Broken Wings

by Weis, Alexandrea

  “God, I just love a hot mini-drama in the morning,” Carol whispered, smiling.

  Pamela came up to Daniel, who was banging the ladder around trying to get it positioned right up next to the house. His face looked drawn and there were dark circles under his eyes. His hair was disheveled and he had a thick five o’clock shadow across his square jaw. He looked as if he had just climbed out of bed and headed right over to the sanctuary.

  “Coffee?” Pamela offered, figuring he was probably in desperate need of a caffeine boost.

  “Yeah,” he replied without looking at her. “That would be great, thanks.”

  “Everything all right?” Pamela inquired.

  “Just peachy,” Daniel answered, keeping his eyes riveted on the house in front of him.

  “Peachy, huh?” Pamela folded her arms across her chest. “You look like shit, Daniel.”

  He turned to her and his dark eyes ripped her to shreds. “Shit? Thanks. That’s just what I needed to hear.”

  She stood there for several minutes watching him as he gathered up his tools. Finally, he stopped and glowered at her. “Didn’t you say something about coffee?” he asked as he raised his dark eyebrows at her.

  “After you tell me what your problem is this morning.”

  Daniel sighed and threw the hammer in his hand to the ground. Lester, in the tree behind him, gave out a sudden hoot of surprise.

  Daniel glanced up at the owl. “Great. That‘s all I need today.”

  “Tell me what’s wrong?” she pleaded.

  As he turned to her, a veil of cool indifference descended over his countenance. Pamela felt an uneasy shudder jar her body as her eyes met his.

  He drew a deep breath through his lips and then let it out slowly. He surveyed the land around him. “Do you really want to hear this, Pamela, or are you just pretending to give a shit like the rest of the world?” He turned his face back to hers.

  “I’m not pretending, Daniel.”

  His eyes probed hers for what felt like an eternity to Pamela. “All right,” he said as he angrily nodded his head. “I got fired last night.”

  She let her mouth fall open slightly. “Fired? Why?”

  “The guy that I slugged a few months back for roughing up his girlfriend; you know, the one who filed charges against me? Well, he showed up at the bar last night and started ranting about why I was still working there. Cursed out the manager and was a general pain in the ass. Security had to come and escort him out of the place. After that, the manager told me to leave and not come back.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  He shrugged, appearing unconcerned about his situation. “Get another job. Won’t be as lucrative as Pat O’Brien’s, but I’ll manage. There are a lot of bars in the Quarter.”

  “I’m sorry,” was all she could think to say.

  Daniel gave her a weak attempt at a smile, but his eyes were still cold and menacing. “Now, what about that coffee?”

  She nodded. “Coming right up. How do you want it?”

  “Black.”

  Pamela turned to go when his voice stopped her.

  “Thank you for not pretending,” he whispered.

  She looked back at him. “Let’s just say I think of you as a very large squirrel.”

  Daniel laughed, a heartfelt laugh that seemed to break the tension in his face. “I think that is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  Pamela walked away and as she turned the corner to the front of the house, she saw Carol leaning over the porch railing, obviously straining to eavesdrop on her conversation with Daniel.

  “Should I send you a transcript?” Pamela quipped as she glared at Carol.

  Carol waved a dismissive hand at her. “Nah. Heard plenty enough from my spot here.” Carol smiled coyly at her. “So you and the criminal are friends, eh?”

  “And you told him I had lupus.”

  “I also tell everyone that you are mentally unstable and ritually sacrifice small children out in the woods, but no one ever believes me.”

  “I should sacrifice you out in the woods,” Pamela replied under her breath as she climbed the steps to the porch.

  “So what’s up with you and that fine looking man on your roof?”

  “Keep your voice down,” Pamela chided. “Stop it, Carol. There is nothing between Daniel and me.”

  “Yet,” Carol slyly added.

  “Why do I put up with you and all—?”

  But the sound of a car heading down the gravel drive silenced Pamela’s remonstrations. She and Carol watched as a bright red Mercedes-Benz SLK 350 roadster pulled up next to Daniel’s blue Jeep. The dogs quickly rose from their respective spots on the porch and went clamoring after the car.

