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By Root 1166 0

The place looks pre-furnished, lots of black leather bachelor stuff that is not Tim’s style at all. But he’s been at work here. The walls are covered in jazz and blues posters. And there’s a brand-new stereo, the box full of foam packing still sitting next to it. It’s one of those hunks of Japanese engineering that only an audiophile like Tim would buy. I walk down a short hall to a large bedroom. The bed matches the living room furniture. More posters here, a nice boom box, more CDs, an orange iMac on a desk, and a beeper and a huge bong on the nightstand.

There’s a knock at the door. Shit. Concerned neighbor? Girlfriend? Russian mafia? Why did I leave the guns in the car? I sneak up to the door and press my eye to the peephole. T is on the landing. I open the door and he comes in, followed by Hitler.

—What? Is someone here?

—No.

—What’s that matter?

—I couldn’t sit out there, I’m way too jacked-up, man. I was about to fucking vibrate to death.

—Jesus, T. You’re the lookout. I mean, fuck.

—You were right, superstar, you don’t need anything to give you an edge.

—Yeah, I’m on edge. And, Jesus, what about the dog? What if it starts barking?

He rubs the top of Hitler’s head.

—Hitler don’t bark. Ever. Only time this dog makes noise is when it farts.

—Great. Look, just, just see if you can find anything out here or in the kitchen. I’ll be in the bedroom.

I head down the hallway.

—And what am I looking for?

—A really big box full of money.

It doesn’t take long. I don’t find the money or any indication that Tim was kidnapped or killed. The place is a mess, but that’s just Tim.

T is on his knees in the kitchen, his head stuck in the cabinet below the sink. I kick the sole of his shoe.

—Anything?

He pulls his head out.

—This.

He tugs a blue day pack from the cabinet and unzips it, revealing about twenty small, colored plastic boxes. This is Tim’s dealing stash. Each box is stuffed with hydro-grade buds of varying quality. The color of the box indicates the content’s price. Hitler sticks his nose into the pile of boxes and shoves them around.

T shakes his head.

—I don’t know your boy, but speaking as a dealer? I generally take it as a bad sign when a professional disappears without his stash.

T FINDS a couple bottles of Tullamore Dew in one of the cabinets and breaks the seal on one of them. I get a glass of water from the tap and flop on the couch. T takes a slug from the bottle of whiskey and starts flipping through Tim’s CDs. Hitler rolls around on his back.

—So you think he ripped you off?

I stare at the wall.

—Could be.

—Think maybe the Russians found him?

—Could be.

—What now?

I look at the clock on the VCR. It’s almost nine.

—I need to make a call.

I take the cell from my pocket. T sits on the floor with his back against the wall, empties Tim’s day pack in his lap, and starts looking at the little boxes.

—Dylan?

—Yeah.

—What ya gonna tell him?

I don’t know, so I just dial the number. It rings once.

—I thought we agreed to updates every twenty-four hours.

—Hi, Dylan.

—Did we not agree to that?

—Yes, and it’s not quite twenty-four.

—That’s cutting it very fine, Hank, very fine indeed.

—Sorry.

—No, no, you’re right. We said every twenty-four hours from nine PM pacific. You’re right. So what have you got for me?

—Not much.

—OK, well, that’s fair, but this is supposed to be a progress report so why don’t you tell me what progress you’ve made.

—Well, I haven’t been captured.

—OK, sarcasm aside, that is progress. What about my money, Hank? Any progress there?

T is trying to juggle three of the little colored boxes from Tim’s stash.

—I haven’t been captured.

Pause.

—Yes, we covered that.

Pause.

—You haven’t asked about your parents, Hank.

Pause.

—How are my parents?

—Have you been watching the news?

—Yes.

—Then you may have seen that they were released from custody and taken to an undisclosed location.

—Yes.

—Well, you’ll be happy to know that they are staying at the Days Inn at the Los Banos rest stop. I’m told by my employees that the security at a Days Inn is somewhat