Page 24 of Existential

“Why not use one of your own?” She moves in front of me, forcing me to stop and look up at her. “Why not courier it? Put it in a drop box and mail the key, or something?”

“Watch a few movies, do you?”

“Can’t tell me they aren’t loosely based on reality.”

My chest tightens, the swirl in my gut reminding me I’m laying a lot of trust on a woman I’ve known for all of a week. But, it’s the only way.

“It won’t put you in harm’s way,” I reassure her. “It’s … the message is for my mom.”

Her silence speaks volumes.

“I haven’t spoken to her in … shit … I don’t know, twenty years?”

“Can I ask what’s prompted this? I mean, is she going to welcome a stranger turning up with a damn telegraph from her son, or am I likely to be staring down the barrel of a twelve gauge?”

“I couldn’t say for sure.”

She huffs, placing her hands on her hips as she walks away to drop down underneath a maple tree. “I don’t know, Hooch. I mean, I just turned up here last week, and as it is I don’t feel very welcome.”

“I realize that.”

She looks up as I approach, conflict clear in her eyes. “I want to help, I really do, but I’ve worked hard to keep independent and free of anything that could come back around to bite me on the ass.”

“Five grand.”

She snorts as she splutters out a laugh. “Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

“You said you have no money.”

“I said the club doesn’t.” I fold my arms. “I do.”

“You’ll pay me five grand to deliver a note?”

I nod. “You get how important this is now?”

“I think so,” she mumbles. “Yeah.”

“Good.” I offer her my hand, and she takes it, pulling herself up. “Now let’s get this driveway finished while you think about it, huh?”