By Mark Taylor and Jim Roberts
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Extra resources for 10 Swing Classics
She lunges for it at the same time I do. We bump heads. At the next table, Earl is laughing so hard he’s wheezing. Mandy scuttles into the kitchen. I swipe the ice cube onto the floor. “Hey, Ida! Your niece has a thing for dumping stuff into customers’ laps,” Earl calls out. Mandy’s wail drifts out through the swinging kitchen door. Earl tries to catch my eye. Instead, I wipe up the last bit of chili with a piece of bread. Delicious. The kitchen door swings open. Mandy comes out, slaps my bill on the table and turns.
I freeze. It’s the same Grand Cherokee that Shades drives. The same one that drove beside me and Katie that day. I get off my bike and watch the figures below. Shades steps forward into the headlights. He’s carrying a briefcase. Trevor kills the headlights and gets out of the van. It’s dark now, but my eyes adjust. Shades lays the briefcase on the van’s hood and snaps it open. It sounds like the pop-pop of TV gunfire. Trevor sets a matching case beside it and opens it. I’m straining to see. What are they doing?
I eat the chili. It’s good, now that it’s cooler. Mandy comes back with a water jug. She sloshes some into my glass, and an ice cube skitters across the table. It lands in my lap. She lunges for it at the same time I do. We bump heads. At the next table, Earl is laughing so hard he’s wheezing. Mandy scuttles into the kitchen. I swipe the ice cube onto the floor. “Hey, Ida! Your niece has a thing for dumping stuff into customers’ laps,” Earl calls out. Mandy’s wail drifts out through the swinging kitchen door.