River Rules Page 13

  CHAPTER 33

  NANCY ANXIOUSLY INTERROGATED PETER OVER THE phone.

  “Did you pull the front door shut really tight like I asked you to? You swear you didn’t forget?”

  “No, of course not. I’m not an idiot. Why?”

  “Someone was in my house. I’m sure of it. I’m totally freaked out.”

  “No way. Maybe one of your kids dropped over. Or it could have been a big gust of wind.” Peter tried to recall if he actually had shut the door firmly and settled on a definite maybe.

  “Did the wind turn my closet light on and open my desk drawers? And you know Justin or Alex would never just drop by. The only time they ever reach out is when they need money, and right now we’re not speaking. Someone was in my house, I’m telling you.”

  “Come on. You probably just don’t remember doing those things. You’ve got a lot on your mind what with the surgery coming up. Stop being so jumpy.”

  “Peter whatever you’re doing with those damn documents—leave me the hell out of it. I really don’t want to get on the wrong side of the Consortium. I don’t want to be even a blip on their radar.”

  “Message received loud and clear.” Peter didn’t mention his sneaking suspicion that somehow Brock’s sudden appearance on the Water Board and the baffling documents were connected. In fact, he didn’t mention Brock at all.

  “Good, they’re worse than the KGB. Let it go. Not one drop of blowback on me.”

  “Nance, are you turning into a chicken in your old age?”

  “Who you calling old? Absolutely nothing can screw up my surgery. I would blow the devil right now, down on my knees in broad daylight, to keep it from going off the rails.”

  “Take it easy. Just kidding.”

  “You don’t get it. Getting the loose skin cut off after the gastric sleeve is on my dime. I’ll have to borrow against my house unless I get a miracle. I’ll take a bad one or a good one.”

  “What’s a bad miracle? All miracles are good, aren’t they? Come on, Nance. Lighten up.”

  Nancy bulldozed over his voice. “Like maybe I almost die, and when I wake up, I’m completely fine and down a hundred pounds, and they’ve cut off all the excess skin while I was in a coma. That’s a bad miracle.”

  “Stop it. That’s sick. And not like the kids mean it.”

  “No shit.”

  “Look, just chill out. I’m going to work with Paco to see how he does on the truck. You know, kind of a trial basis with the eating public. Jeff’s not too sure about him—he’s got a short fuse, almost as bad as yours. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  CHAPTER 34

  JOHN TOMASSI, OF ALL PEOPLE, GAVE PETER A CLUE about why the Consortium could be projecting massive profits from selling water.

  Peter had asked just about everyone if they’d heard anything new about the local water. He still didn’t know anything more than Nancy’s insight from the first day. Peter decided to keep Jeff out of it, just like Zenergy. Copping to paranoia, he kept the documents and flash drive inside a small lockbox under his doomsday larder of canned tuna, beans, dog food, and soup. He kept the key close, adding it to his jingly omnipresent key chain.

  After stopping at the library with some fresh strawberries for Miss Pampuro, the elderly reference librarian who never tired of answering his questions, Peter saw Tomassi browsing in the large-print New Arrivals section.

  “John,” he said, clapping Tomassi on the back. “I didn’t know you could read.”

  “Funny. So funny, I forgot to laugh.”

  “For your mom?”

  “Yeah, now that I took away her car—remember when she drove into the roundabout the wrong way and caused all kinds of mayhem?” He didn’t wait for Peter’s response. “So now, I’m paying for my good deeds. Look at this romance shit I gotta look through. If it’s got sex, she doesn’t want it. And no technology, either. Just heaving bosoms in corsets.”

  “Hey, you like those. So, you hear anything about new plans for water around here?”

  “You mean like drinking water?”

  “Yeah. I heard something interesting might be happening.” Peter deliberately kept his voice light and his inquiry vague.

  Tomassi shifted his weight from one foot to the other and put the books down on an empty shelf. “Maybe. You ever heard of the outfit called Eautopia?”

  “Oh-what?”

  “Yeah, I kid you not. Eautopia.” Tomassi spelled it for Peter. “You know Donna’s on Patty Lennon’s real estate team or whatever the hell it’s called. Donna does a lot of legwork with potential clients, so Patty can take home the bacon.”

