Diversion 1 - Diversion (7 page)

“Too -small-and-dark living room in here, ugly-assed-kitchenleftover-from-the-70s-avocado-appliance-obsession over there, two closet-sized bathrooms.” He gave his new roommate a ten-cent tour. “The big ones mine. Two okay-sized bedrooms. I got the master suite, other bedrooms yours.”

“Why do you get first pick?” Biceps subtly bulged under a light blue T-shirt when Bo crossed his arms over his chest.
Lucky swore hairs rose on the mans neck. He grinned, vowing to up the irritation factor. Newbies buttons were too easily pushed. “Im senior man. And besides, I got here yesterday to stake my claim.”
“Well, if not for me, we couldnt get anyone on the inside.” Fire flashed in Bos eyes.
Oh, temper, temper.
“Stop that, youre turning me on.” Lucky leered and wriggled his brows. He tossed out, “I dont object to sharing,” in tones suggesting a reasonable compromise.
Those sparking eyes blazed. “Havent you ever heard of sexual harassment?”
“Heard of it, havent had any turned my way since my early twenties, darned the luck. You?” He smiled sweeter than black strap molasses, squashing down the ice in his stomach at the circumstances behind his particular “harassment,” and how easily hed given in. Hed eventually done time for the lapse of judgment and didnt like being reminded of his current indentured servant- hood.
“Fuck with the boss and the boss fucks with you,”
hed been told often enough. Being youngand stupid, he hadnt listened, and wound up a cautionary tale.
Bos glare wasnt impressive, but with some work stood a good chance of improving over time. He nailed the gritted-teeth growl, however. “Lord grant me patience, cause if I pray for strength, I might just wind up beating you to death.”
“Now would be a good time for you to remember lesson number one,” Lucky reminded him. “I can kick your ass.”
“Maybe last week, but not for long. Give me a while.” Bos brows nearly touched over his narrowed eyes. Their inky darkness bored into Luckys, causing something deep inside to squirm. A man could get lost in those eyes and never find his way back. Maybe never want to come back.
Dangerous notion, my friend.
Lucky blinked hard, tearing his gaze away and attempting to unscramble his brain.
What the fuck? I never let anyone shake me up.Whats he doing to me?
Scrabbling to regain the upper hand, he blurted, “Cmon, were burning daylight. Toss your stuff in there and lets get a move on.” He nodded at the shoe box sized bedroom, privately wondering how badly hed have to fuck up the room to make sharing the master bedroom acceptable to Bo.

“My heart, my achy, breaky heart,” Lucky wailed off -key, the worst backup singer Billy Ray Cyrus had probably ever been shackled with. Walters choice of a five-year-old Mazda for the stakeout didnt come equipped with an iPod docking station, so Lucky plugged a converter into the cigarette lighter to play through the cars speakers. Occasionally static or a snippet of music from a local radio station bled through the play list designed to create maximum annoyance.

Every now and again he glanced over to gauge the effect of his efforts on his unwanted partner, who leaned against the far window, hands squeezed into white-knuckled fists and face twisted into a bitter “kill me now” expression. “Do you have to play that so damned loud?” Bo shouted over the music. Once or twice hed put on headphones hooked up to an iPad, but Lucky merely jacked the iPod volume higher.

“What?” Lucky shouted back, hiding a smirk. Taking advantage of Bos preoccupation with staring out the window, he turned the volume down a notch, but only because itd reached levels irritating even to him and drowned out his pitiful attempts at singing. Plus, it threatened to blow out the cars inferior speaker system. He kept a close watch, ready to grab Bos wrist if the man got it into his head to snatch up the iPod and toss it out the window. Luckyd lost several iPods to other co-workers road rage.

Far too soon for his tastes, Lucky located the parking garage where theyd spend a good deal of time over the next few days.
He wound the vehicle through the concrete structure to the fifth level, parking on the outside. Through the windshield he studied the strip mall complex housing their target. Only one of the six available units contained a business, but the entire parking lot already lacked open spaces, even at nine A.M. He switched off the engine and peered through a set of binoculars, the music dying with the motor. His ears continued to ring for a good two or three minutes.
