by R C Barnes
Joanie gave up asking me how many I was consuming a day, and just handed me a bottle of Tabasco sauce to carry in my backpack. “Here,” she said. “This is cheaper.”
It was while I was fired up that Operation Green Ribbon was fully launched. I brought Joanie and Rueben into the activity. I knew I would need them as alibis and witnesses and legwork. Luther having Rueben cover for me the night before, planted the idea. If I am going to keep Luther out of things, I will need my friends.
I told Rueben and Joanie I was building a case against Todd so my mother would dump him. This was something they could readily get behind. Neither one of them liked Todd, and they knew my home life had been miserable since he came on the scene. They both believed the evidence we were accumulating was connected to Todd cheating on my mother and not drug related. I let them think that. If they thought we were building a case against Todd because of drugs, they would have insisted the police get involved.
Neither Joanie nor Rueben understand how the legal system works the way I do. Neither one of them is in it. They didn’t have a fat file sitting in family court with multi-colored post-its sticking out of it. After the situation went down with Luther, and I saw how my mother could bend the story against the man she used to love, I realized certain elements were always going to be in play. If it’s going to be your word against someone, you had to have leverage, and the leverage doesn’t have to be facts. A white person has leverage over a person of color. A man has leverage over a woman. An adult has leverage over a child, but a child can gain leverage with specific keywords. I couldn’t pit Luther against Todd because Todd had the advantage.
So, yes, I am a terrible friend because I misled my buddies, but on the other hand, because of me, they have great stories to share and can write interesting personal statements for college. Win-win.
Earlier observations revealed Duane was the flunkie when it came to carrying the drugs. He was the flunkie because, due to his low position on the totem pole, the drugs were on his person most of the time. This allowed Todd deniability. You would think Duane would change his drug bag once he realized how close it resembled mine, but he didn’t. He must have thought it was an asset. By marking my bag with a bright green ribbon, I had helped the situation. Both Duane (and Todd) believed I was ensuring we would always be able to tell the difference between the bags. A de facto system was in place where I would leave my bag marked with a green ribbon on the top shelf, and Duane left his bag on the bottom. It was practically a routine.
But the critical element was in my demeanor. I stopped fighting Todd. I didn’t suddenly become nice (that would have sent out rocket flares), but I stopped resisting him. I would step away from situations and not counter with an opposing opinion. If Todd suggested pizza for dinner, I didn’t fire back with the response of “I hate pizza,” which I used to do, even though I liked pizza. I didn’t pretend I was gagging when he gave an opinion or roll my eyes when he spoke. With this defanged teenager lurking around, Todd believed he had won. Not that he had won me over, but just that he had won. I put up with his smugness because I knew this was a chess match.
I realized something else quickly with my attitude change. I was being ignored. My earlier hostility to Todd had painted me red, but now I could leave when I wanted, and there wasn’t a sudden request for me to announce where I was going. I had become invisible. YES!
I was meeting with Joanie and Rueben on the 5th floor of Central library. There was less foot traffic up there, and we could spread out our schoolwork on the rectangle tables. At the moment, though, we were huddled together. My mother was so happy about the flowers and the reconciliation with Todd, she was having a dinner party this weekend. I was sharing with them my (false) suspicions that Todd was cheating on my mother, and Rueben was confused.
“What is in the book bag, and why are we following it?” Rueben asked.
I sighed. I had to make this sound credible and worth the effort. “I am pretty sure Todd is communicating with his other girlfriend via messages in the backpack Duane is carrying.”
“Whaaat?” said Joanie. “Why doesn’t he just text her?”
“Yeah?” Rueben added.
“Because my mother looks at his phone all the time,” I answered.
I didn’t know if that was true, but it sounded good. Joanie must have agreed because she nodded her head in affirmation. “Sounds like your Mom,” she said.
I continued. “At the dinner parties is when we can catch them because Duane always leaves for some reason.”
“That’s right! He does.” Joanie was starting to see I may have a point.
“Yeah, he got me skittles one time,” Rueben said.
