Plaster City (A Jimmy Veeder Fiasco) (25 page)

I held out the bag of leftovers to Bobby.

He opened it up and smelled inside. “Elvia’s?”

I nodded.

“Maybe later.” He set down the bag between us.

“Angie’s truck ain’t here, so I’m guessing she’s in town,” I said. “You see her before she took off?”

“For like ten seconds. She was taking Juan to swimming lessons, I think she said.”

“That’s right.” A few days ago, Juan’s summer schedule had been etched in my brain. When he had to be dropped off or picked up. I should have remembered his lessons, but I couldn’t even remember what day it was.

We sat and sipped our beers.

“Hey, man,” Bobby said. “Are we okay? Me and you?”

I thought about it a moment and gave him a nod. “It’ll take more than a difference of opinion, harsh language, and a few bruises to hurt this friendship. But some shit’s got to change.”

Bobby turned. “That so?”

“I’ve been one foot in and one foot out with this family stuff. I got to do it right. We’re friends, but this is my last Mavescapade. Once Julie is home, I can’t do this shit no more. I’ll hang out, grab coffee, one beer, but no more crazy shit.”

“You’re retiring?”

“Hopefully on a win.”

Bobby held up his beer, toasting that. “You got any other problems with me?”

“Tons. Your body odor, your bad breath, your love for the movie
Crank 2
.”

“It’s a classic.”

“Also, your definition of the word
classic
.”

Bobby laughed. “Okay, now that we’re done with the marriage counseling, are you going to tell me what the fuck happened out in Plaster City? And with Morales?”

“I didn’t see Julie.”

“Yeah, Buck Buck said.”

“But I saw one of her drawings. On the ground. I saw it, I’m sure. Pretty sure. Ninety percent. It was in that white shit out there, so it had to be recent. And Chucho was definitely there. I got to believe she’s in there.”

“Good enough for me,” Bobby said. “You going to tell me how Morales fits into all this shit?”

I gave him the rundown of my conversation with Tomás.

“Did he say when the next fights would be?” Bobby asked.

“He didn’t know. Or didn’t say.”

“Then, on your approval of course,” Bobby said, “we gather all the violence we can rustle up and hit Plaster City with everything we got before Tomás goes Nagasaki on the place.”

“The front door ain’t the only way into a house. Didn’t you learn anything from getting shot? We got to be cleverer.”

“Lay it on me then. What’s the plan?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Hell, our last plan used model fucking rockets. It’s not like we’re good at coming up with plans. We’re a desperate, dumbass bunch of dumbasses. See, I can’t even insult us good.”

Bobby adjusted his back in the beat-up lawn chair, one hand on his wound. He winced and immediately caught me reacting to his expression.

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” Bobby said.

“Peak of health. You got shot, stupid.”

“Whatever slapdash high jinks, I’m coming along. Don’t even open your mouth to argue, I’m going to be there. You went on your last mission to Plaster City without me and look how that turned out. You need my chaos. And it’s my daughter, remember.”

“First we have to figure out what the hell we’re doing.”

“What about ninjaing in there at night? Sounds like they’re more posers than threats. Probably not that diligent about security. We shimmy in, get Julie out.”

“There’s too many of them to risk. We need a distraction. Something that will get Los Hos out of their compound. Then we could look around and avoid any head-on fighting.”

“I know you prefer the backdoor, but I like head-on fighting. It’s my forte.”

“The
e
is pronounced at the end of
forte
,” I said. “The best distraction would be the fights. They’re on the factory grounds on the other side of the highway. That means the fenced-in area would be emptier.”

“Didn’t you just finish telling me that Tomás was waiting for the fights to go all Ragnarok?”

“He said he wanted a big display of power or something like that. So he’ll wait until there’s a good crowd and then hit the factory. We’ll be safe on the other side of the highway.”

“That’s a lot of guessing and wishful thinking, bro. Plus, we don’t know when the next fights are going down.”

“That’s what we got to find out. But that’s the time to go. With all those people around, it’s more likely they wouldn’t notice some extra strange faces wandering around.”

“I’ve always thought of your face as extra strange.”

“The strangest.”

“I hate to sound like I’m backing out of a battle,” Bobby said, “but isn’t that cutting it a little close?”

“No matter when we do this, we only get one shot. We got to take the best one.”

“So we get Buck Buck, Snout, Gris . . .”

“We have to keep Griselda out of this.”

Bobby turned to me, already shaking his head in disapproval. “Why?”

“I made a deal with Tomás. No police of any kind. Specifically Griselda. He called her out by name. She can’t know anything. Besides, it puts her more in the shit if she knows what we’re doing. This is going to get straight-up illegal.”

“Bro, don’t make me lie to her. I got this whole one hundred percent honesty thing going on. I told her I was going to be straight up from now on. That was like two days ago. You’re killing me.”

“I made a deal. It might be a bad deal, but it could’ve been worse. It’s the one I made. You got to back my play. With Tomás, there’s always an ‘or else’ attached to everything, even if he doesn’t say it.”

“Okay. I won’t lie to her,” Bobby said. “I just won’t tell her anything.”

I stood up and stretched my back. “I’m going to grab another beer. You want one?”

“No, I better not.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t either.”

“That was a joke, dumbshit. Of course, I want another beer.”

An hour, the rest of the beers in the fridge, and a dozen bad ideas later, Bobby and I weren’t any closer to constructing a decent plan. It mostly came down to waiting for the fights and then slipping into the compound, but the details never gelled. Tunnels, hang gliders, and smoke bombs were all discussed seriously.

