Hot Lava (25 page)

***

We made it back to the hotel, miraculously in one piece. All things considered, maybe God really was watching out for us, seeing as we were the only ones still alive.

Well, us and Jed, at any rate.

But one problem at a time.

Back in our rooms, we got out of our girl drag and back into our boy stuff. Then we picked up an early dinner at the hotel pool bar and camped ourselves out on the beach. The hornets’ nest was already riled up and now emptied; we could, it seemed, work at our own pace, finally.

So we ate and formulated our plan, watching the tourists stroll by, blissfully unaware of the turmoil all around them -- well, around us, anyway. Soon enough, the sun started getting ready for bed, turning the sky a glorious red and the ocean a sparkling orange. “Forget that retiring here crap,” I announced. “Oahu’s a nice place to visit, but no fucking way am I moving here.”

“Hell,” added Brandon, “it’s not even all that nice. I mean, we have the same sun and the same ocean back home. And there, no one’s trying to kill us or hire us as hookers.”

We raised our glasses to the setting sun. “To no more tricking,” I toasted.

“At least not for money,” amended Brandon.

“Hear, hear,” Briana seconded, our group readily repeating my toast. And then we were off and running again, out of the hotel, across the street, and down the block.

The Marketplace was jammed with tourists, hundreds of them sauntering this way and that, all in search of crap to buy for their friends and family. We, however, were not there to shop. Not this time. (I know, it was killing me, too.)

Luckily, the area was well-lit. The five of us crouched down, ringing the fish-laden pond, pretending to admire them as they swam to and fro. In reality, we were nonchalantly (as possible) running our fingers along the inner wall and thankfully shallow bottom. With the pond being relatively small, our search was over soon after it had begun.

“Found it,” I whispered to my comrades, yanking up a loose stone, clearly one that didn’t look like the others. They smiled, stood, and we quickly vacated the premises, opting for a more discreet location, namely our hotel room.

We all jumped on the bed and threw the rock in the center. It bounced, as did my heart. Will lifted it up and gave it a shake. “Hollow,” he informed us. “And something’s rattling around inside.” He turned it over in his hand, finding the well-concealed latch in just a few seconds’ time. Holding our collective breath, we watched as he pried it open. The rock wasn’t waterproofed; it didn’t need to be, though, as the singular container inside clearly was.

“It’s a CD case,” Koni said. “Taped up to keep the CD dry.”

Will removed the protective tape and then the CD from inside. It was all silver, no writing on the outside. He hopped up and walked to the player beneath the TV. He turned both on, and we listened as the
whir
of the spinning disc filled our ears.

A menu popped up on the screen. A long roster of names. Yamasuka was listed three times. “Is this what I think it is?” I asked expectantly.

Will scrolled down and played one of Yamasuka’s listings. We waited while the recording played and then laughed good and hard. “Yep,” replied Will. “Guess Liko was smart enough to not only listen to the conversations in his limo but also record them. This would’ve been ideal at the trial. Even if it was somehow inadmissible, the evidence on this would give the authorities plenty of leads to go on.”

“Except there won’t be a trial,” I reminded him. “No more Mister Yamasuka.”

“True,” Will agreed. “But it doesn’t much matter. I’m sure enough people are implicated on this CD for dozens of trials yet to come. Besides, for all intents and purposes, we’re only after three people now. Three people who won’t know what hit them.”

“Or whom,” Briana reminded him.

“Or whom,” he echoed. “Thank goodness for that.”

***

Now all we had to do was wait for the inevitable call. That, of course, was why it was so good to have a federal agent on our side. I mean, really, I couldn’t give Jed our own cell phone numbers. He’d have found us for sure then. And by us I don’t mean Judy and Liza, I mean Brandon and Chase. And that was a definite no-no. So, what did I give Jed if not our real phone numbers?

Ah, bravo for quick thinking. You see, when I’d lost my job and our office was closed, the lines were shut down, mine and the main number, plus a whole bunch of others. In other words, I knew of at least two numbers that were recently disconnected. All Will had to do was make a quick call to his office and those lines were switched back on and transferred to our cells. Even if the numbers were now traceable, they weren’t, thankfully, traceable to us.

Like I said, quick thinking on my part -- but, please, don’t get accustomed to it. Just dumb luck. Literally.

