yolo (8 page)

“Don't call me that,” said Emily.

“And don't
you
be such a spoilsport about my dog,” Ana said.

“Ana, it's not even
your
dog,” Emily said. “You
stole
it.”

“All I know is that any man who would kick this beautiful boy should not be considered worthy of a second thought. Neither should any
puta
who would leave her dog with that scumbag.” Ana nuzzled Pickles close to her chin while Brandon fed him a Dorito. “He's much better off with me.”

Emily started to point out that there wasn't even any way to explain to Ana's mother where the dog came from without
incriminating all of them, but Brandon's cell phone let out a shrill ring in the backseat.

“Brandon?” Emily said. “Are you going to get that?”

“Get what?”

“Your phone,
pendejo
,” said Ana. “It's ringing.”

“No, it's not.” Brandon held up his phone. “It's one of yours.”

“My phone is crushed into a kajillion pieces,” Ana reminded him.

“Shit.” Brandon held up a phone. “This must be Liz's. We have to go back. Maybe we can still catch them at the gas station.”

“No way in hell.” Emily sped up a little. She was finally on the highway and she was not going to stop again until the beautiful sight of the Steins' mountain mansion swung into full view.

“Are you sure?” asked Ana.

“If we take back that phone, we take back that dog.” As she said the words, Emily knew they would knock Ana out of the argument. She could handle Brandon on her own.

“You play dirty,” Ana said, her eyes narrowed.

“That's so cold,” said Brandon.

“What? How is that
cold
?” Emily was so tired of feeling like the stick-in-the-mud. She was tired of being exasperated with her friends. She took a deep breath. “All I want is to get to this party, is that okay? We are already two hours behind schedule. If we're lucky, we'll have an hour when we get there to freshen up and pull our outfits together.”

“Wait—outfits?” said Brandon. “You're not wearing that?”

Emily looked at Ana. “Do you want to take this one, or shall I?”

Ana shook her head. “Ay,
mamacita
. He's hopeless.”

“Me?” yelped Brandon. “
I'm
hopeless? You two are talking about outfit changes and a party like it's so important. I just want to get this poor woman's phone back to her. I mean, for chrissakes, she's robbing gas stations to feed her
kid
. She doesn't have money for a new phone.”

“I honestly can't tell if you're serious,” said Emily. “Just in case you are, lemme break this down for you. First off, if we turn around now and go back, the chances are very slim that Liz will still be at the Arco.”

“Well, we can just go back and meet them at the diner,” Brandon said.

“Have you lost your mind?” shrieked Ana. “That place must be crawling with cops by now.”

Brandon sighed. “I just don't feel right about it. I mean, she did pay you back for
your
phone.”

“Yeah,” said Ana. “Because she smashed it to
smithereens
with a
gun
which she was using to
hold up a diner
.”

“I really think Liz will find another phone to use,” said Emily.

“Can't we at least call Chestnut's phone from her phone and—”

Emily knew Brandon was still talking, but that's as far as she heard that sentence. Whatever his reasoning, Brandon continued to pitch ways of reuniting Liz and her phone, and
for each one Ana responded with a reason why that was a bad idea. Any other time Emily might have pointed out with more than a little bit of arrogance that Ana was currently holding a small dog stolen from a gas station, and was surely herself in the running for Bad Idea of the Decade, but this time she was unable to even utter a syllable. Her jaw became locked in terror, and suddenly, instead of speeding down the highway in a midsize SUV, Emily had the sensation that she was plummeting down the first drop of a roller coaster.

Brandon must've caught a glimpse of her eyes in the rearview mirror, because she heard him yelling her name: “Emily?
Emily?
Are you okay? EMILY!”

By that time Brandon had followed her gaze out the back windshield, and slowly, haltingly, he turned around and stared down the highway behind them. He began to softly repeat a string of curses so quietly and with such slow determination that it almost sounded like he was reciting poetry or an ancient incantation of some kind.

