We drove over the bridge after 2:00am through thick fog
seeping through the cantilevers. It clung around the sodium
lamps, enveloping the lower level in an orange glow. Julie
and I discussed logistics & timing while Dominique entertained
herself in the backseat, digging through her giant bag of
stuff.
We had twenty minutes to get organized before rolling into
Oakland--our target's location. Had we actually thought
about what we were going to do we probably wouldn't have
done it. But we just decided to do it--we weren't thinking.
It belonged to me. My name was still on the loan and title
as the primary owner. He'd had seven months to change it,
but did nothing. I could forget about it and risk becoming
responsible for someone's injury lawsuit as a result of
his accident, or go get it as my attorney advised.
I pulled off the freeway and drove through my former neighborhood
towards my previous address. The streets were unusually
empty. Even the usual urchins that hover around the 7-11
had migrated elsewhere for the night. I would have felt
less apprehensive with people around creating noise for
audio camouflage. We already felt conspicuous where we didn't
belong.
We cruised by the apartment house to spy the third floor
windows for any signs of life inside. The blinds were closed
making it difficult to know if anyone was home or still
awake. It was pretty late. We hoped that would ensure he
would be fast asleep up there.
I drove around the block to park in a public lot directly
behind my old building. We decided if a police officer stopped
by, they should tell him they were trying to resolve an
argument. This wouldn't be a stretch, their relationship
had been strained for the last few months. But the excitement
of the caper had us feeling giddy.
The plan was for them to wait in the car then follow me
once I obtained my "other car." I would lead them to the
freeway and ultimately to a secure garage where we could
hide a repossessed 1994 Acura Integra GS-R, hunter green
with after-market custom beige leather upholstery, Bose
sound system, sunroof, power locks, windows, 4-door, 5 speed
v-tech, fully-loaded ride.
When I stepped out of the car my legs felt weak and rickety.
I didn't feel it while driving, but the adrenaline had invaded
my major muscles. My hands were shaking as I passed my keys
to Julie. Dominique reminded me to breathe deeply and just
go get it -- just go. To better play our parts, we all dressed
in black, but I felt like I was dressed all in white wrapped
in strands of blinking Christmas lights.
With a deep breath, I began slinking my way through the
alley alongside my former address and the Temple next door.
I don't know why I was slinking--it's only Oakland. The
front of the apartment house faced not the street, but 90
degrees to the right, towards the adjacent apartment house
on the other side. Once through the alley and on the sidewalk,
I had to make my way past the street-side of the house,
in front of white bricks, in my head-to-toe black attire
with headlights on me from one-way traffic driving past.
I waited for the corner stoplight to turn red before striding
briskly (trying not to run) past the white bricks and around
towards the front door. Before secretly moving all my things
into storage and removing my name from the lease, I was
smart enough to make copies of my keys. I kept one sweaty
hand in my pocket holding the illegal set for fear of losing
them.
The front door entry was recessed several feet from the
driveway, providing cover from the cars passing on the street.
Looking to my right, my eyes immediately found the brass
mailbox stickered with his name. The sight of it made me
want to turn around, but I was already here and I needed
to get the car to cover my ass. And I didn't want to chicken
out and disappoint my excited accomplices.
The gauzy white curtains draping the large glass window
barely allowed me to see inside to a brightly lit, empty
lobby. From that angle, I had no clear view of the staircase
to the right and any potential surprises descending to come
out. I thought if I waited long enough, someone would surely
come out or go in, so without waiting another second, I
turned the key in the deadbolt lock and pulled the heavy
door open as quickly as I could.
I stepped inside and gently let the door slip quietly into
its metal jamb behind me. I tried to listen to the hallways
over the loud sound of blood pounding in my ears. The house
was silent. I could only hear my pulse and my breath, which
seemed way too loud for silent breath. After two very long
seconds, I crept up the lobby steps to the hallway to make
my way towards the garage at the end of the hall.
Heart pounding still louder, with legs full of adrenaline,
I turned the garage door knob as smoothly as possible, my
ears trying to hear any noises waiting beyond the thick
door. I pulled it open quickly to get a swift glance of
the garage, hoping to make sure I was alone. I crept through
the hallway, my Chuck Taylors absorbing every noise of my
movements, toward the space that was our parking place for
over three years. No car was parked there. The fucker wasn't
home.
My immediate disappointment was quickly replaced by intense
panic. My shirt was beginning to stick to the sweat around
my neck. Wisps of hair loose from my ponytail clung to my
damp face. I pushed my hair back off my face with both hands
as I stood momentarily frozen in the middle of the garage.
I was screwed.
He could drive into the garage any minute. Notoriously
a night-owl, it was very likely he could be on his way home
from catting around town. There's no back way out of the
garage -- no escape route. The windows are barred and there
are only two doors: one for the people, one for the cars.
I had to get out either the way I came in, or by stepping
on the hose that opens the garage door. If anyone drove
in, my only option was to dive under a car and lurk in a
greasy spot until it was safe.
I couldn't bear to go back inside the building. That route
somehow felt more dangerous and confining, so I opted to
exit through the garage door. I stepped my heel down hard
on the hose that made the gate lurch back as it rose towards
the ceiling, its old metal springs creaking and clanking
all the way. I was certain it woke everybody in the building.
Now everyone would see me running out of the garage. Panic.
Terror. I was so screwed.
Like a frightened weasel, I darted down the driveway realizing
that at any moment, a car could swing into the driveway
towards the garage, exposing me in their headlights. I felt
a little relieved to be outside where I could see my surroundings
and more options for escape. I reached the corner of the
building and broke into a full sprint down the sidewalk
back towards the alley.
The Temple's motion-sensor lights flashed on as I ran past,
pointless in their effort to alert anyone of my presence.
No one was around and I was moving fast. Before leaving
the alley I slowed to a walk and caught my frantic breath.
I approached the car, obviously failed in my attempt at
repossession. My partners were disappointed, but optimistic
that we might find the Acura somewhere nearby. It was nearly
3:00am, but we were all wide awake. We decided to check
some local haunts to see if we could get lucky.
JJ's 24 Hour Diner -- no luck. His buddy Brian's house
-- no car. Only two options left; for one we had no address,
the other was his place of employment over on the Peninsula.
Perhaps he was on his way home while we patrolled his neighborhood
searching for the car. The option with no address was known
only as "Stacey." No clue as to her last name, or who might
know. This was likely the place that even before our separation
regularly garaged the Acura and kept a slovenly, angry man
now legally and officially an ex-husband.
Finally the smell of Julie's half-eaten, Taco Bell drive-thru
snack had made my stomach more upset than it already was.
With our options exhausted, as well as ourselves, we would
try again another night.
To be continued...
Repo Girls, Part Deux - Repo Date |
