Page 45 of Switchin' Lanes
“Tell us everything you know,” Diesel says.
“We owe Carlos about twenty-five hundred dollars. We were supposed to pay him a couple weeks ago, but we ran instead,” Andy explains. “Apparently, he came by here earlier today, told Kara if we don’t pay by tonight, we’re both dead.”
“Does he know Tink is your sister,” Diesel asks him.
“No, but if she came to visit, he could have figured it out.”
“Fuck!” I glance out the window. Diesel moves to my side, placing his hand on my shoulder.
“Do you know who Carlos works for,” he asks Andy.
He shakes his head. “We only ever saw him and he never mentioned anyone else.”
“Did he have any tattoos?” I turn to face him.
“One that was really memorable,” Andy says. “It was some sort of clown face on his forearm.”
Diesel and I lock eyes.
“The Torres Cartel,” we say at the same time.
“Son of a bitch,” Diesel mutters.
“I should have fuckin’ known that piece of shit had somethin’ to do with all this.” It’s a thought that slips out. Out of nowhere, the machines Andy is hooked up to start going crazy. Several nurses run into the room.
“What the fuck is happening?” I attempt to step out of their way.
“The two of you need to get out,” a nurse tells us. “Now!”
We hurry out of the room, running into Kicks and Kara.
“What the hell did you two do?” Kara yells at us, getting in my face. Diesel comes between us, knowing my fuse is too fucking short to deal with this bitch.
“Watch your fuckin’ tone.” He’s calm when he speaks to her. “We didn’t do anything. He was talkin’ to us, unlike you.”
“We gotta go,” I say to Kicks.
“What? You can’t just leave!” Kara begs.
“We have shit to take care of,” Kicks tells her.
“So some random bitch is more important than your own family?” Kara’s words make me snap. Diesel puts his hand on my chest, telling me to leave it.
“Tink is not some random bitch.” Kicks struggles to keep his cool. “Sheisfamily. She’s more like family to me than you’veeverbeen.”
With that, we walk out of the hospital. None of us looking back, done with those two druggies for good.
A couple of hours later, we’re hanging out in the main room of the clubhouse. I’m smoking a blunt to try to relax so I don’t get lost in my head. The clubhouse phone rings, which is weird, because that shit rarely rings. Carmine, a new cut bunny, answers the phone. I try to ignore her but something in my gut tells me I’m going to want to know who’s on the other end of that call.
