The Brad West Files Read online

  Man, he was pathetic. This was his idea of a good time.

  Once they were well beyond city limits, the pickup slowed down, but did not stop.

  He banged on the window again, and the woman slid it open.

  “You missed the turn back there.”

  Then suddenly, they accelerated and he nearly flew out of the back bay.

  “What was that all about?” he shouted. He was beginning to take this personally.

  The truck made a swift turn, and he heard the unmistakable sound of gravel. But he was hearing more than one vehicle’s tires.

  He popped his head up. Running alongside the pickup was a dark SUV with heavily tinted windows.

  Then the two vehicles slammed against each other. Metal ground against metal. A shower of sparks sprayed in his face. The chick in his cab screamed and honked the horn.

  Brad bounced wildly in the air before landing hard on his banged-up knee. His body crumpled on his left wrist, the good one. He’d picked a fine day to lose his student medical benefits.

  Suddenly, the other vehicle dropped back. He crawled to the edge of the bay and looked back. What he saw gave him pause. Flying forward at what must have exceeded seventy miles an hour, the SUV accelerated toward them.

  He began to shout to the woman in front, but it was too late. The SUV’s grill slammed into the rear of his pickup. They jerked forward, and he was pounded by the crushed metal of a broken tailgate as it detached and swung around on only one hinge.

  Suddenly, the woman let out an even more desperate scream.

  The pickup’s rear wheels were spinning unchecked. They tried to find traction, but there was no ground to grab. He felt the odd sensation of floating. The pickup was airborne and pitching forward.

  His mind raced. Oh God. They’d gone off a cliff. He instinctively clutched at the spare tire and hung on for dear life.

  He managed a quick look backward and saw the SUV come to a stop, its damaged grill inches from the rim of the cliff. Then they made impact as the pickup’s front wheels plowed into the slope. A second later, what was left of the back wheels touched down.

  Oddly, there was no big flattening of metal. He felt no crush against rock. He sensed the pickup jerking uncontrollably from side to side.

  They had landed on an incline of loose gravel and were sliding without traction down the slope.

  He rose to one knee on the bucking floor for a better look.

  “Left! Left!” he shouted. “There’s another drop-off over there!”

  And then with a thud the world stopped moving. His back smashed hard against the cab. And a thick cloud of sand showered over the pickup.

  In the sudden silence that ensued, he felt only the dull numbness of shock. Before the pain could set in, he picked himself off the floor. His wobbly legs could barely get him up before his back and knee began to shriek in protest.

  The woman emerged from the cab coughing. She stumbled down the rest of the slope into a stand of cottonwood trees beside a moon-dappled stream. There she collapsed on the soft desert ground and slapped water onto her face.

  He looked down at his warm, wet jeans. They were soaked in urine, beer and blood. If this was little Miss Kung Fu’s idea of foreplay, he hoped he could survive the good stuff.

  Then he passed out and rolled off the end of the pickup into the sand.

  “I am again most sorry,” the Asian girl apologized. She had returned to the truck to rouse Brad from his state of semi-unconsciousness.

  Earl had told him about oriental apologies before. That was a tricky subject. Did she mean that she was full of remorse that she had totaled his truck and seriously injured him and was willing to do anything to make it up to him? Or, did it mean that she was just commiserating with him on his bad luck?

  He waved it off. One truck gone. One new woman. Life was full of tradeoffs.

  “Oh, you are bleeding. Let us get you out of that shirt.” She forcefully tore at his shirt, ripping off several buttons. Then she proceeded to survey his manly pectorals.

  “It’s my leg,” Brad groaned, and tasted sand between his teeth. “I bashed my knee, and it must have gotten jammed into my chest on impact.” He raised himself by one elbow to get a better look at her face. “So, um, you come here often?” He tried not to get lost in her eyes.

  “No, this is my first excursion to your country,” she said, though apparently confused by the tone of his question.

