Scavenger hunt

Chapter 14

A jumpshot from Kobe Bryant at the buzzer, and the Lakers and Houston were in double overtime. Yes! The Butcher sat in his car, pumping his fist as he watched the lady climb the stairs of the apartment complex, the cheers of the crowd reduced to a fuzzy whisper through the blown speakers of the radio. The rain was gusting, and he followed the lady's progress through the rain that was spattering the windshield, wondering what a finely dressed woman was doing in surfer and secretary heaven. Jimmy's apartment was just past the Huntington Beach oil field, close enough to the oil patch to hear the grasshopper derricks creaking away, close enough to the beach to catch the salt air when a storm was rolling in.

The fancy lady had parked just down the street, walking to the building with a controlled swivel, her purse held close against her hip. All the thong queens and high-school honeys flashing it for free on the beach, but this lady with her power suit and self-control got him stoked. He had been tempted to turn on the wipers to get a better look at her as she crossed the street, but he didn't want to give away his position.

Shaq got fouled taking a shot, which bounced around the rim before rolling out. The air went out of the arena-the Butcher could feel it as acutely as if he were really there. He pounded on the steering wheel, the heavy plastic vibrating with the blows. Shaq was a dominating center but a brick foul-throw shooter.

The lady kept climbing, caught for a moment in a stairwell light. The Butcher checked out her tight ass for a moment until she moved higher, into shadow.

Shaq's first foul shot was an airball. The arena crowd was silent. The Butcher had to resist the impulse to tear the steering wheel off and beat someone to death with it.

The lady reached the third-floor landing, looked around, and then turned right. Unbelievable. She was knocking on Jimmy Gage's front door. Up until that moment the Butcher had been considering going one on one with the lady, but that ruined it for him. Chalk it up as one more thing Jimmy was going to have to answer for.

The rain beat down suddenly on the roof of the car, and the Butcher jerked. When he peered through the windshield again, the lady was gone. Inside. The Butcher adjusted his seat, trying to get comfortable, the busted springs groaning under him. Ridiculous for someone his size to be stuck driving around in a junked-out Geo Metro anyway. Twenty-nine years old, and the Butcher was driving a toy car. The best gas mileage on the market and every penny counted, but it still added up to shit car, shit life. Do the math.

The Butcher-that wasn't really his name, it was just something Jimmy Gage had stuck him with. No matter how much the Butcher tried to ignore the name, threatening those who used it, the tag had stuck. Soon enough he was going to take his real name back. Take his life back too.

Shaq bounced the ball prior to taking his second foul shot. Bounce bounce bounce. The announcer was so tense he sounded like he was going to cry. Bounce bounce bounce. Take the fucking shot, Shaq!

Shaq did. The Butcher closed his eyes, seeing that perfect arc. The radio squawked, and the Butcher opened his eyes. "Nothing but net, ladies and gentlemen!" The Butcher watched Jimmy Gage's front door, hearing the crowd cheer over the radio, feeling the blood pounding in his temples. Lakers up by one. That was sweet, but for the kind of money Shaq was paid, he should have made them both.