Tuna Tango (11 page)

“You OK?” Will asked, not knowing what else to say. Talking to girls in bars was not in his wheelhouse, especially this one, who had ties to George. He took another sip of his beer and looked away.

“Yeah, thanks for asking.” Her accent sounded Russian, though he couldn’t place it for sure. 

The bartender was back, and set the wine glass down on the bar. He looked at Will as if he knew that he would be paying. Will nodded toward him and he walked away.

“Thanks. My name is Jazmyn,” she said as she took a tentative sip and then downed half the glass.

He looked at her, knowing it was an alias, but enjoying the sound of it all the same. “Where’s George?” he asked, glancing again at the door.

“Gregori? We got in a fight. He threw me out of the truck in front of this place. I don’t have my money, ID, or anything.” She started to sob again.

He glanced at her, not doubting that she had no money or ID; there was no place to put it. Her T-shirt and shorts were both low cut and tight. There was no room for any extraneous objects. Able to relax slightly, not having to worry about George barging through the door at any moment, he thought of another problem: He had no idea what to do. As if on cue, she took over the conversation.

“That bastard. I am done with him.” She gulped the rest of the wine and looked at him.

He knew she wanted another. And then she stared at him. His other head took over, and he started to rationalize. A couple more glasses of wine and maybe she would give him some information about George—maybe something he could use to get Kyle back. He signaled to the bartender, knowing he was lying to himself, but unable to stop.

A fresh glass in front of her, she slid into the vacant seat between them. What now? His mind couldn’t help jumping to places he knew it shouldn’t be going. Sheryl was nowhere in his thoughts as he visualized them both on his sailboat. 

He tried to concentrate as they made small talk, but couldn’t get the image out if his mind. 

***

Dick sat in the car and waited for his nerves to settle. He glanced at the pot left in the baggie and did some quick calculations. It didn’t take long, and soon he was scooping the rest of the weed into the indentation he had made in the soda can and lighting it. 

The smoke filled the small car as he exhaled. When the cloud finally cleared, after he had recycled as much of the smoke as possible, he realized he had just added to his problems. Without a supply of weed, he couldn’t function. How was he going to get Kyle back and raise the rest of Rucker's cash when he was on edge? 

Will was working the beach angle, and he didn’t think there was much he could do on that front, besides get in the way. He had said he was not going to the police, but Dick couldn’t be sure of that. With a handful of bench warrants out for him, he couldn’t take the chance of them running his name. 

May as well go back to Tampa, check out who was at the bar, and try and score some weed. If Will did get the authorities involved, he would at least be in another jurisdiction. Maybe that would give Will some time to find Kyle. He started the car and pulled out of the lot, noticing the gas gauge had less than an eighth of a tank left as he waited for a gap in the traffic.

With enough of a buzz to hold him, the twenty-minute drive to Ybor City went quickly. The street was quiet, and he pulled into a space in front of the bar. It was close to last call as he walked into the club and glanced over at the two barstools he and Kyle had been sitting on only hours earlier. The bar was crowded, mostly with regulars and employees hanging out on their night off. He scanned the crowd, hoping to see one or two friendly faces who might front him a bag until the weekend, but his glance stopped on Sheryl, who was sitting alone in a booth at the end of the room. 

With nothing to lose, he walked over and looked at her.

“Hey, Dick.”

“Hey,” he stalled. “Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Sure. Get a beer and put it on my tab if you want. It’s about last call. Get me one too.”

She was slurring slightly, but he was not going to pass on a free beer. He went to the bar and came back to the table with two longnecks in hand, he stood awkwardly, waiting for an invitation to sit.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Sit down.”

Dick looked around, wondering why she was sitting alone, then remembered that the club owner had been hitting on her before. 

She must have read his mind. “He’s upstairs, cashing out a couple of waitresses. Probably won’t be down for a while. Go ahead and sit.”

He slid into the booth and passed her one of the beers, drinking deeply from his. His courage as high as it was going to get, he sat upright. “Will said maybe you could lend me some cash. Maybe ‘till Friday.”

She looked at him. “You know we broke up, right? I don’t know what he’s got going on over there. Buying sailboats and whatever.”

Dick clenched his jaw and looked around the bar again. She was his only chance. “OK. Never mind Will. How about fifty bucks ‘til Friday? I’ll pay you from the tips that night. Promise.” He waited.

“I’ll lend you the cash if you tell me what you were about to say earlier.”

He gave her a questioning look.

“You know. When you saw me with the club owner. I could tell by the look on your face that you knew something. I haven’t been around here that long, and he seems nice.”

Dick was unsure how to continue. He couldn’t afford to lose his job, but seeing Sheryl with the dickhead was too much for him. “Dude’s a prick. Me and Kyle call him the dickhead. He picks up these girls and I don’t know what happens, but some of them come back looking for him. Mad like shit.”

She looked at her beer. “I guess I was hoping for the best, but I kind of had a feeling.” She sucked down the rest of her beer. “I’ll tell you what, you give me a ride home and I’ll lend you the money.”

Dick didn’t need to be asked twice. He slammed the beer down and got up.

She must have caught his drift. “Let’s get out of here before he comes back down. I didn’t promise anything.” 

“Don’t worry,” Dick said as he looked down the bar, at the half a dozen girls that might interest him, hoping this would not cost her job.

