleep? And out of the goodness of my heart I have to— uggghhh!— have sex with you.” Lucky leaned across the table, showing every tooth in a feral grin. “I sleep buck nekkid.”
The forkful of pasta hed been twirling for the last two minutes finally made it to his tongue. Forcing a straight face, he chewed, fighting back moans. While the pasta had a somewhat chewier texture than he was used to, the sauce obviously didnt come from a can or a jar. Ripe chunks of tomato blended with neatly squared pepper cubes. Onions and garlic added to the tasty concoction. For the first time he noticed the horrible state of the kitchen, with tomato spatters on the stove, counter, floor, and…was that a spot on the ceiling? What a mess! But damned if Newbie didnt have it going on in the kitchen.
About halfway through his portion Lucky realized a missing ingredient. “Wheres the meat? You forgot to put meat in this! You may be vegetarian, but Im not.”
Without saying a word Bo pushed a bowl his way, a bowlful of brownish lumps that didnt quite look like meat. “Try them,” he said, slurping a long strand of pasta and licking the sauce from his lips while staring pointedly at Lucky. The little tease.
Eyeing the lumps distastefully, Lucky stabbed the smallest chunk, slowly bringing it to his mouth. It sat on his tongue, Lucky uncertain whether to chew it or swallow it down quickly and avoid having to taste. He reached for the wine bottle in case he needed to wash down something nasty. In the end he chewed. “Mmmmmmm!” sneaked out of him before he had a chance to stop it. “Damn, boy! What
are
those?”
“Grilled portobello mushrooms. I soak them in Italian dressing and sprinkle them with seasonings. Feel honored. Id be tossed out of the vegetarian guild if they found out I shared our secrets with the unworthy.”
Reminded of his mission to antagonize the man, not appreciate his cooking, Lucky regrouped for a comeback. “Damn the luck on the whole vegetarian thing. Does that mean you dont want my meat either?” He leered, brows jiggling suggestively. “If you dont like meat, Ive got a bone you can gnaw on.”