In any case, Jed wasted no time in finding us work, which we were now counting on. No work, after all, meant no plan to put into action. Lucky for us, he called first thing the next morning.

“Judy,” he said, smooth as silk, having tried me first. “It’s Jed. I have a job for you and Liza. Bachelor party up north. Big bucks.”

“That’s great,” I told him, trying to keep my rattled nerves in check. “Only we don’t drive. Liko usually drove us to our gigs.”

He laughed, that same, sinister laugh I’d grown to detest. “Well, I ain’t Liko. But I do make exceptions for bachelor parties. I bring the girls to those. Let the customers know they need to treat my ladies with respect. Plus, for the really big money, I go up and get it in advance. No offense, just good business.”

“None taken. When can we expect you?” I asked.

“Tonight at seven,” he informed me, arranging to pick us up just up the street from our hotel.

“Seven it is,” I told him. “See you then.” I hung up and smiled at my team. “Perfect,” I said. “Now Will has to get everything set up before tonight’s rendezvous.”

Will, of course, was already working on it.

And so was Brandon, fixing us all large, strong cocktails -- that is to say, well-deserved, much-needed, large, strong cocktails.

Ten minutes later, Will snapped his phone shut and looked over at us with a grin and a thumbs up. “All in place. Few questions asked. When the feds demand an unmarked car, it’s given to them. Cool job perk, huh?”

And that meant, at long, long, long last, we had a day to, pardon the expression,
kill
. No scheming, no hiding out, no getting dragged up (at least not yet), and no rescues. Just the five of us on the beach, the sun baking us to a golden brown while we sipped our tropical drinks and relaxed. Well, tried to relax, anyway. We still had the evening to contend with. But if the plan went as, well, planned, everything would unfold without directly implicating us or putting us in harm’s way. Because whatever we did from here on out, none of us could be tied to it. Protecting Koni, who could easily be traced back to us, just as Buck had been, was now paramount.

So we ate, we drank (duh), we cruised guys (also duh), and tried to forget what lay ahead -- oh, which also meant me and Brandon popped a good number of pretty blue pills (one final duh).

Then, before we knew it we were gussied up in our trampiest, yet surprisingly expensive, outfits, waiting patiently on a street corner for our pimp. (I know, I know. Even to me that sounded God-awful. What on earth would I tell my mother when she asked what we did on our vacation? Then again, I prayed we’d get back from our vacation in one piece so we could tell her whatever lies we dreamed up. Not to mention we had a suitcase full of crap we now had to distribute.)

Jed pulled up as promised, honked the horn, and waved for us to get in. And, no, he didn’t run around the car to open the door for us
ladies
. (I know, shock, right?) We hopped in back. Brief hellos were offered, but beyond that, no idle chatter, no small talk except how much he was charging, what we’d be making (and damn if it wasn’t a bundle that we’d never see), and what time he’d be picking us back up.

For our part, we simply nodded and held hands for support.

Ten minutes later, we heard the siren and saw the red and blue lights reflecting off the windows.

“Fuck,” Jed cursed, slamming his fist on the steering wheel.

“Yeah, fuck,” we agreed, for effect.

We waited, and then Will appeared, wearing our blond wig, now cut for a man. He also had on a hat and a pair of sunglasses, despite the fact that it was nighttime. He flashed his badge, but only for a second or two. Didn’t really matter, though, as Jed was pissed off and just wanted to get the hell out of there.

“What’s wrong, officer? I wasn’t speeding,” Jed told him.

“License and registration,” came the standard response.

Jed sighed and reached into the glove compartment and handed over the requisite paperwork. Then he took the wallet out of his back pocket. We sucked in our breaths, knowing that this would be the only tricky part. “I’ll take the whole wallet, sir,” Will informed him.

“Why’s that, officer?” Jed asked, staring up directly into the beam of a flashlight that Will had wisely purchased at the nearest ABC Store.

“New protocol, sir.”

Again Jed sighed, but did as he was told. Not too wise, I guess he figured, for a pimp/murderer to argue with a cop.

Will took the wallet and returned to his car with it. Five minutes later, also for effect, he gave it back to Jed. Now we had the folded list back in out possession, the one no longer in Jed’s wallet. “Thank you, sir. Just a random check. All clear. Have a good evening.” He didn’t wait for a response; he just walked back to his car, flashing us a discreet nod as he went by.

