Chapter 16
“WE’VE got a problem,” Cal said right off, before I’d even had a chance to ungoo my eyes. From the looks of the Goofball Goons, they’d caught some pretty sweet z’s too.
“We’ve still got fifteen miles to the cabin, and we’re about outta gas,” Cal continued. “And I ain’t got no money on me.”
I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or Donny.
“Whatcha wanna do?” Donny asked.
Cal pointed at me, which I probably wasn’t supposed to see. “Eh, Flora. Got any money?” he asked, like we were good ol’ pals.
“No.”
“None?”
“None.”
“I’m hungry,” Donny complained.
Well, this was turning into quite the adventure. We were stranded with no money, no food, and almost no gas. “Can you call someone?” I suggested. I mean, Mr. Tightwad had confiscated my electronics back in Punxsutawney, but surely these young entrepreneurs had cell phones.
“Not unless we wanna get Mick in even more trouble,” Cal said with a snort. “If you ever wanna see him again, we’ve gotta solve this on our own.”
“Okay, what’s the plan then?” I asked, dumbfounded.
Again, Donny moaned, “I’m hungry.”
“Oh, shut up. I’ve got an idea,” Cal said. There’s a Garett’s Department Store just up the road, and we’ve got something in the back we can return.”
How convenient. The Goofball Goons just so happened to have something valuable stashed in their dilapidated vehicle that might save the day. Yipee. Honestly, whatever would get us closer to Mick—and back to Wild Acres ASAP—was fine by me.
I glanced out the window, wondering how far we were from civilization. The narrow country road we were traveling along was surrounded by trees, mountains, and maybe some wildlife. Other than that, we were the main attraction.
“What time is it?” I asked. “Is this store even open?”
“It’s almost eight. They’ll be open,” Cal said, sounding irritated I’d even opened my mouth.
So for the next few agonizing minutes, I sat silent in the backseat and prayed that the miniscule amount of gas we had left would at least get us to Garett’s Department Store. I mean, how stupid were these guys anyway, driving into the middle of nowhere with an almost-empty tank? Please. I didn’t even have a license, and I knew better than to pull a dumb-ass move like that.
I was starting to doubt Garett’s Department Store even existed, when we finally rounded the corner from desolate wilderness to semi-civilization.
“We’re here,” Cal said, swinging the behemoth into the lot and killing the engine. “It’s the black and white box in the back. The Blu-ray player.”
Okay…was he talking to me? I pretended to be deaf.
“Eh, Flora, didja hear me? Black and white box,” he said again.
Why the hell was he telling me which box it was? It was their Blu-ray player or whatever.
“Huh?” I said, hoping that if I played dumb, they’d get impatient and deal with it themselves.
Or not.
“Hey, dodo brain. Cal told ya to get the box,” Donny chimed in. “What’s the holdup?”
“I…um…”
“We ain’t got all day,” Cal said. “Get the damn thing out of the back, bring it in the store, get a refund, and bring us the cash. Got it?”
“I…uh, um…guess,” I stammered. I mean, the way he’d presented the idea didn’t really leave me much room to argue. If the morons had thought about it for half a second, though, or even asked my opinion, they might have reconsidered sending a sixteen-year-old returns-virgin to do their dirty work.
I stomped my way to the rear of the SUV, flipped open the little trunk doohickey, and forcefully tugged the black and white box out from under a bunch of other cardboard. And who would’ve thought a Blu-ray player could be so heavy anyway? I mean, the stupid, bulky thing was already giving me a backache by the time I lugged it unevenly through the automatic sliding doors.
Now what? Returns, returns, returns. I swear to God, if the returns desk had been staring me any closer in the face, it would have bitten me for sure. I walked the empty rope-maze like a zombie, until I came face-to-face with the returns clerk.
“Can I help you?” the cute old grandma behind the counter asked.
Could she help me? I doubted it. Not unless she could get the Goofball Goons to disappear off the face of the planet, my runaway boyfriend to come home, and my parents to cut me a little slack once in a while.
“Um, yeah… I need to return this,” I said, dropping the box on the counter with a little thud.
Grandma smiled, like she knew how dopey and inexperienced I really was. Then she asked, “Do you have a receipt, honey?”
“No…uh…I don’t,” I admitted.
See, this was why the Goofball Goons should have done the job themselves. Maybe they had the all-important proof of purchase.
Grandma frowned. “Well, is there anything wrong with this, dear?” she asked, spinning the box around to check for damage.
“No. I don’t think so,” I said. “My parents just, uh, got another one, so they want a refund.”
I’m not exactly sure what made me drag Mr. Tightwad and the Mental Hygienist into the mix, except that the real story was just way too complicated to explain.
The returns clerk shook her head, like it was doubtful I’d get my hands on any cash in this lifetime. “You just wait here,” she said. “I’ll see what I can do. I have to talk to my manager.” Through a heavy mirrored door, she disappeared.
Great, now the manager was involved, which gave me the urge to bolt. I mean, nothing good could come of such a complication, I was sure.
Still, for an eon or so, I stood there waiting like a nervous beggar for whatever handout the Garett’s folks were willing to toss my way. I’d even resorted to drumming my fingers on the counter and humming to myself for amusement, when Grandma finally emerged from the golden door.
