Remember the Future (8 page)

18

Maddy awoke from a sound sleep to the hip hop strains of Rudy’s cell phone.  Grant lay asleep in the seat next to her, stirring slightly at the music.  She took a look outside and saw nothing but dark empty highway.  It appeared to her like they were still on the interstate.

“Yeah?” Rudy spoke into the phone.  “Only my suppliers call me ‘Mr. Pedroza.’  What are you trying to sell me?”

Maddy settled slowly back into the darkness behind Rudy’s seat, but cocked her head closer to the left side of his seat, straining to hear both sides of the conversation.

“Aiding and abetting, my ass,” Rudy replied in an even tone.  “Law enforcement wouldn't use your tactics. Try again.”  After a moment of silence, Rudy snorted derisively.  “Oh, is that right?  If you're lonely or something, try the classifieds. Just don't try and threaten me, Mr. Lonely Heart. I don't respond well to threats.”

Silence.  Rudy sighed heavily.

“Can you hold on a moment?” Rudy responded in a bored voice.  “I gotta put you on speaker so that I can dig my underwear out of the crack of my ass.  You’re scaring me so bad, everything’s retreating up into my anal cavity.”

Bringing the phone up to the steering wheel, Rudy hit the speaker-phone button as he glanced casually up into the rear view.

Maddy shut her eyes and listened closely.

Over the other phone, she could hear the hum of freeway noise, the steady thump-thump-thump of tires on a patch of highway she feared not far behind them.  The anticipation of the voice on the other end of the phone sent a slow, agonizing chill up her spine.

Finally, the Blank Man spoke.  “Up until now, this was just business. Do you really want it to get personal, Mr. Pedroza?”

In the rear-view mirror, Rudy's smile disintegrated.  He cut the call short and flung it angrily atop the dashboard.

Maddy recognized the words and judging from Rudy’s reaction, he did as well.

When he glanced up into the rearview mirror again, Maddy appeared fast asleep.

II.

NEW ORLEANS, LOUISIANA

1

Grant felt himself slipping deeper and deeper into self-loathing.  Lack of sleep always did this to him.  He’d caught precious little this morning and had awakened abruptly because of the nightmares.  They were the typical ones.  He had arrived at the scene of his wife’s car accident, the officer on site informing him of what they knew—though he heard only half of the explanation the first time because of his overwhelming grief.

Though it had been over a year ago, the pain felt as fresh as it had been the day after.

When she had been with him, the world had seemed tolerable.  After the tragedy of her loss, he had honored her memory through sacrifice, knowing that he was obligated to her to pay back what she had borrowed on his behalf.

And now that that was done…

He was tired, physically and emotionally.  He couldn’t deal with this corrupt pit of a world any longer.

He felt ready to die.

He cast a look at Rudy out of the corner of his eye.  My reaper, he scoffed.

Oh well.  Beggar’s can’t be choosers,
he thought.

The newly risen sun shined dimly on a sign that announced the Orleans Parish line.

Maddy awakened with a start and looked around.  Grant stared silently out his window.

“Did we miss the sunrise?” she asked.

Grant made no sign of acknowledgement.

Rudy glanced back indifferently, spitting the gum from his mouth into his hand and angrily tossing it into the plastic litter-bag hanging from his gearshift.

Lip curling in revulsion, Maddy turned from Rudy to examine Grant, who sat so quietly, he almost looked as if he were in a meditative state.

“Y'know, the French Quarter is number seven on my list of things to see before I die,” she said quietly.

Grant gave her a sad little smile.  “Glad I had the chance to share it with you,” he replied, failing to keep the irony out of his voice.

Giving his profile a moment of serious appraisal, she turned away to stare outside her own window.  “So am I, Grant,” she said in a low melancholy tone.

Rudy snorted and shook his head.

Maddy glared at him as he shook out another square of gum from the container in the console and began to chew it with a look of disgust on this face.

“So what's the deal with Pepe?” she ventured to ask their driver.

“What?  You don't know already, smartass?”

“I figure that maybe he knew too much and you had to rub him out.”

Rudy allowed himself a smile, before asking, “Who are these men who are following you if they’re not feds?”

“I don’t know.”

“You must have some idea.  You a criminal, Maddy?”

“Are you a murderer, Rudy?”

“I have killed men who had it coming if that’s what you’re asking,” he retorted.  “What are you wanted for?”

“I have a clean record before God.  Can you say the same?”

Rudy chewed his gum in silence, a smirk on his face.  “Oddly enough, God’s never really evaluated my work record.”

