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- 31 -
In the middle of Mr. Massey’s errands, Ross Cleaver and Bill Lamb stopped in at a place called Frozen Futures. Cleaver turned to the other man, eyes blazing, finger pointing. “Now, we are just here for a minute. No reason Mr. Massey has to hear about it.”
Lamb looked hurt. “What are you telling me for?”
“You have a habit of telling things.”
“A guy has a right to talk. It’s a free—” He stopped at Cleaver’s glare, held up his hands. “I’m cool. I ain’t saying nothin’.”
As they went up the sidewalk, Lamb looked at the sign hanging over the front door, saw the frosted cartoon effect on the logo. “Are we getting ice cream?”
“Just shut up.” Cleaver pushed through the double doors into the front lobby.
Behind the desk, a woman was chomping her gum and working the crossword puzzle in ink. As the two men approached the desk, she cursed and scribbled out one of the answers. Then she looked up, still smacking her gum. Loud. “Oh. Well, look what was drug in.”
“Cat, Enid,” Cleaver sighed. “The phrase is ‘Look what the cat drug in.’”
She blinked at him. “I don’t got a cat.”
Lamb blurted, “So you guys make Popsicles here or what?”
Enid’s grin was big and toothy. “Naw.” Chomping the gum. “Or maybe I should say, not like you think!” She snorted.
Cleaver turned to Lamb and said in a low voice, “Not that it is any of your concern, but they happen to freeze guys here.”
Lamb frowned. “Guys?”
Cleaver shrugged. “People.”
Enid stood and handed Lamb a colorful tri-fold flyer. Under the same frosted logo FROZEN FUTURES was the legend, WHEN MODERN MEDICINE ISN’T ENOUG.
Lamb read it. “Enoug?”
She grinned, smacking gum again. “We got a break on the printing.”
Cleaver said, “We got things worked out at the house, baby.”
“What do you mean?”
“We had a conversation with the gentleman responsible for fixing up—”
“Who told you to get involved?”
Cleaver stepped back. “W-we just—”
“There is no we, mister, there is you and there is me. The court says there ain’t no we anymore.”
“B-but I just—”
“You made your choice. I told you, ‘It’s me or it’s Massey,’ and you chose that, that—” She nodded toward the picture window, sputtering to a stop. “—crook.”
“I told you, hon, Mr. Massey is a businessman.”
“I know what business he’s in. And I want no part of it!”
“I’m just looking after your best interests.”
“Did you do something to them?”
“What do you mean?”
She frowned. “To the fix-it men.”
“Aw.” Cleaver lowered his eyes. Shook his head. “We may have had a slight misunder—”
“Oh! Great!” Enid raised her hands to go with the shrieking. “That explains everything!” She stepped around the desk, marched right up to Cleaver, jabbed a finger in his chest. “I don’t need your kinda help. I don’t need you breaking someone’s kneecaps because you’re not happy with the dry cleaning or because the pizza is a couple minutes late!” She paced a few steps in front of him. “It was bad enough you pulled this kinda crud when we were married. But now!” Threw her hands up again. “Agh!”
A side door opened, and a beefy guy in a suit came into the lobby. Cleaver recognized him as Herman Mikolaczyk, former all-pro linebacker. Mob thug. Almost fit the suit. “Problem out here, Enid?”
“Naw, Mr. Mike.” She sighed loudly. Rolling the gum on her tongue. “Just my idiot ex-husband here forgetting to stay out of my business.”
Mikolaczyk stepped up to Cleaver. Stood a foot taller.
Cleaver stood his ground. “Mik.”
The other man nodded once. “Ross.” Still towering over Cleaver, he turned back to Enid. “Need any help?”
“No.” She began smacking gum again. “I think we’re done.”
Cleaver considered his options against the taller man. Relaxed his demeanor, turned to Lamb. “Let’s get out of here.”
Lamb pointed to the door from which Mik had come. “What you got back there?”
“You can’t go back there.” The gorilla cleared his throat. “It’s sterile.”
Lamb’s eyed widened. “Celebrities on ice, I guess?”
Enid rolled her eyes. “We are not at liberty to discuss our clients.” She smacked her gum with authority. “It’s confidential.”
Cleaver growled at his associate. “Let’s go.” Did his best to saunter casually for the exit. Aware of the eyes burning into his back. It didn’t bother him. Wouldn’t bother him. Shouldn’t bother—
“Ross, wait.” The silky voice stopped him. He turned and Enid walked up, smiling sweetly. This might turn out okay. She held out an empty hand. “Keys.”
Oh. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Keys. My house. Gimme.”
“I don’t got—”
“Ross?”
Cleaver hesitated. Taking note of the ex-linebacker across the room, his shoulders sagged. “Whatever.” He pulled out his key ring, picked through the keys, pulled her house key off the metal ring. Handed it over.
On the sidewalk outside, Lamb was grinning. Cleaver let it go. He was thinking about Mikolaczyk.
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There are 70 chapters for Tribulation House. You can purchase the whole eBook from Amazon, Apple, Kobo, B&N, and more!
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Tribulation House: Reloaded
Mystery / ThrillerNOW WITH ALL-NEW AUTHOR COMMENTARY! When the world fails to end on schedule, one man discovers that the mob is in no mood to discuss end-times theology. Read this novel on your Kindle Fire, iPad, tablet or smart phone! Get the free app here: http:...
