“Well, boo-fucking-hoo,” Lucas retorted. “Sounds like you play shitty games and win shitty prizes. Jess can deal with her shit prize alone.”

“Ahh, come on,” Vincent said, stretching comfortably. “I’m sure she can find a way to pay us.”

Something clicked in my head. An idea, a memory, something that rushed through me like adrenaline and sparked my energy.

“We’ll figure something out for her,” I said, and Lucas threw up his hands.

“I fucking give up. You’re all hopeless. Fucking…horny-ass…desperate…” He kept grumbling all the way down the hall and up the stairs. A door slammed, and the old pipes groaned as the shower turned on.

Manson sighed. “He’s pissed off, isn’t he?”

“I mean…yeah. He’s pissed,” I said. “But if Jess needs a way to pay, I think I have an idea.”

Vincent was asleep again by the time the tow truck, Manson, and Jess arrived. I jogged out to the gate with Haribo at my heels to unlock it for Ted, allowing the big flatbed to drive into the yard with Manson and Jess in the Bronco behind him.

Jess hung back in the yard as Manson and I helped Ted get the BMW unloaded into the garage. I kept glancing over to see how she’d react to having Haribo sniffing around her shoes. Slowly, she squatted down and offered the little dog her hand, scratching his chin when he finally gave her a friendly lick.

There were rarely hard feelings with dogs, even a moody little creature like Bo. I almost felt betrayed that he didn’t try to snap her fingers off.

“Thanks, Ted.” Manson knuckle-bumped the driver as he prepared to leave. “I owe you one.”

“See you for the next one,” I said, giving Teddy a wave as he hopped back up into the truck. He was a grizzled guy, pock-marked and gray-haired, but had the biggest heart. He and Vincent could talk for hours, the two of them never running out of stories and cringy jokes to tell each other.

Ted gave us a salute and a smile that was missing a few teeth. “I’ll be seeing ya’, Mr. Reed! Over and out, Zero Cool.” The engine rumbled as he pulled away, dust from his tires drifting through the yard as Manson went to shut the gate behind him.

“What did he call you? Zero Cool?”

I turned. Jess had Haribo cradled in her arms like a baby. The smug mutt was lying there with his tongue lolling out, happy as could be. Little traitor.

“It’s from a movie,” I said, heading back into the garage. “There was this film called Hackers that came out back in the 90s. Zero Cool is an alias for one of the characters. Ted loves his movies almost as much as he loves to tell old stories he only partially remembers.”