The vehicles down below varied from a late model Mercedes with local plates to a decrepit Chevy S-10. Without the hard evidence of an Illinois tag, Lucky wouldnt have believed such a beat up piece of shit capable of making the trip.
Reaching into the backseat, he grabbed another pair of binoculars, thrusting them at Bo. “Youre the one with a fancy iPad; take note of every vehicle in that parking lot. Make, model, tag,general description of driver. Got that?”
“What?” City boy arched a surprised brow. “Isnt there supposed to be a van, a team? You mean this is just you and me watching cars?”
Lucky sent him a Lucklighter patented glare rumored to curdle milk. “You been watching too much CSI. On TV,
budget
isnt something you hear often. Welcome to the real world, Newbie. This is simple surveillance; we wanna find out whos coming and going, not what they had for breakfast or whose wife theyre banging. Sheeessh. You college types dont venture out much, do you?”
“All right, all right. Gimme a minute.”
For a small place like the clinic, whatever they were doing, they did it fast. The cars and trucks came and went. Bos fingers rat-a-tatted over the keyboard of his high-tech toy with each new arrival, while Lucky focused on two delivery trucks adding to Ryersons inventory, and a handful of panel vans taking away. None bore any identifying markings. One-handed, he flipped the top off of his thermos, gulping down a mouthful of tepid brew. “Newbie?”
Silence.
“Fresh Meat?”
“Those arent my names.”
“Sunshine, nows not the time to have a diva moment. I want you to start adding arrival and departure times for the cars. Can you handle that?”
Bos clipped response sounded suspiciously like itd been ground out from between wired shut jaws. “I attended four years of college and another four of pharmacy school to be your secretary?”
Without missing a beat, Lucky gave his best affronted look, clutching his proverbial pearls. “I do
not think
of you as my secretary; I consider you my administrative assistant.” A half-beat later he tagged on, “Or my bitch—you pick.”
“Fuck you!” seemed to come from a million miles away.
“Name the when and the where.” Lucky managed the comeback using half his brain, the other half currently dedicated to upping the magnification of his binoculars to get a better view of the packages traveling via hand truck from the back door of the building to an SUV.
During the height of Luckys party years his own doctor hadnt shied away from writing scripts, but Lucky had never needed more than a plastic shopping bag to haul his meds home. Of course, living with someone with free access to anything he wanted, delivered to the house by the case, meant he didnt often visit a doctor. If he had aches and pains he numbed them with goodies from Victors private stock.
Ahhh, those were the days.
He traded binoculars for a camera, snapping a few pictures at the highest magnification.
Unperturbed by Luckys task, Bo carried on their verbal sparring. “Youre a fucking piece of work, arent you?”
Most of his attention focused on the parking lot, Lucky managed a wellrehearsed comeback. “Uh-huh. Wanna see my „fucking piece of work?”
“Saw it in the shower, not that I was looking. Nothing to write home about.”
Lucky nearly choked. Itd been so long since hed had a worthy opponent that he wasnt quite prepared for the vocal right hook. “Are you sure? Maybe you need a closer inspection.” He lowered the camera and reached for Bos binoculars. “You wont be needing those. My johnson doesnt require magnifying.”
“Pretty fucking hung up on yourself, arent you? Let me tell you something.” Bos face shaded scarlet. “You seen one cock you want nothing to do with, youve seen em all.”
Lucky watched, tuning out the traffic sounds, mulling over what might have been a confession. No time for distractions now, duty called. “Wait right here.” Damn the timing. Hed love to continue their conversation.
Letting a barrage of questions fall on deaf ears, Lucky grabbed a ball cap and a hightech gizmo hed been waiting for a chance to use from the backseat. His favorite surveillance supplier had recently introduced a new item, one with a battery guaranteed to last eight weeks, a far cry from the model thatd once proved his undoing, long ago, in another lifetime. If he could only have held out for fourteen days, the maximum battery life of that particular unit…
He opened his car door and stooped to remain unseen under the low walls of the parking garage, scuttling like a palmetto bug down the ramp and meeting a few of the real things on the way down. Bugs and rats. Both grew bigger in Florida. Must be the sunshine.
