“Either him or Tres or both. I wouldn’t be surprised one bit if Tres was the one who snatched her and her dad’s the one who’s making her put the finger on Beto. There’s only one way to find out. I have to meet her at Gangland.”
Audrey thought about that for a moment. “Well,” she said finally, “you can’t go by yourself. If her brother finds out, he might send Mr. Sideburns after you with his switchblade again.”
“You’re right,” I said. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
By the time we got back to my house, we had a plan worked out: Randy and I would take Audrey’s car to Gangland while Audrey and Trix waited for us down the block in Trix’s BMW. As an extra precaution I’d call Audrey’s phone just before going inside and leave the line open so she and Trix could hear what was going on. That way if anyone started pulling out switchblades, they could call the cops pronto.
The next afternoon, we got together with Trix and Randy and laid out our idea. Trix’s like, “That is the coolest plan ever,” but Randy didn’t exactly agree.
“Let me get this straight,” he said. “You wouldn’t take me to Hollister with you in the hot chick’s Mercedes. You didn’t even bother to tell me you got invited back to Gangland that second time. But now when things might get all hairy, you want me to tag along and maybe take a switchblade in the ass? I don’t think so.”
He was right, of course. I’d let the glitter of Gangland mix me up. “I’m sorry about that,” I said. “I really, truly am, dude. I forgot who my real people were for a second. And I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to come along, but I need you. No one else but you could help us pull this off. Besides, think of it this way—we’ll be like secret agents. Chicks love that.”
He stroked his pseudo-mustache for a moment, then goes, “You’re right, dude. Chicks do love that. I’m in.”
“All right,” I said. “Let’s do it.”
It was true—the plan was fabulous. It really was secret-agent-worthy. Still, when the time came to head to Gangland, my nerves twanged like an electric banjo. And not just because of the potential for danger, but also because now I finally had my shot to show Ashton what I was worth.
As we drove, I kept checking the rearview mirror to make sure Audrey and Trix were behind us. Meanwhile Randy rattled on about how, if Sideburns showed up, one of us should hit him high while the other hit him low. This might’ve been a good idea except, as I remembered it, Randy hadn’t been much help the last time Sideburns rolled into the picture.
When we got to Gangland, there was only one car parked by the loading-dock entrance, a white Porsche, which I assumed belonged to Ashton. While I called Audrey, Randy pulled down the sun visor to check his mustache in the mirror. It was no less scraggly than the last time we came to Gangland, but he was proud of it anyway.
On the phone, Audrey’s like, “Okay, we’re all set. Keep the line open.”
“Roger that,” I said. It seemed like the situation called for something official.
Figuring out where to stash the phone so she could hear what was going on presented a problem, though. I couldn’t carry it, and I was afraid it might accidentally turn off if I put it in my pocket. I’d worn the porkpie, thinking I might lodge it under there, but it jostled around too much, so I ended up tucking it into my sock.
On the loading dock, I knocked on the metal door where we entered Gangland the first time we came. No answer. I tried the knob. It was unlocked, so Randy and I ambled right through. Inside, the place was so movie-theater dark it was hard to see. And without the crowd and lame music, the emptiness and silence of the place gave off more of a graveyard feel than a party atmosphere.
“Is anyone here?” I called, but still didn’t get an answer.
We walked further in, and Randy goes, “Come out, come out, wherever you are.”
There was actually an echo, it was so hollow in there.
“This is weird,” I said. “We got here at almost exactly four o’clock.”
We went across to the corridor, which was even darker than the main room, but a thin sliver of light shone from beneath the door at the far end. I bent down so my phone would pick up my whisper. “Okay, Audrey, I think she’s in the office. Keep listening.”
Just behind me, Randy goes, “All this dark is weirding me out.”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “I don’t like it either.”
Somewhere along the way, I knew we’d pass the dressing room where the bands, dancers, and fighters hung out while waiting to entertain the stupid Gangland members. This would be a good place for some paid long-sideburned skulker to lie in wait, ready to jump us from behind as we passed, so I ran my hand along the wall until I felt the opening of the doorway.
When I stopped to check it out, Randy rammed into me from behind, almost knocking me over. My phone fell out of my sock. I picked it up, but now I’d lost my connection to Audrey. I was just about to call her back when the door at the end of the hall opened.
“Is that you, Dylan?” All I could see was a black silhouette in the doorway, but it had to be Ashton.
“Uh, yeah,” I said, tucking the phone into my pocket before I could finish dialing Audrey’s number.
“What are you doing stumbling around in the dark?” she asked.
“I didn’t know where the light switch was.”
“Well, come down here so we can talk in the office.”
She backed into the light. She was gorgeous in a white sleeveless top and black slacks. It was like those near-death stories you hear where there’s a light with an angel in it waiting at the end of a dark tunnel.