Page 8 of A Week Away
“Are you some kind of doctor?” Melvin asked.
“It’s a personal emergency,” I said. “You know the party isn’t seventies themed?”
“I’m going to kill Junior.”
“I’m scared to ask what that is,” I said, indicating the casserole.
“Velveeta surprise,” John said. Then to Melvin, “Maybe we should put it in the car.”
“You drove?” I asked. The house we rented to him and Junior was within walking distance.
“We were at Melvin’s.”
And then Cass was back with his backpack slung over one shoulder. Immediately, John was curious. “And who is this?”
“We have to go,” I said. “Enjoy the party. And if Ronnie seems upset, tell him I’m going to call him in a couple hours. Thanks.”
And then I pushed Cass down the street toward my Jeep. My 1994 Wrangler was half a block down 1st Street. Most of the Jeep was Forest Green. I’d been sideswiped, so pretty much everything on the left side had been repainted. It had looked perfect when I picked it up, but a month later it had settled into a darker green than the rest of the vehicle. Ronnie kept telling me to take it back and complain.
Of course, I didn’t have my keys. They were sitting in a bowl on the bedroom dresser upstairs. I walked around to the passenger side and reached under, directly below the word JEEP. I felt around until I found the magnetic key box. Most people keep them in a wheel well. I felt like this was the kind of thing that required a bit of originality. I popped it open and there was my spare key. We were set to go.
Once inside, I said, “You realize this is somewhere between blackmail and kidnapping.”
“Do you want to call the cops?”
I did not.
CHAPTERTHREE
September 13, 1996
Still later
Even though it was a Friday night, freeway traffic was light and we made it to the airport about nine-twenty. Cass had fallen asleep before we got to the 710. Not surprising. It was around midnight in Michigan and I had the impression he’d gotten up very early that morning. At the airport, I parked in long-term parking, Lot B, and woke him up so we could catch the shuttle.
It showed up a few minutes after we got to the stop. I made a mental note that my car was somewhere around the C6 marker. Since I had no idea what airline we should take, I asked the driver. “We want to fly to Reno, any idea which airline we should take?”
She was a nice Black lady who looked at me with amusement and said, “How about Reno Air? Terminal 4.”
“That’ll work. Thanks.”
Cass looked groggy, but I felt like I should make conversation. “Have you flown a lot?”
“Yeah. My mom used to take me places.”
He was a more experienced traveler than I was then. I’d only flown a couple of times, once to Vegas and another time back to Detroit to check out Dom Reilly. I wasn’t what you’d call a traveler. When I lived in Chicago there didn’t seem much point, everything was there. Yeah, some people have to get away from the winter, but I was always fine with it. And Ronnie’s not much of a traveler, either. We’ve been to Palm Springs, Rosarito and Santa Barbara together. The second two were only because we were loaned vacation houses by his clients. He was not the sort to spend thousands of dollars on anything that wasn’t either tax deductible or likely to return his investment twofold.
We reached terminal 4 and found the Reno Air ticket counter. There was a flight at 10:10 we could just make. After she sold us the tickets and took our names, the girl said, “Father and son? I can see the resemblance.”
“Adopted,” Cass said, which saved me from telling her she needed to have her glasses checked.
“Well… people grow together. No luggage?”
Fortunately, there wasn’t much of a line at security. Unfortunately, when I walked through the scanner it went off. I wasn’t surprised. I had a lot of hardware holding my shoulder blade together. I explained this to the security guard as he ran a wand over me. Since the wand went off exactly where I said it would he let me through.
Of course the gate was at the far end of the terminal so we had to run most of the way. We made it onto the flight just before they closed the door. Our seats were 14A and 14B. There were probably twenty-some rows, two one side, three on the other. The plane was less than a quarter full. Which I guess was not a surprise. If you wanted to go to Reno for the weekend you’d have left hours ago.
I was getting edgy, not about flying but about Ronnie. I’d hoped there would be time to call him before we left. The flight was going to be around an hour and a half. That meant I wouldn’t be able to call him until close to midnight. I told myself the party would still be going so I should just relax. Plus, there wasn’t anything I could do about it.
