Page 39 of After The Storm

“Hello?” the familiar voice said into his ear.

“Hey, Butcher, it’s Roman. I’m hoping you’re still hanging out in the Big Easy. I need a big favor.”

His old Army buddy laughed loudly and said in his thick, Louisiana accent, “Holy shit! How long’s it been, Roman? Yeah, I’m still on my old stompin’ grounds. What’s up?”

Kate and Roman ran down the stairs as he explained, “I need somewhere quiet to crash for a few days. You still have that place on the lake you always said I could use if I was ever in the city?”

Butcher laughed again. “Yeah. You’re in luck. If it was next month, you’d be stuck bunking with my sister’s fuckwit husband, but until then, the place is all yours. I’m doing a job in Dallas for the next two weeks.”

“Great. Do me a favor and text me the address to this number,” Roman said as they burst through the stairwell door into the parking garage. “I owe you for this, Butcher. I won’t forget it.”

“No way, Roman. I’m here today because of you. The least I can do is let you crash at Chez Butcher. Do you want me to arrange a visit from someone soft and curvy while you’re kicking back out on the lake?” his friend asked with a hint of curiosity in his voice.

Roman looked at Kate and smiled. “No, but thanks. I think I’m covered on that front. Sorry we won’t be able to have a beer together, but next time?”

“Enjoy it, buddy. It’s nothing but peace and quiet out there. Whatever you need to escape from in this world, that’s the place to do it. You remember where I told you I keep the key?”

Scanning the parking lot for a car to steal, Roman smiled at the thought of peace and quiet again. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it. Under the hedges in front of the house, right?”

“Right. Just lift up the loose sod and the box with the key will be right there. Let me know if you need anything.”

“You’re a lifesaver, Butcher. I owe you.”

“Bullshit. Just have a good time and enjoy yourself for once, man. And let me know if you change your mind on some company. I know someone who would be perfect for a few days.”

“I’m good. Thanks again, man.”

Roman ended the call and made a beeline toward an old brown sedan. Finding it locked, he lifted his right elbow and smashed through the driver’s side window. Glass fell all around him, but he didn’t have time to care. Opening the door, he pointed at the opposite side of the car as Kate stared in shock at the shattered driver’s side window.

“Get in!”

Brushing the glass off the seat, he hopped in and unlocked her door before bending down to hotwire the engine. He hadn’t done this in years, but in seconds, he heard it start.

Happy he hadn’t lost his touch, he sat up as Kate complained, “Why did we have to steal a car older than me?”

Roman ignored her and shifted the car into reverse. As he backed out of the parking spot, she said, “Why couldn’t you find something nicer?”

“As much as I’d like to get into how it’s practically impossible to hotwire newer cars, we don’t have time. Hang on,” he said as he floored the gas and drove out of the parking garage.

Handing her his phone, he said, “When Butcher texts the directions, read them to me. I’m heading toward his place on Lake Pontchartrain. In the meantime, you’re going to have to get me going in the right direction.”

“Okay. Let me think for a moment.”

He looked over at her as he raced down St. Louis Street. “We don’t have time for thinking. Just tell me how to get there, Kate!”

Pushing her down in the seat, he turned the wheel so the car took the corner sharply onto Basin Street. She stammered out a few words before Roman barked, “Get down so no one can see you!”

“You don’t have to yell! I’m down. I’m down. What street are we on now?” she asked frantically.

Leaning forward, he looked up through the windshield to find the street name but saw no signs. “Damnit! Where are the street signs in this town?”

“I don’t know,” Kate yelled at him. “I never look at them, so I don’t know. Just keep going and there must be one coming soon.”

He weaved in and out of a line of cars that suddenly appeared and finally at the next corner saw a street sign. “Orleans. Or is it Basin? Damnit! The signs are all fucked up.”

Kate pointed out the window. “Orleans? Good! Take Orleans and head toward I-10.”

I-10? Roman searched for a sign to tell him where to go. Again, no goddamned signs that he could see. “There is no sign for the on ramp.”

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