“We’re running out of time,” Hooker said. “What’s it going to be? Are we doing this?”
I punched Gobbles’s number into my cell. “Are you still okay?”
“It’s really stuffy in here. Are you going to get me out soon? I’m not feeling good.”
“We can’t get the door open. We’re going to drive you down the road and get some tools. Hang in there.”
Hooker hauled himself up into the truck cab and angled behind the wheel.
“Hey, wait a minute,” I said. “Why do you get to drive the big truck?”
“I’m the driver. I always drive. It’s what I do. Anyway, have you ever driven an eighteen-wheeler?”
“Yes. Have you?” I asked him.
“Yep,” Hooker said.
“Liar, liar, pants on fire.”
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“I do. Your mouth gets this little crook in it when you lie.”
“Give me a break here. I’m a testosterone-crazed race-car driver. I’ve gotta drive the boat.”
“This is a truck.”
“Truck, boat…it’s all the same. Look at it. It’s big. It’s a guy toy.”
“You know about the air brakes, right?” I asked Hooker.
“Yeah. Air brakes.”
“And you know how to turn the headlights on? You’ve only got running lights right now.”
“Yeah. Lights.”
“This truck has approximately five hundred and fifty horses and an eighteen-speed transmission.”
“Yep.”
“The trailer’s fifty-three feet long, so you have to watch the turning radius—”
“I’ve got it under control,” Hooker said. “Get in the car and follow me out.”
Beans was sitting up, looking out the window at me when I returned to the SUV. He was doing heavy-duty panting and his forehead was wrinkled.
“Don’t worry,” I said to him. “He’ll be fine. He knows what he’s doing.”
Beans looked like that registered a seven on his bullshit-o-meter. I’d actually placed it a couple points higher on mine. I buckled myself in, cranked the engine over, and waited for Hooker to roll. I gripped the wheel and whispered under my breath, “Take it slow.” When the hauler crept forward, my grip went white knuckled and my breath caught in my chest.
Hooker was smoothly moving the truck across the back lot, toward the front of the building, inching along without lights. He eased the hauler into the exit lane, and I fell in line behind him. This was the moment of no return. In minutes he’d be on the highway in a hijacked truck. Time for honesty. If we got caught, we’d be out of NASCAR and into Florida penal.
My heart was pounding so hard it was blurring my vision. Even Beans was instinctively alert, no longer panting. I checked him out in my rearview mirror to make sure he was okay and we locked eyes. Probably it was my spooked imagination, but I swear he looked as terrified as I felt.
Hooker left-turned the hauler off the diner property and his rear tires ran over the curb and took out a four-foot-tall pygmy date palm and an entire flower bed. I looked around in panic, but didn’t see anyone rushing out of the diner after him.
“I didn’t see that,” I said to Beans. “You didn’t see it either, right?”