“And then he comes back without the backpack,” I said, making it sound mysterious.
“This seems really complicated,” Joanie protested.
“So, what does he do with the backpack?” Rueben asked. I knew I could count on Rueben to see what the real purpose of the exercise was.
“That’s where you guys can help me out.”
“How?” asked Joanie. She really wasn’t getting it.
“We could follow him,” Rueben interjected. “Next time he leaves the dinner; we’ll have a reason to leave as well. Bess will stay at dinner, and it won’t look suspicious.”
Bingo. That’s exactly what I wanted Rueben to say. Now it wasn’t my idea. It was Reuben’s idea. My friends will act when it looks like I don’t have it all figured out. It’s the curse of being perceived as bossy. “That could work,” I said, nodding my head to encourage Rueben to keep going.
“I’m still confused,” Joanie said. “What does Duane leaving with a backpack have to do with Todd having an affair?”
“Joanie, listen. We need to follow the backpack.” Rueben was running with it. “When Duane leaves the party, we make some excuse to go. I’ll say I’m not feeling well or something, and you’re driving so you’ll take me home. But really, what we do is follow Duane.”
“Is this safe?” Joanie asked.
“Of course, unless he goes someplace sketchy or something,” Rueben answered. “But he’s not going far because he is back within half an hour most of the time. We just watch and see where he leaves the backpack and report back to Bess.”
“And then what is Bess going to do?” Joanie asked.
Both Joanie and Rueben turned their heads to look at me.
“I’ll see who picks it up and what she looks like.” I fidgeted with a piece of paper and looked down. “And I’ll take pictures,” I added.
“I’m still not getting this,” Joanie sighed.
“Don’t worry,” said Rueben. “It will be fun.”
With Rueben on board with the subterfuge, it was a piece of cake. Rueben can make any challenge a game. And if it wasn’t dangerous, Joanie was on board.
Two nights later, Joanie and Rueben were at the house in preparation for their portion of Operation Green Ribbon. Rueben had brought this kit with him containing items that would make it look like he was allergic to something. This would be their pretense for Joanie to rush him home when Duane left. Rueben planned to go to the bathroom and come back with a face of irritated skin and red eyes using a harsh exfoliating skin scrub he had taken from his mother and a few strips of chili pepper he planned to touch with his fingers and then place the oils near his eyelid. I cringed when I heard that part.
“Rueben, dial it back,” I said. “You are not going to have the time to do all this. But you get an “A” for effort.”
“That’s what I was telling him,” Joanie huffed. She was standing there with her hands on her hips, looking exasperated. I could tell mentally; it had been a long car drive from Rueben’s house to mine.
“Rueben, when Duane leaves, you are going to have to immediately say you are not feeling well and bolt. There will be no time for you to craft a Ferris Bueller excuse.” I smiled and looked over at Joanie. She was chewing on her lower lip. Second thoughts or just Rueben fatigue?
“I’m impr
essed you were willing to put hot pepper oil near your eye,” I said, clapping Rueben on the shoulder. “That’s commitment.”
Rueben looked disappointed, but he understood delays would hinder the operation. I took his “allergy” kit and tossed it on the bed in my room. Out in the kitchen, Ollie was working up a meal that smelled like fried chicken and macaroni and cheese. With a fantastic aroma in the air and my friends by my side, I was starting to get excited. I motioned for Rueben and Joanie to enter the room so I could close the door. “Besides,” I whispered. “What would Ollie do if you pretended you got sick because of his food.”
“But isn’t that what I’m doing?” asked Rueben.
“No, just say you don’t feel well, like its a fever or a headache. You don’t need to link it to the food.”
Rueben approved. “Good thinking.”
Outside my bedroom, I heard Todd’s voice greeting Ollie. Todd and Ollie maintained a civil relationship. Todd knew the rules about staying out of the kitchen when Ollie was at work, so their paths didn’t cross very often. I poked my head out, and Todd saw me. He smiled at me like we were best buddies.