I squeezed Brandon’s hand and he squeezed mine back. All systems go. We could now continue as planned.

The car pulled away. Will, we knew, was following a few car lengths behind. A short while later, we arrived. Now, I’d never been to a bachelor party before, although I had seen the movie with Tom Hanks. Did this prepare me for what we were about to witness?

Oh, hell no. Not even remotely close.

We pulled up to a condo complex. All seemed quiet on the western front (mainly due to the fact that the party was in full swing on the eastern one). Jed got out first and told us to sit tight. In truth, we were already frozen on the spot. Hooking with a middle-aged Japanese businessman was one thing (albeit one big thing), but what about dancing (etc.) for an entire room of straight men (while in drag, no less)? Even for Brandon this was a new experience. And, trust me, that’s saying something.

Minutes later, Jed returned and we got out of the car. “Big fucking party,” he told us, offering no more than that.

“How big?” I asked, forcing down a gulp.

“Big big. But I told the boys to behave. Or else.” He flashed a concealed gun, which, of course, would do us little to no good, seeing as Jed would be driving off in a minute or so. “Just stay in a corner. Flirt. Dance. Strip. I’ll be back to pick you up in exactly two hours. Here’s my emergency cell number in case there’s any trouble.” He handed us a card and quickly got in the car.

“Um,” I ummed. “What kind of trouble are we talking about here?”

He shrugged. “Usual stuff. Boys will be boys.” He didn’t elucidate any further; instead, he drove off.

“Boys will be boys,” I said to Brandon/Liza.

“Except when they’re dressed like girls,” he needlessly reminded me.

We started walking, hearing the party long before we witnessed it. “Will better get here just after flirt and dance,” Brandon groaned.

“Yeah,” I agreed, trudging up the stairs. “
Beaten to a pulp
doesn’t flow too well on our monosyllabic list.”

We didn’t knock; there would’ve been little point. We simply walked in, our ears immediately assaulted by the sound of heavy metal music, our sensitive noses drowning in the stink of sweat and beer and nacho cheese dip, and then two seconds of crowd silence as fifty heads turned our way, followed immediately thereafter by, “Whores!” And then, of course, the usual chanting and air fist pounding. “Whores! Whores! Whores!”

I suppose they meant this in a complimentary way. You know, just glad to see us. They did look like fine, decent young men, after all. Well, at least the two who weren’t bleary eyed and/or chugging from a beer funnel. Just the same, it was hard to smile and nod. Harder still to find a protective corner to stand in. Jed had neglected to tell us that one corner was used for the kegs, plural, and that all the furniture was piled in the other three. Meaning, we were front and center.

“Flirt, dance,” I managed out of the corner of my mouth, moving my arms and legs as best I could to the barely-there rhythm.

“Flirt, dance,” Brandon repeated, nodding and winking to the throng.

Sadly -- for us, I mean -- the throng in question was yelling “Strip!” within seconds.

“Not good!” I shouted into Brandon’s ear.

“No!” he shouted back, shaking his head. “But I have an idea!”

“Hurry!” I hollered, though the sound of my voice could scarcely be heard above the din.

He held up his hand. I did the same. There was a brief lapse in the clamoring for our clothes. “Where. Is. The. Bathroom?” Brandon yelled, slowly and distinctly. “We. Need. To. Change!”

The bathroom was pointed to and the crowd parted just enough to let us go by -- with only a modicum of groping. Three minutes later, we were in the bathroom, the door shut behind us and instantly locked.

“Now what do we do?” I asked. “I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”

He punched me in the arm. “Idiot. Now we wait for Will to come and rescue us.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I forgot. Temporary insanity. Must be all the friggin’ testosterone in this place.”

And the purveyors of that testosterone were none too happy with our sudden and prolonged disappearance. Between the pounding on the door and the pounding of my heart, it was a wonder I didn’t go deaf. I tried calling Will, but couldn’t get a signal. If the door didn’t hold, I was sure we’d be torn to pieces. Sad, because we were wearing designer threads.

“Wait!” I shouted to the masses on the other side. “We’ll be right out.”