the trouble he’s in. I snatch the bill, throw the door open and stride inside.
There are four teller counters, but only one is open. I’m the only customer, except for a lady talking to a loan officer in a glassed-in office.
A woman greets me with a smile. “May I help you?”
I pass her the bill and ask if I can get change. The only other teller is working the drive-thru, but there are no cars in line.
“I’ll need some ID. Are you a customer here?”
“Oh, no ma’am.” Shit, I hadn’t thought about the fact they might ask that. I suddenly realize I left my purse in the car with Trez. I glance out the window and see he’s still there, parked in the spot, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I remember I shoved my driver’s license in my back pocket when I grabbed it from Mason Lockwood, so I pull it out and quickly come up with a story. “Please, my kids are in the car and the gas station won’t take this big bill. It’s all I have, and I need gas.”
She bites her lip, glances to the man in the office, and then nods. She checks the bill to make sure it’s not a forgery, and I panic, having no clue if it is. For all I know, Trez could have handed me a fake bill to try to pass. I glance up and see cameras on the far wall, one for each teller station. One is probably zoomed in on a close-up of my face right now. Visions of a jail cell flash before my eyes, but the woman puts the bill in her drawer and counts out five twenties, sliding them to me.
“Have a blessed day, ma’am.”
“Thank you so much.” I grab the money and walk quickly out to the truck. I jump inside and slam the door.
He puts it in reverse, and I watch him. “I thought you might ditch me.”
“Your Royal Bastard just rolled past here a minute ago.”
“What? The same guy?”
“I think so. He pulled over in that lot over there.”
I follow his gaze to see him tossing his cigarette and jumping on his bike. “Shit, do you think he saw me run to the truck?”
“Gonna find out.” Trez pulls quickly onto the street and heads toward the expressway. The bike pulls out after us. The light at the underpass is yellow and turns red a few seconds before we get there. Trez runs it, squealing in a left turn in front of traffic.
“Fuck, watch out!” I scream, twisting to see if the Royal Bastard is following us. A line of cars flow across, and the guy is forced to stop. It’s then I see a squad car come through, and know the real reason he stopped.
Trez is heading west, away from New Orleans.
“Where are we going? Why don’t we just head to Amy and Josie’s hotel in the Quarter and figure this all out?”
“How many people were in the bank?”
I frown, confused by the question he asks. “What?”
“How many?”
“Like customers? Only one lady.”
“No, how many employees?”
“Two tellers and a guy in an office. Why?”
“No security guard?”
“No, what’s with all the questions?” I glance back wondering how much time we have before the bike roars up on us.
“Nothing. Just wondered.”
Trez drives on for a few miles, and the land around us becomes more desolate and wooded.
I see a cross street called Nine Mile Point Road. There’s a truck stop on the corner and a sign advertising a casino inside. Underneath is a lighted marquis flashing different messages. The one that scrolls across as we pass gives a phone number for those with gambling problems.
I almost want to make a joke about Trez needing to write it down, but my nerves are so frayed I can only chuckle.
Trez looks over at me and searches my face. “I’ll get your money for you, Lola. I promise.”
“Sure you will. What’d you do with that other check you took?”
“Nothing. I still have it. I only took it for your account number so I could deposit the money back. I always planned to give it back to you.”
“Why’d you take it in the first place?”
“Thought I could gamble and make some money. Ever watch one of those poker tournaments on TV? They make it look easy. It’s not.”
“Trez…”
“Fuck.”
I glance over to find him looking in the rearview mirror.
“Your bodyguard is going to fuck up my plan.”
I twist. There’s a single headlight flickering. It’s far back but