Page 35 of Alonzo
“Dude. I know. It’s like meeting Satan for the first time.”
His face crinkles up. “You’ve met Satan more than once?”
“I’ve seen more than one creepy Wendy in my day.”
“Where?”
“Alice Town on Bimini. I was there… well, it doesn’t matter why I was there. But I was meeting with this dude called Carter and he had a daughter just like creepy Wendy.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
“It’s not just me, then. She’s weird.”
“So fucking weird. Why are we picking her up? And look, I’m not trying to pry into your business or anything. You Bostons do your thing, us Dumas boys will do ours. But… cut that crew loose, man. I’m telling you. That dude Chek is probably all sorts of shady.”
Jesse is nodding his head while I’m talking. “I know. But they’re Johnny’s people. Not mine. I don’t actually have any people. I’m really not involved.”
This is the first time he’s even admitted that there’s something to be involved in. And even though my practical inner voice is telling me to drop it and mind my own business, I have to ask. I can’t not ask. “Involved in what, Jesse?”
“Forget I said anything. You really don’t want to know.”
“Creepy little Wendy is gonna be on my boat in a few minutes. If there’s something I need to know about her, you should tell me.”
“Well…” He smiles that I’m-a-charming-asshole smile of his. “We’re not really picking up Chek and Wendy.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Yo!” Quint is yelling from inside the cabin. “There’s a yacht hailing us on the radio. By name.”
“Jesse?”
He gets to his feet and puts both hands up in the air, pressing his palms at me. “Just… hear me out, OK?”
“Hear you out? What the fuck are we doing?”
“I couldn’t say no. You understand, right?”
“Couldn’t say no to what, Jesse?” But already a whole slew of shit-show what-if scenarios are flying through my brain. He knows what kind of business my father is running. He knows about the smuggling. He’s turned us in. We’re meeting with the FBI. This time tomorrow I’ll be in jail, or in some rendition room, or dead.
“Miles really did me a solid last month when he set up the weddings.”
Quint calls out from the cabin. “What should I do, Alonzo? This yacht is anchored at the exact coordinates that Jesse gave us.”
Jesse is still talking. “And in doing so, he gave up his Christmas present. Which was the trip to Vegas.”
I jump up, jog into the cabin, climb the steps to the captain’s chair, and look out the window. “What the fuck is that?”
“Well.” Quint rubs his hand down the side of his face. “It appears to be a yacht filled with naked girls.”
“So”—Jesse is right behind me—“I told the dude, ‘Miles. Look, man. I owe you a Christmas present. Name it, it’s yours. Do you want a watch? A new suit? A crazy Vegas wedding for you and Christopher?’ I was going all practical and shit, ya know?”
I turn to him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“The present.”
“What present?”
