Friday, October 8, 2010

A quick getaway, Dread Pirate style.

"He's pretty pissed, Davi. He doesn't appreciate his authority being usurped by some crazy Puerto Rican with a penchant for shanking co-workers she doesn't like. No ma'am, there will be hell to pay."

I was driving and talking on my cell phone, which is illegal in the state of Illinois...but I had left Illinois hours ago. And I wasn't stopping to ask about local driving laws. I had somewhere to be.

"Well, Fabio*, I don't know what to tell you. I tried to keep things light when I accounced the results in the hopes that Tassel* would be less inclined towards vindictiveness. But, of course, I underestimated his love for barbecue, and must now pay the price for allowing a fair vote on Big Mama's Barbecue versus Buffalo Wild Wings." I pulled over real quick, put Fabio on speaker phone, and grabbed a box from the glove compartment. "Hey, do me a favor," I said, as I reached into the backseat to grab my shotgun off the floor, "just to be on the safe side, delete my address from the recall roster." I loaded a couple of rounds in the gun.

"Ha, right," he laughed, as if I'd cracked a joke. "That'll keep him away."

"Doesn't matter," I said, checking to make sure the knife I'd slid in my boot before fleeing was still there, "he'll find that I've already burnt the place to the ground. They'll find bodies matching mine and Fiance's dental records." I kept him on the speaker phone, placed the shotgun back on the floor in the backseat, and threw a blanket over it. "If you need me for anything, go to the Hagia Sophia in Turkey. Ask for Leroy McRory. Give him a slip of paper with the following numbers on it: 5-7-89-52-6. You wait four hours, and walk over to the crypt. I'll be waiting there." I threw the car into drive and pulled back onto Interstate 95 heading north.

"Oh. Gotcha." He sounded surprised. "So, you called in The Eraser? Damn, that Arnold is fast."

"What?" I asked, distracted. "Oh, no, no. Arnold is in retirement now. But he offers an exclusive top secret educational seminar in Napa Valley every Tuesday for anyone looking to drop off the radar...permanently. You should look into it."

"Is it pricey?"

I swerved to avoid a possum. What the fuck is a possum doing on the interstate? "Meh, kinda, but mention my name, you'll get a referral discount. Listen, gotta run." I hung up without waiting for a response, and tossed the phone out the window. My scalp was itchy; stupid wig. You shell out $2000 for a decent wig, and it's still itchy as fuck.

I went through my mental checklist again. Fiance and I had parted ways; he was on his way to the Caymans with a hefty settlement, ready to start a new life without me. He got SoCo, I kept Simi. He wasn't happy about that, but I'll be damned if I ever hit the road without that stupid cat to act as lookout during a heist. Fiance was gonna be just fine, and I've got my favorite Stuffed Rabbit in my rucksack.**

As for me, I was heading to the UK. I was thinking early retirement; wouldn't be my first one, probably wouldn't be my last. But what can I say? I piss off the wrong people pretty easily, and I'm not about to change who I am. So here I am, at the top of Ben Nevis in spring, watching the sun set. It's drizzling a little, but I'm okay with that. Simi and the Stuffed Rabbit are waiting for me back at the bed-and-breakfast. Don't bother trying to find the Dread Pirate Davi...she'll find you, when the time is right. And you better have some goddamn rum or hard cider for her.

*Names have been changed to protect the guilty.
**A story for another time.

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