The Art of Crash Landing Read Online Free Page A

thinks of me, rightly again, as a regular thief. Queeg has tried, on several occasions, to pay her back on my behalf, but she won’t hear of it. I haven’t given her the money either, partly because two hundred bucks is a lot of money, and partly because it’s kind of fun having this miniature Asian lady so angry with me. Her skin is wrinkled and dark like an apple that’s been left out in the sun, and she must wear dentures, because when she frowns—and around me that’s all the time—her face folds up like a little brown fist.
    As she climbs out of Queeg’s car, she looks everywhere except at me. She’s holding a box of doughnuts and when Queeg walksaround the car to take them from her, she resists him for a second before letting go. He must have told her they’re for me. He’s carrying one of those little cardboard caddies for drinks in which there are three large Styrofoam cups. He holds it up and Min He pulls one out, then he walks to me holding the doughnut box in one hand and the drinks in the other.
    â€œGood morning, Minnie,” I say. She hates it when I pronounce her name like Mickey’s gal.
    â€œI am not as the mouse. My name is Min He, stupid girl.”
    I grin. There’s something about this woman that always cheers me up. “And my name is Mattie, not stupid girl .”
    She narrows her eyes. “You are both.”
    Well, she’s got me there.
    Queeg lifts the drink caddy toward me. “There’s a coffee and an orange juice.”
    My mouth starts to water; the pregnancy queasiness is starting up again. I take the juice and snag a chocolate frosted out of the box.
    â€œDid you know that orange juice and Slim Jims mixed together tastes just like Thai food?”
    He looks at me for a second and then asks, “Do I want to know how you discovered that?”
    â€œNope.” I shove about a third of the doughnut into my mouth and manage to chew most of it and swallow before asking, “Do you have a computer and a printer?”
    He shakes his head but glances at Min He. She knows what’s coming and starts shaking her head no before I even ask.
    â€œOh come on, Minnie,” I plead. “I only need it for five minutes.”
    â€œNo way. You will find some way to steal—”
    â€œI will not. Tell her, Queeg. Tell her that I’ve changed my ways.”
    â€œHer lips,” Min He says, mysteriously, and then gestures with her hand holding the coffee, sloshing some onto her knuckles. “Ouch!” she adds. “This coffee is really hot.”
    â€œWhat about my lips?”
    Queeg removes the lid from his cup and takes a cautious sip. “These Styrofoam cups work well.”
    I try again. “What about my lips?” I turn to Queeg. “Did she say, lips ?”
    â€œThey’re better than the ones at Starbucks,” Queeg says.
    â€œThere are lips at Starbucks?”
    He laughs. “The cups at Starbucks aren’t as good. The coffee isn’t as good either.”
    â€œBurnt,” Min He says.
    â€œIs somebody going to tell me what’s—”
    â€œShe was trying to say that your lips were moving, Matt.”
    Now I understand. For years Queeg has said that he knows when I’m lying because it’s when my lips are moving. I guess he shared that running gag with his girlfriend.
    â€œEt tu, Minnie?” I ask.
    Queeg laughs, but Min He frowns, pointing at the doughnut box. “I only ate one, stupid girl.”
    I wolf down another doughnut while Queeg negotiates with Min He. I am finally allowed to go into the office trailer, supervised by Queeg, to use the computer. It’s not until I explain that I want it to print off driving directions that she relents.
    I fire up the computer and then call back that 918 number and listen to their answering machine. Barber, Smith and Franklin, Attorneys at Law . I plug Pensacola in one slot and their address in Gandy,