the ladder. This job, as you can guess, was a . . . test. Take out the middleman, and in the future, you’ll work directly for me. Sound good?” Mr. Big cocks his pistol, and I recognize what the real test is. It’s about either shooting JP myself or getting rid of the body. Either one will demonstrate my loyalty.
JP says something quietly in Spanish, but he doesn’t move other than that. Personally, I don’t want JP dead for a multitude of reasons and would prevent this if possible. “I appreciate the compliment on my work. Not sure about this whole situation, though.” I wave a hand from the gun to JP. “Seems like a bad way to start off a new arrangement.”
While I speak, Poppy is sneaking up behind Mr. Big. She mouths, “Keep talking.”
JP looks to me with wide eyes. I definitely hear him say, “Perra loca”.
I agree with him, Poppy is a crazy bitch. But she’s my crazy bitch and it’s my job to warn her off. I glare at her, trying to tell her with my eyes to back the fuck off and get out of here. She responds by flashing me a thumbs-up and taking two more exaggerated tippy toe steps toward us.
Is she trying to save me?
Thankfully, the gods favor fools and redheads, it seems, and since Poppy’s both, Mr. Big doesn’t notice her. “I can understand your hesitation, but it felt necessary to show what I require of my people. I am serious about loyalty.”
“I can see that,” I reply, trying to keep Mr. Big’s attention so he doesn’t hear Poppy.
But I’m not surprised when that doesn’t go to plan either. As she comes around the crate Mr. Big is standing next to, she trips over her own feet and stumbles right into the open.
Mr. Big whirls and aims the gun at her. “Who the fuck are you?”
“Oh!” she exclaims, completely ignoring the gun aimed at her chest in favor of adopting a ditzy airhead act, “I was looking for the bathroom and seem to have gotten a little lost.” She holds her hand up to her mouth as though confiding top-secret intel. “Do you know where the ladies’ room is? I swear I can’t go more than a few minutes without having to tinkle. That’s what my grandmother used to call it—tinkle. She said it was more ladylike than saying you had to piss. But really, we all do it, so why the need for code words?”
She’s rambling, getting closer and closer as if she doesn’t even see the gun. It’s so off the wall, though, that it works, and Mr. Big somehow doesn’t shoot her. “What? Just . . . stop moving. And talking.”
Poppy stops as if she just realized what she walked into. Taking off her glasses, she wipes at the lenses, then puts them back on, doing a double-take at Mr. Big. “Holy shit.” Her eyes are wide, and she covers her mouth with her hands. From behind spread fingers, she says, “What’s with the gun? Did I walk in on something? I didn’t mean to interrupt, sorry about that. Just needed to piss.” She looks up to the ceiling, backpedaling. “Sorry, MeeMaw.”
She backs away, her butt bumping into a table, rattling everything on its surface and sending a vase several feet away crashing over.
“Stop right there, woman,” I yell in a last-ditch effort to keep Poppy safe. Maybe if Mr. Big believes she’s a wayward attendee of the auction, he’ll let her go. I hope that’s true even as I know there’s zero chance of that happening.
When Mr. Big glances over at me, Poppy takes advantage and grabs the closest heavy object, which happens to be the statue I was supposedly sent here to steal. Four pounds of stone make a hell of a club, and with Mr. Big’s head half turned away, the statue catches him right in the temple.
Mr. Big drops to the floor like he was the one who got shot, and Poppy starts jumping up and down like she won the hammer strike game at the county fair.
“I did it!” Her shout of excitement reminds me of Dora the Explorer, loud and ridiculous considering what she’s done. “That worked better than I thought! I saved you! With female ingenuity and . . . bewbies!”
She points at the statue’s breasts, sounding proud of herself, but I’m pretty much flummoxed. “What? You didn’t save me. I was about to do something to save you.”