  “Patty rakes it in, she’s not shy, no doubt about it. So, what the hell does this have to do with water?” Peter waved to the librarian at the checkout desk who made shushing noises. “Hey. inside voice, loudmouth.”

  “Like you should talk. Didn’t you pay attention back in French class? Eau is water.” Tomassi punched it into his Google app and showed Peter the translation.

  “Eautopia is a water company? A water utopia company? I don’t get it. What’s the tie-in?”

  “I don’t know, but what I’m trying to tell you, moron, is Donna’s been showing some houses in Bridgeville to some Eautopia honchos who are relocating for business purposes, and the referral to Team Patty came from the Consortium.”

  “Well, now. Very interesting.”

  “I wouldn’t read much into it. People move all the time.”

  Peter whipped out his phone and searched for Eautopia. “Shit. They’re a big water-bottling company. Ginormous. Listen to what Wikipedia says, ‘the company is expansion-minded and flush with cash … looking to expand operations to New England.’ Like what—they’re gonna bottle the water from here?”

  Tomassi let out a low whistle. “That’s crazy. Don’t go jumping to cockamamie conclusions. It’s not like the Consortium can sell our water to a bottling company.”

  “They damn well better not. I gotta tell Ian. This could be the key.”

  “The key to what? And how come you’re so hot to trot about this in the first place?”

  Peter hemmed and hawed. Finally, he said, “John, I really can’t share that with you.”

  “Don’t fuck with me. Why not?”

  “Because then I’d have to kill you.”

  “What. Did. You. Do?” Tomassi loomed larger than life, directly in Peter’s face.

  Peter shook his head. “Nothing. Take it easy, I’m just kidding. Hey, listen, off the record,” Peter lowered his voice, “what happens if a person picks up property that might be stolen? I mean literally picks it up from the ground.”

  Tomassi glowered at him. “Possession of stolen goods is a crime, asshole. What the hell are we talking about?”

  “Nothing. Just shootin’ the breeze.”

  “So help me God, I find out you’re violating your agreement and poking your nose where it don’t belong—your ass is mine.”

  “Relax, I’m not violating anything.”

  Tomassi snorted. “Tomorrow’s my day off. After I get done with all the ‘Honey-do’s’ that Donna’s been saving for me, then you and me are going to have a little sit-down.”

  “John, you’re getting all hot and bothered over nothing.” He patted Tomassi’s shoulder in parting. “Stick to the bosoms.”

  CHAPTER 35

  AFTER HUSTLING OUT OF THE LIBRARY, PETER DROVE to the Dairy Queen in West Hadley, the opposite direction Tomassi would be going.

  Peter always ordered his favorite, a chocolate M & M Blizzard, which made him think about Marco. He’d come a long way, and Peter couldn’t imagine Great Full Bread working without him. Marco had bonded with Rachel and pitched in to help whenever he could.

  Peter licked the last traces of his Blizzard from the red plastic spoon and resolved to give Marco a raise. He called Jeff, who didn’t pick up until the fifth ring.

  “Hey, I’m just finishing up the lunch at Hatfield Medical Center. We sold out of everything, practically. What’s
up?”

  “Just thinking—we need to pay Marco more. You on board?”

  “Yeah, definitely. I gotta say I was wrong. Can’t talk now. Paco needs me.”

  Still sitting in his car, Peter searched on his phone using every combination of Eautopia, Bridgeville, water bottling, and the Consortium that he could think of. He came up empty-handed except for a chart of Eautopia’s water bottling operations in the Midwest and a recent press release for a big national deal with Walmart.

  “We better not be part of that.”

  Peter called Marco but went straight to voicemail. Shrugging, he decided the coast was clear enough to head home.

  “So, how come you start messin’ around with dope?” Marco casually asked Rachel that afternoon at the commissary when they were making an extra batch of bread to freeze.

  “Wow, you’re pretty direct. And nosy.” Rachel scowled, her tone gone cold. She took off her sanitary gloves and threw them on the floor.

  “No disrespect. I know it ain’t my business, but we workin’ together, and we cool. I see you so smart, a real hard worker. It just don’t add up. A guy get you started, someone you hung with?

