C.C.
“What the fuck is wrong with this phone?!” Mitch shrieked, looking at the cell phone in his hands. The man was unraveling fast, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Mitch’s fingers trembled as he jabbed at the screen, his furious muttering barely coherent. “It’s not ringing! Why isn’t it ringing?!” He slapped the phone against his palm as if brute force could fix the problem.
“Maybe try turning it on,” I drawled, stretching out my legs and leaning back against the couch. The tension in the room was palpable, but watching Mitch spiral had a darkly comedic edge I couldn’t resist.
“This isn’t fucking funny, C.C.,” Mitch snapped, his bloodshot eyes zeroing in on me. “If I can’t reach Ansel, I’m screwed, and you’re sitting here laughing like we’re at some goddamn comedy club!”
I shrugged. “What can I say? Stress brings out my sense of humor. Besides, freaking out won’t make Ansel answer his phone any faster. Which, by the way, now that you mentioned it. Why are you calling Ansel?”
Mitch glared at me, opening and closing his mouth like some magpie fresh out of water. Rolling my eyes, I sighed. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. Knew you were too stupid to think of this shit all on your own. The only other idiot I fucking know is Ansel. So tell me, Mitch. What was the plan?”
“I fucking hate you.”
“Feeling’s mutual, now spill. Ain’t like we got any other place to be.”
Mitch’s hands trembled as he slammed the phone down on the small wooden table. Its clatter skittered through the tense silence of the room. He buried his face in his hands and muttered curses under his breath. I let the quiet stretch, long enough to make him squirm, before I finally broke it.
I was bored with all this shit and wanted to go home.
Plus, I was getting hungry.
Playtime was over.
“So, are you gonna sit there and sulk, or are you actually gonna tell me why you’re so desperate to reach Ansel? Because from where I’m sitting, you’re looking less like a man with a plan and more like a headless chicken running circles in its own mess,” I said, my voice laced with dry amusement.
Mitch’s bloodshot gaze snapped to mine, and for a second, I thought he might actually lunge at me. “You don’t get it, do you? If I can’t get ahold of Ansel, this whole thing goes to shit. The deal, the payout, everything! And if it does, guess who’s next on their hit list?”
I arched a brow, unfazed. “Oh, let me guess. You?”
“Damn right!” he hissed, leaning forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “There is no way they will let me walk away from this.”
“News to me,” I replied, my tone still maddeningly calm. “But here’s the thing, Mitch. You barking orders at a phone isn’t gonna fix squat. Maybe it’s time you got creative. Try something that doesn’t involve screaming at an inanimate object.”
His glare sharpened. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”
“Smart enough to not put all my eggs in Ansel’s basket,” I shot back, slowly standing and stretching.
I was so done with this shit.
Time for the real truth.
“Did you honestly think I didn’t know what you and Ansel were up to? I may be a girl, Mitch, but I’m not fucking stupid. I know how to read a fucking contract. Greed is a nasty sin, Mitch. Deadly too, but you know all about that already, don’t you? Tell me, what did you think was gonna happen? That you’d kill Trip, take the insurance money, and get away with murder? Gotta say, that was ballsy, even for you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh come now, Mitch. Let’s be real. You morons damn near got away with killing Trip’s parents when he left the circuit. Bet you weren’t counting on him to make that move, were ya? But that didn’t solve your money problems, did it? That’s why you and Ansel went through drivers like water. What was the plan? Find another driver and make it look like an accident?”
“Shut up.”
I smirked. “But I’m just getting started. The driving community is tight, Mitch. Been around the circuit my whole life. Everyone knew Ansel was flat broke. What I couldn’t figure out was where he was getting his money. So that got me thinking. I mean, there are ways to make money, but that would take time. Time Ansel didn’t have, so that left him with a few options. And in NOLA, if you need money fast, the pickin’s are slim. That’s when I stopped by The Bourbon Bar and had a nice little chat with my cousin. Would you like to take a guess what Gator and I discussed?”
Mitch paled but said nothing.
Sighing, I continued, “You see, Mitch. Shit is different in the bayou. We’re not all stupid rednecks with no care in the world. Some of us are actually smart. You’d know that if you’d grown up there, but you’re nothing but a city fella, so let me break it down for ya. The moment Ansel went to Gator for a loan, my cousin investigated the bastard. He called a good friend who is really good with computers. You wouldn’t believe the shit he dugup. Anyway, my cousin warned me to watch my back. Then he called my brother, who, by the way, was more than happy to play stupid. It’s a gift, and we Southern folks are really good at it. But you wanna know what else we’re really good at? Protecting our family. You see, Rome wasn’t just home for the holidays. He was there to watch you, Ansel, and Crane. Momma had a real nice long talk with him at a family wedding weeks ago, and Rome was all too happy to play his part. And boy, did he, because you, Ansel, and Crane all fell for it. But don’t worry, Rome took care of Crane, that lying little weasel. Yeah, that’s right, Mitch. I knew it was Crane who fucked with my car, all because Ansel passed him over for me. Crane forgot the cardinal rule. You don’t fuck with family. As for you and your greedy partner, I’m pretty damn sure that Ansel is on his way back to NOLA by now, so that just leaves you. Would you like to know what Gator has in store for you?”
“What?” Mitch gulped.
“Me,” a tall burly man wearing a dirty wifebeater and dingy overalls gruffly said, as he pointed a shotgun at Mitch’s back.
