Los Angeles Noir - Denise Hamilton [122]
Behind some boxes there was a square silver metal suitcase that looked like it held equipment of some kind.
“Grab that,” he said. “Put it in your car.”
It was lighter than it appeared. I’d expected the weight of a piece of machinery. “What’s in here? Hundred-dollar bills?”
“I’m donating to Toys for Tots.”
I laughed. Marcus wouldn’t donate a rotten egg to his starving mother. I carried the case back around to my car. I opened the trunk.
“Don’t put it back there. Put it in the backseat.”
“It’s a fuckin’ suitcase.”
“Backseat.”
“Yessir.” I closed the trunk, walked around, and threw the case on the seat.
“Shit! Be careful.”
“It’s a metal case.”
“I told you it’s fragile.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I did.”
“No, I’m sorry, Mr. Big Shot Importer, you did not.”
“Then I’m telling you now.”
“Then I heard you now.”
He handed me a piece of notebook paper with a map drawn on it. It wasn’t far away. It was parking lot number 4 in the Ballona Wetlands.
“What am I supposed to do in a parking lot?”
“The guy who wants this will meet you there.”
“In a parking lot? This sounds mighty fishy.”
“To who?”
“Ballona Wetlands—fishy—get it?”
Marcus shook his head.
“Or should I say birdy—it’s a bird refuge, after all.”
“What the fuck would birdy mean?”
“Good point.” I started to get in the car, and then I stopped. “It’s five minutes away. Why don’t you take it yourself? Or get old Kimberly to do it on her lunch hour.”
He wasn’t smiling. “You want the money or not?”
I shrugged, and then I thought of what fifty bucks would buy me and my pretty brown girl. I felt a burn like hot liquid run down my throat into my chest. And lower.
“Wanna come over later?” I asked Marcus. “I got someone I want you to meet.”
“Just get this done. Then we’ll see.”
“Can you give me some money now? I’m starving. I need to get a burger or something on the way.”
“I’ll give you twenty now, but don’t stop till after you make the drop-off. This has to be there—A.S.A.P.”
“A.S.A.P. What are you, some kind of general?” He looked pissed off, and that made me laugh. “And you did not ever tell me before it was fragile. You did not.”
He growled. I loved it when he growled. That meant I’d got him good.
I waved goodbye from inside my mother’s car. It still smelled like her, that perfume she always wore, and the hairspray. She never got that old-person smell like some people. She just smelled like herself until the day she died, and then she had a weird shit smell cause her bowels sort of let go. There was a used Kleenex in the cup holder. Maybe her last Kleenex from the last time she drove the car. I didn’t like to think what was wadded up inside it. It had bothered me all the way over to Marcus’s and I had meant to take it in and throw it away in Kimberly’s little metal trash can, but I forgot. It made me mad to see it, so I opened my window and threw it out. I didn’t want to litter, but I just couldn’t stand seeing that tissue anymore.
This was all I ever did for Marcus, take shit places. Sometimes it was one box, sometimes it was many boxes and I’d get to drive the van. I liked his van; it was more official than Mom’s car. Usually I just took the boxes to the airport and waited around while the guy did all the paperwork.
Awhile back I had asked Marcus, “If you’re an im-porter, how come I’m always taking boxes away? Shouldn’t I be picking them up?”
“I use the smart guy for that.”
We both laughed at that one. I knew the other guy who worked for him.
This was the first time I’d taken anything to a parking lot. I didn’t care what Marcus was into, and I knew I was safe or he wouldn’t have asked me, but it was odd. When I stopped for my burger I would open the stupid case and look inside. Maybe I really was Santa Claus delivering toys. Somehow I doubted it.
I headed away from the airport, toward Westchester proper. There was an In-N-Out on Sepulveda, and if it wasn’t crowded I could just dip into the drive-thru and be on my way in minutes. I had to eat. It was after noon and I’d had nothing. Goddamn traffic. All around