Page 180 of Avenging Angel

I looked, and Mr. Bad Mood was making a lewd gesture with his fingers curled around and pumping toward his groin.

“He doesn’t like us much,” Luna answered.

“Why?” Jessie asked as we folded into the car.

“Because he’s got a shit job and probably a shit life, and instead of finding a way to better it, he’s sitting behind the desk at reception in a crappy motel in a crappy part of town, getting his jollies pretending to jack off in front of a bunch of women,” I said.

“I guess that explains that,” Harlow muttered.

Luna pulled out of the spot, and we motored.

* * *

We switched out cars,and since Jessie took us to the Mercedes in her Prius, she took us back to the Oasis.

We all saw the paint job on the east side of the building that faced Seventh, and it had a new addition that day.

It wasn’t done, but it looked like it was going to be some kind of mural, which made me all kinds of happy. Phoenix was a city that had some crazy-cool murals.

“I hope I get off the waiting list soon,” Jessie said.

“Me too,” Harlow added.

Luna was grinning to herself.

She dropped them when she’d pulled just inside the entrance because they’d had to park on the street, and we idled until they got in their cars, their headlights came on, and they pulled away.

Then she inched up to the security gate and stopped again.

Cap’s Porsche was in one of the visitor spots.

“I’ll do the emailing again,” Luna said. “Cops need to know they’re looking for this Jumper character, first name Guy. Not Jazz, who they probably have no idea who that dude is.” She paused a second, then said, “If this is what we think it is, we gotta think about getting out.”

“We gotta think about getting out,” I agreed, wondering how I’d feel about dismantling my wall, something I’d been nurturing and staring at for a year. And thinking I wouldn’t mind doing it, but I wouldn’t actually do it until they’d found those women.

“They did good,” she noted, referring to Jessie and Harlow.

“They did,” I agreed.

“Even Harlow,” she remarked.

Yeah, this was a surprise.

A cheerleader doing amateur sleuth work in the underbelly of Phoenix didn’t seem like it’d be a thing.

But…surprise!

She didn’t even try to befriend any of the sex workers or ask them wig stabilization strategies.

“What do you think about Sergio?” she queried.

“Since we’re never revisiting The Slide, I hope to never see Sergio again,” I told her.

“Copy that. Are you gonna get another wild hair?” she asked.

She liked doing this.

“I don’t know, are you?” I asked back.

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