Seconds later, I hear a “pop.” Suddenly, Rob’s hands are no longer on me. I’m free! Billy must have slugged him hard enough for his grip to loosen. I didn’t think Billy had that type of power in his lanky arms. Robbie was unable to shield himself from being cold-cocked. Now his hands are deciding whether to protect his face or keep me pinned at his side.
Before I’m able to dart away, Rob violently tugs my purse handle in his direction. I’m struggling to keep the bag in my possession. As he tries to snatch it away from me, Billy belts him in the face, causing him to retreat and lose his grip on the handle. From yanking the purse in the opposite direction, my handbag strikes the brick wall with an enormous thud.
With another bony fist about to fly in his direction, Rob can no longer keep a hand on me. Without hesitation, I tuck my purse under my arm, exit the alley, and tear down the sidewalk towards Jackie’s street. Every step feels like I’m running through gelatin. I glance back, expecting Rob to be gaining on me, but there’s no movement on the sidewalk. Why in the hell didn’t I turn left and head back to the bar?
It’s too dangerous to turn back, so I keep moving in the same direction. Instead of turning down Harrison Avenue, I dash across the street and enter Town Square; it’s much darker. I duck behind a pine tree, completely enshrouding my body. I quietly crouch down, trying to regain my composure. I glance back at the alley. No movement still. Then, a lone shadow grows larger against the brick wall. Robbie walks out alone. Shit! No sign of Billy. He did what he could to defend my honor. I’m so grateful that he allowed me to escape from Robbie’s clutch. I definitely owe Billy a nice dinner and an enthusiastic blowjob for whatever pain he endured. I can only deliver if I get home in one piece—and Billy happens to still be in one piece.
Rob is rapidly hoofing it down the sidewalk. I pray that he’ll head directly to Jackie’s house so I can slip off in the opposite direction. He stops running and glances towards the park.
Shit!
He must know I’m still in the vicinity. I reach inside my purse and pull out my iPhone. The screen is cracked, and the display is completely scrambled.
Oh, for fuck’s sake!
When my purse slammed against the wall, the phone screen must have absorbed all the pressure. Shit, I can’t call Jackie or dial the police department.
“Mandi . . . I need to talk to you,” Rob yells, mockingly. “I know you’re around here somewhere. Make it easy on yourself.” The threatening inflection of that sentence was clearly an ultimatum to submit or pay the price.
Why does shit like this have to happen late at night when the street is empty? The Blue Dragon is too far away to yell to anyone that may walk out the front door. They’d all be too lit to do much anyway.
“M&M, my love . . . where are you?” His words stretch out almost in song to intimidate me. The fucker is growing closer. Luckily, it’s not chilly enough to see the exhaling of my panicked breath. I have that going for me, but not much else.
Through bloodshot eyes, I peek around the tree and see him crossing the street. Not good! After being with the jackass, I’ve learned “never date a hunter.” Robbie is patient and will not give up until he takes down his target.
I absolutely have nowhere to go. In thirty seconds, I’ll be completely exposed. Rob stands on the sidewalk and surveys the area. He begins walking towards the tree I’m crouched behind.
A muffled thud is heard at the other end of Town Square. Rob stops, cocking his head in the direction of the ruckus. He stares down Main Street for almost fifteen seconds. He shifts his feet and heads toward the commotion.
Lucky break!
Although my good sense is a bit hazy from throwing too much tequila down my gullet, I need to sift through the static in my head to determine the appropriate next move. I have no idea what to do. If I run back to the bar, he’ll spot me for sure. Between here and the Dragon is nothing but open ground except a few more trees and a streetlight. I should be checking on Billy, but I’d be a sitting duck if I returned to the alley. Knowing Robbie’s temper, Billy has to be knocked out cold. If he ends up walking with a limp, dates will be scarce for that boy.
“I need to quit drinking the heavy stuff,” I scold myself.