Pulling his hat down firmly over his brow and moving his shades from his pocket to his face, Lucky checked both ways and stepped out of the garage, casual, unhurried. A quick look-see above proved Bo remained with the car, though his binoculars now followed Lucky instead of the silver Corvette pulling from the clinics parking lot.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Lucky strolled unhurriedly along the sidewalk, making a note of security cameras. Because they didnt move to follow him, he assumed they either were stationary, dummies, or someone inside fell asleep at the wheel. Lucky loved it when targets grew lax in security. It made his job easier. Still, best to treat them as though they were live. Hed learned long ago to err on the side of caution.
When the guy with the hand truck slammed the SUVs cargo area closed and disappeared inside the building, Lucky did a quick side-to-side check and dropped to his knees by the vehicle. In one fluid motion he rolled onto his back, peeling the covering off the magnet and slapping a tracking logger underneath the fender.
The crunch of gravel under a shoe made his blood run cold, and he slid out and away from the SUV, crouching beside a green mini-van. The crunching grew closer and he yanked his watch off, shoving it under the edge of the van.
“Mind telling me what youre doing?” a masculine voice barked, with enough edge to tell a seasoned pro like Lucky that it wasnt a busboy or store clerk he dealt with. The man at his back radiated danger and authority. Lucky didnt need to see him; he heard it in the voice.
“Damned, fucking, cheap-assed piece of shit,” he babbled, making sure the guy had a clear shot of him reaching under the van to retrieve his watch. “You pay good money for something, you expect it to stay on your wrist where it belongs.”
The words of a long ago mentor came back to him.
Dont act evasive, but whatever the fuck you do, boy, do not make eye contact.
Too bad Dad had been talking twelve-point white tails and not armed thugs. However, the principle worked the same with either. The target youd kill or the one out to kill you.
Dad. Damn but I miss you. Why did you have to go and give up on me?
He stayed in position, pretending to refasten his watch. Two and a half minutes from parking garage until now. A door opened and closed behind him, and he let out the breath hed been holding. Kicking himself for twelve kinds of fool for coming close to getting caught, he stood and watched the SUV drive away, hoping Bo captured the license plate. While not unheard of to cross the state line to visit a doctor, he seriously doubted any law-abiding citizens with“Georgia on their minds” had to drive all the way to Orlando to fill a script for Tylenol 3.
To appease whomever else might be watching, he continued his trek down the street to a small park visible from the garage. He wandered through, ending up at the garages back wall, scrambling over and onto the first level. Avoiding the stairs—most assuredly the domain of more palmetto bugs—he traveled the rest of the way up in the elevator. Hed love a good workout, but didnt want to share space with rodent-sized insects.
He stepped out of the elevator and kept to the shadows, approaching the Mazda from the passenger side blind spot. Hed raised his hand to bring it smacking down on the trunk, hoping to deliver another lesson—be aware of your surroundings—when a shoe scuffed behind him and he ducked, narrowly missing the blow aimed at his head.
He hit the ground rolling, coming up in a crouch a few feet away, to find Bo lounging against the car trunk, laughing. “Knew youd try something sneaky,” he said, a pleased grin on his face. Sadly, pigeon spatters under his elbow ruined the “man in control” effect.
Lucky growled, dusting himself off as he stood. “Did you get the license of the SUV?” If he cocked his head to the side, the pigeon splats formed a smiley face.
“Sure did. Since it seemed important; Ive already sent it in to Walter.”
On one hand, working with someone capable of rational thought was definitely refreshing; on the other hand, Lucky ran the risk of learning to like the guy. Liking people led to trusting them, which led to his life getting turned upside down. And liking folks you worked with added complications, especially if you planned on walking away and leaving them behind the moment the opportunity presented itself.
Since too much thinking made his head hurt, Lucky pushed the turbulent thoughts away, in favor of something more immediate. “Im hungry. You ready to eat?”
Lunch consisted of drive-through fast food, Lucky wolfing down and barely tasting a greasy burger and fries, washed down by a jumbo Coke. Bo munched a salad and baked potato, sipping from a bottle of water.
Once finished, Lucky belched and tossed his trash into the backseat. Bo wrinkled his nose, daintily folding the bag his meal had come in and checking the plastic salad container. “Oh good, its recyclable. You do recycle, dont you?”
