Trust Me (16 page)

    Karen didn't say anything. She was tired, exhausted, completely out of it.

    "Maybe something happened. Ricky's been calling me nonstop. Jesus, I've been going out of my mind," Johnny said.

    Karen said, "Did you talk to him?"

    "No, I didn't. And now I won't have to—ever again." He stepped over and put his arms around her.

    Karen pushed him away. "You're all wet."

    "Everything go okay?" Johnny said. "You look a little tense."

    "Do you know why? Because I am." She pictured Wade's loony face and said, "Spend fourteen hours in a hot warehouse with an armed psycho and you would be too." She could feel herself getting angry, thinking about Johnny lying around, watching TV, drinking champagne while she was getting the job done. And
he
thought
she
looked tense.

    "Let's celebrate." Johnny poured champagne into two plastic flutes and handed one to Karen. "This'll take the edge off."

    She took a sip and wiped the bubbles off her upper lip. "They've got a lot of nerve calling this champagne," Karen said. "Where's the vodka? I want a real drink."

    "Don't you want to know how much we got?" He moved to the closet, slid the door open and rolled a big black suitcase out and put it on the bed next to her. She watched him unzip it and turn it over, dumping banded packs of money out on the brown comforter. It was strange after all she'd been through, seeing the money didn't excite her. She didn't feel anything; she was numb.

    "Guess how much?" Johnny said.

    "Five million," Karen said.

    Johnny grinned. "Come on. We've got a million six hundred and fifty-four thousand dollars. I counted it three times. Karen, if that doesn't make you happy, nothing will."

    It didn't.

    Johnny finished his champagne and poured himself another one, drinking it like it was Dom Perignon. She glanced down at the money and thought about Yalda, who was dead because of her. She looked up at Johnny. "Get me some vodka, will you? Something good, Pearl or Belvedere."

    "First tell me where you want to go?"

    "I'll think about it while you're gone," Karen said.

    Johnny slipped on a pair of black pants, lost his balance and almost fell over.

    "You all right?" Karen said. He seemed loaded.

    "Fine," Johnny said. "Now that you're here."

    He finished the outfit with a tight-fitting Zegna polo that probably cost $200. He straightened his hair and slipped on a pair of white loafers. "Don't move, I'll be right back." He stopped at the door and said, "Can I trust you here with all this money?"

    Now it was his. She said, "I trusted you, didn't I?"

    The thing that amazed Karen was how easy it had been talking Johnny into it. Lou the Great White Hunter always said lions attacked the weakest member of the herd. That's what Karen did, picked Johnny out, lagging behind everyone, and went after him. He had weaknesses all right. He was dealt a full deck of them, Karen thought. Take your pick. He had a gambling problem, he was in debt up to his thinning hair, and he was a sex maniac. Johnny had showed some interest in her when she was seeing Samir. He never hit on her, but was always giving her compliments. He'd tell her how pretty she was, and how good she looked in a bathing suit-Samir had a pool in the backyard-and how lucky Samir was to be going out with her. He liked her then and she figured he probably still did. It was confirmed after the first drink, sitting at the bar at the Capital Grill on a Monday afternoon, two days after Bobby and Lloyd had broken in. Karen knew Johnny hung out there occasionally and pretended to run into him.

    "Karen Delaney," Johnny said. "Wow, what're you doing here?"

    He kissed her on the mouth. No tongue, but there was feeling behind it.

    "You look good," Karen said, "are you working out?"

    "I've been known to hit the gym," Johnny said.

    She noticed he was still getting his nails done, and he had a tan that was so perfect it looked like it came out of a tube.

    "You know I always had a thing for you," Johnny said, putting his hand on her thigh like he was testing her to see how far he could go.

    "Come on," Karen said, "with all the girls you had around."

    "I'm serious," Johnny said. "I used to think about you all the time, couldn't get you out of my head."

    "I always liked you too," Karen said, feigning interest.

    That was how it started. Thirty minutes later they were in the back seat of Johnny's BMW in the Somerset Collection parking lot, making out, Johnny putting the full court press on her. Karen handled the situation without embarrassing Johnny and made him think she was interested, telling him how much better it would be if they waited, how the anticipation would build, and it would be incredible. And if we do it here, Karen said, we're going to get arrested.

    Johnny nodded. Sure, no problem, he understood.

    Three days later they met in a cheap motel room—as opposed to the luxury suite they were currently occupying at the Red Roof Inn. It was Johnny's pick, Johnny another big spender, following in the footsteps of Lou Starr, the Grand Master of big spenders. Johnny wanted to get right to it. He was unbuttoning his shirt before the door closed. Karen handed him a vodka on the rocks and gave him her pitch: "Do you want to make a lot of money, enough to quit working for Samir and retire?" It was a variation of the line she'd used on Bobby and he was a brain surgeon compared to Johnny.

    "What do I have to do?"

    "That's the beauty of it," Karen said. "You don't have to do anything." She laid out the plan and he listened, not saying a word until she finished.

    "Hell, no," Johnny said, making a face. "You think I'm going to rob my own uncle?"

    "First of all," Karen said, "I'm not robbing him. He stole money from me and I'm getting it back."

    "Come on," Ricky said. "Samir's rich. Why would he steal from you?"

    Karen told him what happened. "I'm going to get my money back," she said. "Whether you help me or not." That was all it took. That little technicality seemed to clear the way for Johnny, absolving him of any guilt or responsibility. She was going to do it anyway, Karen could hear him saying, rationalizing his involvement.