My phone rang. Rudy. It occurred to me that I had forgotten to tell Bobby that I’d gone to see his father. I stood up, walked a few yards away, and answered the phone.

“Veeder, I got something that might help you. Been asking around to the locals. See who knows what about up the highway.”

“And?”

“I want to see Bob.”

I looked back at Bobby scratching at the edge of his bandage. He threw me a nod, curious about who was on the phone.

Rudy said, “I’m not threatening to hold back nothing, mind you. I’m not holding information ransom. I’ll tell you what I heard. But I’d rather tell it to Bob in person. You coming out here got me thinking. I got fences to mend, sorrys to say. Bob’s my boy. He likes it or not, that means something. And if a bunch of Mex thugs got my grandchild, I can’t let that stand.”

“Hold on.”

I pressed the phone to my chest and walked back to Bobby.

“You ain’t going to like this,” I said. “I went to see your old man. When you were in the hospital, I was looking for any angle, asking all kinds of help. He’s out by Plaster City, Coyote Wells, that part of the desert. Knows people out that way. Knows the area.”

“Okay, so why’s he calling?”

“He wants to see you.”

“Yeah, fuck him.”

“He says he heard some things. He wants to help get Julie back.”

“And he won’t tell us nothing unless I go see him? Fucking like him to put what he wants first.”

“No, he specifically said the opposite. I know you two got issues, but if he honestly wants to help, it’s you that has to put your shit aside, get in my fucking truck, and drive out there.”

“You don’t know him.”

“Neither do you. At least, not who he is now. He ain’t pulling some trick. There’s no trick to pull.” I shook my head. “You can’t see the irony in all this? You’re trying to save your daughter, who shot you, but you still want to save her, have her forgive you, or whatever the fuck. But you’re not willing to forgive your own old man? Look at the hypocrisy of it.”

Bobby stared at me, not hiding his anger. “The last time I saw him, I stabbed him in the hand with a fork. And that was our best Thanksgiving. I know he’s not drinking or found God or whatever the fuck, but he’s still a mean son of a bitch who did a bunch of awful shit. Keep the silverware away from me, because I can’t make any promises that my behavior has improved.”

I put the phone back to my ear. “Rudy, you still there?”

“I’m here.”

“We’re on our way. It’ll give you time to make us some Arnold Palmers. You still owe me from last time.”

Rudy made an entire pitcher. And just to be a dick about it, he had dug up some cocktail umbrellas and bendy straws and put them in the glasses. I didn’t give him the satisfaction and ignored the flourishes, but it actually pissed me off how good my Arnold Palmer was. Most people make them too sweet.

At first, Bobby stayed in the truck. I sat with Rudy on the slanted deck.

“He going to just sit there?” Rudy asked.

“He wasn’t exactly excited about coming out here. If he gets out of the truck, he has to talk to you, and I think he’s concerned about what he’ll say.”

“What he’ll say or what I’ll do?”

“Look, I did my part. He’s here. I need to know what you found out. You know what’s at stake.”

“Big party or something out in Plaster City on Friday. That’s what I’m told. I’ll give you the details when—Why ain’t Bob getting out of the truck?”

“How do you know? What kind of party?”

Rudy gave Bobby a big wave. Bobby shook his head, but opened his door, got out, and slowly walked toward us. I helped Bobby up onto the deck, doing my best to avoid aggravating his injury. Rudy stood not to shake or hug, but to avoid being at a disadvantage. Bobby and Rudy sussed each other out, circling each other, eyes locked. Curious and cautious. Two fighters prowling the ring. Protect yourself at all times.

“How’s your shoulder?” Rudy asked.

“There’s a hole in it.”

“One in your head, too. But you never let that slow you.”

“That’s genetic.”

Rudy nodded. “Don’t matter the caliber, a bullet stings for days.”

“A man of experience.”

“In my long-past days.”

I grabbed my drink off the small table. “You two got things to talk about and it’s none of my business. If what you say is true, Rudy—and I still need to hear the details—Friday gives us time. But I’m going to admit, I’m concerned about leaving you two alone together. Should I be?”

“I’m busted up and he’s old,” Bobby said. “What are we going to do?”

“I need you both to promise that if I leave you alone for ten minutes nothing stupid is going to happen. Do I have to pat either of you down for weapons?”

“I’m trying to make amends here,” Rudy said. “I got no bad feelings. Bobby’s the one with the chip.”

“I wonder fucking why.”

“Ain’t no swearing here,” Rudy barked.

Bobby shouted a
fuck you
that if typed out would have at least thirty
u
’s. He stared Rudy down, his expression daring him to do something about it.

“Show some respect, Bob,” Rudy said through gritted teeth. “Ain’t no excuse for that language.”

“Of course there is.” Bobby laughed. “It’s words. Every word’s got a reason to be said. If it didn’t, it wouldn’t be a word. Just ’cause you’re on God’s good side now or whatever the fuck, don’t mean you run the show. You may’ve asked and God may’ve forgived you, but he ain’t nearly as vengeful a dude as me. Give Mom her twenties and thirties back and we’ll talk about forgiveness. For now, I’m trying to work my way to fucking tolerance.”

They stared silently at each other for about five seconds.

“Okay, good,” I said. “Closer to a Middle East cease-fire than a European armistice, but I’ll take it. I’m going to wander the yard. Look at the animals. Don’t kill each other. Yell all you want, but no fisticuffs.”

I hopped off the deck—a good way to be reminded that I’d been mauled by a dog recently—and headed toward the graveyard of farm equipment, old cars, and scavenged satellite dishes. The animal smell rode the heat to the house. I was curious what kind of livestock could create that stench. I had money on a fusion of mule and sloth.