Motor Mouth

“I’ll have positions open in security if you’re interested in career advancement.”
    I looked at Hooker. “What did he mean by that?”
    “He’s not happy with Rodriguez and Lucca. They keep killing people. And even worse, they keep getting beat up by a girl.”
    “That would be me.”
    “Yeah. So he wants to sacrifice them for the chip we found in the gearshift knob. He says Lucca and Rodriguez are a liability. If we give Ray the chip, he’ll turn Lucca and Rodriguez over to the police, and he’ll pretend the hauler was never stolen.”
    “Hard to believe the chip is that valuable. Especially now that Oscar is out of the picture. Ray can pretty much do whatever he wants.”
    Hooker shrugged. “That’s what he said. And as an act of trust, he’s going to turn Rodriguez and Lucca in before we give him the chip.”
    “That’s sweet.”
    “Not entirely. He has Gobbles.” Hooker handed me a photo of Gobbles standing with his hands tied behind his back, not looking happy, Rodriguez on one side, Lucca on the other. “We get Gobbles back when Ray gets the chip and verifies its authenticity.”
    “We should never have let Gobbles go off on his own.”
    “Hindsight,” Hooker said. “Anyway, we get him back when we give Ray the chip.” Hooker nuzzled my neck and kissed me behind the ear. “I think we should celebrate.”
    “I think a celebration is premature.”
    “Darlin’, I
really
need to celebrate. I haven’t celebrated in a long time. In fact, it’s been so long, it’s probably appropriate if it’s a premature celebration because it’s going to be a premature?”
    “Stop!” I had my hand up. “Let’s celebrate with onion rings at the bar.”
    Hooker just stared at me.
    “Earth to Hooker.”
    “Onion rings at the bar,” he repeated. “Sure, that would be good. That was my second choice.”
    The Ritz has a fabulous bar set right on the beach. It’s just behind the footpath, nestled into a cement cave and garnished with palm trees. It’s shaded and South Beach glitzy. Not exactly rocking at three in the afternoon, so we had no problem claiming bar stools. We were halfway through our onion rings and Buds when a familiar figure strolled by on the footpath. It was Suzanne walking Itsy Poo.
    “It walks,” Hooker said. “Who would have thought?”
    Suzanne looked over the top of her sunglasses at me. “Barney? Hey, girlfriend, I thought you’d moved on.”
    “I came back. Missed the heat.”
    Suzanne put Itsy Poo in her bag and joined us at the bar. “You’ve been making headlines.”
    “It’s all a misunderstanding.”
    “Our mutual friend Dickie Bonnano seems to feel Hooker is responsible for everything evil in the world.”
    “I do the best I can,” Hooker said, “but I can’t claim responsibility for
everything
.”
    “I figured you didn’t do Oscar,” Suzanne said, “but I was kind of hoping you set Dickie up with the stiff and the coach crash.”
    Suzanne was total Dolce amp; Gabbana in a gauzy leopard-print shirt, wide jeweled belt, tight white slacks, and strappy gold sandals. I was Wal-Mart and Gap. Hooker still hadn’t shaved. Hooker was Detroit wino raised by wolves.
    “I thought you would have left South Beach by now,” I said to Suzanne.
    “I like it here. Thought I’d stay for a while.” She lit a cigarette and took a deep drag, letting the smoke curl out of her nose, dragon-style.
    “Are you still at Loews?” I asked her.
    “I moved into a condo building. Majestic Arms.” She took another drag on her cigarette. “Corporate rental, so it’s sterile, but the location is prime, and it’s full ser vice. And most important, Itsy Poo adores it.” Suzanne put her face into the dog bag. “Don’t you wuv it, Itsy Poo? You do! I know you do. You wuv the new condo.”
    Hooker ate the last onion ring and sent me a look that said he’d throw up if I ever asked Beans if he
wuvved
something.
    I returned my attention to Suzanne. “How’s the boat battle going?”
    “It’s been ugly, but it’s about to improve. Men like Oscar and Ray always underestimate women.” Suzanne’s mouth curved into a joyless smile. “Not a smart thing to do with a bitch like me.”
    Hooker instinctively crossed his legs.
    “Sounds like you have a plan,” I said to Suzanne.
    She took a drag, tipped her head back, and blew out a perfect smoke ring. “I have a plan and a half.” She slid her ass off the bar stool. “Gotta go. Got a cake in the oven. Remember,