“Be patient,” Grant murmured just loud enough for him to hear.

Rudy’s eyes shot up to the reflection in his rear-view.

“Where are you going to bury Pepe?” Maddy quickly asked before anyone else could interject.

“That would be up to the boss,” Rudy said.

“So your boss doesn't know yet?”

His steady chewing suddenly stopped.  “Course he knows.”

“If your boss was very attached to Pepe and he knows Pepe is an ex-Pepe, why is Pepe in your trunk?”

“Your girlfriend's got a smart fucking mouth, Frederickson.”

Grant smiled silently out his window.

Maddy nodded to herself in satisfaction then turned to look out her own window.  “You don’t have a clue about either of us or our relationship.”

“Why are you protecting this whore?” Rudy asked Grant.  “You knock her up or something?”

At the sound of that ugly word, Grant’s spine jerked whip straight.  He felt a rage rise out of him for the first time in hours and wiped the depression from his soul like a flame streaking over a dry field.  He cleared his throat as life flooded back into him.

“How do you stand on the death penalty, Rudy?” Grant inquired, turning his attention away from the world outside his window to focus it fully on the man at the wheel.

“Never given it much thought, Frederickson.”

“I believe that there is evil in this world, Rudy, and as a fan of social order in general, I figure if and when you have the opportunity to destroy something evil you do it without thinking twice. That's why I'm a big advocate of capital punishment.”

Grant turned and looked at Maddy.  “Do you believe in evil, Maddy?”

Maddy stared seriously at Grant.  “Yes.”

“So, that is the reason why I'm protecting her, Rudy,” Grant told him.  “Because as long as there are evil men like you in this world, there will be ordinary people like me to protect their own.”  He promptly turned back to his window.

Maddy stared over at Grant with wide-eyed with admiration.

Rudy gave an exaggerated show of applause.  “This conversation is putting me in the mind of a last meal,” he commented darkly.  “Anyone else hungry?”

2

As the Mercedes headed east down Poydras Street in the heart of the city of New Orleans, Maddy gripped Grant’s arm and pointed excitedly out the window as it passed the Superdome.

“Look! The Superdome!” she told him.  “It’s one of the largest man-made structures in the world… in terms of diameter.  It covers 13 acres and stands 27 stories tall.”

“Thank you, Travel Channel,” Rudy interrupted.

A brooding silence settled over the car.  Maddy continued to gaze out the window with the awed smile of a child.

Grant watched her with a newfound interest for a few moments before asking Rudy, “Where are we going?

“The best hole-in-the-wall in town,” he replied.  “A little place called Mother’s.”

The Mercedes pulled into the cracked-asphalt parking lot of a low-profile downtown restaurant.  Killing the engine, Rudy leapt out almost cheerfully and held the back door of the Mercedes open for Grant, but ignored Maddy entirely as she stepped out.  She gasped aloud, turning a slow circle to take in the sight of all the tall buildings surrounding them.

“Y’know, New Orleans is a great city to get lost in,” Rudy said slamming his door and breezing past her.  As he started to the entrance of Mother’s restaurant, Maddy joined Grant, smiling broadly at the streetcar that passed on the street.

Continuing to watch Maddy, Grant’s face finally broke into a smile.

Smiling self-consciously, Maddy said, “Sorry, but you don’t know how great it is to finally see this city.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he remarked.  “It’s actually pretty cool to see genuine happiness for a change.”

Waiting patiently, Rudy held one of the double glass entrance doors open.  Trotting several steps ahead, Maddy opened the other door for Grant.  He stopped short and took the door from her, waving her ahead and garnering a glare from Rudy.

Inside the cafeteria-style restaurant, a few customers stood in front of the open kitchen placing their orders for the various Cajun and Creole style dishes behind a steam-covered glass partition. 

“Order up, Frederickson,” Rudy told Grant with a congenial slap on the back. “I'm buying.”

Grant gave him a grim look.

An elderly black woman stirred a pan filled with crawfish etouffee.  “What can I do for ya'll?” she asked stifling a yawn.

“Morning, could I please get a crawfish etouffee omelet. Black ham biscuit. Pancakes. Stack of three,” Maddy said enthusiastically.

The woman started to scribble out the order on a receipt, but Rudy waved a hand in her face.  “Nah-nah-nah.”

The woman’s face hardened.  Her eyes pinpointed Rudy like the tip of finger leveled in accusation.