    The third time they met, again at a Red Roof Inn (he must've had stock in the place). They were lying on the bed. He kissed her and started unbuttoning her blouse, a look of excitement in his eyes. Karen said, "Let's wait till we're in a nice hotel. I don't want to take my clothes off in this dump and catch something. You know how much E. coli is on a motel room bedspread? I read an article on the subject and you wouldn't believe it. Just hold me."

    And he did. Johnny the stud, cuddling with his clothes on, like they were in seventh grade. After that she called the shots and Johnny went along with it. What happened to macho Johnny Karmo? He was in love and told her so-making excuses at first.

    "I don't know what's wrong with me," Johnny said. "This's never happened before. I've never met anyone like you."

    And then he just accepted it. Landing Johnny had taken less than a week.

    Karen told him all he had to do was park down the street from Samir's and follow them to the warehouse, although, at the time, Karen didn't know where they were going. All Bobby would tell her was the warehouse was in Clawson. On the way over she could see the headlights of Johnny's BMW in the rearview mirror, thinking he was following too close, hoping nobody would notice. Nobody did.

    Then all Johnny had to do was wait in the warehouse parking lot. "No matter how long it takes," Karen had said, "don't try to come in the place. Be patient, and let it play out. They're going to freak out when I can't open the safe." And sure enough, they did. And sure enough, they didn't trust each other at all after that. And sure enough, they all ended up going to Home Depot together and Johnny went in the warehouse while they were gone and opened the safe and took the money. Karen had unlocked the steel entrance door as soon as Bobby and Lloyd were outside.

    Karen loaded the money back in the suitcase. She picked it up and was surprised how heavy it was. She rolled it to the door and opened it and stepped out on the balcony. She saw police cars with their lights flashing, and an EMS truck and a mob of people in the restaurant parking lot next door, surrounding the purple van. She didn't think they'd find Wade that fast. She was nervous now, thinking the police would come over and start knocking on doors, asking if anyone had seen who was driving the minivan.

    Lloyd was flat-footing it, had the Mustang up over a hundred—one ten, one fifteen, one twenty in the two-mile stretch to the next exit, passing cars like they were parked. Lloyd was showing an aggressive side Bobby hadn't seen before. It reminded him of a ride at Cedar Point where you think you're going to die. Lloyd was swerving around cars and people were honking at the maniac in the red Mustang, and Bobby now regretted letting Lloyd pilot his ride.

    They didn't see the purple minivan and there was no place to get off the expressway unless Karen used that turnaround they passed for
Authorized Vehicles Only.
He doubted she'd do that with a dead man in the back.

    Lloyd said, fuck, and pounded the steering wheel. He drove to the next exit, got off and took the ramp at about seventy, tires squealing, the back of the Mustang sliding out.

    Bobby said, "Why'd you get off here?"

    "You got a better idea?"

    He didn't.

    They went up Stephenson Highway, checking the parking lots of the mirrored glass office buildings, and, believe it nor not, there it was—the purple minivan—in visitor parking in front of a building with a sign that said "Telecom Devices." They pulled up, got out, checked inside, no sign of Wade. They got back in the Mustang and Lloyd gunned it, burning rubber.

    "Still think we're all in this together?" Lloyd said, "You really screwed up, you know it?"

    Lloyd was a world-class blamer. Make a mistake and he'd be there to remind you. "You can keep bringing it up, if it makes you feel better," Bobby said. "Or be a man, let it slide." Lloyd gave him a hard look.

    "Be a man? Is that what you just said to me?" He hit the brakes and pulled over in the emergency lane, cars were flying by so close it made Bobby nervous.

    "I should pull you out of this car," Lloyd said, "kick your smartass Canadian butt."

    "Or you could put it in fucking gear and try to find her," Bobby said. Lloyd was really getting on his nerves.

    Johnny didn't tell her how much trouble he'd had trying to open the safe. He had the correct combination he was sure of that. He'd copied it right out of Samir's address book: 42 R, 5 L, 15 R. He'd followed that exact sequence and it wouldn't open. What was he doing wrong? He tried it again and again, getting more pissed off each time it wouldn't open. He was nervous, thinking it was taking too long and they were going to come back and catch him. But on the seventh try, it worked and the door opened.

    He was thinking about Karen. She'd come out of nowhere, knocked him on his ass. He was in love, really in love for the first time in his life. He hadn't banged another chick since him and her had run into each other that day at the Capital Grill. If that didn't prove he'd fallen for her nothing did. He sat in the BMW, thinking about their new life together. No more collecting money, no more putting up with Samir. He figured he could take the money they had and double it easy on the gaming tables of the world. He pictured himself in a white tux, playing roulette at a casino in Monte Carlo, and in a Hawaiian shirt, playing blackjack on Paradise Island in the Bahamas. It was going to be fun. They could go anywhere, do anything they wanted.

    Leaving Ann-Marie wouldn't be a problem. After fifteen years of misery he'd never think of her again. He could hear her voice in his head, a nonstop monologue: you're never here; you know that's your third drink; do I have to do everything?; don't wear that tie; you're really getting heavy; your hair's falling out; we never have any money.

    The bonus, he wouldn't have to see Nana, his mother-in-law, either, and have to listen to her advice about life, Nana, the expert on everything, who'd spent thirty years working in a party store. He'd miss the kids, for sure, Johnny Junior and little Ashley. That was the only thing he didn't like. But life was a trade-off, wasn't it?