“Okay, dear. All set,” she said, smiling like she’d done me a really big favor. “Just sign here, and print your name, address, and phone number here,” she instructed, pointing out the appropriate spots with a ballpoint pen.
I took a deep breath and tried to return the same happy-go-lucky smile she’d given me. And while I scrawled out my life history, she started piling a stack of bills on the counter next to the cash register.
“You know,” she whispered, leaning over just a little, “we aren’t supposed to do cash refunds without a receipt—especially for big-ticket items. But I told my manager it was for the sweetest little girl, so she approved it,” Grandma said with a wink.
“Oh. Thank you,” I managed to reply. How lame.
“So that’s three hundred and twenty dollars and ninety-nine cents. Do you have a penny, dear, to make it an even three hundred and twenty-one?” Grandma asked.
Three hundred and twenty-one dollars? Yikes. I hadn’t expected that kind of dough. “No, sorry,” I said. “I don’t have one.”
“Ah, that’s all right. It’s on me.” Grandma dropped the coins back into the drawer and pulled out a crisp one dollar bill. “Twenty, forty, sixty, eighty…” she counted off until, dropping the final dollar on the thick stack, she said, “Three hundred and twenty-one.”
Feeling a powerful, just-won-the-lottery rush, I chirped, “Thanks a lot.”
“Have a good day, dear,” she said, as I folded the bills in half and shoved the wad in my shorts.
“You too.”
Well, there’s a first time for everything, I guess. And all things considered, my first experience with the returns counter had gone pretty smashing, if I did say so myself. I mean, the Goofball Goons were bound to be tickled pink, because now we could eat, gas up, and—most importantly—find Mick. I already missed him more than any human being should miss another, I swear.
“Here you go,” I said, chucking the whole pile of cash through Donny’s open window
. “Enjoy.”
At the sight of the loot, Cal smirked. And, I swear, Donny looked like he was about to either wet his pants or start licking the bills one by one.
“Good job,” Cal complimented, as I scurried into the back. “I knew you had what we were looking for.” Before I could even buckle my seatbelt, he cranked up the SUV and peeled out of the parking lot.
“Huh?” I said, confused.
“Freshness. Innocence. Believability,” Cal listed off.
“Okay…” I still didn’t get it.
“Why don’t you enlighten her, Donny?” Cal said with a sadistic chuckle.
I couldn’t help noticing that we were cruising back along the same road we’d taken in the other direction—and away from Mick.
“You just committed your first felony,” Donny announced matter-of-factly. “How does it feel?”
“What do you mean?!” I cried. I was starting to get a sick feeling Donny and Cal weren’t just messing with me.
“It’s simple,” Cal said. “Donny stole that disc player last week, and we took it out of the box and sold it on eBay. How much did we get for that anyway?” he asked Donny.
“Hundred and ninety-five.”
“So we got a hundred and ninety-five for that,” Cal said. “Then we put a decoy in the box, taped it back up nice and neat, and had our pretty little accomplice here return it. And you got how much, Flora?”
“Three hundred and twenty-one,” I mumbled.
“So the total take was a hundred and ninety-five plus three hundred and twenty-one. That’s round about five hundred and twenty, give or take,” Cal said. “Not bad for two days’ work.”
Holy shit. I was a criminal. How had this happened? My mother had warned me…
“What about Mick? Was he in on this?” I asked. Just thinking the thought felt like a betrayal, but I had to know.
Donny laughed a big belly laugh, like I’d just told the most hysterical joke he’d heard in his whole life. And he was still doubled over clutching his guts, when Cal said, “Oh, don’t worry, princess. You can relax. Your perfect little Prince Charming is completely ignorant. He hasn’t got a clue.”
Knowing Mick wasn’t involved was a relief, but I still had tons of unanswered questions. “Where is he then? Did he really run away?”
“Mick?” Donny said, still breathing all ragged from the gut-busting laughter. “I’d imagine he’s just wakin’ up about now.”
Well, that comment must have been the second funniest thing the Goofball Goons had ever heard, because they both went wild snorting and cackling like a pair of deranged farm animals. I, on the other hand, was not amused.
“Take me home,” I demanded. “Back to Wild Acres. My parents are probably looking for me.”
“No can do,” Cal said. “We’ve got more work to do. And we’ve still gotta train our new employee.” He shot me a slick, slimy smile that made me want to spit in his face.
“You’re kidnapping me?” I protested. “You…you…you can’t do that.”
“More like recruiting,” Cal corrected. “And whatever happens, you’re gonna keep your mouth shut about it. Got it? You’re in this as deep as we are now. You’re on camera. Nobody’s gonna believe your little innocent act anymore.”
“But I am innocent!” I screamed. “You tricked me!”
“Tell it to the judge,” Donny said, taking obvious pleasure in my freak-out. “We’ve got business to do.”
Yeah, right. Business my ass. These guys were nothing but scammers. Criminals and scammers. And now I was one of them. Boy, my dad was going to have a field day with this turn of events, especially after what he’d said about gypsies being cheats and thieves. I could already tell he was going to rub this one in my face, big time.