“Boy, ya better get ya hand out ma face,” she snapped.  Making eye contact with Maddy, her face softened slightly.  “Sugah, you want any toast with that omelet?

“No thank you, ma’am.  The biscuit will do just fine.”

Rudy turned to Grant, trying to maintain a calm demeanor.  “What do you want?”

“How much did you plan to spend on me, Rudy?” Grant asked him.  “What’s the price for whitewashing your soul?”

“Look, Frederickson, do you want the fucking food or don't you?”

The elderly black woman’s face hardened even further as she glared at Rudy.

“You want absolution, go to a priest. I don't want any part of your charity,” Grant snapped.

Rudy sighed heavily and turned back to the woman behind the counter.  “One coffee. Black.”

The woman ripped the receipt off and slapped it down in front of Rudy with a glare.

Rudy took one look at the receipt and adamantly shook his head.  “Nah-nah-nah.  Separate tabs.  She ain’t with us.”

The woman snatched up the receipt, ripped off a thin strip on the bottom and tossed it back to Rudy, while she handed Maddy back her receipt.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Maddy responded with a gracious smile.  “And may I ask your name?”

The woman blinked at surprise at Maddy, an unpracticed smile appearing on her work-worn face.  “I’m Cheryl.”

“Well, you have a good day, Cheryl.”

“Same to you, Shug,” the woman replied, flashing a more genuine smile this time and pointing to the cashier.  “You can pay Mavis over there at the register.”

The dining room behind the kitchen was a non-descript room that looked almost like a patio out of someone’s house.  Rudy chose a seat at a table in the back near a window looking out over his car.  Giving the parking lot a long look and feeling satisfied that no cars had arrived after them, he finally dropped into his seat.

Maddy made eye contact with Grant.  Grant lifted his brows in question.  Maddy shifted her eyes to an ancient black man at the adjacent table thoroughly buttering a stack of pancakes.

Grant felt his stomach growl.

The black man then proceeded to slather Tabasco sauce all over the pancakes, turning Grant’s hunger into revulsion.  He shivered and turned back to Maddy, who smiled back mischievously as if she were somehow in on the joke.

“You kids seem to be enjoying the honeymoon,” Rudy grumbled, setting his cell phone on the table in front of him and checking for messages.

“You picking up a package? That's what your people do, right?

Rudy gave Grant a condescending look.

“His boss is a late riser,” Maddy explained.  “As most morally weak men are.”

Rudy's look hardened. He turned his attention to the television on the wall running the morning news.  “What do these men want with you?”

Maddy stared down at the five dollar bill she had been given as change, held tightly between two fingers.

“Listen, there’s no reason why I couldn’t leave you here,” Rudy told her.

Grant stiffened slightly.

“I think Frederickson and I both agree that this is safer than the side of I-10,” Rudy continued, flashing a quick look at Grant.  “Now, I don’t plan to do that, because since you’ve been around, our boy’s been cooperative and I appreciate that.”  He paused to fix Grant with a look.  “But I need to know what level of trouble to expect from your friends.”

Maddy looked Rudy in the eye.  “I don’t know who these people are or why they’re harassing me.”

Rudy stared at her a moment, then smiled at Grant.  “Y’see, now why don’t I believe her, Frederickson?”

“I've got a question for you.  Purely speculative,” Maddy asked Rudy, moving to face him.  “If Grant were to give you the money he owes, would you let him go?”

“As I already explained to your client there, counselor, it is not my decision to make,” Rudy answered.  “It is beyond my pay-grade.”

“Just so you understand, I paid them back in full,” Grant told Maddy.  “It took me a year and the liquidation of all my assets, but I managed to do it.  Torres decided to change the amount after the fact.”

“There was the matter of interest,” Rudy added, his eyes shifting to the TV indifferently.

“So you know Grant can't pay your boss back?

“Listen, what money he has, doesn't have, that's between him and the boss,” Rudy replied, turning to scan the parking lot again.  “I don't speculate. I don't interpret. I just do my job.”

Grant finally sat forward in his seat.  “Don't you see that the money isn't the issue here?  If I came up with that, there would be more interest and more interest.  Try and explain to her, Rudy, how someone like Torres can dedicate so much of his time and resources to ending the life of a nobody like me, because I've been trying to come up with an answer and I can't. My own death will be meaningless to me.”

Maddy studied Rudy.  “This man you call your boss, he may have had what passes as honor once, but something happened to him and someone with street smarts like you must be starting to question his motives.”

Rudy sat silent, watching the TV.

