Geek Mafia, Rick Dakan [books that read to you .TXT] 📗

the eye. “I trust you Paul. You know that. I’ve told you shit no one else in the Crew knows and I trust you to keep my secrets. Our secrets. And now you have to trust me. Trust me on this one thing. You absolutely do not want any part of this bullshit we’re perpetrating right now. This is a serious score and there’s no room for mistakes. It’s not phony funny books. It’s not the right time. After we’re free and clear on this one, then, maybe, we can talk about you joining up for real.” She paused to take another sip of coffee. “If that’s what you really still want to do.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” asked Paul, his voice taking on an edge of defensiveness. 

“Why would you?” she replied. It was a fair question. Why would he? Why get involved with people like this? Chloe was thinking along the same lines. “You’ve just made a shit load of money Paul, if you play it right and invest it well, you probably won’t have to work again, or at least not for a few decades. It’s a single score that any one of us would envy. Fuck, all of us already do envy it. Why fuck around with low lifes like us?”

“I don’t know,” said Paul. “Maybe because this is the most fun I’ve ever had. Because I’ve got nothing else to do. Because I like you.”

“I think you should take a break,” said Chloe. “Spend some of that money. Have a night out on the town. Get a fancy hotel room in SF and hire a bunch of hookers. Live it up a little, my friend.”

“That sounds great,” he said. “Why don’t you come with me? We’ll live it up together.”

“I can’t Paul, not right now. I don’t have time for you.”

“I’ll wait.”

She took an extra long sip of coffee and was silent for a moment. “I know you will, Paul. But you can’t make life decisions based on…based on that.”

“Based on what?”

“Based on waiting for me.”

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” Paul knew what she was trying to tell him. And she was right – he’d made this kind of mistake before. By any reasonable logic she was right. But of course he didn’t give a fuck about logic. However, he’d learned enough in his thirty-two years not to push her away even more by pressing the issue. 

Chloe seemed thankful that Paul had gotten her message without her having to resort to blunter language. She softened the blow a little with a pat on his knee. “We will have that night on the town though, Paul. Just not right now. When we’ve made the score. Until then, why don’t you take some time for yourself? Get out and just relax a little. I’m not going to have much time for anything but work and breathing between now and then.”

“Ok,” he said. “Sounds like a good idea. Maybe I’ll go down to Santa Cruz or something. Learn to surf.”

Chloe stood up and smiled down at him. “That’s a great idea! Then you can teach me.” She quickly downed the rest of her coffee. “I gotta run. Have fun. And hey, there’s a cell phone for you that I left by the side of the bed. Use it all you want, it’s clean and paid for.”

“Thanks,” he said. “I appreciate it.”

“No prob,” she said as she walked back towards the living room. “And have some fun!”

Over the next few days Paul tried to do just that, although it was a little harder than he’d thought it would be. The only time someone talked to him for more than a minute was when Popper gave him five to pay him his share of the comic con. The crew had finally sold the last of the counterfeit comics on eBay and had brought in over $80,000 in bids. Paul’s share came to almost five grand. Coupled with the money he already he had, he could do whatever he wanted. It was the figuring out what he wanted part that he was finding so difficult.

He didn’t want to go to any of his usual haunts where he might run into someone from work. He had no friends in San Jose outside of his former partners and coworkers, so that didn’t leave him with a lot of social options. The comic book store and game store were no good either – he was friendly with the staff of both and knew they’d mention him to one of the guys he’d so recently extorted money from. Better to just leave all that shit behind and start fresh.

He did spend some time on the phone with his parents, who were understandably worried about him. They’d heard from his former partner and CEO Greg what happened – apparently Greg had been trying to get in touch with him and the only number he had left that worked was Paul’s folks’ place back in Florida. Paul shortened the tale considerably, saying only that he’d sold his stock to Greg and now he wanted some time alone to think about what to do next. Although they pushed him for more details, Paul’s stonewalling made them give up soon enough. They were used to him not telling them much about his personal life.