Ana was completely fixated on Pickles, so she wasn't aware of what was happening until the entire car was bathed in red and blue light, and the sound of everything else was drowned out by sirens.

“Emily!” she shrieked. “What is happening?”

“It appears we've been caught,” she said, and as she did, a strange sense of calm washed over her.

“What do you mean?” Ana was having trouble making sense of the events at hand.

“I mean, it looks as if we won't be making it to the party,” said Emily.

“Of course we will,” shouted Brandon. “Just step on it.”

“Give me a break, Brandon.” Emily said this evenly and quietly. It seemed to rattle Brandon that she was so even-keeled in the face of impending doom.

“Whatever you do, don't pull over!” he yelled.

“What, and add ‘evading arrest' to the charges?” Emily asked. “Not a chance. Besides, he's already got my license plate. Even if I did floor it now, he'd have every patrol car in a ten-mile radius on our tail in thirty seconds.” Emily signaled and pulled onto the shoulder of the road, slowing to a stop, then putting the car into park.

In the rearview mirror she saw a short stubby man with fingers like sausages step out of the cruiser, hitch up his pants, and walk slowly toward her window. She wasn't sure if she should dig out her registration and license now, or wait until he knocked on her window. She wasn't sure if she should try to text her father from the car, or wait and make him her one phone call at whatever jail they were taken to for the night. Emily wasn't sure of anything, really. Not anymore.

“License and registration.”

It was a command, not a question. Emily pulled out her wallet, and got the registration and insurance card out of the glove compartment. Her dad had put all the documents together in a little canvas folder so she wouldn't have to dig for them. Emily smiled as she thought about her “hang loose” dad being organized about anything at all.

“Somethin' funny, young lady?” the cop asked. He had a shiny star pinned to his uniform that read
ANDERS
.

“No, sir,” said Emily, wiping the smile off her face. “Is something the matter, officer?” The minute she said these words, she felt like she was in a movie from the 1950s.

“As a matter of fact there is.”

Without another word, the cop turned back around and marched back to his cruiser. Emily could hear his radio squawking.

“Holy
shit
,” hissed Brandon. “We are so
dead
.”

Ana groaned and laid her head against the dashboard. “Go ahead,” she muttered. “Say ‘I told you so.' ”

Emily didn't say a word. The officer was walking back toward the car.

“Step out of the car, please,” he said sternly. “All of you.”

“Should I bring the dog?” whispered Ana. Emily shot her a glance that said
no
in a very clear way, and unbuckled her seat belt. She'd never worn handcuffs before. She wondered what it would be like.

Once they were all standing on the shoulder of the road, Pickles began to bark incessantly inside Emily's car, and the officer introduced himself.

“I'm Sheriff Bud,” he said. “I'd like to ask you a few questions.”

Emily nodded.

“Where are you kids headed?”

“To a party.” Ana blurted out.

“That right?” Sheriff Bud asked Emily.

Emily nodded.

“And did you stop for lunch today?”

“Yes! Yessir, we did.” Brandon was practically panting. “We stopped for lunch at Rick's Diner and boy, oh, boy was it delicious, just the best food I've ever eaten for lunch. That Strawberry Tsunami they serve is just out of this world! Dyn-o-mite!” Emily looked up at Brandon, who was acting like he was on speed. She frowned at him, trying to silently telegraph that Bud was asking
her
the questions, so she should answer. Brandon and Ana were not helping by jumping in and trying to answer for her. It was coming across like they had something to hide.

After his soliloquy on the joys of Rick's Diner, Emily was sure that Brandon was going to get them all hauled in for questioning. Bud eyed Brandon and Ana, who kept fidgeting and clearing their throats and coughing. Finally, he turned back to Emily.

“I pulled you over because your license plate got sent through the system this afternoon. A couple of local idiots held Rick's up, and the owner of the diner said they escaped in your car.” Bud looked from Emily to Ana, then over to Brandon. “Is that right?”

