of fifteen large. You double-crossed me. Six months have gone by. Six months. You’re putting me in a bad position. I either have to do nothing or do something. If I do something, you’re not going to like it.”
She went back in the bathroom, closed the door. I heard her urinating.
She had me nervous in a dozen ways. I looked around at my space, tossed things in the garbage, moved a stack of books and crossword puzzles to the side, tried to stay away from her.
The toilet flushed.
Lisa came into the living room. I went back to the bathroom. Couldn’t stand being in the same room with her. I rubbed my hand over my chin, felt my stubble, hints of gray speckling my chin. I threw tap water on my face, damned my reflection for fucking with her.
My phone rang. I ran out to grab my phone before Lisa tried to answer it.
Lisa wasn’t in the living room.
I picked up the cordless. The caller-ID read JASON WOLF, JR.
My heartbeat sped up.
I clicked the green button; words crawled up my throat. “Thought you’d be ‘sleep.”
“We have a problem.”
“What kind of problem do we have, Wolf?”
I hadn’t heard the front door open or close. Went to the window. Nobody outside.
Wolf repeated himself, “We have a big problem.”
Then I saw Lisa’s coat resting on the sofa. Her scarf and jeans were there too.
I said, “I’m listening.”
I looked down at the carpet. A black bra and thong made a trail to my bedroom door.
Wolf said, “We have an account coming in from this publishing company in New York. Margaret Richburg was scheduled—”
“Okay.”
The scent of her high-end toilet water told me that she was on the other side of that door.
Wolf went on, “But his publicist left an urgent message. The jerk doesn’t want anybody white driving him around the city. Especially a Jewish woman. Man, I tell you, your cousins have a long way to go before they realize what Martin Luther King, Jr., was preaching about.”
“Uh huh.”
“Racist people, man I hate all of them bastards, don’t matter what color.”
I eased the bedroom door open.
Wolf went on, “So I’m going to need you to pick him up tomorrow afternoon.”
“Sure, Wolf. No problem.”
“I’ll phone you in the morning with the specifics.”
Lisa had turned off the bedroom light.
The window had been opened. Moonlight fell across the room.
She was standing on top of my bed. Naked.
Wolf said, “Driver ... group of islands ... starts with an A. Eleven letters. Ends in GO.”
I licked my lips, seconds passed before I told him, “Archipelago.”
“How do you know this off-the-wall shit?”
“Guess I’m just ... just ... a sponge ... remember shit other people ... forget.” I faded.
Lisa had pretty facial features—a modest and beautiful nose, cheeks that made her look younger than forty, almond-shaped eyes—but something about them didn’t go together, never photographed well. Her cheeks and nose looked bloated in pictures. But she owned the perfect body. Her pride and joy. Small waist. Ass had a nice hook. Tits were plump, had no sag. Only a trained eye could tell that she’d had them done and had spent a pretty penny on the upgrades.
Words caught in my throat, my mind ablaze. I said, “Wolf, where’s the wife?”
“She hopped in her truck and went out to Albertson’s as soon as I got in.”
“Remember Pedro just told you that Albertson’s is on strike. Vons too.”
He grunted. “Guess she’s crossing the picket line.”
Lisa was on my bed doing a fuck-me dance. She made her ass shake, moved what she had like it was a twelve-cylinder Rolls.
I asked, “Why didn’t you go with her?”
“Call came in about the New York client. Wifey was in a hurry. I’m tired anyway.”
My mind was so messed up by Lisa’s naked body being in my face and Wolf’s loyal voice in my ear. It was like we were all here in this claustrophobic room at the same time.
He asked, “How’d you make out with the young girl at Back Biters?”
“The young ... oh ... I ... I ... got her number.”
“She was a pretty woman.”
I stared between Lisa’s thighs, remembered her sweetness. “Yeah.”
There was a heavy pause.
“Just like my wife. She left here wearing those Jimmy Choo shoes and a cashmere Burberry scarf. Thousand-dollar shoes and a thousand-dollar scarf to go spend five dollars on turkey sausage at midnight. And she put on perfume before she walked out the door. New perfume.” He took a breath. “I love that woman, Driver. Love her and she drives me