Page 140 of Devil and the Deep Blue Fish

Right over the faded lane lines, and then back into what would be oncoming traffic if anybody was in that lane, and then into the lane lines again, and into imaginary traffic. After they wandered past the distant hull of the Macy’s building, Jackson started to offer mild commentary.

“Okay, so we’re taking out cars here. Yup. That was a car. And another car. And another car.”

“Ohshit!” Randy stomped on the brake, and they all were flung forward, hard enough to leave bruises. “Are you sure?”

Jackson grunted and remembered that promise not to yell. Poor Dex. He’d only wanted to avoid a manslaughter charge, that was all.

“They’re imaginary cars, Randy,” he said, his voice remarkably even. “Pretend they’re giant penis cars, like Trump trucks or something. Get it out of your system. You’re wandering into the oncoming lane—you got any grudges you want to take out? Who are we plowing over as we drive?”

“Jackson!” Randy protested, obviously distraught, “I don’t want tohurtanybody! That’shorrible!”

From the corner of his eye Jackson saw Henry put his hand on his heart, and he nodded. Too sweet for words. Too dumb to function. It was alethalcombination.

“Okay, then, so just Trump trucks? We’ll pretend they’re empty.”

“Heh heh heh,yes,” Randy said. “You tell me when I’m taking them out.”

“Sure,” Jackson said, and then, “Take your foot off the brake and put it gently on the gas.”

“Oh!” Randy remembered he’d been stepping on the brake, let it go, and this time their acceleration was a little smoother.

“Good,” Jackson said, his voice still soothing. “And that’s a Trump truck, and there’s another, and there’s another.”

“Shit,” Randy said, overcorrecting.

“And there’s one in front of us, ’cause it’s an oncoming lane,” Jackson reminded him.

“Shit!” This time the overcorrection was a little less dire.

“And that’s a car, and that’s a car, and hey,” Jackson said, as he neared a stop sign, “that’s a whole family, Randy, because that was an intersection.”

“Shit!”

And they started again. By the time an hour had passed, they’d made four tortuously slow loops around the mall, and while Randy wasn’t ready for the road yet, they hadn’t gone over any curbs, and he’d stopped taking out imaginary families at vacant intersections, so that was something.

After their third trip around, as they passed the back of JCPenney again, Henry spoke up from the back.

“Jackson,” he said slowly, “remember that case we’re working on?”

“Shoplifting?” Jackson asked. “Randy, that was an entire fleet of trucks. I know you can drive on the right side of the road.”

“Sorry, Jackson,” Randy said, then thrust his tongue out between his lips and resumed driving.

“Yup. Remember our client’s defense?”

“That two women dressed like Jersey Shore rejects walked out with—oh holy fuck,” Jackson muttered. “Randy, stop. Henry’s got to jump out of the minivan and take some pictures.”

“Yahtzee!” Henry muttered. “I didn’t even know the mall was open!”

“The parking lot here has been filling up,” Jackson admitted, checking out the two women with big sprayed hair, tight T-shirts in the cold gray day, and sparkly sunglass frames. “It’s getting to be time to go back. Go flirt with those two dumb broads and get some shots of what’s in their bags. We’ll be around in time to get you as you run away.”

“Oh my God!” Henry cackled. “This is amazing!” He paused. “Do you think you’ll be back before they get me?”

“Yeah, run through the mall and come out on the first entrance on the Sunrise side. I swear we’ll be there.”

“Sweet!”

And then Henry flung the door open and trotted out. They were far enough away that the objects of his camera phone hadn’t spotted him yet, and Jackson said, “Put the car into Park, Randy—be sure to step on the b?”

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