  Rachel challenged his eyes as she leaned forward. “Yeah, a guy. A fucking middle-aged dentist if you really want to know.”

  “Oh, man. Oxy from the tooth fairy? No fuckin’ way.”

  “Way.” Rachel checked on her ear piercings, twisting each one back and forth, a process she repeated three times. “How you like me now? A poster girl for stupid.”

  “Don’t say that; it ain’t true. What—you get hooked from your wisdom teeth and then no more oxy?” Marco folded his arms and leaned back against the wall, watching her closely.

  “Yeah, I got a really bad infection that went on forever, and the only thing that worked on the pain—” Rachel shrugged. “Then I couldn’t get any more, and people I knew got me some dope. Plus I failed two science classes at community college, so everything sucked.”

  “Except gettin’ high. I feel you.”

  Rachel picked at her cuticles. “We’re never gonna have this conversation again.”

  “Deal. Busted twice and doin’ time ain’t somethin’ I wanna talk about no more. So stop bringin’ it up.”

  Rachel burst out laughing and clapped her hands. “I wanted to be a veterinary tech so bad, but I bite at bio and chem.” Rachel looked at Marco ruefully as he picked up her gloves and put them in the trash. “Thanks. Sorry about the hissy fit. You know, it’s a big stupid joke—just loving animals doesn’t help.”

  “Who laughin’ now? Baking’s chemistry, dude.”

  “Yup, chemistry I care about. I want to kick ass on Great Full Bread. Please don’t say everything happens for a reason. So help me, I’ll scream if I hear it one more time.”

  “Yeah, that’s some bullshit.”

  CHAPTER 36

  ANNIE SURPRISED PETER BY SHOWING UP FOR JEFF’S Saturday morning shift after Peter beeped the horn twice outside the farmhouse’s side door.

  “Hey, those hormones are kicking in, bro.” He peered at her through the pre-dawn darkness and laughed.

  “Yeah, you want some?” Annie grinned as she pointed to the tight neon-green Great Full Bread T-shirt stretching to accommodate her ample curves before climbing into his truck. “Sean’s got a stomach bug so Jeff’s a farmer again, at least for the day.”

  “Sucks for Sean. We got lots of ball fields today. Your wrist gonna be OK? Just follow my lead.”

  “Uh, you’re only talking to the concession-stand queen of the universe. I can sell upside down, blindfolded and hanging over the Grand Canyon. C’mon, let’s get this show on the road.” She turned on the radio, scanning through stations until she found Bon Jovi’s It’s My Life. Cranking up the volume, she sang surprisingly tunefully at top volume, punching Peter in the arm to join her on the chorus.

  They bellowed in unison on the drive to the commissary to pick up the freshly loaded food truck. Grabbing steaming hot cups of coffee provided by Aaron, the very capable preparation worker Peter hired from the wounded vets program, they went over the day’s specials. The Great Full Bread truck, its neon hues immaculately buffed and shiny, attracted crowds at hour-long stops in West Hadley and Bridgeville, finally arriving at the Hatfield ball field where Kenny and Marco were co-coaching the Dollar General team.

  “I gotta take a wicked whizz. Can you handle things by yourself for a minute?” Peter shifted uncomfortably, his bladder bursting.

  “If I take off my shoes and count on my toes, maybe I’ll be able to make change. Go pee before you embarrass yourself.” Annie moved over to the counter and greeted the people waiting in line. “Men.”

  “Ay, por favor,” the woman closest to the front said with a chuckle. “Men.”

  Annie sold out all the churros and arepas by the time Peter hustled back.

  “Wow,” he said. “You’re good.”

  “Duh. Hey, I like this. Put me in, coach.”

  “Talk to your lesser half. I bet he’ll even let you keep the tips.” Peter pointed admiringly at the cup brimming with dollar bills and quarters.

  The crowd cheered and chanted loudly for their teams, banging on the bleachers and razzing the home plate umpire. Relatives and friends of every age monitored toddlers who trundled behind the backstop, seeking shelter from the hot sun and release from their sweaty strollers.

  Kenny, eyes inscrutable behind mirrored cop glasses and under a Herrings baseball cap, jotted down notes on a clipboard as Dollar General batted in the bottom of the second inning. They had one out, with runners on first and second. Jose stood by third base and clapped his hands.