I turn and look towards the middle of Town Square, trying to mentally drown out the echo of my galloping heart. This tree is too close to the street for comfort, yet there are not many places available to secrete oneself. My options are down to crawling under the gazebo, hiding inside the barrel of the dirty cannon, or ducking behind the old wishing well. The wishing well might be the best place to hide temporarily. It’s located in the darkest section of the park. The large stone base would provide sufficient cover.
Scanning the park, Rob’s towering frame is no longer visible. I sense the asshole isn’t too far away. While the coast is clear, I run through a shadowed section of the park, hoping not to step on any twigs or make any unnecessary noise. I can’t do anything about my graceless feet in the dark. I reach the wishing well, drop down against the base, and exhale rapidly. After catching my tequila-laced breath, I kneel down and cautiously glance over the base of the wishing well. Although my attention to detail is imprecise, Rob doesn’t seem to be nearby. With the limited cover available, I reach into my purse and pull out my iPhone. I press the power button, but the screen is still scrambled.
“Come on, this can’t be happening,” I whisper no louder than a mouse fart.
No matter how many times I push the power button, the phone is not going to repair itself. This is what I get for failing to purchase the protective fiberglass shield for the screen. Upon returning the unusable iPhone to the interior of my purse, I wrap the fingers of my right hand around the back of my neck and feel the chain of my lucky Indianhead penny necklace. I pull the penny from inside my shirt and glance down.
“Please, help me out of this one,” I foolishly whisper to the coin. “If there has ever been a time I’ve needed some magic, it’s at this very moment.”
Considering that Billy helped me out of a jam, maybe the penny has already been interceding. Even in the limited moonlight, the two Indian faces alternate as I slightly toggle the coin back and forth.
“I’d say it’s time to go for broke,” I whisper to the necklace. “You better be game.”
Good luck has never been on my side when making wishes. I’ve blown out my share of birthday candles, have been on the winning end of many wishbones, and have wished upon a multitude of falling stars—Jiminy Cricket can blow that song out of his pale-green ass!
I have to follow my instincts and hope for a miracle. Not having been lucky in the past does not mean I will not be lucky now. After all, I have a penny that just might have some transcendental properties. I hope it’ll be enough to free me from Robbie’s rage.
Since I’m cowering against the bricks of a wishing well during one of the scariest moments of my life, holding the coin feels like a harbinger of good fortune. I’ve lived in this pathetic town my entire life and have never tossed a single penny inside the wishing well. There is no denying this is one remarkable coin. It’s time to see if any magic lies within. With both hands, I reach behind my neck and unfasten the clasp.
My head is so cloudy that I’m not sure what to even request. I should ask to have Rob explode into tiny particles and blow away like dust. The entire county would get in on that result. Maybe I should be practical and ask to arrive home safely. I’m not greedy, but I should make a request that will have long-term benefits. Nothing I plead for will make the slightest difference if I’m unable to survive through the night.
Even though Robbie has yet to pinpoint my exact location, time feels as if it might be running short. If I toss this necklace down the well, it’ll be gone forever. This has been one fucked-up day with an uncertain conclusion.
Holding onto the penny and putting faith that something might happen isn’t doing the trick. I’d pray like a mother, but no one up in the heavens is likely to intervene on my behalf. I’ve used the
Lord’s name in vain so routinely that he probably said, “Fuck the bitch” and permanently switched off my frequency.
I’ll probably regret doing this in the morning, but it’s time for a daring move. I kneel against the base of the well, holding the penny and chain between my thumb and index finger. I extend my arm over the dark opening. Then it hits me; I know “exactly” what it is that I need to ask for.
I let the penny loose and whisper, “I wish I could get away from Robbie and that my life would change.” A split second after my words trail off, the faint sound of the penny splashes in the concealed water below.
Chapter 5
Mandi
I’ve been leaning against the base of the wishing well for nearly three minutes, and nothing has changed. Did I actually expect some all-embracing metamorphosis to occur? I’m drunk, but I’m not high! When your life has always come up lemons, a lucky break landing in your lap isn’t realistic—not even in front of this relic that encourages good fortune.
