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—Asshole! You are such an asshole!

Harris shoved him down into the space between the wall and the bed.

—Just sit your ass there and shut the hell up, jackass. Fact is, you're lucky to have this guy lookin' out that you don't bite off more than you can chew. But you keep openin' your mouth to take a bite and I'm gonna smash all your teeth out. You hear me?

Jaime gave me a stare.

—Yeah, I hear you.

—Good.

Harris turned to me.

—So. Just remains a large detail to be settled.

He came over, close by.

—Like where's my can?

I shook my head.

—I don't have it.

Mr. Big Ten Four took off his hat and slapped his thigh.

—Cocksucker!

Harris pointed at something behind me.

—See what's over there?

I took a look and saw the room phone.

—Yeah. I see it.

—Want to tell me a little more?

I nodded.

—Yes, I do.

I took the envelope from the back of my jeans, unzipped it and pulled out the papers.

—It is signed sealed and delivered and waiting for someone to pick it up.

He took the papers from me, looked them over, spoke as he did so.

—A man of less faith than my own might suspect this was a setup.

He looked up from the papers.

—Any reason you didn't just bring the almonds right here?

—Other than we weren't able to get a truck and a driver? No.

—Could have hired a driver. They're all over the damn place here.

I looked at Jaime.

—Thanks again, rocket scientist.

He balled his fists, but broke with tradition and kept his mouth shut.

I looked back at Harris.

—This is what happens when you depend on the weak-minded for professional counsel.

—Sure, but what say you go out to one of the bars around here, hire yourself some out of work and in-need long-hauler, and go fetch that can for me? Just drive out there and hitch up and bring it back.

I rubbed my forehead.

—Man, I, man, just, OK, look, look, I would not know where to begin with that shit. I mean, this?

I held my arms out.

—Guns? Assholes like Jaime there? Guys like you two? Kidnappings? Things like what went down with Talbot in my kitchen? That's all well outside my experience. I'm not the kind of guy walks into a trucker bar and hires a driver to take a load of hot almonds off a dock.

—Seems you're improvising pretty well so far.

I clapped my hands three times.

—Well, thanks! I appreciate the vote of confidence. And I'm not saying I couldn't manage, I'm just saying that by the time I have that shit taken care of, that terminal could be locked down for the night. Yeah? Whereas, your boy here can zip over there right now and be in and out and we can all go the fuck home.

Harris gave it a little contemplation.

Mr. Big Ten Four on the other hand, who was turning out to be a bit sharper than the stereotype led me to expect, had more observations to offer.

—He's talking pretty goddamn fast, you ask me.

Harris dragged a thumbnail down one of those long creases in his cheek.

—Watch the Lord's name there.

—Sorry.

—But you are right, he's chattering a little fast. Little fast.

I wagged my head.

—Talking a little fast? Man, you are lucky you can put together a thing I'm saying. You're lucky I'm talking in a pitch audible to human ears. Talking a little fast? I'm not just talking a little fast, I'm simultaneously pissing and shitting my pants out of fear. I'm on the extreme edge of losing all cool and just falling apart. I have no fucking clue what I'm doing here and I am borderlining as we speak. I, man, I clean shit for a living! Before that, before a couple days ago, I slacked for a living. Before that, I was, man, I was, I was, I was a fucking elementary school teacher! I am out of my depth and beyond my ken! You think this is a setup? Man, this is nothing. This is me trying to dogpaddle. This is me trying to keep my head out of the water.

I dropped onto the bed, my arms hanging, my head down, I breathed.

—Man.

I looked up.

—This is me just trying to keep everyone alive. That's all I want here. I just want everyone, not just me and the girl, not just retard