In the past, that dopey smile would have gotten me to grab a hot sauce pack. But this was a fired up and focused Bess, and I was not going to let this monster get my goat. I brushed past Todd and entered the living room. Rueben and Joanie were behind me like devoted followers.
Duane had already arrived, and it looked like he had brought Annika along with him. Clutched in Duane’s hands was the backpack - the focus of the enterprise. I was pretty sure Duane was going right to Cosmic Hearts tattoo parlor. And Todd had given him the access code on the alarm, and he was leaving it there. Then either Todd or someone else was filling the bag with the stuff. The bag was not seen in Todd’s possession. That’s what I believed this whole thing was about. Todd could not be seen holding the bag.
Nick had blown it back when I threw the water on him. Not that they were thinking I would do that, but it opened their eyes to the problem of using the house as an operation post. I was an obstacle to move around. I had ruined that batch, and Todd had probably had to pay for it in some way. I wondered if the bandaged burned hand Todd had been sporting shortly after the Nick episode had been a form of punishment and not an accident. Maybe his boss had pointed out it was stupid to have the drugs on the premises where minors lived. There was a lot of increased traffic coming in and out of Cosmic Hearts. The tattoo parlor was now the perfect place to operate out of and the ideal place to hide the stuff.
I watched Annika for a bit and the way she interacted with everyone. She giggled and squeaked and thoroughly washed away any ideas you might have about the types of people who dress up in Goth fashion. She may wear black clothing and heavy kohl around her eyes, but Annika was an insipid bubbly sunshine girl. The dark ripped attire and the pounds of makeup were like a costume she wore. But it didn’t matter, Goth or sunshine; she still annoyed the hell out of me.
Joanie came up beside me and handed me a water bottle. It was one of the personal ones folks fill up, so they are not littering the planet with wasteful plastic bottles and worrying about BPA toxins in their bodies. “What’s this?” I asked.
“Your personal hydration system. Water with squirts of Tabasco. I even added a little lemon and honey.”
I smiled with appreciation. “Nice,” I replied.
“I got your back,” Joanie said.
Oh my God, I was beginning to feel all warm inside. Like hope was bubbling up inside me. I had to admit this was becoming fun, but I refrained from doing something dorky like high-fiving Joanie or giving her a thumbs up.
“Let’s eat,” Ollie called out, and the game was afoot.
***
Dinner was concluded, and Joanie and Rueben and I cleared the table of dishes. People were kicking back with beer and wine, and Ollie had picked up ginger beers for the younger folks.
Echo didn’t like hers and after taking a sip, announced very loudly, “Blah.” She reared her head back to deliver a spit take for comic effect (she’s been watching WAY too many cartoons), but Terry sharply cried “No!” and snapped her finger to get Echo’s attention. Terry then pointed to the bathroom down the hall. “Spit it out there in the sink.” Echo scowled and reluctantly left the room. She was clearly angry; her perfectly timed comic bit had been foiled by her own mother. Everyone laughed, and Terry shook her head and exclaimed, “You see what I have to deal with!”
Annika piped in. “She’s adorable. I love her spirit.”
Terry responded, “Her spirit is delightful, but try combing her hair!” That got an even bigger laugh. They all roared, which is good because I was sitting there with my mouth wide open. I couldn’t believe she said that. One-she never does Echo’s hair. I’m the one that runs a comb through those copper snarls and pulls out the leaves and flowers and toys. Two-she always complained about MY spirit, but I guess it looks cute when it is housed inside Echo.
It’s a good thing Joanie and Rueben were there, or I might have said something flippant, gotten my mother angry, and jumped into a shouting match, and then Operation Green Ribbon would have been toast. Instead, I took a giant swig from my water bottle and immediately began choking. I had forgotten Joanie had doused the drink with Tabasco sauce. My mouth sputtered, and I ended up doing the spit take Echo had attempted five minutes ago. Tears were in my eyes as I tried to regain my breath. Everyone was looking at me with concerned expressions.
Ollie came over to deliver the Heimlich, but my mother stopped him by saying, “If she can cough, then she can breathe.” Ollie shimmied back to his wine glass, and exited into the kitchen, announcing he was warming up the cobbler.
