4 Bodies and a Funeral. Stephanie Bond

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СКАЧАТЬ But if it’s out of the way—”

      “It isn’t.”

      Wesley glanced sideways at the girl who was probably his age—she was a freshman at Georgia Tech, the same as he would’ve been if he’d gone to college. She was whip-smart with a funky, independent style. Today she wore camouflage pants, a plain white T-shirt, and her dark blond hair was covered with a smiley-face bandana.

      “What kind of car is this?” he asked, glancing around at the interior.

      “It’s a Prius.”

      “Electric?”

      “That’s right.”

      It suited her, he decided. Meg’s father was a famous geneticist and apparently megawealthy, but she had a work study at the ASS office, and dressed like every other college kid who was scraping by. Plus she was living on campus in a dorm when she could easily afford her own condo in Buckhead.

      “Why aren’t you riding your bike?” she asked.

      “Flat tire,” he lied.

      “Aren’t you a little old to be riding a bike anyway?”

      “I used to have a motorcycle.”

      “Used to? Is that supposed to impress me?”

      He frowned. “No.”

      “So what happened to it?”

      “My driver’s license was suspended. I sold it.”

      “Oh, right,” she said drily. “I forget that you’re an ex-con.”

      “I’m on probation,” he said irritably. “Big difference.”

      “Uh-huh.” She glanced over at him. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like shit.”

      “Thanks a lot.”

      “Seriously, are you okay?”

      Meg had once accused him of being hooked on something, and he’d flatly denied it. “Just hot and tired.”

      She reached around her seat and rummaged blindly in a container on the floorboard behind her, then came up with a Red Bull. “Knock yourself out.”

      He took the can and cracked it open. “Thanks.” A couple of hearty drinks started to revive him. He laid his head back on the headrest.

      “Are you moving bodies today?” she asked.

      “Not today.” And after the stunt he’d pulled, he’d be lucky if Coop ever called him again.

      “Doesn’t it creep you out?”

      He shrugged. “It’s not pleasant, but someone has to do it.”

      “So it’s something you intend to keep doing?”

      If he went to work for The Carver, there’d be no time for body moving. The realization bothered him more than he expected. “I don’t know. I have a line on a new job.”

      “What kind of job?”

      “I don’t have all the details yet.”

      “You like being mysterious, don’t you?”

      “Not particularly.”

      “Does that mean you won’t be coming back to ASS?”

      “No, I’ll be there for a while longer.”

      Something flashed across her face—relief? He must be mistaken. Meg had been apathetic toward him from day one.

      “Am I taking you home?” she asked.

      “Nah—to a friend’s place.”

      She grinned. “You have a friend?”

      “Ha, ha.”

      “Is he a dropout, too?”

      “I’m not a dropout.”

      “Fine. Is he also too sexy for college?”

      That made him smile. The only person who thought Chance was sexy was Chance. And anyone he paid to sleep with him. “He attends Georgia State.”

      Her eyebrows climbed. “Really? What’s he studying?”

      “Business.” Wesley shifted in his seat over the idea of Meg being more impressed with his buddy than with him. “Chance isn’t much of a student, though.”

      Meg shrugged. “Most of life is about showing up.”

      Rankled, he took another long drink from the can. When it came to college, he’d shown up as much as Chance—to take his friend’s exams when necessary.

      “Where am I dropping you?” she asked.

      He gave her the address of Chance’s condo building a couple of blocks away.

      “Nice building,” she murmured when they pulled up.

      “Yeah.” She probably wouldn’t think much of the cramped town house where Wesley and Carlotta lived. Living in a “transitional” neighborhood was fine if a person did it for philanthropic or moral grounds, like Meg. But it was a different ballgame if you were there because you couldn’t afford to live somewhere else. Or if you were afraid to move because your parents wouldn’t be able to find you, should they decide to come home.

      Wesley realized Meg was staring at him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

      “Fine,” he said, opening the door to climb out. “Thanks for the ride.”

      “No problem. See you tomorrow morning?”

      Her smile made his stomach feel funny. “Yeah, later.”

      The Prius rolled away, and Wesley dismissed the nausea as hunger pains.

      For Oxy.

      On the way inside the building, he called Chance again, and his friend answered on the third ring, panting. “Yeah?”

      “It’s Wes. I’m downstairs, but it sounds like you’re busy.”

      “Uh, yeah … ah, hell, come on up.” Then he disconnected the call.

      Wesley waved to the concierge who knew his face, then walked to the elevator and pushed the call button. He shook his head, wondering what he’d find his friend involved in today. From the way the big guy was huffing and puffing, he might have a whole herd of prostitutes up there. His chubby buddy had a fat trust fund and made tons of money selling soft-core drugs and hard-core porn on the side. Chance worshipped vices and excess, and was fun as hell to be around.

      On the ride up, Wesley mopped СКАЧАТЬ