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There was a little cafe near the bank; Not surprised that he picked this bank, this branch, a busy place in a business district. Doubt that Wade's got his mind on keeping an eye out for me, so it seems safe enough to sit at the one little table on the sidewalk, latte in hand. I can see the parking lot of the bank, battered white van with the engine running.

Idiot. I would have pulled up right in front. So what if there's cameras on the main door, the parking lot is a good five steps further away and seconds will be critical. Boss man better be on his game. Course, if he's not ... there's other people I could work for.

There's motion at the door, here they come.

Ohhhhh ... shit!

Who's the woman? Whose fuck-headed idea was that, taking a hostage?

Unless she's not a hostage? Inside job, maybe? And this is the cover story?

<Franki sets her coffee down very carefully. Because otherwise she'll throw the cup through the nearest window while screaming in fury.>

The van screeches out of the parking lot in a cloud of rubber dust, laying a trail of rubber for any idiot cop to see.

Jesus fucking Christ! Moron!!

I gritted my teeth. It was that or scream at the morons. So. Things had clearly just been fucked up. Either Wade had just turned a simple bank robbery into a federal offense via kidnapping ... or he'd always had inside help and never mentioned it in any planning sessions. And that meant he was planning stuff that he hadn't told the guys about. Because for sure anything he told the guys, I would hear about it anyway. They might be assholes but they're damned well MY assholes and nobody's fucking them over without MY say-so.

So. I pulled out of the cafe's tiny parking lot and very carefully stayed under the speed limit ... at least until I was 8 blocks away. Then I went screaming for home and turned on my highly illegal and treasured Police Band radio and a GPS receiver. Never hurts to know where the getaway vehicle is getting away to OR where they're looking for it.

"Dickweed! Try and cut me out, will you. I don't think so."

The cops were in the wrong place, setting up roadblocks on all the major roads out of town ... and my little flashy lights were saying that the van wasn't taking those roads. Time to go and find 'Mister' Wade and make it clear he wasn't getting away with shit.

So I made sure Spooky had plenty of food and water ... and then I hit the road.

I've listened to the PB radio. White van was a smart choice, there's a million middle-aged white vans on the road. The cops are following half a dozen right now. They're all wrong. The plate number everyone could see so clear at the bank, that number's wrong; easy to 'fix' a license plate if you know how they're made. And I've had some experience with them.

There's road blocks being set up, they expect 'the suspects' to hit the freeways, head for L.A or San Diego and try to lose themselves there. But I don't think Wade's that stupid. He'd lay low, wait for everything to settle. So, even if he is scamming the boys somehow, best place to find him is still the cabin.

My baby ain't no dirt bike, I know it and any cop who takes a second look will know it too. So I've got my cover story straight before I get anywhere near that logging road. I detailed my baby a couple days ago and she still looks sweet an' hot. "Sorry Officer, my boyfrien' gave me this beeeyoootiful bike, I dint know it wasn't s'posed to go on dirt roads ... " That and a wide-eyed innocent look, that'll be all I'll need.

But there's not a cop in sight by the time I edge on up the logging road. I've got two six-packs in the saddlebags, that'll be sufficient excuse to 'Mister' Wade, that I thought it would be okay to join in the celebration.

It's a quiet, peaceful road. You'd think the engine would drown everything, thought included, but it doesn't. I know the sound of my engine so well that it's nothing but background noise to me, can tell when my baby needs tuning up because she don't sound right. This road is empty of traffic, silent except for my bike's roar ...

And then there's a gunshot echoing in the hills. "Oh shit!" For a minute I'm going to turn back, clear out before the law lands on me too. But there's no following shot. So ... not cops. Hell, maybe I got fuckin' lucky and the boys decided to shoot Wade. Or their driver. I can see how the van slewed out on some of the curves. Dimwit. It's topheavy, he shoulda took it slow.

Not long before the cabin is in sight, the van parked right out in front. Idiot, that's what camo tarp is for. Figure I'll get the van out of sight after I've talked to the gang.

Quote:

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"Well, I got one for you, boys. Just how in the hell did you let that little girl driver of yours sneak up on you?"

---

Shit shit shit, I thought I got up here without him noticing. Andwhere is the woman? Did he shoot her? Why? If she was a hostage that'll bring us tons of trouble. And if she wasn't a hostage ... still why, but a different why. And what's it going to mean for us?

Quote:

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"You can come on out, girl. In fact, you being here's a good thing. Let's send one of you boys out on her little motorcycle to check on the roadblocks and see if ... What?"

---

He's pretending not to be pissed I'm here, but there's a snake hiding under his smile and it makes my skin crawl for a second.

Quote:

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"Franki can lead us up the Carmel Valley road and home to Soledad."

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Like they can't find their own way home? Like I'd let him find out where I live? Something is fucked here ... And I'm going to find out what.

Quote:

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When the van finally pulls to a slow stop inside the garage of the house we are renting, I step out to find the girl Franki already waiting for us, leaning against the door jamb.

She watches me.

As I pass her to go into the main house, I let my hand glide down her arm and lean in to whisper ...]

