The Fourth Stall - Chris Rylander [71]
Tyrell just shrugged. “Just testing some things out,” he said. “What do you need?”
“Well, I was wondering if you’d be willing to accept another assignment from me.”
He nodded but said nothing.
“Unfortunately . . .” I started, but had to stop. I could have sworn the bush behind Tyrell had just moved a few feet. I stared at it a moment longer but it was still. “Anyways, like I was saying, I can’t pay you right now. My money has been stolen. I will try to pay you eventually, but right now—”
“Mac,” Tyrell said with his hands up. “It’s all right; you don’t have to explain anything to me. I know you’re good for it. Besides, I like the challenges you present. They are like no other.”
“Thanks, Tyrell. You’re a pal, you know that?”
“I am what I want to be. Nothing more, nothing less.”
I smirked at this, while once again trying to ignore the fact that the bush seemed to be several feet closer than it had been just a few moments before.
“Anyways, I’d like for you to case a joint for me. Stake it out all day today and call me as soon as the coast is clear. And bring some of your tools. Hopefully we’ll be doing a little B and E as well, if you know what I mean.”
Tyrell grinned. “I got just the stuff. What’s the address?”
“It’s . . .” I stopped again since this time the bush had definitely moved. Plus, there seemed to be a head-shaped bulge of leaves sticking out from the top of it. “What the . . .”
Tyrell turned around, glanced at the bush, and chuckled. “Oh, that. Don’t worry about that—that’s just my mom. She’s still got some things to learn about opportunities of undetected motion, a basic principle of Incognito Methodology.”
I shook my head and laughed again. After giving Tyrell Staples’s address, I started back toward my bike, making a mental note to see if Tyrell was in the market for a new best friend, being that I needed one myself.
Before I got to my bike, I tripped on a mound in the grass and nearly fell.
“Ow!” the grass said. “Watch where you’re going.”
I turned around to see a head pop up from the ground. It was covered in grass, but it was clearly human. And clearly annoyed with me. I could now see a whole person was lying on the grass wearing some kind of full body grass suit.
“Sorry, that’s just my sister,” Tyrell called out from the tree he was once again perched in.
I shook my head and threw a quick wave at the branch that I thought was Tyrell. I got back on my bike and pedaled for home, perhaps a little faster than I had on the way there. Sure, they’re a funny family, and I have to give them credit for making me laugh at the darkest point in my whole life. But they still gave me the creeps a little bit.
Tyrell called me later that afternoon.
“Mac, he’s gone. PJ and a few girls showed up and they all left together in one car with a few coolers. I don’t think they’ll be back for a while.”
“Nice work,” I said. “Wait there. I’ll be down as soon as I can.”
Staples’s house wasn’t too far from Vince’s, but I took an alternate route to make sure I stayed well clear of that liar’s pit of deception. I never wanted to see his trailer again. It took me about twenty minutes to get to Staples’s address.
The house at his address wasn’t really much of a house at all. It was small and white with old, chipped paint. Half of the porch was partially caved in. The red sports car that had almost killed me sat in the driveway, soaking up the sun like it was trying to get a nice tan.
It was a little nerve-racking to be in this neighborhood by myself. I looked around for Tyrell and didn’t see any sign of him. I walked my bike to the trash cans near the curb and that’s when a head poked up from the trash.
“Hey, Mac,” Tyrell said.
I nodded at him, this time not really all that surprised he had been staking out the place disguised as garbage. He climbed out of the garbage can and took off a plastic trash bag he’d been wearing. Underneath he wore black pants and a dark blue shirt and those rubber purple gloves I’ve seen doctors and nurses sometimes wearing at hospitals. He handed me a pair and I put them