The Bobby Gold stories - Anthony Bourdain [37]
"I forgot to pack a bathing suit," said Nikki, from the passenger seat. "Does the music have to be up so loud?"
"Just this song," shouted Bobby. "Greatest album ever made. What do you need a bathing suit for? It's winter."
"The hotel. Maybe the hotel will have a pool."
"We ain't stayin' in no hotel, baby. Not this trip. People are angry with me. They want to kill me. We stay in a hotel we gotta use a credit card. We use a credit card and it shows up on my statement. Wrong person sees my statement? Bang Bang Dig Dig time."
"Shit! I thought at least there'd be a pool."
"You're the one wanted to break the law. You're the one wanted to be an outlaw. Welcome to the wild world of interstate flight."
Bobby's cell phone rang from inside his jacket. He slowed down slightly, reached, flipped it open and listened. It was Eddie.
"You've killed me," said Eddie, his voice thick with pills.
"How did I kill you?" said Bobby, annoyed.
"Threw me to the wolves. You left me out on a limb. I've got nobody. I've got nobody anybody's scared of."
"Buy yourself a pit bull. Hire a security guard. Do the Witness Protection thing. I don't give a fuck. I'm gone.
"You're with that bitch?"
Bobby flushed with anger, surprised at the question. "What the fuck you talking about?"
"That rotten bitch from the kitchen. She busted into the safe last night and took the fucking receipts, Bobby. That's the bitch I'm talking about. She with you?"
"I got to get back to you, Eddie," said Bobby. "Call you right back."
"Uh . . . sweetheart?"
"Yes," said Nikki.
"Have you been a bad girl? Is there something you're not telling me?"
"Well . . . depends by what you mean by 'something' . . ."
"How about this. Did you by any chance break into the club's safe last night?"
Nikki said nothing for a while as she considered her answer. A 16-wheeler blew by them on the highway followed by silence.
"I might have done something like that. I'm very mechanically inclined. My brother works in a machine shop."
"That's nice. That's very nice. And last night, when you and whoever helped you in this boneheaded fucking venture were taking stacks of money out of the safe. Did it occur to you, perhaps, whose money exactly it was you were absconding with?"
"Well . . . I guess we figured it was Eddie's."
"And who does Eddie owe money to do you think? Who do you think Eddie's partners are?"
"Some German asshole. I've seen him. He's always trying to fuck the waitresses."
"That's what we call in the business the 'straw owner,' cupcakes . . . That's what they call on television cop shows 'the front man.'"
"Uh-oh," said Nikki. "You're about to tell me whose money it really was, aren't you?"
"Yes. Yes I am," said Bobby.
A little while later they were crossing the Buzzard's Bay Bridge onto the Cape and Route 6. Bobby's phone went off again and he rolled down the window on the driver's side, hurled it out over the rail into blackness.
"Your phone's ringing," said Nikki.
"I know," said Bobby.
"This guy you mentioned is not a very nice man, I take it?" said Nikki.
"You could say that," said Bobby.
"I got nineteen thousand dollars," said Nikki. "Would he like, hunt us down and kill me for that?"
Bobby did a little quick math in his head, abandoning his equations after a few seconds.
"Well . . . let's just say he's not exactly going to be looking for his money back. It'll cost him half the nineteen by the time he finds us. Thing is, with Tommy, guys like Tommy? It's the principle of the thing, you see. That's the problem."
"So, I kind of got us in trouble, didn't I? And we were already in trouble."
"I was in trouble. Before? Before you could have dodged out anytime you got tired of chowder and grinders and cold nights. Now you got a problem too."
"Bummer."
"Will they know where to look?"
"Eddie'll