Joanie leaned in from my right. Her arm was on my shoulder. “Are you okay?” she asked.
I nodded in the affirmative and waved my hand, indicating everyone else should carry on. They quickly did, and the topic moved to some of the challenging design work my mother and Dusty had done in the last week. I whispered to Joanie, “Soon.” She nodded and looked across the table at Rueben and mouthed, “Soon,” slightly bobbing her head in the direction of Duane. Rueben’s eyes widened, but I couldn’t tell if he understood the message. He started to fidget with his napkin.
Sure enough, once ink designs were mentioned (and they always are with this group), Todd found a way to discuss his tattoos and talk about Wolfie. Now that I had uncovered the truth about Todd, I realized Wolfie or talking about the dog must be a secret communication between Todd and Duane. Todd spoke about the dog a lot, and everyone had heard the sad story. The first number of times I heard Todd talk about Wolfie, I thought he was a dog lover, but his behavior around dogs at the park and on the street didn’t bear that out.
Then I felt the Wolfie story was a way of showing off and revealing a tender side for the gullible women who would fall for that type of thing. Rueben was right. After the dinner, Duane would find an errand to do. I was piecing the situation together, and I suspected “Wolfie” was the trigger word between Todd and his flunkie.
Todd was saying how much he missed having a dog around, and my mother reached over and patted his arm. “Perhaps we’ll get one for the girls,” she cooed. Todd smiled at her. I wanted to barf and inject Echo wanted a kitten, not a puppy. She wanted two kittens, but we were told Todd was allergic.
Suddenly Duane was up saying he needed to get a prescription filled before the pharmacy closed.
“How come you don’t use a 24-hour place?” I asked. I peeked over at Rueben to see if he was ready. Rueben was sitting red-faced and staring at his hands. The napkin he had been fidgeting with was tied up in enough knots to make Popeye the sailor proud.
“I use the spot around the corner from my place,” Duane stammered. “They close at seven.”
“Are you coming back?” asked my mother. “We’ve got dessert. I think it’s a berry cobbler.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Duane responded, and he was gone.
“That was fast,” my mother remarked. She turned
and looked at Todd. “Do you think we’ll need ice cream? I should have told him to get ice cream.” She yelled into the kitchen, “Ollie, do we need ice cream?”
Ollie shouted back, “Naw, we’re good.”
Precious seconds were passing. Joanie and I both turned our heads to look at Rueben. He was just sitting there.
“Psst,” Joanie hissed.
Rueben didn’t move.
“PSST,” Joanie hissed again. She was practically spitting.
Rueben stood up quickly, almost knocking the chair back. “I…” He sputtered out. “I…I…think…” He now had everyone’s attention. “I…think…” He was stuttering, staring at the numerous faces looking at him. His face was the color of strawberries. I could see he was losing his nerve, and he just wanted to sit down. What the hell?
It was Joanie to the rescue. “I think you’re sick,” she said. “I’ll take you home.” She swooped down on Rueben, snatched his jacket off the couch, and whisked him out the back door. Seconds later, we could hear the car engine of Joanie’s dad’s station wagon turning over and Joanie pulling out.
All the adults turned to me as if I had an explanation for the odd behavior of my friends. I didn’t have one, but I tried. “He had a rough day at school. Some kids threw him in a locker.” The adults all nodded their heads and murmured in universal understanding. It was kind of weird.
Minutes later, I received a message from Rueben. “I’m sorry. (sad emoji face) We are following him now. Save me some cobbler. (happy emoji face)”
BIG DADDIES AND ORANGE KITTIES
I heard back from Joanie the next morning. She sent a flurry of brief text messages. “Can’t talk. Dad. Went 2 Tobacco Joe. Telegraph. Left inside.” It was Saturday morning, so I knew she would be going door to door doing pioneer work for the next few hours. After that, her group went to lunch and then Joanie usually spent the rest of the day spending time with her father. The earliest I would get to talk to her was Saturday night.