Maddy continued undauntedly.  “That inner, more reasonable, voice, whatever has kept you alive so long in this business, it's starting to ask what's going on here.”

Cheryl stepped out of the kitchen and set several plates of food down between Grant and Maddy, who smiled and slipped the five dollar bill into Cheryl’s hand.

“Thanks, Shug.  You let me know if you need anything else,” Cheryl called back over her shoulder to Maddy as she headed back to the kitchen.

“I could use some coffee,” Rudy called to the retreating woman as she returned to the kitchen without a look back.

Grant watched as she closed her eyes over the plate of pancakes for a moment, then nodded. “Here.  You’ve got to help me with all of this,” she said, sliding a knife and fork over to Grant.

Rudy watched as Maddy flooded the pancakes with syrup and carefully sliced off two crescents.  As she held one of them out to Grant, Rudy returned his attention to the TV with a grunt.

“I’m good,” Grant said uncertainly.

“Take one bite.  If these aren’t the best pancakes you’ve ever eaten in New Orleans then I won’t offer you a second bite,” Maddy replied with a smirk.

Grant gave a shrug and leaned forward, allowing her to feed him.

She speared the second crescent in the plate and stuffed it in her mouth with unladylike abandon into her mouth, her eyes closed in satisfaction.

Opening her eyes, she made eye contact with Grant, his mouth still full and nodded over her shoulder at a sign on the wall of the dining room.

Grant swallowed and studied the beer sign in silence wondering where he had heard of Killian’s Irish Red before.  It sounded somehow familiar.

Then suddenly he remembered.  During the chaotic escape from the truck stop, she murmured something that had sounded like nonsense at the time.

Buttermilk pancakes.  Killian’s.  French Quarter.

Slicing off another chunk, Maddy held out the fork to him.  “I told you, didn’t I?  Best pancakes in the Quarter.”

Grant slowly accepted the food into his mouth while he stared at the Killian's beer sign.  Finally, he looked over at Maddy with an expression half confused, half awestruck.

“This is the first time I’ve ever been to the Quarter,” he told her.

“Well, there you go,” she quipped smugly, looking back at the Killian’s sign again.  “Crazy, huh?”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Grant began to chuckle in spite of himself.

Rudy had stopped watching the TV altogether for the more interesting spectacle going on in front of him.  He quietly sipped his coffee and watched the verbal interplay like a tennis match being played between two pros from different alien species.

“Just like at the truck stop?” Grant asked her.

Maddy nodded and leaned in closer to feed him another bite.

Rudy narrowed his eyes at the pair in frustration as they laughed and shared food from the same plate.  Finishing off his coffee, he swept his cell phone off the table and stepped away.

“Does it always involve food?” Grant asked, casting a look over at Rudy’s retreating back.

“I think it's a visceral thing. Basic human needs stuff. If I'm hungry, my mind is thinking about where I'll be eating. If I'm in trouble, my mind is on how I can escape.”

Suddenly, her eyes glazed over.

A hand reached out from behind and grabbed Maddy's arm.

She turned to stare into the faces of the two Blank Men standing just behind her.  On the TV beyond them, a small private jet took flight in the distance on a vacant airfield, while Rudy shoved Grant ahead of him, a gun down by his side.

Registering the change of expression on her face, Grant reached out to take her arm.  “What is it?”

Maddy pulled her arm away from Grant and glanced back over her shoulder.

The other side of the dining area was empty.

Maddy pushed the plate over to Grant, her eyes glazing over.  “Sorry.  I feel a little sick all of the sudden.”

Rudy's cell phone rang. He moved even further away from the table and answered the phone, as a cheer goes up from the TV during a sports highlights reel.

Just as Grant was about to put another bite in his mouth, Maddy seized his arm.

“Listen,” she stated with authority.  “This is very important.  We can’t let him reach the airport.”

Grant simply stared at her in confusion.

“Watch me.  Be ready,” she concluded as Rudy snapped off the phone and grabbed Grant's arm brusquely.

“Breakfast is over.”

Casting one last look over at Maddy, Grant dropped the fork and followed Rudy.

Maddy scrambled behind them nearly colliding with Cheryl. She took two steps toward the door then stopped, retrieved a couple of bills from one pocket and shoved them into the woman’s hands.  “Have a good life,” Maddy exclaimed as she disappeared through the exit.  “See you on the other side.”

Cheryl looked down at the pair of hundred dollar bills and wobbled on her tired feet.

“Mercy me.”