Motor Mouth

I’m at the Majestic if you want a giggle.”
    “Do you think she really has a cake in the oven?” I asked Hooker when Suzanne was back on the footpath.
    “If she does, you’re not going to catch me eating it.”
    “What happens next?”
    “Ray had an appointment that he didn’t expect to last long, and then he was going to take care of Rodriguez and Lucca. Apparently there’s a buyer for the chip coming in on a flight tonight, and Ray doesn’t want to disappoint him. So we should have this nightmare wrapped up before the day is over.”
    I rested my forehead on the bar and took a deep breath. I was so relieved, I was close to tears. “Do we need to go back and get the chip?”
    “No. I don’t want it on either of us until I’m sure we’re off the hook. Ray said he’d call me when he had everything in place. He expected he’d be back in touch by eight at the latest.”
    Hooker’s phone rang. “Sure,” Hooker said. “Barbecued chicken would be good. Just us, though, right? We don’t want anyone to know we’re here.”
    “Felicia?” I asked.
    “Yeah,” Hooker said, returning his phone to his pocket. “She wanted to know if we’d be back for dinner.”
    We sat at the bar for a while longer, and then we took off for Little Havana. Every light was lit in Felicia’s house when we arrived. Cars were double-parked on the street and people were milling around on the sidewalk in front of her small front porch. Hooker slowed the SUV in front of the house and a cheer went up.
    “Good thing we told Felicia to keep this a secret,” Hooker said. “Otherwise she’d have to rent out the Orange Bowl for dinner.”
    We drove around back and parked in a spot that had been held empty for us with a sign on a garbage can. The sign read RESERVED FOR SAM HOOKER.
    “Thoughtful,” Hooker said on a resigned sigh.
    Felicia was at the back door. “We’ve been waiting for you! I just took the chicken off the grill. And I have hot fry bread.”
    I could see Beans bouncing around behind Felicia. He saw Hooker get out of the car, and he pushed past Felicia and bounded down the stairs. He gave a
woof
and hurled himself into Hooker, taking Hooker to the ground.
    “Guess he missed you,” I said to Hooker.
    “Look, doggie!” Felicia said, waving a piece of bread. “I have a nice big treat for you.”
    Beans’s ears perked up and he swiveled his head in Felicia’s direction. His nose twitched, he shoved off Hooker and galloped at Felicia. Felicia threw the bread into the kitchen, and Beans bounded in after it.
    Hooker picked himself up, ambled to the kitchen door and looked in. “You’ve got a lot of people packed in there,” Hooker said to Felicia.
    “Just family. And no one will tell anyone you’re here. It’s a secret.”
    “I’m relieved,” Hooker said.
    “Hooker’s here!” Felicia shouted into the house.
    Another cheer went up.
    “We’re serving buffet style,” Felicia said. “Help yourself.”
    Every flat surface held food. I fixed myself a plate and looked over at Hooker. He had a piece of chicken in one hand and a Sharpie in the other. He was signing hats and foreheads and eating barbecue. Who says a man can’t multitask?
    “Look at him,” Felicia said to me. “He’s such a sweetie. He’s even nice to Uncle Mickey. Everybody loves him. He thinks they love him because he’s a good driver, but everybody loves him because he’s a good person.”
    Rosa was next to Felicia. “I love him because he got a cute tushie.”
    They turned and looked at me.
    “What?” I said.
    “Why do
you
love him?” Rosa wanted to know.
    “Who says I love him?”
    Rosa forked up some pulled pork. “You have to be nuts not to love him.”
    I remember when I was in high school and I had a terrible crush on this guy who worked in my dad’s garage. I’d go in after school, and he’d flirt with me and say he’d call. So I’d go home and wait, and he wouldn’t call. I’d wait and wait and wait. And he never called. And then one day I heard he got married. All the time he’d been telling me he’d call, he’d been engaged. That’s how tonight was feeling. I was waiting for the phone call. Ten percent of my mind was listening to Rosa, but the other ninety percent was dedicated to the rising panic that the call might not happen. Deep inside, I was a cat on a mouse. Tail twitching, eyes unblinking, whole body vibrating while I stalked the phone call that would make my life right.
    Eight o’clock and