Blown for Good - Marc Morgan Headley [154]
“Where’s Claire?” he asks. “Is she with you?”
“No she is not with me. I had to leave her there. I don’t know what to do. I was going to try to drive out to where you are, but they want like $1500 at the U-Haul to give me a truck that I can take there.”
“Why do you need a truck?” he asks.
“I have my motorcycle.”
“Okay, let me see what we can do.”
“Can you send me $1500?”
“No, but we might be able to figure something else out. How much money do you have?”
“Not much. Maybe a few hundred.”
“Okay, do you have a place where I can call you back?”
“I’ll give you the number here at U-Haul. I will just hang out here until you call back.” I give him the number.
“Okay, I’ll call you right back.”
I hang up. Well, at least he is playing ball. I might have a chance to get out of here.
The guy at the counter has been eyeing the two sheriffs’ cars right outside that showed up with me. “Are they with you?” he asks as he motions towards the cops outside.
“Yeah, actually, they are,” I say. “I think I can tell them that I am fine now.”
I go back outside to talk to the cops.
“I am waiting for a call, but it looks like I will be fine. I am going to get a truck in just a bit and get out of here,” I tell them.
“Like we said before, once you get in a truck, we will take off. Those people seemed pretty determined to get you back over to Golden Era. We can stay here for a bit more,” the officer says.
“Okay.”
It’s not really doing me any harm, I guess. I mean I did have two Riverside County Sheriffs helping me, looks like I would get one chance to utilize the tiny amount of taxes I had been paying for the last fifteen years. I doubt the Golden Era guys are going to pull into U-Haul of all places. They were probably not sure where I would go. Having the bike actually adds a unique aspect to the blow drill. Most of the time people blew on foot or caught a cab or bus. Security would then check the local bus or train stations or airports. How could I get on a bus, train or plane with a motorcycle?
I head back inside. Just as I enter, the phone rings.
“It’s for you, man,” the guy at the counter says.
“Dad?” I say, as he hands me the receiver.
“Okay, so this is what we can do,” my dad says. “We can get you a ticket from LAX to Kansas City that leaves in a few hours.”
“Okay, what about my bike?” I ask.
“We know somebody that lives in Sherman Oaks who will keep your bike for you,” my dad answers. “At least for now until we figure out how this is all going to work out. She can also take you to the airport.”
“Okay,” I say. “I will just rent a truck here and bring the bike to Sherman Oaks and then get a ride to the airport.”
“Okay. We are going to send an email to the girl in Sherman Oaks with your picture.”
“Cool. I will call you once I get to Sherman Oaks. Thanks, dad. I really appreciate it.”
“I knew this day would come sooner or later. I’m glad you called.”
“Thanks. I’ll call you in a couple of hours.” I hang up.
“Okay, so I need a truck to get from here to Sherman Oaks,” I say to the guy behind the counter.
“That we can do,” he says as he changes a few things in the computer.
For around $50, I get the keys to a small U-Haul truck and head outside. The sun is now out and the rain has stopped. The cops are standing next to their vehicles and can see that I have keys to a truck.
“Let’s get you loaded up,” one of them says.
I open the back of the tiny truck and pull out the metal ramp on the back. I drive the bike into the back, with the help of the cops, and throw my bags inside. We tie the bike down with some rope that is in the back of the truck from the last renter.
“Thanks a lot. You guys saved me today. You really have no idea,” I tell them shaking their hands.
“Actually, I think we do. You take care and do not stop until you get where you are going,” the main cop tells me.
They get into their cars and drive off.
Chapter Thirty-Three – The Love Thieves
I climb into the U-Haul truck. I have a few last things to take care of before I leave town. I need to get some