My vulnerability is escalating. It’s only a matter of time before Robbie locates my whereabouts. He has to be growing more hostile by the minute. That boy snowed someone to get out from under lock and key. That stockpile of passion will be delivered with compounded interest. He thinks I owe him for a year of community showers, substandard cuisine, and being placed in a fastened cage each night.
If I don’t tell him convincingly that I love him, he’s liable to beat my face until it resembles a raw veal chop or Rocky Balboa after 15 rounds. I’m too much of a baby to endure all the physical pain that can be so easily avoided by merely muttering a disingenuous “I love you.” I can retract those three words after I’m in a safer location.
I wipe away the tears, turn around, and peer over the concrete base. Since the last time I looked, a light fog has entered the park. I scan the area from left to right. Oh, fuck! Robbie is standing on this side of the street. He’s staring in this direction, apparently relishing at the idea of going in for the kill.
I duck down fast and panic. He must smell the distinct blend of Euphoria and Wonderstruck that I vigorously sprayed on my body. He must be picking up the union of fragrances like a coonhound. The pounding in my chest is practically leaping through my shirt. Shit, there’s nowhere to run where he won’t see me.
As I peek around the right side of the base, he’s closing in fast. I’m too scared to admit defeat and too headstrong to capitulate to his will. The only way I stand a chance at getting away is to kick off my boots and run barefoot through the damp grass. Robbie may have been a star athlete in the day, but his left knee has limited mobility. He got caught in the woods after he stabbed me because he couldn’t even outrun a sheriff in his mid-thirties. If my feet can keep from slipping on the dewy grass, I might have a fighting chance to reach safety. Just as I’m about to yank off my left boot, everything grows silent—the air, the hum of the town, the insects. It’s like someone stuffed two gooey wads of chewing gum into my ears. I glance around the base again. Robbie is less than 30 feet away, standing in one place as if he stopped in mid-step. His right arm is extended upward as if he’s afflicted with full-body paralysis.
“What the hell is happening?” This isn’t my imagination . . . the asshole is as still as a statue; he isn’t even blinking.
His stance is unnatural—like one of those plastic green army men sold at Dollar General. It’s almost as if he’s been flash frozen. No one would hold up an arm in such a firm position if given a choice.
What if Robbie is merely appearing to be stationary as some type of twisted trick? He can sit motionless for long stretches to remain invisible to a deer or a squirrel that he intends to snuff out. This may be part of the ritual. Immobility could be his sporting way to zero-in on my exact location. Shit! If he’s faking, I will be exposed no matter which way I run.
Could I have reached a level of deep fear that has tricked my mind into conjuring this up? I can’t dismiss such a possibility, but I’m not imagining that the air feels flat and that not a single sound exists in the park aside from my terrified heartbeat. Even the grating of my leather heels against the cement sounds as if the stagnant air won’t carry the click more than a few feet. The dead air is fortunate, actually! The traffic light on the corner of Elm and Main is stuck where the green light is fading out as the yellow light looks to be fading in. Everything seems to be in limbo.
“It’s time to get the hell out of here!” My whispered monotone words sound as if they were spoken in an overstuffed closet.
As I kneel to peek over the base of the wishing well, someone’s soft fingers press lightly on my neck.
“Jesus Fuck,” I scream.
I jump away from the surprise caress, falling backward. I look up to see the silhouette of a slender dark-haired woman. She is clad in a frilly-white button-down shirt, a forward-tilt riding hat from the 30s, and steampunk Victorian black leather boots. She is probably wearing a corset under that garb. It’s as if she leaped from a Clark Gable movie and materialized before me. The moonlight is filtering through the trees, so I can’t make out any features of her face. For all I know, she could be a transvestite trolling the park for a hummer. Robbie will see her for sure, but he still hasn’t moved.
My heart is pounding like an over-caffeinated death metal drummer. I must be creating her image in my mind because there is no way this woman is real. She is leaning against what looks like a collapsed yellow and black polka-dot umbrella; I am clearly tripping big time. My fear has entered such a dark region that I’m no longer able to decipher reality from fantasy. That’s it. No more fucking booze . . . not even a butter rum cookie!