Chapter 12

Will knew he had to get his head on straight. The girl had gone to the bathroom, and he likely had a few minutes to get his head organized. Finding Kyle was the reason he was here; not to become bewitched by a bimbo. He knew she was, but that didn’t change anything and again he couldn’t take his eyes off her as she walked back to the bar. Forcing himself back on topic was not easy as she eased onto the bar stool, brushed her hair from her face, and finished her glass of wine. She looked at him again, and he nodded to the bartender, hovering nearby as if on cue. 

“That guy you got in a fight with. George, right?”

“Gregori, yes.” She nodded.

“Do you know where he lives or keeps his boat or anything?”

She nodded again and he waited for an answer. But the silence dragged on, the mention of George's name having changed her mood. 

Suddenly he had an idea. “Do you live with him?”

Again she nodded. 

“Maybe I can take you over there to get your stuff and you can stay on my boat for a while. You know, until you get sorted out.”

She looked at him and pursed her lips as if to speak. He wasn’t sure if she just didn’t have the language skills to communicate, but she seemed to understand. Maybe she was fearful of George's retribution.

Just as he was about to give up, she murmured, “You have a boat?”

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. “Yeah, a small sailboat. Kind of like camping.” He didn’t want to get her expectations up. “It’s big enough for two, though.”

“Maybe that would be a good idea. I don’t think he’ll be home. He was getting the boat ready when we fought. Looked like he was going to be out for a few days from the supplies he was loading.”

So she
did
understand. “Cool. My truck is at the marina next to the fish house. We’ll have to walk there.”

“OK. But can I have one more?” She finished the full glass of wine in two gulps. “Please?”

Will couldn’t afford to drink here all night. “How about if we get a bottle on the way back.” 

He was excited; if George had gone out fishing, there was a chance that Kyle was in the house alone. He fingered the three bills left in his pocket, knowing his funds were in the extreme danger zone, and pulled a twenty out. The bartender came over and took it from his grasp. That meant he was down to forty dollars. 

Without a look back to see if there was enough left for a tip, he guided her from her seat and walked toward the door. Her high heel caught in the crack between two of the rustic floor boards, and he had to catch her. The contact electrified him, and he held her arm as they walked out of the bar into the humid night.

She struggled with her heels, but after a few blocks she took them off. As they reached the marina, he became anxious about the boat and his truck. Living with George, she was probably used to much better trappings than he had to offer.
One thing at a time,
he reminded himself as he went toward his truck. She didn’t seem to hesitate as they got in, and he started it up. He backed out of the lot and looked to her for directions.

They went north on Gulf Boulevard for a few minutes, and she pointed to a right turn onto Cabrillo Avenue. Again she pointed toward the right, and they entered a residential neighborhood with large houses on the left and a vast assortment of boats swinging from davits or tied to their docks across the street. She signaled him to pull over across from one of the larger houses, and he looked in dismay at George's truck in the driveway. Then relaxed as he remembered that she had said he was going fishing. He glanced to the right and realized the dock directly across from the house was empty. 

Still on guard, he exited the truck and waited for her. She led the way up the driveway, but instead of going to the front door, she went to the side of the house, where she reached around the corner. He was about to ask what she was doing when the sound of the garage door opening distracted him. She came back around with a smile, and led him into the garage. 

Epoxied black, the floor shone in the light of the overhead fluorescent lights. Cabinets lined the walls. He looked around, noting that nothing was out of place until they reached the door leading to the house. As he was about to follow her in, he took his glance from her tight butt and noticed a pile on the floor next to the stairs. There was a T-shirt covered with what looked like blood and a few feet of rope. The shirt looked like the one that Kyle had worn that day. He started to take notice of his surroundings more as she led them through the house. 

“I could use a bathroom. Why don’t you get your stuff? I’ll find you when I’m done.” 

He didn’t wait for an answer before he took off the other way, down the hall to an open door. It was a bedroom, and looked unused. Quickly, he went to a window, released the lock, and slid it open an inch. If he needed to get back in, this would insure him entry. He moved through the house, quickly finding it empty until he reached the master bedroom, where Jazmyn was stuffing a bag. 

She turned to him and walked toward the door, obviously expecting him to get the bag. He went to the bed and saw a handheld GPS on the dressing table. With a glance to the door to make sure she couldn’t see, he grabbed the unit and shoved it in the pocket of his cargo shorts before grabbing the bag and following her. 

They left the house through the garage, and he again glanced at the T-shirt. If the boat and Kyle were both gone, it made sense to think that George had taken him. Maybe the GPS would give him an idea of where they’d gone. He reached the truck before she did and started the engine, anxious to get away, and hoping that phase two of his plan would work as well as phase one. 

***

Will had a hard time thinking on the way back to the marina, with Jazmyn pressed against him, her bag taking up the extra space in the front seat. He tried to concentrate, but her thigh brushing against him made any other thoughts impossible. There was little he could do tonight except plan, and his conflict became clear in his mind. Although he desperately wanted her, he would not be able to check the GPS if she complied with that want. 

There was also the possibility that she had value to George; maybe he could trade her for Kyle. 

His best bet right now was to put aside his lust and get her to sleep. Then he could have a look at the GPS. They were about to pull into the marina parking lot when the lights of a convenience store caught his eye. 

“Wine?” he asked.

She nodded, looking bored.

“OK. I’ll be right back.” He opened the door and left the car, wondering if he could get one of those big bottles for less than ten dollars. Avoiding the potholes, he crossed the lot and opened the door. The blast of expected AC never came, though—the store was as humid as outside. Condensation covered the glass door of the refrigerated wine case, which he hoped was still working as he went toward it.