I went into the little bathroom and wriggled into the black leather pants. I took the T-shirt off and put the vest on and stepped out. 'What about the bomb?' I said. 'You can see I have a bomb strapped to my stomach.'
Julie was on the bed behind me. 'That's not all you can see,' she said, giggling.
Scrog had changed into black leather pants and a black T-shirt and was wearing a black leather Sam Brown belt armed with cuffs and stun gun and Glock. It was better than the ladies' dress, but he sure as hell was no Ranger. Ranger would crack a smile at the thought of someone impersonating him in leather pants.
'Put the T-shirt on over the vest,' Scrog said. 'It's the best we can do right now.'
I dropped the T-shirt over my head and walked ahead of Scrog, out of the motor home. I stood blinking in the bright sunlight, waiting for my eyes to adjust, trying not to get hysterical over the fact that I had a bomb str
apped to my stomach.
'Jeez,' Scrog said. 'Now that you're out in the sun you look like the Bride of Frankenstein. Can't you do something with your hair?'
'Maybe if you'd stop running electricity through me my hair would look better! Ever think of that? And what do you think, hair just happens? I need a roller brush. I need gel and hair spray and a hair dryer. Next time you rob something, make it a hair salon.'
'Cripes, just trying to be helpful. I figured you cared about your appearance.'
'If I cared about my appearance I wouldn't be wearing these butt-crack pants,' I snapped back at him.
'Yeah, they're kind of small,' he said. 'Maybe you should lay off the doughnuts.'
I thought this was a good chance to get hysterical and try to rattle Scrog.
'You have a lot of nerve,' I said, all emotional. 'All you brought me to eat for breakfast was cake and candy. If I'm so fat, why didn't you bring me some fruit? You didn't even bring me coffee. All I wanted was coffee. Was that so much to ask?'
And to my surprise I'd actually popped out a couple tears and gotten my nose to run a little.
'I'm sorry!' Scrog said. 'Hold it down, will you? I'll get you some coffee. I swear to God, this isn't turning out like I thought.' Scrog opened the trunk on the car. 'Get in, and we'll go get coffee.'
'I'm not getting into the trunk! I've got a bomb strapped to me,' I said, hiccupping back sobs that were only half fake. 'What if I roll around? And anyway, it's demeaning. How would you feel if I made you ride in the trunk?'
I couldn't believe I was actually saying this. Demeaning. How was I thinking of this crap?
'It's so you can't see where we are. It's for your own good.'
I wiped my nose with the back of my hand. 'It's not for my own good if I blow myself up.'
'Oh man, you have to stop crying. You got mascara running all down your face.'
'It's all your fault. You started it. You said I was fat.'
'I didn't say you were fat. You're putting words in my mouth. Hell, get in the car. I'm starting to think it would be a relief to go to jail.'
'This is a nice car,' I said, buckling myself in. 'Is it new?'
'Yeah, I picked it up this morning when I went out for breakfast.'
'You should steal a Lexus next time. I hear they're really comfy.'
'I'll keep that in mind.'
'We're coming out of the woods now, so I want you to close your eyes and put your head down so you can't see.'
'Oh, for crying out loud.'
'Just do it. I'm ready to blow you up just to shut you up.'
I thought I'd pushed him about as far as I could, so I bent in my seat and put my head between my knees. The car swerved off the dirt road and skidded to a stop in a patch of grass.