Sammy Keyes and the Cold Hard Cash (11 page)

TWENTY

There was nowhere to duck, nowhere to hide. So I did the same thing I did the night I scared Buck Ritter to death.

I sucked up against the wall.

Only this time I’m in a flowered dress.

Carrying ugly tan shoes.

And I’m in a lighted hallway!

Sure enough, it’s the Jackal who steps out of the elevator. And maybe I should have made a mad dash back to the inside stairs, but for some reason I just stood there like a great big granny splat against the wall, my heart machine-gunning in my chest.

And then the weirdest thing happens.

The Jackal steps out and turns his head a little to the left, then turns right and walks down the hall away from me.

I just stand there, splatted against the wall.

How could he
not
have seen me?

I mean, old-guy eyes are one thing—this was like he was
blind.

Whatever. I tiptoed out of there, keeping one eye on him as he walked in the opposite direction, and when I was safely around the corner, I watched him stop and knock on an apartment door. He knuckled it four times, then two, and a few seconds later the door whooshed open and he disappeared inside.

I waited another minute, then tiptoed over to the apartment the Jackal had gone into.

It was number 427.

Four-two-seven, I told myself. Four knocks, two knocks, lucky number seven.

Now, I’m not about to stand there with my ear to the door or anything. My nerves are totally fried and I just want to get
out
of there! So before something else happens, I race down the hallway, slip out the fire escape door, and fly down the stairs.

The cool air feels great, and before I’ve even reached my backpack, I’ve got my wig and glasses ripped off. And as soon as I’ve got my backpack out of the bushes and I’m safe and sound in my little hiding place by the Dumpster, I pull on my jeans and tear off my disguise, stuffing it all in CeCe’s plastic shopping bag.

Then I hide the bag in the bushes where my backpack had been and hurry up the stairs. But halfway up I happen to notice my hand.

It’s still covered in spots.

Which means my face is, too!

Holy smokes!

So I flip a U-turn, race back down the stairs, find a spigot, and use one of my socks to scrub my face and hands the best I can and
then
go up to the fifth floor.

“
There
you are!” Grams says when I come through the door, and before I can even say I’m sorry for being late, she closes the door and whispers, “Strange things have been going on around here!”

“Really?” I ask, plopping my backpack down like it’s just my same old backpack instead of something that’s got a couple thousand dollars, a digital camera, and some cool new clothes in it.

“
Very
strange.”

“Like what? Objects moving through space?” I ask all nonchalantly as I head for the bathroom to check myself out in the mirror.

“No!”

“Hang on,” I tell her, closing the door, ’cause I really need to use soap to clean my fake old-lady spots all the way off.

When I come out, Grams starts in about everything she was able to overhear and over
see
with Mrs. Wedgewood and “that handsome Mr. Randolf” and “a strange woman with the ugliest shoes you’ve ever seen,” and she’s in the middle of telling me about “an awful, banging, clanging racket” when all of a sudden the phone rings.

She interrupts herself to pick it up, and after a minute she says, “Just a moment,” then hands me the phone, whispering, “It’s Marissa. She sounds
very
upset.” Then she adds, “Oh! And Casey’s called four times looking for you!”

My eyebrows shoot up, but she just shrugs. So I turn to the phone and say, “What’s up?”

“Ohmygodyou’renotgoingtobelievewhat’shappened! Mylife’sadisaster!” And even though I could kinda decipher that part, pretty soon she’s bawling her eyes out and talking at the same time, which just sounds like, “Brawthwo breeeth a boosta neeeeeee!”

“Marissa! Marissa! Calm down! Are you all right?”

“No! My life’s a…a—
hic
—disaster!”

“Is anybody dead?”

“No! But almost!”

“What? What do you mean, almost?”

“My parents got into a—
hic
—awful fight! My mom was—
hic—screaming
at my dad! It was even worse than when Mikey—
hic
—broke the Kraval!”

“Do you know why?”

“It has to do with money, but—
hic
—she won’t tell me!”

“Did you ask your dad?”