  “You’ll have to excuse me for not standing, but my name is West. Brad West. And you are?”

  “No names, please, West Brad West,” she said quietly. “I do not want this in any secret police report.”

  He looked around at his pickup smashed into a cottonwood tree at the bottom of the ravine.

  “I don’t think the secret police will care, but the regular police will sure get a hoot out of this.”

  He had no insurance papers to file. But the cops could trace the pickup back to him and maybe cite him for drunk driving or flying a truck without a license.

  “Just what, exactly am I trying to cover you for?” he asked.

  “There is a man…”

  He nodded. “Brother? Estranged cousin? Gay friend?”

  “No, he is not a relation or friend. Different than that. He has much guanxi—oh, how do you say—power, at my home.”

  “I know something about powerful guys,” he said with a sigh.

  “And Beijing follows my many movements.”

  “Hold the bus, you’re a foreign national?”

  “Yes, but I think we will have to walk, as there appears to be no bus juncture nearby.”

  “Sorry, ‘hold the bus’ is just an expression. I just assumed that you were Asian American. So how is it that you’re here?”

  “I am a pilot in the Chinese Air Force,” she explained.

  “Ah, the military.” He felt sudden disappointment.

  “Is that bad?”

  He thought it over.

  What did it matter if she wasn’t a student and was in the military? At least it wasn’t the American military, like those jocks that nearly got him killed on his climb. But wait a minute. China? That meant she was probably an ardent communist. That was going to make it difficult for the kids. Would they celebrate Christmas or International Workers’ Day? On the plus side, she definitely wasn’t going to be boring at a drive-in.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” she inquired in the most incredibly sexy, little girl voice. Perhaps it was because her larynx was the size of a young girl’s. Jeez, maybe he’d better get some ID on the gal.

  “You’re beautiful,” he blurted out. It was all he could think of, while temporarily diverted by his mental calculations.

  She lifted a delicate eyebrow, but didn’t respond.

  Shoot, that was almost as bad as saying “I love you” on a first date. What was wrong with him? It must be the beer talking, or the concussion.

  “So, what do you usually do for fun in China on a Saturday night?” he asked to cover his sudden display of emotion. “Bar hopping? Kick boxing? Demolition derby?”

  She rose and stood over him with a perplexed look. “I am truly most sorry about the hop-kick, but I do not know what is this ‘derby?’”

  “Forget it. I’m being selfish. We’re lucky to still be alive. But why would this male acquaintance of yours do such a thing?”

  “He does not need any reasons. This was just a warning.”

  “Subtle guy. Was he at the bar?”

  She knit her eyebrows. “No, I am not thinking so.”

  His curiosity was taking over. “So how did he know you were there?”

  “Maybe someone ticked him off,” she said.

  “You mean tipped him off. Who else knew that you were there?”

  “My friend. I was with her at the bar.”

  “You mean Dorothy Hamill? Would she do such a thing?”

  She looked at him soberly. “I have learned to trust no one.”

  “That’s sound philos
ophy.”

  “Not even you.” She pulled him to his feet and handed him back what was left of his shirt. “As soon as we get out of this pickle jar, I cannot see you again.”

  Hmm. Did she meant “pickle” or “jam?”

  He looked around at the scene of the crash. Funny, even though his truck was his most significant material possession, he was more bummed by the idea of never seeing the young woman again.

  And he didn’t even know her name.

  Chapter 5

  The Desert View Condominiums were in a part of town that Brad knew well. Single grad students mixed with well-to-do undergrads in cheap off-campus housing. It was the kind of place where balconies crowded upon one another, but the inhabitants still felt a sense of privacy.

  The second Asian girl from the bar had miraculously shown up at the wreck site. There, she had hailed a rancher passing by in an antique Ford pickup and they all rode with him back into town.

  But that was where the courtesies ended.

  The girls left Brad to wait in a clump of bushes, then crossed a side street and opened the door to a condominium. From his position, he could see that the apartment was dark.

