FAST EDDIE SAT WITH HIS BACK TO THE WALL AT A table in a strip joint called La Belle Captive. Racer X and Harrison had been drinking shots with him for the past two hours. The name of the place made Racer X suspicious. He didn’t speak much French, but he was sure the word captive meant the same thing in every language. So far, the only thing captive had been his wallet, but he kept his eyes open for anything fishy.
Harrison seemed cool, but Racer X’s head swam. However, he refused to let on that he was drunk. He was afraid Fast Eddie might find another elevator shaft to push him into.
“It was a good job,” Eddie said. He’d been saying it every few minutes since they’d been at the club. Racer X noted that at first Eddie had been merely saying it. Now he was growling it like a bulldozer someone was running on meth instead of gasoline.
A pretty redhead in a cutoff Little Mermaid T-shirt sat down next to Racer X. “Hi. I’m Ariel,” she said.
“Ariel. That’s a pretty name,” Racer X said.
“Thanks! What’s your name?” said Ariel.
“His name is fuck off,” said Fast Eddie. “All our names are fuck off. So fuck off.”
Ariel shoved her chair back and stood. Racer X reached into his pocket with drunk numb fingers and handed her a twenty.
She looked at it and said, “Thanks. At least there’s one gentleman at this table.”
“He’s not a gentleman. He’s making a charitable donation to the Home for Wayward Skanks,” said Eddie. Ariel gave him the finger. As she walked away he shouted, “He’s going to need a receipt for that twenty.” Drunk, Fast Eddie’s laugh was like a hacksaw and an angle grinder making sweet love.
Harrison shook his head. “You’re in a mood and a half tonight,” he said.
Fast Eddie swallowed his shot. “It was a good job.”
“Yeah. It was,” Racer X said. “Sucks that it got all twisted up like it did.”
Eddie shook his head. “Not bad luck. Bad associates. What was Coop doing there?”
“Working, by the look of things,” said Harrison.
“Exactly,” Fast Eddie said. “And what are the odds of us both working the same building on the same night at the same time?”
“You think he knew we were on the job?” said Racer X.
“No question. What I want to know is what he was after.”
A brunette sat down at their table.
“Hi. I’m . . .”
“Not interested,” said Fast Eddie. “Tell the other girls this is a business conference, not prom night at Hayseed High. And tell the bartender to send over another round of drinks.”
“Sure thing. Should I have him spit in all of them or just yours?”
“Dealer’s choice, sweetheart,” said Fast Eddie as she stalked away.
Racer X leaned forward. “Eddie, man, we’ve been here all night and you’ve brushed off like a dozen girls. What are we doing in a strip club if we don’t want to meet them?”
Fast Eddie waved a dismissive hand. “I can enjoy tits without wanting to talk to them,” he said.
Racer X looked at Harrison. His brother shook his head slightly, telling him not to poke the bear. Racer X took the opportunity to shut up.
“So, what happens now?” said Harrison. “Are we going to hunt down a new job?”
Fast Eddie shook his head. “No. The other job isn’t over yet. We didn’t get the goods, so there was no payday. That’s unacceptable.”
“What are we going to do about it?”
“I don’t give a Tallahassee fuck what you Girl Scouts do, but I’m going to find Coop. I’m going to ask him questions and other things.”
“What kind of other things?” said Racer X.
“I’m going to make his slow demise a personal priority.”
Racer X ran the words over in his head a couple of times to make sure he’d heard them right. Then he turned and looked at the girls. There were a lot of them. Drinkers, too. If he bolted for the door right now, he could get lost in the crowd. But what would happen then? Stupid question. Then I’ll be a loose end. On the same list as Coop. He didn’t know what kind of demise Fast Eddie had in mind for the other thief, but he’d seen the contents of Eddie’s tool bag. Now he wished he hadn’t. Now he wished he’d worked a little harder at his online trade school classes. By now, he could be repairing air conditioners in Miami, sipping mai tais with pretty girls, and not sitting next to a psychotic car crusher waiting for a tray of drinks he knew would have more spit in them than booze. He closed his eyes and pictured clean white beaches and blue water, and knew that he absolutely, 100 percent wasn’t going to cry.