I tried to smile.
He nodded. “I like your hair.”
“Thanks.” I pawed at a few coils at the nape of my neck. I was awkward and scared around Juice for the first time since I’d met him. Not in bad way. Just a level of uncomfortability with having to ask a stranger for help. But I remembered Sam’s words: He’s decent people . . . he’s genuine.
“I saw the news. About you. You okay?”
I didn’t respond immediately. Was it safe to trust him? Did I have any other choice? He polished off another bite and watched me without a word.
“I need to find your friend, the one you said got Sam the job.”
“Why?” Juice asked.
“The guy who hired Sam also killed him.”
Juice’s brows furrowed. “How do you know that?”
“Because I work with the guy. But the police don’t believe me.”
“You know the guy who popped Sam? The hell?” Juice put his hot dog back on the tray and wiped his hands. He gave me a long unblinking stare, like I needed to keep talking or else he wouldn’t believe me either.
“I think the guy intentionally set out to hire Sam so that he could get me to go along with some illegal stuff he’s doing in the company where I work. When I started looking into the illegal stuff, the guy killed Sam and is trying to frame me for the murders. I think he also killed two other innocent people connected with the company.”
Juice gave me the same shocked expression Grace had given me in the kitchen of my condo. “And you work with these people?!”
“Look, I know it’s crazy, but I need to find someone who can corroborate my story. And your friend might be the only one who can. I just need to ask him a few questions.”
“Listen, beautiful, I gotta be honest with you. I’m sure people will appreciate what you’re dealing with right now—Sam’s death and all. But actually, going to the police to corroborate a suspect’s story is not where my friends want to be. I’m just sayin’。”
“You said Sam was like a brother to you. Are you going to help me or not?”
Juice stared at me, his mouth turned up in a lopsided smirk, like he was internally debating with himself.
“You know what? Never mind.” I stood from the table.
“Wait.”
Juice wiped his hands again, then pulled out his cell phone. He dialed a number. He stared at me as he talked into the phone. “Yo, Mack. What’s up? Hey, I need some info. You remember Sammy Littlejohn . . . Yeah, I know it’s messed up. Do you know who set him up with that surveillance gig?”
I eased back into my seat and anxiously listened.
“Oh yeah. Is he still out at the same place? Uh-huh . . . Perfect! I owe you one, man. Later.”
Juice hung up and stuffed his phone back in his pocket. He smiled at me. “Let me finish this hot dog, then we can take a ride.”
*
Things were going along fine until we got to the parking lot.
“Just leave your car here. I’ll drop you back off to pick it up,” Juice said.
I stopped in my tracks. I’d only seen Juice a handful of times. The only thing I knew about him was that he served a stint in prison with Sam, where they met, for what crime I didn’t know. I didn’t know anything about the man who was about to take me God knows where. I didn’t even know his real name!
Juice spun around when he realized I wasn’t walking beside him. “What?” He gawked for a beat. Then he realized the reason for my hesitation. He stretched his arms out in a gesture of innocence. “Ellice, you’re Sam’s sister. I would never hurt you. Cut the drama. Let’s go find the bastard who killed Sam.” He walked off. I hesitated for a moment. Please God keep me safe. With that little prayer sent up, I followed Juice across the parking lot.
We finally stopped in front of an older-model Audi A6. He squawked the door locks with his key fob and opened the passenger door for me. I slumped my shoulders in surrender and climbed inside the car.
Juice started the ignition and the engine purred. The air freshener clipped to the vent released the clean crisp smell of pine.
“This is nice,” I said as I buckled my seat belt.
“You mean, this car is nice for me.”
“I didn’t say that!” I snapped, offended that he thought I was making some stereotypical assumptions about him. But he was Sam’s friend . . . maybe I was.
“Don’t get all rattled. Truth be told, I’m amazed how blessed I am. God’s been good to me, even when I didn’t deserve it.”