---

I shuddered and jerked back, just a tiny step backward. I don't want him to touch me ... but it's been a hell of a long dry spell too.

Quote:

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I'd take it most kindly if you'd fix me something good to eat. Would you do that for me, honey? While you're at it, I could use a cold one ...

[She isn't sure how to take it -- that caught her off guard. But other than hesitating as she told herself that maybe she could relax if this was all I wanted from her, she does move ahead me into the kitchen, going on a beeline for the refrigerator.

---

I wanted to tell him to piss off and die, I don't cook for anyone. But my madre had one thing right; Food's better than sex for keeping a guy in line. Of course she couldn't cook. She just hired someone who could. Which pretty much describes my madre in a nutshell.

So I went to see if there was anything in the refrigerator. And while I was looking, Wade delivered that sting in his tail.

Quote:

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Oh. Franki? I got few rules in this gang. But obeying me when I say you are not involved in a job is definitely one of my rules. The penalty for your actions today will be that you get no cut from the proceeds.

This is your only warning to follow the rules. I'd hate to have to hurt a pretty little thing like you if you ever even think about a repeat performance. We understand each other?

---

Asshole! Threaten my paycheck? I don't think so! I believe absolutely that he would kill me without even blinking. But I need the money. And just when I'm going to open my mouth and get myself dead, 'Tonio beats me to the punch and opens his.

"Maria's i-in trou-ble" he chants like a little kid in a play-ground. Tonio played football in high school, he's got a good twenty pounds on me and he's three inches taller and I don't fucking care. Travis is right there too, but before the other Moron Brother can weigh in, the beer bottle in my hand has smashed on the fridge door and I'm pushing it into 'Tonio 's already ugly face and snarling "Don't FUCK with me! I have warned you about that 'Maria' shit before."

What does he want? What the hell is he after? He tries to push me out and who suggested Timothy to him anyway?

Franki didn't let her hands shake. She wanted to shake, to scream, to cry. But it wasn't safe, it was never safe to let anyone see you sweat. So she made a meal for him and kept her head down and her mouth shut.

And he asked about my name. I'm not telling him that. Even the guys don't know the whole of it; it's not their business. And I couldn't trust them to keep it to themselves anyway.

He touched me, and I hate it. He kissed me and I want to hurt him, rip him apart ... or maybe not. I'm tired of being lonely. But I'm not stupid. I don't trust him. You gotta trust a guy at least a little if you're gonna fuck him, right? And he's got something going on.

I don't know why he gave me the money, what he said before ... am I In or Out? What was he paying me for? Does he think I'm gonna be bought?

In the living room, Franki shoved the bills into a wallet, slipped the wallet inside a zippered inside pocket in her jacket and put the jacket back on. She wouldn't take a chance on losing the money.

Could I be bought? For this amount?

Trying not to think that thought, she headed into the bathroom, closed the door and locked it, wondering just whose place this was.

I'd sooner go hungry than let my baby girl go hungry ... can't let Wade know about her, but I gotta get some better money coming in.

It must be Wade's ... or a friends place? He acts like he knows it, but he don't act like he lives here.

She turned on the water, made a face as it ran a rust red for a couple of minutes. So, this place wasn't lived in regularly. Wade was doing good if he could keep a little place like this just for a hide-out. In the living room Travis turned on a stereo, 80's music, the kind of stuff Franki remembered her Dad playing in the garage when she was little.

There was enough sound now between the water and the loud music, but she still rolled a towel up and strangled her tears in that. Never let them know, never let them see you sweat.

And after a while she had a handle on herself again, shook out the towel and folded it back up and went back out to the living room.

Wade was gone, she noticed that. Or maybe sleeping? This place probably had a bedroom. Well, she sure as fuck wasn't going looking for him. Could sleep on the couch out here if she had to crash.

"Hey Ma ... Franki. C'mon an' dance with me." Antonio was trying to pretend he 'let' her win, pretending she didn't unnerve him.

"Fuck no!"

Franki settled on the couch, let the music blare, figuring Wade would have said something about it if they were supposed to let it seem the place was empty.

Travis tried to ease the tension between his two buddies. "So ... I saw your mom on TV a couple days ago. Some talk show ..."

"DON'T fuckin' talk about my mother!" Franki's voice was a warning hiss and Travis recoiled in surprise.

"Geez," Antonio grumbled, "You didn't used to be such a bitch. What happened?" He was halfways joking, trying to pretend that things were okay between them now.

But Franki wasn't joking at all. "Let's see, how about I DID my two years an' the jerks I covered for dint even have the grace to meet me when I get out? An' you morons got yourself a new boss which is fine because you monkeys NEED someone with smarts, but he's pushing me out and working some kind of angle and you're Too Fucking STUPID to see it!"

Antonio's temper blew for real this time, he reached for her intending to shut her up but good, but Franki was faster and wearing motorcycle boots as well. She kneecapped him and ran.

By the time Antonio was able to stumble out the door, she'd roared off on her bike, taking the first road back into town.

<To Be Continued ... In Bud White's Thread.>