“You need not to worry about that boy over there, at least for the time being,” she whispers in a sultry, but blithesome tone. Her sweet voice is not making me any less guarded. Strangely, her voice is the only audible sound out here.
It’s one thing to think I’ve conjured up the vision of a sublime woman from another era, but when she speaks coherently, reality crashes down like a shit storm. Maybe she’s Robbie’s parole officer that has been trailing him all night, but what’s with the way she’s dressed and why is she carrying an umbrella? There hasn’t been a cloud in the sky all night. Her outfit makes her seem like a female jockey that just took Seabiscuit for a few laps around the racetrack. Jesus, what if she’s an alluring vampire out for a late-night snack?
I’m getting a bad feeling, so I start inching back. With each backward movement I make, the woman scoots forward. I’m so terrified that I lack the strength to stand up.
“Stay away from me,” I implore. Since the woman is standing, she has the upper hand. Her long red nails could easily cut my throat with one fast swipe, or she could impale me with the sharp end of her umbrella. I’m at a complete disadvantage.
“I am not here to harm you, dear; I am here to offer you a passage from your present predicament.”
“Robbie is right over there,” I whisper. “He’s about to—”
She interrupts. “That young man is full of vengeful intentions. If he catches you, your options will be limited to kicking and scratching. None of those defenses would slow down a man with that much pent-up hostility. The only individual powerful enough to stop him happens to be me.”
“Huh?” I ask, glancing quickly over the base of the wishing well at Robbie. He is still standing in the exact stock-still position. I was worried that my exchange with this mystery woman might wake him from his trance. “No disrespect, ma’am,” I whisper, “but you are far too delicate to be able to stand up to a force of nature as unpredictable as Robbie. I’m not sure how you intend on helping me.”
“I have already helped you significantly; that boy did not get in that transfixed state by mere coincidence. If you had waited another minute to call for me, I would not have been able to lend my assistance. Please stand up, dear. I promise he can’t get to you.”
Per her instructions, I hesitantly get to my feet. Robbie remains in my peripheral vision; I’m not convinced he’s
going to keep still. If he moves an inch, I’m dashing. In addition to my anxiety over Robbie, I cannot figure out why she claimed that I called her. My phone isn’t even working.
As she takes a step forward, her gorgeous face exits from the shadows. She looks to be in her early thirties with every facial feature impeccable—her cheekbones and full lips border on “fashion magazine” perfection. Even her wavy shoulder-length hair shines brilliantly—as seen in countless shampoo commercials. I thought I was the cat’s meow around here, but this woman undeniably leaves me in the dust.
“We need to leave pronto,” I express, flustered. “If Robbie snaps out of it, we’ll both be in grave danger—he’d certainly come after you too!”
“There is no need to agonize,” she contradicts. “The situation is under control—at least for the moment.”
“How many moments until it’s not under control?”
“That is all contingent on the two choices in front of you, my dear,” she says, calmly. “The clear course of action would be to run, but you’d likely be caught. With this much open space, circumvention is not an option.”
“He’s got a weak knee.”
“That physical shortcoming may not be enough to get the jump. Let’s say you did outrun him tonight, you will never be safe from this young man. He will come for you again—with more animosity and hatred built up.”
“Nothing good can come from standing this close to the asshole. I just want to get home.”
“And you would be a fool if you didn’t feel that way,” she states, radiating charisma and confidence. I was accurate when I thought she stepped out of a classic black-and-white movie. Although her makeup looks current, the rest of her resonates from a bygone era. “Be aware that he will not stop until he owns you or destroys you—not that there would be much difference.”
“How could you know that?” I ask, suspiciously. “We just met. Are you, uh, like intuitive?”
“You could say that I know many details and important facts concerning your life. The most obvious, my dear, is that you are in a serious quandary. If I hadn’t intervened, you would not have made it beyond the gazebo, Ms. McAllister.”
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