* * * * *
Tex drove a bronze El Camino and Tex played his rock ‘n’ roll loud.
Therefore when we went barreling into the parking lot toward the drug deal, the Doobie Brother’s “Listen to the Music” was blasting.
Tex screeched to a halt, swinging the wheel at the last minute so we did a 180 degree turn.
We were such a sight to see (and hear), instead of running the buyers and seller stared at us in frozen shock and I didn’t blame them.
Then during the Doobie Brothers singing the chorus, Tex got out his side, I got out my side and we lobbed the smoke bombs. Three for him, three for me. The buyers and seller started choking, spluttering, cursing and scurrying.
Tex and I jumped into the car and Tex peeled away.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about, turkey!” Tex shouted at the windshield and banged his fist on the steering wheel. He did this every time we’d seen action, except once instead of “turkey”, he said, “sucka”.
It had been an active night. We were out of smoke bombs.
Make no mistake, The Law and her sidekick, Tex, the Crackpot Coffee Guy were on the job.
“We’re out of smoke bombs,” I told Tex.
“Could swing by your place, pick up the tear gas,” Tex suggested.
Um.
No.
“I don’t think smoke bombs are illegal. I’m not sure about tear gas.”
Tex was silent for a moment as if contemplating this.
Finally he said, “See your point.”
“Maybe we should call it a night?”
“We goin’ out again tomorrow?”
Hmm.
He said “we”.
I was a loner or had been until recently. I hadn’t seen a lot of alone time in awhile and that had been at night when I thought Vance and I had broken up.
That time wasn’t fun.
Furthermore Tex was huge, burly and relaxed. He caused mayhem like it was second nature. He made me feel safe.
It was a new experience, being out making life a pain for drug dealers with Tex.
I liked it.
“Sure,” I said.
“Fuckin’ A, woman!” Tex boomed.
I smiled.
We went to his house and he stood on the sidewalk and didn’t make a move toward his door until I was in my car and headed down the street.