VOGEL TECHNOLOGIES, November 12
The midnight silence of the Vogel trailer park was cut by the muffled ping ping ping of stolen pliers snipping through chain-links. A roguishly handsome thief peeled back a section of fence. He stalked the rows of flimsy-ass trailers, searching for the Trailer of Destiny.
A swift kick, and the trailer door flew back on rusty hinges, the mangled bolt-locks left hanging on their screws. The sexy intruder flicked at a swinging lock, sending it spinning. He didn't have to; he was just fucking cool like that.
The thief, a scrappy Boricua with a heart of gold and a dick like a sequoia, stepped into the cluttered interior of the shoebox of a trailer and began a methodical search.
Heart of gold?
OK, so my mantasy reveries were way better when they featured Dante, not my own heartless treacherous burglarizing ass. But I didn't need a heart where I was going: to Riyadh to murder her, and then, to an eternity with the Demon.
I rifled through kitchen drawers, a cookie jar with a chipped lid, a rancid pizza box on the counter. Nothing.
The bathroom cabinet, the bed's lumpy mattress, the holey pockets of Robby's clothes. Nothing.
Where did he put his thousand dollars? Stupid motherfucker was probably terrible with money; maybe he'd already spent it.
Hurling cushions over my shoulder, I dug hungry fingers around the edges of the sofa. Nothing but handfuls of desiccated Cheetos, coins, and old shreds of kleenex emerged as I delved. No fucking money.
With minutes to go until a midnight Vogel security patrol passed, I sat on the bare springs of the creaking sofa wracking my brain-mush. Where would Robby keep a thousand dollars?
At that moment my phone flashlight decided to betray me by illuminating a framed photograph on the coffee table. A pretty Asian woman looked back at me from the photo. Jing, I guessed. She wore the biggest smile and was holding a newborn baby-bundle, nothing but a wisp of black hair swaddled in a blanket. Jade.
I couldn't tear my eyes away. Jing looked so happy. How could Robby's entire universe fit into a little photo?
Still, I needed that thousand dollars.
The fucking photo kept calling me, derailing my thoughts. I couldn't help but swivel my eyes back to Jing's smile, the tufts of baby-hair, the tiniest brown hand peeking outta the blanket.
Fuck.
I snatched up my phone and dialed. It went to voicemail. I dialed again.
"Jay?" Robby screamed over distorted power chords and the screech of a banshee. Band practice with Black Dahlia seemed to be going well.
"Hey, acho. I stopped by and...someone's broken into your trailer. Looks like nothing's been taken, but you better get over here."
"Fuck! Good timing, Jay! You musta scared the thieving assholes. Thanks, man! How the fuck did they get past Vogel security? Did anyone else's trailer get burglarized?"
"No idea. I gotta go." My fingers hovered over the red icon on my phone screen, praying that he wouldn't ask.
"Wait a second, Jay."
Double-fuck. Of course he'd ask.
"Why are you at my place at midnight?"
No excuses came to mind. Except that one. And no way was I gonna stoop to that. No way. No fucking way.
Fuck my dumpster fire of a life.
"I just, you know," I cringed into the stained armrest of the sofa, "wondered if you were horny."
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