Page 65 of Doozer

“Hired by who?” I asked, ignoring his hand while I slid each ring onto its correct finger.

“I’ve been instructed to put you in contact with a third party before continuing,” he said, pulling out his phone, dialing, and handing it to me.

I looked at the screen, but the contact info was blank. No matter, the mystery of who was on the other end would soon be solved.

I put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Doozer?” Minus asked.

A pit formed in my stomach. “Yeah. It’s me.”

“Listen very carefully and don’t say a goddamned word until I’m done. You’re gonna get in a car with Bird and you’re not gonna give him a single ounce of your shit. A private plane is waiting for both of you at Turner airfield. That plane will fly you to Savannah, where I will meet you in two days. Do you understand?”

I paused briefly before blurting out, “No. I don’t understand at all. Savannah? Why am I going to Savannah so soon? I just got here to Virginia.”

“And how long did it take for you to make a fucking mess there? You’re gonna go to Savannah now because I told you to go to Savannah now. When you get there, Bird will take you to Double H.”

“Double H?” I asked.

“It’s Duke and Pearl’s ranch. Bird is their lawyer. Duke’s gonna put you to work for a few days until I get there. I’d tell you not to give him any crap either, but to tell you the truth, it’d be fun to see you try.”

“A ranch? What am I supposed to tell Trouble? I can’t even call her.”

“Good,” Minus snapped. “You two need to stay the hell away from each other. You hear me? Trouble has more important things to focus on than your jealous, drunken ass and I have to try and un-fuck everything you fucked last night.”

“Minus, you don’t know what happened—”

“Shut the hell up,” he growled. “Trouble needs to focus on her training, and you need to follow orders by getting in that fucking car, and then on that fucking plane, right fucking now.”

Minus hung up and I handed the phone back to the lawyer.

“Bird, huh?” I asked.

“You can call me Carson,” he said, smiling.

“Doozer,” I said, offering my hand this time.

He pointed to the door. “Shall we?”

Like the errant child I felt like, I led him outside, then followed him to the awaiting car.

* * *

Doozer

Our plane ride to Savannah was bumpy and the plane was cramped. I was sure Minus had intentionally booked the shittiest charter plane possible just to punish me. Fortunately for me and my aching head, the cops hadn’t found Warthog’s gummies inside my bag, which made the trip bearable.

We arrived at the Double H Ranch right at sunset. The oncoming darkness made it difficult to tell the full scope and size of the place, but from what I could make out, and judging by some of the properties we’d seen on the drive here, it appeared to be large. As we continued down the property’s main road, Duke and Pearl’s house came into view and it looked even more impressive than the ranch itself.

I let out a slow whistle. “Holy smokes, that’s some setup.”

“Five generations of Hills have lived in that house,” Carson said. “And a Bird has always represented them.”

“No shit? Have they always been in the horse trade?”

“Tobacco made the Hill family’s original fortune. Then, after World War II, it was cattle. Once Duke’s father died, Duke sold the cattle business and focused solely on breeding and training horses.”

“Does he still do that now?” I asked.

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