“He’s
gone.
He tore out of here so fast he—
hic
—totaled my bike!” She starts bawling again. “Please come over! Please! I feel like my whole world is falling apart!”

Grams is looking at me like,
What is going ON?
So I pull a face and cover the phone. “Can I go spend the night at Marissa’s? She’s having a meltdown.”

She nods. “Just call me when you get there so I know you’re safe.”

So I get off the phone, grab my backpack, my skateboard, and my toothbrush, give Dorito a quick kiss on the nose, and head for the fire escape.

Again.

On my way over to Marissa’s, my head felt like a bubbling, steaming kettle of soup.

Scratch that.

It felt like a whole
cauldron
of stew.

Yeah, that’s it. My head was full to the brim of Problem Stew. I’d been adding stuff to the mix so fast, and things were heating up so fast, it felt like the whole mess would just boil over if one more little thing got put in.

At least for once it wasn’t all
my
problems. But I think that’s what was making my head feel like it was about to boil over. Besides giving Buck Ritter from Omaha, Nebraska, a heart attack and hiding the money from…well,
everybody,
Marissa and her problems with Mikey and Danny and Heather and now her
parents
were also swimming around in my brain, and I couldn’t seem to keep the lid on
any
thought. I felt all mushy-headed. Like I couldn’t keep one thought from splattering into another.

Normally when I’m in a stew, I wind up at Hudson’s. He’s really good at giving advice without you knowing he’s giving advice. He’s kinda tricky that way. He listens, says a few things, and somehow makes you feel like
you’re
the one who’s figured it all out.

But I didn’t really have time to stop by Hudson’s about my poor stewed-up, splattering head. It was late and I had to get to Marissa.

When I arrived at the McKenzes’, the first thing I saw was Marissa’s bike at the side of the house, totally demolished. And before I was even at the front door, Marissa came flying out of the house and threw her arms around me. “I’m so glad you’re here!” she sobbed. “I don’t know what to
do.
”

I eyed the bike. “About your parents?”

“About anything! My life’s a disaster!”

“Hey,” I said, holding her out a little and looking her in her bloodshot eyes. “Your parents have gotten into fights before, right? They’ll get over it.”

“Not like this!
Nothing
like this!”

“But it’s about money, right? Not about something, you know…
irreversible
?”

“Yeah,” she whimpered. “Yeah, I
think
so.”

“So they’ll fix it. They’re money wizards! Everything’ll be fine!”

Her chin started quivering. “But it doesn’t
feel
like it’s going to be fine. It feels…horrible!” Her chin quivered and twitched faster and faster until it looked like it was full of Mexican jumping beans. Finally she blurted, “And Danny kissed Heather!”

She lunged at me and bawled into my shoulder. “How could he have kissed
Heather
?”

I sighed. “He’s a jerk, that’s how.”

“
She’s
the jerk!”

I rolled my eyes and took a deep breath. I felt like we’d already covered this ground, but obviously we were back at square one.

“How would you feel,” she sniffed, “if you saw Casey kissing…I don’t know who! Anyone! Tenille! Amber! Anybody.”

I tried, but I couldn’t really picture it.

“Never
mind,
” she said with a great big pout. “Casey would never do that.” She turned and marched for the house. “You’re right. Danny’s a jerk. I should hate him.”

“There you go!” I said, chasing after her. “Say that again.”

“He’s a jerk and I should hate him!”

“Louder!”

“He’s a jerk and I should hate him!”

“Louder!”

“HE’S A JERK AND I HATE HIM!”

“LOUDER!”

“HE’S A JERK AND I TOTALLY AND COMPLETELY HATE HIM!”

“Okay!”

But we were now at the front door, and Mrs. McKenze was coming out. “Stop that!” she hissed. “He’s your father and you are
not
to shout things like that! This is our business, not the whole neighborhood’s!” She pointed at me. “Stop egging her on!”

“But—” Marissa said, but her mother had already stormed back inside. And really, what could she say? There’s no way she was going to tell her mother about Danny and Heather!

“See?” Marissa said, throwing her hands into the air. “See what I’m having to deal with?”