  “Shit!” Pamela cursed. “This is all I need!”

  “Oh, how exciting,” Carol squealed as she examined the car. “Imelda has decided to grace us with her presence.”

  The door of the Mercedes opened and a woman’s long, slender leg slid out from the car.

  “Pamie!” A high-pitched voice cried out from inside the sleek roadster. “Can you get the dogs away from my car?”

  Pamela cursed under her breath one more time as she ran down the steps to the drive. She tried to corral a few of the dogs away from the shiny red car, but for some reason they seemed hesitant to listen to her. Pamela could hear Carol giggling from the porch behind her.

  “Go!” she yelled at the dogs and then clapped her hands to try and scare them away. Every dog ran back to the porch except for Tequila, the brown chiweenie. She just sat there staring at the car, wagging her tail, and not paying one bit of attention to Pamela. Finally, Pamela reached down and picked up the dog.

  “It’s all right, Clarissa,” Pamela called out as she carried the small brown dog back to the porch.

  Slowly, another leg appeared from inside the car. Then a tall woman, dressed in a form fitting red, silk shirtdress and black Manolo Blahnik pumps, emerged into the morning sunlight. She was slender with long, dark brown hair and bright green eyes. Her face was oval, pale, and looked slightly Asian. Her petite nose, small chin, and almond-shaped eyes only seemed to add to the exotic quality of her face. Clarissa didn’t look a day over thirty, but Pamela knew for a fact that she was pushing forty, and attributed her youthful glow to her plastic surgeon’s skill rather than a healthy lifestyle.

  “Pamie!” Clarissa’s slender arms went up to her as if begging for a hug.

  “Clarissa,” Pamela stated as she walked up to the woman and gave her a friendly embrace. She quickly stepped away, trying to breath with restraint after the first whiff of the woman’s heavy perfume. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  Clarissa held up her iPhone in her perfectly manicured little hands. “I came to take some pictures of all of your animals,” she replied in her high-pitched voice that reminded Pamela of something akin to mice squealing. “I’ve got a friend over at the Times-Picayune who wants some pictures of your place to put in the Sunday paper. You know, a human interest thing. And since the BP oil spill, everyone has been so worried about all of the animals affected. You never know, it might just help to drum up some donations for you.”

  “I worked the oil spill, Clarissa, and it involved mostly birds,” Pamela clarified in a patronizing tone. “I try to limit myself to small mammals at this facility.”

  Clarissa laughed, and the dogs on the porch all stood up and looked at her like she was a large squeaky toy. “Honey, no one is gonna’ know one way or the other. Mammals, birds, what’s the difference? As long as it is cute and fuzzy, everyone will just melt over your little critters. And you can make some money in the process.” She slammed the car door shut and walked over to the porch.

  “Hello, Mrs. Patrick,” Carol said, sounding welcoming.

  “Oh, hello.” Clarissa stopped halfway up the steps and stared at Carol. “You’re Beverly, right?”

  “No, I’m Carol.” Carol gave her a fake smile. “I handle the books and we see each o
ther at the fundraiser every year.”

  Clarissa waved her hand in the air. “Oh, yes, silly me. I remember you, dear.” She pointed at the coffee mug in Carol’s hand. “Ya’ll got any more of that inside?”

  “I’ll get you a mug,” Carol offered. “Cream, no sugar, right?”

  Clarissa appeared a little shocked. “How clever of you to remember!”

  “How could I forget, Mrs. Patrick?” Carol remarked as she headed inside.

  Clarissa turned back to Pamela, who was coming up the porch steps behind her. “So, why don’t you show me what’s new around here and—”

  Just then Rodney the raccoon emerged from around the corner of the house. He laid eyes on Clarissa and immediately began to snort and growl at her.

  “I see you still haven’t gotten rid of that vile creature,” Clarissa muttered as her green eyes glared at Rodney. “Shouldn’t you put him to sleep or somethin’, Pamie? I mean havin’ such vermin hangin’ around can only bring diseases to your other animals. Don’t they carry rabies?”

