The Box by Jeremy Brown (ebook reader play store txt) 📕

played that night with Kershaw in the dinner audience.

Kershaw only acknowledged him once, when he broke into Little Pink Houses, and Kershaw looked up from his burger and fries to shake his head.

He didn’t see Nora again and no Romanians showed up.

Connelly was disappointed about Nora and Kershaw was disappointed about the Romanians—he wanted to get a look at them.

Connelly coordinated with the staff at Len’s to come back the following Friday and run the same schedule. He checked out of the motel on Sunday morning and took the two-hour bus ride to Sioux City, where he walked around for a while until he was absolutely sure no one was following him from the bus, then he took a cab to the Sioux Gateway airport and used the ticket Kershaw gave him to fly to Vegas.

Rison picked him up and took him to the suite, where Connelly and Bruder each had their own rooms.

After a long steam shower Connelly emerged into the common area of the suite where Rison and Bruder were going through the online property deeds for the farmland around the Iowa town.

They were focusing on the plots northwest of town, in particular the spot they’d seen through the tree line with the silos and grain elevators but were also giving attention to every public record they could find in case something caught their eye.

Connelly said, “You know, I could get used to this. Most jobs, I’m holed up in some shitty motel the whole time or sleeping in a van.”

Bruder said, “Will sleeping in a van help you actually do your job?”

Connelly stopped halfway to the open balcony doors.

“Hey, I’m working on it. We got time.”

“First we find out when it’s happening. Then we’ll know if we have time.”

Connelly went onto the balcony and looked down at the Strip for a few minutes, then came back inside.

“You want me to go to Minneapolis?”

Bruder didn’t look up from the laptop he and Rison were using.

“Will that make Nora happy? Or will she think you’re a stalker?”

Rison did turn and look at Connelly, waiting for an answer.

Connelly said, “It would be weird. She’d shut me out.”

“Then don’t go,” Bruder said.

“Make up your mind, man. Should I wait and go back on Friday, or should I get out of here and do something? Do we have time or not?”

Bruder sat back and explained it to him.

“If what you’re doing isn’t working, don’t just do it faster. Change your angle. You’re sure she’s coming back to town on Friday?”

Connelly nodded.

“Every weekend. She’s been doing it for months now. No reason to stop.”

“And when the Romanians came in, she spooked.”

“Big time. There was one guy, I hadn’t seen him before, and he seemed to be the reason. He was bird dogging her pretty bad, staring at her with these blue eyes like butane torches. Tall dude, real skinny. As in, prison camp skinny. You guys see him when you were there?”

Bruder and Rison exchanged a look, then both shook their heads.

Bruder said, “Can you be the white knight? Without actually fighting anybody?”

“Yeah…maybe. I don’t know if she needs one, though. She got freaked out, but she’s tough. She has this undercurrent of farm girl, like if she had to, she’d kick her heels off and use a shotgun to put a wounded animal out of its misery.”

Bruder said, “Everybody out in that world needs a white knight. Somebody to come along and wipe their biggest problem right off the board.”

Connelly chewed his lip.

“She’s too proud to ask for help.”

“Then don’t make her ask,” Rison said.

“Okay. Yeah, okay. I might have to lay into somebody, but yeah, it could work.”

“Try to not to do it in front of the whole restaurant,” Bruder said.

“Of course. I’ll also try not to get shot or stabbed.”

“That’s up to you,” Bruder said.

They agreed Connelly should have a vehicle in case he needed to extract himself—and possibly Nora—in a hurry, so Bruder worked with a man he knew in Denver to get a fifteen-year-old Honda Civic with clean numbers, registered under the name of a non-existent friend Connelly was supposed to be borrowing the car from.

Connelly spent most of Thursday driving it into the northwest corner of Iowa, then chatted with Ed for a bit when he checked into room number one at the motel and slept in late on Friday.

He parked behind Len’s and carried his guitar inside, where Marie actually gave him a hug and got him set up at the bar with coffee. She was an excellent hugger, pressing her whole body into it instead of just her shoulders.

Connelly took his jacket off, keeping the hooded sweatshirt he had on underneath zipped up, and spent a moment lamenting the likelihood they’d never get a chance to explore anything beyond the hug, then Marie said, “Did Nora ever call you?”

“No. You gave her my number?”

“You asked me to.”

“I was kind of joking,” Connelly said, acting half-embarrassed. “But she took it?”

“She laughed about it, but she took it.”

“What else did she say?”

Marie put a hand on her hip.

“Are we back in middle school? If you want to know if she likes you, if she thinks you’re totally rad, ask her yourself.”

Connelly looked around the restaurant. A few farmers were at a table and some older people who looked like they’d just left church were in a booth, but that was it.

“Is she coming back today?”

Marie gave him a sly smile.

“Just like every Friday. But she also gave me this and asked me to give it to you.”

She held up a business card.

“Did she now?”

Connelly reached for it and Marie pulled it away.

“What are you going to do with it?”

Connelly frowned.

“I’ll probably call her.”

“Probably?”

“Okay, definitely.”

“And then what?”

“Marie, are you vetting me to date Nora?”

“So you want to date her? Go steady? Or just screw her?”

Connelly feigned shock.

“Marie!”

“I’m serious, buster. She is in no condition to be played around with.”

“Then it’s a perfect match, because I am not a player.”

“That’s the biggest pile of bullshit you’ve dropped