“See?” I said with a grin. “She’s sticking up for your dad—they’re gonna be fine.”

When we were inside the house, we headed straight to Marissa’s bedroom.

Well, as straight as you can go in the McKenzes’ house.

We passed by their “casual” living room, which is full of highly polished everything, turned a corner, and passed by the kitchen hallway and the big double doors that lead to the room where the Kraval used to reign supreme. And we were just going around another corner to head upstairs to Marissa’s bedroom when we heard the phone ringing.

It was snatched up, and two seconds later Mrs. McKenze’s office door flew open. She seemed startled to see us there, but right away she drilled me with her eyes and said, “Do
not
give out our number as your place of contact!”

“I didn’t!” I said, all defensive-like.

“So why are
boys
calling here?”

My brain went, Casey?

My mouth went, “I have no idea!”

She stared at me a second, then without a word she pulled back into her office and slammed the door.

And as we’re heading up to Marissa’s bedroom, I’m thinking, So…was that Casey? I mean, who else could it be? But why
was
he calling the McKenzes’? Him calling the apartment was a new thing. Him calling the McKenzes’? He’d never done
that
before.

Once we were safely in Marissa’s bedroom, I said, “I promised Grams I’d call and let her know I was okay.”

So Marissa got me a phone, and when I called home, Grams informed me that Casey had called
again.
“I don’t know what’s going on, but he seemed almost frantic. You really need to call him back.”

“Okay. I will.”

So I got off the phone and punched in Casey’s cell phone number.

He answered the phone with, “Sammy?”

“Sorry I didn’t call you back sooner. My life’s been crazy.”

“Can you get down to the Landmark Broiler? Like,
now
?”

“The Landmark Broiler? Why?”

There was no answer.

“Casey?”

No answer.

“Hello? Hello, Casey?”

I punched off and redialed his number.

Right away it switched over to voice mail.

“What’s wrong?” Marissa asked.

“Come on,” I said, grabbing her by the wrist.

I had to get to the Landmark Broiler.

Like,
now.

TWENTY-ONE

“The Landmark Broiler? But it’s dark out!” Marissa said as I dragged her through the house.

And that’s when I remembered—her bike was totaled.

Now, even if there was a skateboard somewhere in the house, Marissa would never be able to use it. She’d be a bag of broken bones
way
before we reached downtown.

But since the Landmark Broiler was miles from Marissa’s house, I needed her on
something
with wheels ’cause I sure wasn’t going to leave her behind.

“Do your parents have bikes?”

Her face scrunched up. “Are you kidding?”

“Does Mikey?”

“No.”

“There’s got to be something with wheels. Anything with wheels!”

“What is going
on
?”

“I have no idea, okay? But something is. Something big.”

“How big could it be?”

“I don’t know,” I said, looking around the garage. “But Casey sounded really spun up. And the phone went dead!” Then, just to get her to help me look, I kinda slyly said, “Maybe it has to do with Heather.”

She totally perked up. “Heather?”

And that’s when I spotted a bike tire peeking out from behind big collapsible party tables that were leaning against the wall. “Hey!” I said, pointing. “That’s a bike!”

But when I pulled it out, I discovered that it was a small bright yellow banana-seat bike with high handlebars that had yellow and blue plastic streamers sticking out of them.

It also had
training
wheels.

“I can’t ride that!” Marissa cried. “Mikey got it when he turned five. He rode it, like, once!”

I studied it for a second, and after doing a quick search of the garage for other choices, I said, “It’s better than nothing.” I pulled it forward. “I’m not leaving you here to mope, okay? Just get on the bike and let’s go.”

She grumbled a minute, then tested the tires with her thumb. They were low, so she grumbled some more as she pumped them up, and off we went.

Now, it’s kind of a long story, but let’s just say that before I got my skateboard back from the jerk who stole it, I used to get rides on the handlebars of Marissa’s bike.

She’d crash every time.

Or come close to it, anyway.

