Page 35 of Still Bruised
“That won’t,” Cary said as he peeled out onto the street. “It’s mild and mixed with vitamins. Chills you out without getting you groggy.” Cary snickered. “And as wired as you look, I doubt the other stuff would put you to sleep, either.”
Foster eyed the pill a moment. He supposed there was no harm in one. He popped it and sat back, staring at the town going by outside the window.
“I get being nervous. I was the first time,” Cary said. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there to help you navigate.”
Foster adjusted himself again. He’d had a half hard-on most of the day and felt like a kid on prom night, ready to bust a nut from an accidental swipe of a hand.
How long does it take for this pill to kick in?
Foster turned to eye Cary. “Youcouldtell me about this repo business you’re in to take my mind off things.”
Cary burst out laughing. “If I tell you, you have to swear you’ll keep it to yourself.”
“Who the fuck am I telling, Cary? Hardly anyone talks to me these days but you.”
Cary glanced at him and then back to the road. “I repossess luxury vehicles. Planes, jets, yachts. Not the piddly shit, butthe multi-million dollar kind. The stuff overextended capitalist assholes buy and later can’t afford.”
“You mean capitalist assholes like me?” Foster asked, grinning.
“Something like that,” Cary said. He glanced over. “Have you got a boat or plane that you can’t afford?”
“Nope. If I did, Ashley would’ve gotten it in the divorce.”
“Then we’re golden,” Cary said.
Foster thought about that a moment. “One night when I couldn’t sleep, I stumbled over some show about these guys who repo’d cars. That shit looked dangerous as hell—and they were only Kias and Camrys. I can’t imagine what some coked out CEO might do to keep his stuff.”
“It can be dangerous.” Cary’s smile was infectious. “That’s why I like it.”
“Adrenaline junkie, hmm?” Made sense. Foster was overdosing on the shit, and he hadn’t even walked into the party yet.
Cary, on the other hand, looked as cool as a cucumber.
“I’ve had guns pulled on me. I’ve been shot at.” Cary grinned. “I’ve had foreign governments chasing me. Had vicious guard dogs on my tail—canineandhuman varieties.”
“Whythe fuckdo you do it?”
“I flunked out of college and didn’t want to go to work for my dad.”
Foster waited a moment, but it didn’t appear Cary was going to add anything else to that statement. “That’s it? You picked danger over daddy?”
“No, I pickedanything elseover daddy.” Cary grew quiet for a moment. “My dad had a heart attack right after I turned sixteen and he had his Charles Dickens, come to Jesus moment. He’d gotten a second chance and said he was going to be a better father and husband.”
Cary scoffed, shaking his head. “It didn’t last, as I expected, but when during that short span, he convinced me to get my pilot’s license with him. I didn’t really want to be there with that asshole, but I appreciated it after the fact. I love flying. When I was kicked out of Yale, he tore into me and said I was getting a job or else.” Cary waved his fist in the air, mocking the dad speech he’d likely gotten. “I decided to put that pilot license to good use and become a professional. Did the training and then spent a year as a co-pilot before I was ready to tear my hair out. I’d had delusions of grandeur. Visions of partying on the Eiffel Tower and fucking my way across Europe in between flights. The four dailys between here and Cleveland wasn’t that.”
Foster groaned. “No, I suspect not.”
“A snowstorm grounded us that winter and landed me in an airport bar beside an old guy who had a tale to tell. He said he’d been repoing planes and boats for nearly forty years and told me some wild shit. I thought he was full of it, but then he showed me some photos that looked pretty legit. He invited me to come with him on his next job.” Cary grinned. “I took him up on it and after that one job, I suddenly knew what I was doing with the next twenty or thirty years of my life, which is exactly what he’d been hoping for. He wanted to retire, so he took me under his wing for about a year, showed me the ropes, and then let me buy out his business. And that was that.”
“Is it a one-man thing?”
“I have someone who communicates with clients when I’m out in the field and also assists me in locating targets. We sometimes have to comb through aviation or port of call records, which can be tedious as fuck, especially if someone’s paid to cover their tracks in another country.”
“If they pay to cover it up, why not pay their bills?” Foster asked.
“Doesn’t take much to bribe someone in some of the poorer countries. A whole lot less than you might owe the bank.” Cary shrugged. “For a few, the failure to pay almost seems compulsive. It’s an adrenaline rush for them. Like, these fuckers have the money, they just don’t want to pay for their toys and want to see how far they can push it. I’ve caught up with a few who’ve thrown big rolls of cash at me, trying to get me to leave. I then have to explain that it’s too late. You don’t own it anymore, buddy. The bank does.”
“That’s wild.” Foster couldn’t see himself doing that kind of work. It was incredibly dangerous from the sounds of it. “I get not wanting to be stuck between here and Cleveland, but shots fired? You coulddie,dude. One dumbass and it’s over.”
