Box

4

Trudy Lake.

Dr. Box comes out of the bathroom grinnin’ like he’s stolen the Crown Jewels.

“What took you so long?” I say.

“I kept retching from the smell.”

“That’s Scooter,” I say. “Let’s go.”

“You’re bringing your purse?” he says.

“I can’t very well leave it sittin’ there for the riff-raff.”

We head out the back door quietly, and I lead him to the eight-foot-high fence that surrounds the dumpster.

“Is this the only fence you’ve got?” he says, referrin’ to the smell.

“It’s the only one close by.”

“Why’s it so high?”

“To keep the deer from gettin’ to the garbage.”

“The light from the back door makes us easy to see.”

“That’s why we’re only gonna be here twenty seconds.”

“Makes sense,” he says.

I put my back against the fence and say, “I can trust you, right?”

“About what?”

“Keepin’ your hands where I said you could.”

“Yes.”

“Give me your word.”

“You have my word.”

I unlock the cuffs, then hand him the key. Put my left wrist in one cuff and lock it. Then put both arms a foot above my head.

“Put my right wrist in the open cuff, and hook it through the chain link before locking it,” I say.

He does.

Then he steps back to look at me.

And grins.