The sound of a garbage truck squealing to a stop in front of his rental house roused Eloy from a deep sleep. The racket of his trash bin being snatched by the mechanical arm and flipped to dump the contents ended with a crescendo of the barrel being slammed back to the ground.
He grabbed his phone from its position next to his left thigh and checked the time. Almost half past noon. Jeez, he’d been asleep about five hours.
He turned on the TV, then shuffled into the bathroom to take a leak. Naturally, his cell started ringing.
He craned his neck toward the bed. It was Neema. “No way I can converse with you until I get some caffeine in me,” he mumbled.
Padding into the bedroom, the pretty-boy weather dude was yacking about the hot temperatures.
He looked at the smooth-faced, suited guy on the tube. “You want to talk heat?” he said to the television. “Try running over a cop and killing him. That’s some big-ass heat.” A commercial came on.
He shuffled into the kitchen and went through the ritual to make himself a cup of coffee. After taking a sip, he took his mug into the bedroom. When the news came back on, he knew they’d recap the top stories…likely starting with the cop killed at the mall.
“Police have recovered the car they think was used yesterday to kill a Los Angeles police officer. The crime occurred in the afternoon at the Porter Ranch Promenade.”
He leaned forward and turned up the volume. They didn’t have any new information other than a cop helicopter discovered the vehicle in the foothills above Sun Valley.
Once the news anchor had moved onto another story, he sat at his computer and checked the income from his Barely Legal Lady Bits website. When he saw the five figures for each day of the past week, he grinned.
“Eloy,” he said to himself. “I think the recent hiccup in your boosting business may be reason enough to close up that shop. You’re making a killing off these stupid bitches taking off their clothes while guys pay to jack off while watching.”
His phone rang again. Neema.
“Yo.” In the background, he could hear one of his kids crying.
“Hey, E. We got trouble. The crew is all pissed off and scared. They wanna know who plowed over the cop.” She paused. “It’s not everybody—mostly the getaway drivers,” she added. “They’re worried the cops are gonna come after them.”
“Screw them. They just want somebody to use as a bargaining chip if they get pinched.”
“But I’m the only one they’ve had contact with. They might think someone else is in charge, but they don’t know for sure. I can’t go to jail, E.”
Her voice took on a scared tone with an edge. “They’ll snitch me out, and I didn’t do nothin’. Besides, I got two babies here to care for. I’m not havin’ them going to the county.”
“Well,” he said, drawing the word out as if he was just thinking out loud instead of reciting the plan he’d always planned on using. “If something happened, and you had to be away for a bit, couldn’t your mom watch the kids?”
“Are you out of your friggin’ mind? I am not going to jail for this. You’re gonna have to stand up and be a man and take the hit.”
That won’t ever happen. “Let’s breathe for a second and figure this out.” His thoughts spun in circles like that old movie where the farmhouse spins and falls on top of a witch.
“Neither of us are getting locked up. That new bitch Chloe was driving the car. She freaked out when she saw the cop. I tried to stop her, but she sped up and steered right toward him. We’ll lay this on her. It will be fine…especially if we have the same story.”
“Wait a minute. Wait. I am not getting dragged into that cop’s murder. I wasn’t there, and I had nothin’ to do with it.”
“Like I told you, we’ll get it figured out. I promise.”
“What about the crew? They’re blowing up my phone.”
“Let me shower and clean myself up. Then we can grab something to eat and decide what to do. I’ll call you in about thirty.”
As it turned out, he came up with an idea without Neema’s help. The only problem was…in his plan, his baby-mama wound up dead.