Emily waited for Ana and Brandon to jump in and spill the whole story, but both of them froze and stared at their feet. Emily looked at Brandon on her left, who shrugged, and Ana on her right, who ran a hand through her hair and suddenly acted as if her shoes were the most fascinating things she had ever laid eyes on.

Emily looked back at Bud and nodded. “Yes, sir. They did get away in our car.” Brandon and Ana both turned and stared at her, their mouths hanging open. “But not because we wanted them to,” Emily continued. “They had guns.”

“You were eating in the diner when they came in?” Bud asked.

“Yes, sir,” said Emily. “They grabbed the cash from the register and took us hostage for a little while.”

“Did they hurt you?” Bud asked.

“No,” said Emily. “Just scared us. They wanted to be dropped off, so we dropped them off.”

“Where'd you do that?” asked Bud.

“At the Arco back at the last exit,” said Emily.

“And you didn't think to call the police?” asked Bud.

“Well, I was just so shaken up,” said Emily. “Plus, I didn't want to be accused of helping them rob the diner.”

“I would've called, but one of them broke my phone,” blurted Ana.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” said Bud. “You all are lucky you got away from those morons when you did.”

“You know who it was?” asked Brandon.

“Yeah, it's this couple of crazies used to go to high school not far from here. Hooked up back then and fancy themselves a modern-day Bonnie and Clyde.” Bud lifted his hat and ran his hand through his thinning hair. “Course they never get away with much, but that wouldn't stop the prosecutor from pressing charges. It's just they always manage to give us the slip.”

“Are we in trouble?” asked Emily. “I'm really sorry we didn't call the police.”

“Nah,” said Bud. “It's understandable. I imagine it was pretty traumatic to be held at gunpoint like that.”

Emily nodded. Bud handed her a card.

“This here's my cell number,” he said. “If you think of anything else that might be useful for me to know, give me a call. Otherwise, you kids have fun at your party, and be careful. Do not drink and drive—or you
will
be in a heap a trouble. I promise you that.”

Once they were back in Emily's car and Sheriff Anders had pulled a U-turn through the highway's grassy median, no one spoke for several minutes. Finally, Brandon's voice broke the silence from the backseat.

“Hostage?” he said. “They took us hostage?” Then he started laughing. “Holy shit, Emily. How did you even keep a straight face?”

“I was terrified of being hauled away to prison,” said Emily. “That
might've
helped a bit.”

“What are we going to do with Liz's phone now?” asked Ana. She was holding Pickles in her arms like an infant.

“Well, one thing is for sure,” said Emily. “We can't try to contact Liz or take it back to her. If the police already know it was them, we can't have any further contact with them
ever
. I say we throw it out the window in a mile or two and forget any of this ever happened.

“Amen. I second that motion,” Brandon said.

Ana was quiet for a minute, but Emily could almost hear the wheels turning in her friend's head. Finally, Ana turned to Brandon with a mischievous smirk. “You know, there might be another option.”

“Absolutely
not
.” Brandon was adamant.

“Look, I'm just saying that we can probably beat Liz and Chestnut there,” said Ana, “and they've never met the guys they're getting the goods from.”

“I'm not sure that's really a plus for getting involved in the international drug trade,” Emily said. “Besides, we don't even know where to go.”

“Sure we do,” Ana smiled slyly, holding up Liz's cell phone and waggling it back and forth in between her thumb and forefinger.

“NO!” Brandon bellowed from the backseat.

Emily laughed at him. “Wait. Let me get this straight. After everything else,
now
you're going to get all goody-two-shoes on us?”

“You guys,” Brandon leaned so far over the front seat, he was practically sitting in between them. “We knew for sure that Liz and Chestnut had no bullets in their guns. We certainly
don't
know that about the assholes who are holding this cocaine.”

“Oh, c'mon,” said Ana. “Do you really think these people
can be so big time if they've agreed to go into business with a man named Chestnut?”