Broken Highway: A Thomas Highway Story Read Online Free Page B

pain,
in fact, I actually enjoyed it to a certain extent, but a hangover
was a different animal altogether. It was an oozy, sloppy feeling,
more akin to frustration than real pain. I despised it. Yet I
continually put myself in a position to wake up with one. I
wondered what this said about my psyche but decided not to ruminate
on it, lest I actually came up with an answer. Sometimes ignorance
truly was bliss.
    I rinsed the glass and set it in the sink.
The phone rang. I let the machine get it. Willis’s voice came over
the speaker.
    “Highway, you still there?”
    I picked up the phone. “Yeah. What’s
up.”
    “Not much,” Willis said. I could hear him
smiling. “How are you doing, my man?”
    “Not bad, not bad.”
    “After a night with Amber, I should hope
not.”
    “Yeah, well I’m sure it was fun. Too bad I
don’t remember anything about it.”
    “No problem there,” Willis said. “I got the
whole thing recorded on my phone. You can relive it whenever you
want.”
    “Bullshit,” I said, knowing there was a very
real possibility that Willis was telling the truth but hoping
desperately that he was just messing with me.
    Willis laughed. “Nah, not the whole thing.
Just a little bit of the night. Before things got too crazy.”
    I was careful not to let Willis hear my
relieved exhale. “Is that the only reason you called? To give me
shit about last night.”
    “Nah, man. I called because I got a bead on
our guy.”
    “Already?”
    “Yeah. He’s at The Body Shop, over on Sports
Arena.”
    “Isn’t nine o’clock kind of early to be at a
strip club?”
    “Depends on how you define early,” Willis
said. “From what I can gather, it’s late for these guys. They were
there all night.”
    “So they shouldn’t pose too much of a
problem.”
    “That’s the hope,” Willis said. “But I
wouldn’t count on it. Now get your ass over here before we miss
them.”
    “All right, all right, don’t get your
panties in a bunch. I’m coming.”

 
     
    5
    It was just after 9AM when I pulled into the
parking lot outside the Body Shop Gentlemen’s Club. I spotted
Willis’s Black Chevy Blazer in the northwest corner of the lot and
parked next to it. I shut off my engine and climbed out of my car
and into his.
    “Took you long enough,” Willis said.
    “Traffic was a bitch,” I said. “So what’s
the situation?”
    “We’re looking for this guy,” Willis said,
handing me a file folder. Inside was a printout of a California
Driver’s License and a mug shot. The dude’s full name was Vincent
Pedroza. He had brown, unkempt hair, thin lips, cold eyes hiding
behind narrow slits and a broad, misshapen nose that had been
broken and re-set multiple times.
    “He looks like a real fighter,” I said.
    “That’s what they say.”
    I looked at the stats on his driver’s
license. 6’3” 225 pounds. “Pretty big dude, too.”
    “That depends on how you define big.”
    “Nobody’s big compared to you,” I said.
“Except maybe some NFL lineman. But compared to me he’s big.”
    “Does that worry you?” Willis said.
    I just glared at him.
    He smiled, clapped me on the shoulder. “I’m
just fucking with you, Highway. Lighten up, bro.”
    “I’ll lighten up when this thing is
over.”
    “Which it will be soon.”
    “How do you know?”
    “I’ve got a source inside the club,” Willis
said. “A chick I know named Savannah.”
    I raised my brow in mock surprise. “You know
a stripper? Imagine that.”
    “Yeah, hard to believe, isn’t it? Anyway,
she says he and his boys have pretty much hit the wall. He should
be coming out any minute.”
    “He’s got some friends with him?”
    “Did I forget to mention that?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Sorry ‘bout that,” Willis said in a tone
that suggested he was anything but. He was obviously enjoying
himself.
    “How many?” I said.
    “Just two.”
    “Just?”
    “Hey, it could be worse.”
    “It could be better.”
    “It could always be better,”