  Marco, coaching on the first-base side, kept up a running stream of encouragement. “Good eye. You got this, dude.” Getting the attention of the runner on second base and shouting into the ear of the kid on first, he yelled, “Rapido—on contact.”

  The batter hit a sizzling ground ball straight to the shortstop who tossed it to the second baseman. After a slight bobble during the transfer from his mitt to his throwing arm, the second baseman executed a balletic pivot and crisp throw to first base.

  “Next time, man,” Marco said to the dejected batter whose lunge to the bag had no chance to prevent the double play.

  As Dollar General prepared to take the field, Kenny called the batter over to him.

  “Sweet swing, Ricardo. You waited for your pitch.” Kenny held out his fist for a bump. The upset youngster brightened at Kenny’s praise.

  “I keep hitting into double plays. I’m sorry, Coach Kenny.”

  “Hey, no sorry. You’re due, buddy. Just gotta find you a bat with a hit in it.” Kenny selected a bright silver and green bat from the pile near him and handed it to Ricardo.“Use this one next time. Now grab your mitt, get out to right field and catch us some fly balls.”

  Marco crouched over the third-baseman’s cleats, quickly tying triple knots. Sending him on his way with a tap on the head, Marco walked over to Kenny and complained. “Kids these days. You see him lose his shoe last inning?”

  Peter and Annie sold out completely, while the adjacent Mister Softee ice cream truck, hot dog vendor, and kids’ lemonade stands enjoyed brisk business. The smell of grilled meat and red-hot charcoal briquettes wafted through the air. Salsa, reggaeton, and hip hop thumped in competing rhythms.

  Peter got out to watch his proteges coach their team to a bases-loaded walk-off double by none other than Ricardo. Mobbed by jubilant teammates, he glowed with excitement. Kenny, Jose, and Marco gathered the team to slap hands with the opposing players, and then they all got in a circle and jumped up and down, with Marco leading the hollering and Kenny bouncing around, low-fiving each kid.

  “God, I love seeing this.” Peter almost got teary as he and Annie clapped for the team until their hands stung.

  “Your boys, Pete. You must’ve done something right.”

  Peter walked over to congratulate them, but Marco, now happily making out with his latest girlfriend, and Ke
nny, swarmed by his players who begged him to stay for a post-game party, weren’t close enough for more than a smiling thumbs-up.

  Nancy burst Peter’s bubble that night when he dropped by for a beer.

  “Carmen said to say hi when I saw her the other day.”

  “Do tell?” Peter’s face lit up.

  “She looks terrific and very happy in love.”

  “Good to hear. Wait, what?” Peter grabbed his not quite empty beer bottle to protect it from Nancy’s brandishing of the recycling bin. “Hey, I’m not done yet.”

  “She’s hot to trot with this rich financial advisor. They’ve been an item for like three months now.” She saw Peter’s face fall and paused. “Oh, come on. You two are never ever getting back together. Be honest with yourself for a change.”

  Peter put his beer down abruptly and glared at her. Nancy and Carmen had never warmed up to each other, despite Peter’s eagerness for everyone to be friends.

  “I don’t know, there’s something about her I don’t trust at all,” Carmen said. “She plays the percentages, very what’s-in-it-for-me.”

  Nancy, for her part, didn’t like Carmen’s self-confidence. “She is so used to male approval, she doesn’t doubt herself for a second. Nobody should be so convinced they rule the world just because they’re good-looking.”

  But for Peter’s sake, they tried to make nice. After Becky died, Nancy made an effort to be friendlier. It felt easier without Peter between them.

  Peter looked over at the TV. Pamela Anderson in an old Baywatch episode pranced sexily on the beach. If he closed his eyes, he could almost picture Carmen strutting naked towards him.

  “Hey, Earth to Major Tom. Move on, already. Not just casual sex, either. You know—a life partner, someone who really gets you.”

  “Just thinking about the food truck. We’re going gangbusters. Best decision me and Jeff ever made. I should go get things ready for tomorrow.” Peter felt a chill up his spine at Nancy’s words. She dropped the occasional hint, but Peter made a point of ignoring them. This one felt too much like a baited fishhook.