Mostly he just drove around the Bay Area. He got his comics up in Berkley and wandered around San Francisco for a few afternoons. He’d never taken the time to actually do the tourist thing – he’d been working since the day he’d moved out here. Well, working or resting. Either way, he’d only been up to the city a handful of times, even though it was less than an hour away. Like all big cities, San Francisco both fascinated and overwhelmed Paul. He loved the fact that there was so much going on, so many interesting people, but without a local to show him the ropes, he had a hard time choosing one thing to do. Although he never actually encountered any crime in SF, for some reason a fear of being mugged nested in the back of his brain and refused to leave until his car was back on the highway. It was only as he headed south on the 101 that he realized this newfound paranoia’s root cause. It was perfectly natural, he thought, for someone that now lived with a bunch of criminals

He liked Santa Cruz more – a small beach town like his own home turf, but it didn’t feel quite right either. An inexplicable mix of hippies and incredibly high housing costs made the small beach/university town less than appealing as a permanent place of residence, but a fun place to visit, even if the Pacific Ocean was too cold to even think about swimming in, much less surfing without a wet suit. With freshly stolen money in his pocket and nothing else to do, he decided to follow through on his threat and get a motel room by the beach. It was certainly less frustrating than staying around Chloe’s house. 

He went by the Crew’s HQ just long enough to get his suitcase. The operation had taken over almost the entire house. The living room had become a staging area and a storage place for spare parts and malfunctioning computers, without even an outlet left to plug the TV into. The kitchen overflowed with dirty dishes and pizza boxes – a sure sign that Chloe wasn’t spending much time there. He never saw Chloe at all, and Bee seemed to be the one in charge of running the house-based portion of the operation. The only place where there was any peace and quiet was Chloe’s bedroom, and he didn’t feel comfortable there.

He had spent the first few nights after his talk with Chloe trying to figure out just what the hell they were up to. He didn’t have much luck. The Crew was very security conscious and most of the really “sensitive” stuff happened in the garage or the server room, neither of which Paul was allowed even a glimpse of. Still, they were all perfectly nice to him, if a bit closed mouthed. 

Despite their best efforts however, he overhead and saw enough small details to piece together some vague notion of what they were up to. From the constant whispered references to “him” and “the guy” and “he,” Paul surmised that they had one specific person as their target. Furthermore, from what he gathered, they seemed to know an awful lot about this man, whoever he was. That meant they were probably spying on him, and not just looking at his credit card records and what not. 

One thing that did confuse him was that sometimes it seemed that they were spying on this person and other times it sounded like they were actually working with or at least talking to him. Or maybe there were two “hims.” Paul couldn’t tell for sure. But there was no way of telling without some serious snooping, and he knew the Crew was watching him too closely for that. Getting out of the house and down to the beach was the only option he had left before his curiosity and imagination got him into trouble.

After a few days by the chilly beach and a few nights spent in bars filled with college kids, Paul started to get restless again. He’d hit the local comics store and loaded up on comics. He’d even bought a new X-Box just so he could play games in the motel room. But once he’d watched all the movies playing at the local theaters and drunk more bourbon than he should while listening to local bands, he was bored once more. He called the house to see what was going on and if it was safe to come home. He talked to Kurt, whom he hadn’t seen since the comic book gig. Paul asked him to tell Chloe that he called and Kurt promised he would, as soon as he saw her again.

Two days later, just as he was thinking of driving down to Monterey for a few days (another Northern California thing he’d never done), his bag started playing the theme song from The Greatest American Hero.

“Believe it or not, I’m walking on air.

“I never thought I could feel so free-ee-ee.

Flying away on a wing and a prayer,

Who could it be…”

It was the cell phone Chloe had given him. He’d never used it and never heard it ring, although he kept it on and charged just in case she called. He fished the singing phone from his bag and looked at the caller ID. CALLER UNKNOWN it said. Paul pushed the talk button and put it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Paul. How’s it going?” It wasn’t Chloe. It was Raff.

“I’m good, Raff. What’re you up to?”

“Too much to even think about, man. Listen, can you do me a huge favor?”

“Um, sure, I guess.” Paul assumed Raff was going to ask him to pick up some take-out or batteries or toilet paper, all which he’d fetched for them before he checked into his beachfront vacation. “What do you need?”

“I need you to pick up something for me.”

“I’m down in Santa Cruz right now. I can’t really just swing by the house or anything.”

“This is important Paul.” Raff actually sounded a little anxious.

“What is it? What happened?”

Raff was silent for a long moment. “We’ve run into a bit of a snag. With the score.” He paused again, “We really need your help or, well, we’re kinda fucked. I was ready to scrap the whole thing,