Mornings Inglorious - 4 by wolfram
I was ready to burst out of that van and hightail it up the stairs as soon as I felt the van settle into Park. But I didn’t want to seem like a pansy. I mean, it had to be a joke, right? Like Neal was some kind of supervillian in his spare time. Yeah, right. The image of Neal in spandex was alternatively making me want to laugh and vomit.
So I just opened my door and calmly hopped out. I turned back to give Neal a quick “thanks for the ride, ****”, but he wasn’t there. Which only made sense when I felt him grab my elbow, causing me to jump.
“Hey Jack, did I scare you?” He must have come around the other side of the vehicle, but I still have no idea how he moved that fast.
“No, I love being snuck up on.” I shook his hand off my arm, suppressing the urge, for the umpteenth time, to smack his stupid grin silly.
“Close the door for me, wouldja?” He tossed me his key fob. Well he tried to, but the thing landed on the pavement with a thud, pulled down by the weight of dozens of keys, chains and trinkets adorning the fob like a janitor’s keyring after a bender. Don’t know how he fit it in his pocket without stabbing himself when he walked. Maybe he got weekly tetanus boosters.
I picked it up and started to tell him where he could relocate his keys, but he was already ****-deep into the passenger side of the van. I shrugged and pressed the close-door button, hoping it would slam into his side, but he came out fast, holding the carton and chuckling. “Almost got me there.” Then he started walking, leaving me stuck with his bulbous ring like a **** caddy. I followed him out of the lot and around to the front entrance. He waited at the doors for me to open them for him. Geez. **** caddy.
“Jack, hold on a second.” I had started to open the door, but something in his tone made me turn around. I almost didn’t recognize him. Smiling Neal was gone, and some creepy, serious-faced dude was in his place. “You’re going to keep your mouth shut about my delivery this morning.”
“You bet.” I gave him a thumbs up. Who would I tell about the crazy guy with a box full of explosives? Patrick in the security kiosk? Actually, that didn’t seem like such a bad idea.
“I’m serious.” Neal stared at me. “That was actually the second delivery today. The first I picked up at 4AM on the way to your house. I may have rigged a few things around and under your place. You know, as insurance.” He winked at me as he said the last word.
“Neal, you shithead. This isn’t funny.” But somehow I could tell he wasn’t kidding. My wife. My kids. They’d be home at least another 90 minutes before carpool. “Why?”
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