And watching her ride Mikey’s banana bike into town made me really,
really
glad I had my skateboard back. There’s no way I would’ve survived on those handlebars! Just watching her was scary. She had to scrunch way up to pedal, and with the little plastic fringe flapping in the wind and the way she was concentrating so hard because the training wheels didn’t let her lean and the handlebars were hard to steer with, she looked like some wild child escaping the circus.

“This better be important!” she said when we got to the restaurant. “And he’d better be here. I’m not riding this thing another foot!”

I picked up my skateboard and started walking through the parking lot, muttering, “I sure hope he’s okay,” as I looked around for Casey.

“Casey’s probably
fine.
” She pushed the banana bike along. “
I’m
the one you’re supposed to be worried about.” Then, before I could say anything, she muttered, “And if anyone saw me on this stupid bike, I’m gonna die. Hello, morgue—I’m dead.”

“No one saw you,” I said, searching for Casey.

“What are you
talking
about? How could they miss?” She sighed. “I just hope Danny wasn’t one of them.”

I snapped to. “Hey! He’s a jerk and you hate him, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” she said with a pout.

So there we are, walking through the parking lot of the Landmark Broiler, me holding my skateboard, Marissa pushing along a clown bike with training wheels, when all of a sudden Marissa grabs my arm and points. “Look!”

So I look, expecting to see Casey in…I have no idea what kind of crisis. But instead I see a dressed-up couple coming out of the restaurant, walking along the awning-covered walkway.

At first I don’t understand why Marissa’s gasping and grasping and carrying on like the world’s exploding. I mean, my head’s wrapped around finding Casey, and the couple she’s pointing to is not a teenage guy in jeans and a T-shirt.

But then the world does seem to go
ka-blam
as I realize that Marissa’s not pointing at just some
random
couple leaving the restaurant.

“That
is
your mother, isn’t it?” Marissa whispers.

I nod, but really, that’s about all I can manage.

“And the guy with his arm around her?” She pulls a face at me. “Is that…?”

I take a deep, deep breath and nod. “Casey’s dad.”

“That’s it,” I said, watching them move along the walkway under the awning. “I officially hate her.”

“Wow,” Marissa gasped. “I thought
I
had problems.” Then she added, “Look how cozy they are!” and
then
she started musing over all the things I didn’t want to think about. “Maaaaan. If they get married, that would make Casey your stepbrother, Heather your stepsister, and Candi your step
mother.
”

“It would not! To be my stepmother, that witch would have to marry my
father.
”

“Good point,” Marissa said with a very calm nod. “But Casey and Heather—”

“Stop! What are you trying to do? Torture me?”

“Hey!” came a voice behind me.

I spun around. “Casey!”

He nodded out at our wonderful parents strolling toward his dad’s car. “Nice, huh? How do you want to deal?”

“By never talking to them again?”

Casey shook his head. “That’s not an option for me. On the outs with him means I’m stuck at my mom’s.” He grabbed my hand and said, “Come on,” and as he pulled me toward the little lying lovebirds, he eyed Marissa’s bike and said, “Can’t wait to hear the story behind
that.
”

Mr. Acosta was just opening the passenger door for my mother when Casey and I sort of appeared beside them. My mom gasped, then immediately tried to make it seem like we were the ones who’d done something wrong. “How dare you follow us like this!”

“What?” I sputtered. “I didn’t follow you! Grams and I thought you went back to Hollywood! But I get it now—you didn’t come home to see
us
at all. You came to see
him.
It was just bad luck that Grams saw you at the store!” I could feel a cold hard knot tying in my heart. “Grams is gonna love this.”

“This is none of her or your or…or anybody else’s business!” Then she threw in her two cents’ worth of parenting. “And what are you doing out so late? You should
not
be out this late!”

Casey had his eyes locked on his dad the whole time, but his dad could only seem to look at his shiny-shoed feet. Very quietly, Casey said, “You told me the two things that mattered to you were
trust
and
truth
. If you wanted to go out with Sammy’s mom, why didn’t you just say so? I know how to make myself scarce. You didn’t have to lie and say you were going out of town or banish me to Mom’s with some stupid excuse about me needing to bond with her and Heather.”