Over the next few hours Lucky found himself fighting boredom, watching cars come and go and tuning out a lecture on greenhouse gasses. When hed about reached the point of shooting himself or his environmentally conscious partner, several car doors slammed, one after the other. Lucky checked his watch, grimacing at the crystal hed scratched by throwing it under the van. “Quittin time. Lets give them a few minutes to clear out and get the hell out of Dodge.”
“Youll get no argument from me. Im starving.”
“Of course you are. You only ate rabbit food for lunch. Oh, by the way, junior man gets cooking duty.” Lucky figured he might be pushing his luck, but you never knew until you tried, right?
“Gladly, if you cook like you do everything else.” Bo mimed swinging a mallet down on an imaginary something hanging in mid-air, snarling out a pretty good Eastwood impersonation, “Cmon, spud, make my day!”
Lucky didnt have a ready comeback, as the creative accusation rang too close to truth. He retaliated by giving old Billy Ray a rest and punching up Cyndi Lauper on his iPod. They exited the garage with the windows rolled down and Lucky screeching to the top of his lungs, “She bop, a he bop…”
“Must you jam every time were moving?” Bo yelled.
“Yes, I must,” Lucky yelled back.
Bo endured the ride to the local Save a Ton Food Mart with fingers stuck in both ears. Once inside the store the real battle began.
“Pork is loaded with cancer-causing chemicals.” Bo snatched a package of thick-sliced bacon out of their shared cart and tossed it back in the meat case.
“But theyre tasty chemicals.” Lucky threw the package back into the cart.
“You said I did the cooking. I wont cook carcinogens.” The package rejoined its fellow bacon packs in the cooler.
“You will.”
“I wont. I wont contribute to your death of heart disease, stroke, or cancer.” Bo turned the cart away, heading toward the produce isle.
Oh shit! “Oh my God. Youre one of those tree-hugging weed eaters, aint cha? You mean I gotta spend the next however many weeks grazing like a cow?” In theory, Lucky was aware of non- meat eaters existing, but couldnt recall ever meeting one face to face. Werent those small nerdy guys with glasses? Howd Bo get buff nibbling lettuceleaves? “Okay, health freak. Tell me this. How are we supposed to get enough protein without eating meat?”
“Watch and learn, T-Rex, watch and learn.”
“T-Rex?”
Bo pulled both hands back to his shoulders, wiggling his fingers. “Great big vicious carnivore with itty bitty arms.” He danced away from Luckys swat. “Thank you for proving my theory.”
Temporarily frozen in place by a stunning display of oneupmanship, Lucky grudgingly awarded an unspoken, “Nice shot.” Attempting a recovery, he snatched up the largest bag of potato chips on the shelf, catching up with the cart near a display of leafy green stuff.
Without even glancing up, Bo threw out an arm, blocking Luckys attempt to place the bag in the cart. “No nutritional value, too much salt and fat. Youll grow a spare tire within the next five years if you dont have a heart attack first. Given your high stress lifestyle, Im amazed it hasnt happened already.”
Lucky shot a gaze to his belly, horrified to discover it wasnt quite as flat as it used to be. He sucked it in, setting the chips down in the closest vegetable bin.
Gotta focus on abs tonight.
“You want protein? Ive got your protein right here.” Lucky half expected Bo to leer and grab his crotch. Instead, he held up a bag of some kind of beans. “Edamame, extremely high in protein. And even though I dont eat meat, I do eat eggs whites and limited amounts of cheese. I gotta be careful, though. Some have way too much salt, or are made with rennet.”
Deciding not to further embarrass himself by betraying ignorance, Lucky didnt ask what rennet was. Hed Google it later.
Little plastic bags of tomatoes, carrots, onions, and peppers assembled in the cart before Bo started down the aisles. He seemed to have some kind of aversion to anything white, except tofu, selecting brown rice and whole wheat bread. When Lucky picked up a five pound bag of sugar, Bo raised an eyebrow, but allowed it to join their other groceries.
“I know this may be hard for you, not used to eating right, but trust me, once you see how much better you feel, youll thank me. White sugar is one of the worst things you can put into your body.”
“And I suppose brown is better?”