  His new love turned on a floor lamp and scoped out the sparsely furnished place. Then she passed before a kitchen window and nervously heated up some water on the stove as her girlfriend disappeared into a bathroom.

  A half hour passed with her making and drinking tea by the window. Then she turned abruptly and reached for a cell phone. She punched in a number and waited. Nothing happened. She shook her head and turned it off. For the next ten minutes, she paced back and forth in the kitchen.

  Then in a rush, she stepped out of the condo and beckoned into the night.

  Brad glanced around the street. All the dogs had been walked. All the students had chosen up partners for the night. She must be motioning to him.

  He rose unsteadily. Yow. His leg with the bashed knee wasn’t working so well. He leaned on his good leg, bounded up to the door, and yanked it open.

  She pulled him by his shirt with one hand and closed the door with the other. Instantly, his senses came alive as he became a part of the drama unfolding in the apartment. How could she drink hot tea in the summer without air-conditioning? It was stifling inside. Then he felt her lips press against his, and her jaw worked his mouth open. Sustaining her embrace, she drew him over to a sofa.

  She tugged feverishly at his clothes and tore the pocket as she peeled off his shirt. He managed to slip her T-shirt over her head before they hit the cushions. Now, how good was he at unhooking bras?

  She continued to pin him to the couch as the girlfriend, freshly showered, strutted into the room wearing nothing but a bath towel and her damp, disheveled hair. She cruised on through to the kitchen and retrieved some bottles from the fridge. She gave a Negro Modela to the girl and kept the other beer for herself.

  “Sorry,” she apologized half-teasingly to Brad. “Looks like you two lovebirds will have to share. There were only two left.”

  His paramour pulled her hair from her perspiring face and took a long swig from the bottle.

  Her roommate responded by bending low enough for Brad to see down her towel and planting a kiss on the girl’s cheek. Her eyes briefly met his. Then she smiled coyly and sauntered into the bedroom.

  Brad watched events transpire with a manly amount of interest. Perhaps the evening wouldn’t be such a disaster after all. Instead, his lover handed him her beer, turned on the television and said, “Please nurse that for me,” then headed into the bathroom.

  An infomercial for affordable health insurance came on. “Are you without basic medical coverage?” a gorgeous blonde asked a small studio audience. “Are you worried as to what kind of treatment you might receive without health insurance?”

  He stared at the screen and tried desperately not to think about the prospect of a tête-à-tête with the girl’s ill-tempered gentleman friend, while also wallowing in the mental image of a ménage à trois with the two Asian cuties. One thing was for sure—those high school French lessons had finally started to pay off.

  His girl returned, grabbed the beer from him, seated herself beside him, and appeared satisfied to just watch the tube.

  So what was happening? The atmosphere was suddenly as prim and proper as an ice cream social.

  He searched in vain for a conversation starter.

  “So, uh, where do you think our pal Mr. Road Rage might be headed about now?”

  “I do not know anyone of that name. Oh, I see. I am encouraged that he is at the base. We also have bed bunks there, but I am not comfortable greeting him right now. So we came to my friend’s special bachelor pad,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “Totally understandable. I myself have a strict rule against homicide on a first date. Particularly my own.”

  She responded with a polite smile. Huh. Either she didn’t understand him at all, or she had concluded that he was a head case.

  He still had no sense of where the evening was going, if anywhere, or what the relationship was between her and the other guy, or even between her and her equally exotic roommate for that matter.

  Suddenly, as if on an impulse, she reached over to the side table and picked up a worn business-size envelope. The row of stamps all showed an oriental painting featuring a yellow bird.

  She pulled out a letter scrawled by hand in Chinese. She looked at Brad as if deciding whether or not to tell him something.

  Then a troubled look clouded her face. Abruptly, she folded it up and with trembling fingers placed it back on the table.

  “You please must leave,” she said, her mood suddenly solemn.