Mr. Acosta glanced at him. “Can we discuss this at home?” His voice was low, and it was easy to see he felt awful.

Casey snorted. “So I’m allowed to come home?” But then he started to back away. “You know what? Forget it.”

Mr. Acosta seemed torn and really embarrassed, looking at my mom, then Casey, at my mom, then Casey. Finally he said to Casey, “Why don’t you stay right here. I’ll take Lana to her hotel, then give you a lift home.”

Casey tossed him a disgusted look. “I can get home fine without you.”

My mother got in the car, still acting like
I
was the one who’d done something wrong. So I said, “Should I tell Grams you’ll be stopping by the flea-ridden hovel before you leave town?”

She glanced at me and whispered, “Insolence is very unattractive.”

“So is being comatose,” I whispered back. “Wake up, would you? You’re not the only one with feelings!”

She blinked at me twice, then shut the door.

So I caught up to Casey and Marissa as Casey’s dad called, “I’ll see you at home, son!”

“Wow,” Marissa said when we were a safe distance away. “That was freaky!”

“Freaky?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said, pushing the bike along. “It’s like you guys are the adults and they’re the children.”

I looked at Casey, who muttered, “Freaky is right.” He shook his head. “Why’d he have to lie to me? Why didn’t he just
tell
me?”

Marissa was right, though—it was all kinda backward and freaky. “You know what?” I said to Casey. “I think you need to have a serious talk with your dad. You need to tell him that my mother is a bad influence and that getting tangled up with her could have seriously negative consequences.”

“She didn’t
make
him lie. He didn’t have to!”

“But see? That’s her influence. That’s how she deals with things she doesn’t want to face—she lies. And if she’s already got him lying, too, what’s next?”

He shook his head. “Man. He must really like her.”

“Which is freaky enough right there,” I grumbled.

We walked along for a minute, then he eyed me and said, “I’m glad you made it out here.”

“Well, you sounded really stressed, and then the phone went dead—”

“My battery died. It was already low this morning, and I’ve been trying to get you all day. First after I found out that Heather was totally lying about Mom being ticked about the kitchen—I went back to the ballpark, but you guys were gone. Then when I spotted my dad and your mom driving through town—I thought I was hallucinating.”

“Did you follow them to the Landmark Broiler?”

“I couldn’t keep up, but the Landmark Broiler is my dad’s favorite place, so I came down here on a hunch, and sure enough, his car was in the lot.” He looked at me. “Glad I finally caught you.”

I looked down. “Yeah, I’m sorry I was so, you know,
crazed
today.”

He raised an eyebrow at the banana bike. “Did it have something to do with transportation issues?”

I sure didn’t want to explain what I’d
really
been doing, so I said, “Yeah, Marissa’s kind of in crisis mode.”

“Kind of?” Marissa said.
“Kind of?”

Casey laughed. “Yeah, what do you mean, kind of? To ride around on that thing, you’ve got to be in
serious
crisis mode. What happened?”

And see, that’s the great thing about Casey. He can make you laugh and still let you know that he cares. And boy! Did Marissa ever use the opportunity to tell him what was wrong with her life. From having no money to her dad storming off and backing over her bike, she told him about everything…except Danny.

When we got to the corner where we had to turn to go up the hill to Marissa’s house and he had to go straight to start the long ride out to his dad’s house, Casey kinda stood facing me a minute. Finally he said, “Well, I guess I’d better go. I’ll see you at the pool party tomorrow, huh?”

I nodded. And I felt like I wanted him
not
to go, but there we all were on the street corner feeling kinda, you know,
awkward.
So I just gave a dumb little wave and said, “Yeah.”

“See ya, Casey!” Marissa called as he took off on his skateboard, and the minute he was a little ways down the road, she turned to me and said, “He would
so
have kissed you if I wasn’t here!”

I heaved a sigh and started up the hill. “I don’t think so. Things feel weird now.” I kicked a rock. “Good ol’ Lady Lana’s ruining everything.”

I mean, come on.

What guy in his right mind wants to kiss his future stepsister?