Short story

Mr. Goldbaum and I had been traveling for six weeks by then. We were running from the law, my employer and I. Well, it was really just Mr. G. who was running from the law. He had, however, made it perfectly clear that if I didn’t join him on this “business trip” as usual, he’d work it so that I would end up outside the law as well. So off we went.
Neither of us knew where we were going, just that we had to get away from St. Louis and the Jenkins family. It was because of the Jenkinses that Mr. Goldbaum had been forced to leave his nice comfortable mansion and drag me, his closest manservant, with him. See, Mr. Goldbaum isn’t always as honest at his car dealership as he should be, but usually people don’t notice. Or if they do notice, it’s too late for them to care. But from the day I saw Mr. and Mrs. Robert L. Jenkins, I knew they were different. I warned Mr. G., saying he should be very careful with these people. “Find them a good car, and don’t charge more than you have to to cover the costs of it.” I advised. But with his success had come an irrepressible ego, and the mention of him not doing what he wanted only encouraged his want to do it.
“Welcome to Goldbaum’s Golden Cars,” my employer belted out in his deep throaty voice as the Jenkinses, with their two kids, stalked up to the counter, “How can I help you today?”
“We’d like to buy I new mini-van, sir,” Mr. Jenkins said cautiously.
“Ahh,” Mr. Goldbaum exclaimed, eyes glowing with greed, “I’ve got just the one for you my friends!” My mind raced. Which one could he be talking about? Then it hit me. Goldbaum had recently set back the odometers of about 20 cars and vans on the lot. It looked as if he was going to try to sell one of those vans to these customers. I couldn’t believe his audacity.
But all this happened as I had predicted, and as they drove away in a black Honda Odyssey, Mr. G. looked at me triumphantly. “See Dante? No worries! G-man’ll take care of everything!”
“Yes sir, I see sir.” I replied meekly.
Nothing much happened for about a month. Customers came and went, all paying way too much for the cars they were buying. Until one day when we got a call from Robert Jenkins. He warned my boss that if he didn’t agree to give him a full refund on the car, plus a couple thousand dollars as compensation for his trouble, the police would come arrest him and shut him down. My foolish, foolish master. Jenkins wasn’t kidding and sure enough, we heard sirens after about an hour of Mr. G.’s ravings about Robert’s unfairness. Grabbing all he could, Mr. G. started convincing me to come with him. Convincing turned into bribery; bribery turned into threatening and off we went, careening out the back entrance in a silver Honda Accord.
For two weeks we traveled like this; waking up at 8:00 every morning, grabbing breakfast, driving until noon, stopping for lunch, driving until dark, find a hotel to stay the night in. Then word got out about us and we could no longer check into hotels because we might be caught. So we started camping out. This was not a pleasant experience at first. You see, Mr. Goldbaum likes his feather beds and down comforters. That whole “sleeping out under the stars” thing really didn’t make sense to him. But after the first few sleepless nights, during which I constantly had to plump up his pillow for him or get him another blanket from the car, he figured out that it really wasn’t so bad.
Then came that dreadful night. It didn’t start out so bad. The day had been rainy, but we’d found a cave in which to spend the night. We were actually feeling pretty good about our situation and lay down for a good night’s sleep. I was lying near the mouth of the cave, next to all of our luggage. Mr. Goldbaum was farther in the cave, where it was darker and the rain wasn’t so loud. I seemed to sleep only minutes, (in reality it was a few hours), when I awoke to cries and screams of pain. At first I couldn’t see what was going on, and my curiosity was fully piqued by the time someone clicked on a flashlight. Quite a sight met my eyes. There, where my bulky, strong boss had confidently made his bed earlier that night lay a meek mass of fat and blubber, with a young boy sitting triumphantly on his chest, beaming and gripping a lock of his victim’s greasy hair.
“Look, Dad! I got him!” Johnny Jenkins said proudly.
“Well done, son!” Robert replied, then, looking to Mr. G., said, “Sir, you’re in a heap ‘a’ trouble.” My boss just groaned as policemen poured in from the back of the cave. I hoped they wouldn’t see me and forget that Goldbaum had had someone with him, but luck wasn’t on my side that night. Both G and I were sent to jail, though I’ve been out for a while, whereas he’s still sittin’ there like a young kid thinking about what he’s done wrong.