I'm a Fool to Kill You by Robert Randisi

Author:Robert Randisi [Randisi, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781847512871
Publisher: Severn House Publishers
Published: 2011-07-02T04:00:00+00:00

FORTY-ONE

The main run from L.A. to Las Vegas was Highway 15 and that was where Jerry decided to let the car out.

‘Hey,’ he said, ‘this thing runs pretty good.’

‘Just remember it’s got phony plates and an altered VIN,’ I said. ‘Don’t get stopped.’

‘Gotcha, Mr G.’

The place to stop to eat during that journey always seemed to be Barstow. True to form, that’s where Jerry got hungry.

‘I could eat, too,’ Ava admitted.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘Get off at Barstow. Plenty of places to eat right by the highway.’

‘A diner’s good enough for me,’ Jerry said.

‘Me too,’ Ava agreed.

‘I still owe you guys for saving my bacon,’ I said. ‘I’m gonna buy you lunch.’ I looked at Ava. ‘With your money, of course.’

She laughed throatily and said, ‘Suits me.’ She looked better than she had in days. Holding a gun on some hoods seemed to agree with her.

Right off the highway Jerry spotted a diner and pulled into the parking lot.

‘Hang on a minute, Mr G.,’ he said, as he put the car in park. ‘I wanna have a look around.’

‘Good idea.’

He got out of the car and slammed the door.

‘Does he think we’re being followed?’ she asked. ‘Or that somebody got here ahead of us?’

‘Jerry’s just bein’ careful.’

‘But how could anybody have gotten here ahead of us?’ she asked. ‘We didn’t even know we were coming here.’

‘I know,’ I said, and then repeated, ‘Jerry’s just bein’ careful.’

‘I guess that’s wise.’

We waited until Jerry took a turn around the parking lot and peered in the window of the diner, then returned to the car. He opened the back door for Ava.

‘It’s OK,’ he said.

‘Good,’ Ava said. ‘I’m starving. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten as much as I have with you guys.’

‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘that’s what happens when you’re around Jerry.’

We went into the diner and got a booth away from the window. Jerry sat on one side, Ava and I the other. The middle-aged waitress came over, gave us menus, stared at Ava for a few moments, then went off to get coffee.

When she came back with a pot and three cups she filled them slowly, still staring at Ava.

‘Honey, I swear,’ she said, finally. ‘You look like that movie actress? What’s her name?’

‘I get that a lot,’ Ava said. ‘I don’t see it myself.’

‘Joan Crawford, right?’ I said to the waitress.

‘No, no, that’s not it,’ she said. ‘I’ll think of it before you leave, though. What’ll ya’ll have?’

Jerry ordered two stacks of pancakes, an order of bacon, four pieces of toast and a large glass of orange juice. Ava and I both ordered burgers and fries.

‘What’s with you and the pancakes?’ she asked Jerry.

‘What? I like pancakes.’

‘And he makes really good pancakes, too,’ I said.

‘He’s cooked for you?’ Ava asked.

‘Sure I did,’ Jerry said. ‘Mr G. stayed at my place for a few days earlier this year.’

‘In Brooklyn?’

‘Yeah,’ Jerry said, ‘he had to go back there for . . . somethin’.’

He caught himself before saying I had gone back to Brooklyn for my mother’s funeral, and one last meeting with my dysfunctional family.

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