  “I guess so,” he whispered, reluctant to go. He put on his stained and tattered shirt, and she helped him to the door.

  He stole a quick kiss on the lips just as the roommate reappeared from the bedroom looking bored.

  Once outside, Brad limped across the street. He turned back for one last look. The gorgeous doll still looked visibly shaken as she stood half-dressed at the doorway. Then to his chagrin, his mystery date turned and began quietly sobbing in her roommate’s arms.

  “Yo, dude.” Earl said. He didn’t know whether to be angry at Brad for ditching him at the bar, shocked at the sight of his friend slumped against the doorway in shredded clothes, or relieved that Brad was still alive despite considerable pain.

  At the very least, Brad owed him an explanation.

  Wordlessly, Brad staggered into their dorm suite, hobbled into his bedroom, and flopped down on his bed. His clothes were stained with something dark that looked suspiciously like blood.

  Earl followed him in and eased into Brad’s director’s chair. “What in the name of Quentin Tarantino happened to you?”

  Brad rolled over to face the cinder-block wall. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  Earl crossed his arms. “You disappeared at the Grill when the fight broke out.” He tried to keep the annoyance from his voice. “That was very cunning, you sly dog. I looked everywhere, but couldn’t find you or your truck. Thanks for the ride, by the way.”

  “Don’t start with me now. I feel like my heart was drop-kicked into the back of my rib cage.”

  “So, you got caught up in that fracas at the bar after all?”

  “Shoot, I think I might have caused it,” Brad said.

  “No matter. What did the varmint who did this to you look like? Let’s go back and find him. I’ll tear him limb from limb. I’ll knock the taste right out of his tongue. I’ll—”

  “Will you shut up? I didn’t get into a fight with a guy. It was one of those gorgeous Asian chicks we were ogling.”

  “Oh, now I get it. She ‘broke’ your heart, huh?”

  “Well, yeah. But I think she might have also kicked me in the chest a tiny bit. In the process, I may have tumbled into a few innocent bystanders.”

  “A chest-high kick from one of those dainty little China dolls,” Earl mused. “By the way, was it the
one with the perfect posterior or the one with the gymnast’s body?”

  “Hey, I warned you once. The one with the cute tush is mine. Anyway, in my drunken stupor, I may have accidentally barged in on her in the john.”

  “Classic. Do continue.”

  “Well, it’s like this. There was your basic kung fu blur of feet flying at me and the refreshing sensation of being knocked out cold. When I came to, she was still hanging around for some reason. Then she sneaked me out through the kitchen and dumped me in the back of my pickup like a sack of potatoes. Then she proceeded to total my vehicle.”

  “Man, those female Asian drivers are the worst.”

  “She wasn’t the reason for the accident. This guy in an SUV came out of nowhere and started ramming the rear end of the truck for no good reason. So the Asian babe took off like a bat outta Hades with me doing a break-dance on the pickup bed.”

  “Holy cripes. And your dancing sucks. But speaking of potatoes, you hungry? We could continue this at the Stakeout.”

  “Forget about the potatoes for a sec, will ya? We’re on this deserted road just outside of town while this guy in his four-wheel drive slams us and rams us from behind. I nearly fell out of the pickup. Eventually, we’re off the road and flying into a ravine.”

  “Lord almighty. Ramming and slamming.”

  “Will you shut up? So I banged my knee something wicked. We must have fallen twenty or thirty feet before we coasted down a slag­heap and finally got stopped by a tree. Anyhow, the pickup was totaled.”

  “You’re darn lucky you were drunk. The beer probably saved your life.”

  “Amen to that. But I still don’t have any idea who this woman is or why this dude would be trying to run her off the road.”

  “If you ain’t part of the solution, you must be part of the problem, don’t ya think?”

  “How could I be? My entire experience with her up to that point was to be knocked out cold, dragged out of a bar, and dumped into the back of my truck.”