“I got some,” Lula said. She stuck her head in her purse and, after some rooting around, came up with two pair.
Connie and Lula stood on either side of the door and waited for the men. The door opened, the men appeared, and Connie raised her rifle.
“Freeze,” Connie said. “Drop your weapons. Hands in the air.”
They both turned and looked at her.
“What the fuck?” the one guy said.
They were middle-?aged thugs, dressed in bowling shirts and Sansabelt slacks. Their hair was slicked back. Their shoes were scuffed and run down at the heel. Their guns weren’t as big as ours.
“Guns on the ground,” Connie said.
“And what if we don’t do that? You girls gonna get tough?”
Connie shot a hole in his foot. Actually, it was mostly just a chunk taken off the side of his shoe, but from the way he dropped his gun and started jumping around, you could assume she’d nicked his little toe.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he yelled. “What the fuck!”
There were a bunch of pipes running along the roof that attached to air-?conditioning units. Lula patted both men down and cuffed them to one of the pipes.
“What about my foot?” the one guy asked. “Look at it. It’s bleeding. I need a doctor.”
“If either of you makes a single sound, I’m going to shoot you in the other foot,” Connie said.
We went back to our positions in the front of the building and watched the lot. At exactly noon, two cars slowly drove into view. One was a black Town Car. The other was my Monte Carlo. The cars parked a good distance apart and sat at idle. The driver’s side door to the Town Car opened and Mickey got out. Diesel got out of the Monte and ambled over. Surfer dude meets the Mob.
They stood talking for a moment, Diesel with his hands loose at his sides and a black canvas messenger bag hung on his shoulder. Diesel handed the messenger bag to Mickey. Mickey turned to leave, and Diesel wrapped his hand around the bag’s shoulder strap.
“Not so fast. I want Grandma.”
His voice was soft, but it carried up to us.
“Sure,” Mickey said. “She’s in the car. I’ll go get her.”
“I’ll keep the bag until you come back,” Diesel said.
Mickey shook his finger at him. “You have trust issues.”
“People keep telling me that.”
Mickey walked to the car and opened the back door. Grandma lurched out, gave Mickey the finger, and harrumphed over to Diesel. Diesel passed the messenger bag to Mickey and took possession of Grandma.
I almost collapsed with relief. I had to hold on to the wall to keep from sinking to my knees.
“Hold on,” Lula said. “There’s another car coming.”
It was black, and it was moving fast. Diesel glanced at the car, grabbed Grandma’s hand, and pulled her toward the Monte Carlo. The black car slid to a stop in front of the Monte and four men jumped out with guns drawn. Diesel changed direction and ran to the movie entrance with Grandma.
One of the men took aim, Connie picked him off, and everyone looked up to the roof. A second guy fired two shots at us, and Lula let loose with the assault rifle. It was like war. The three remaining men ducked behind their car and returned Lula’s fire. Mickey and Delvina were out and shooting. And Diesel and Grandma scooted into the theater.
“This is bullshit,” Lula said. “This here’s the United States. We don’t go around blasting the shit out of people here. Well, okay, maybe in the projects, but hell, this here’s the friggin’ multiplex. There’s things you don’t do in the multiplex. Gimme that rocket launcher. I’ll fix their ass.”
“Do you know how to work it?” I asked.
“What’s to know? It’s point and shoot, right? They give these suckers to pinheads who join the army. How hard could it be? Just prop this big boy up for me, and I’ll do the rest.”
I covered my ears and closed my eyes and phuunf! The bird was away. We all looked over the edge of the building and BANG. The rocket blew up my car.