  “Clarissa, you know I don’t put animals to sleep unless it’s absolutely necessary. Rodney is very friendly with most people, and does not have rabies. He’s had his shots. I just don’t understand what his problem is with you.”

  Clarissa shot Pamela a dirty look.

  “I simply meant maybe it is your perfume or something you wear that sets him off,” Pamela explained. “They have a very acute sense of smell.”

  “Well, I think he’s just—” A sudden round of banging from the roof stifled Clarissa’s campaign against the roaming raccoon. “What’s that?” she asked.

  “I have someone repairing the broken shingles on my roof,” Pamela told her.

  Clarissa raised her dark brows, questioningly. “Since when can you afford to have any work done on this place?” She narrowed her small eyes on Pamela. “Bob hasn’t given you any more money, has he?” she asked in a husky voice.

  Pamela could not help but grin as she saw the blush of anger spread across Clarissa’s pale face. “No,” she said, calmly. “You and Bob have been more than generous over the years.”

  “Then how can you afford to have your roof fixed?” She walked around to the side of the porch, her Manolo Blahnik’s clicking on the wood beneath her feet as she went.

  “A volunteer has generously donated the materials to fix up my house,” Pamela clarified as she followed Clarissa to the edge of the porch.

  “Volunteer!” Clarissa almost laughed. “Pamie, your volunteers are just as poor as you. Now who would pay to have—?”

  At that moment, Daniel rounded the corner. He was soaked through and his thin white T-shirt clung to his muscular torso. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Clarissa.

  “Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “I just needed to get something out of my Jeep.” His dark eyes volleyed back and forth between Pamela and Clarissa.

  “Well, hello there!” Clarissa purred while sticking out her amply enhanced cleavage.

  “Clarissa, this is Daniel.” Pamela motioned to Daniel. “Daniel has been helping out around here.”

  “So happy to meet you, Daniel,” Clarissa cooed as she leaned over the porch railing and offered him her hand.

  Daniel took the woman’s extended hand and gave it a brief tug.

  “Daniel, Clarissa is a very generous patron of my facility.” Pamela gave a fake smile and tried to implore Daniel with her eyes to play nice.

  He paused for a second or two, and then Daniel turned back to Clarissa.

  “Well, hello,” he cheerfully called out, flashing a boyish smile that Pamela swore she had never seen before. “It is very nice to meet someone so interested in Pamela’s little organization. You must be a woman of exceptional taste.”

  Clarissa became like butter in a frying pan. “Oh, I try my best to support all worthy causes,” she gushed as she ran her hands through her long hair and showed off her beautiful porcelain smile.

  Pamela tried to curtail her grin as she saw Clarissa touch her face and play with the fabric on her dress.

  “Clarissa came out to take some pictures of some of the animals for the newspaper,” Pamela explained, surprising herself with the chipper inflection in her voice. “She thinks it might be a real help in getting donations for the facility.”

  “Really? That is so kind of her.” Daniel’s smile looked so fake that Pamela had to wonder if he was laying it on a bit too thick.

  But Clarissa didn’t seem to notice. “You know I could use some people in my shots. Perhaps highlight the volunteers who work so hard to keep the place goin’.”

  “Gee,” Carol said, coming up behind the women. “I always wanted to have my picture taken for the newspaper.”

  Clarissa turned and Carol extended a mug of coffee to her. Clarissa inspected the mug and frowned. “I was actually thinkin’ more along the lines of havin’ Daniel here…” Clarissa turned back to Daniel, “…pose for a few shots, Beverly.”

  “It’s Carol,” Carol corrected.

  Clarissa just waved her hand at Carol, never taking her eyes away from Daniel. “What do you think, Daniel? Up for a few pictures to help the cause?”

  Daniel glanced over at Pamela and beamed. “Absolutely!”

  “Wonderful!” Clarissa clapped her hands together. “Why don’t you and I go over to those cages across the way and take some pictures with the animals.” She pointed to the man’s sweaty T-shirt. “But lose the shirt, darlin’. I think it would be so much more interestin’ if you looked like you were workin’ really hard.”

  “And nothing says a man is working hard than when he shows off his naked chest,” Carol announced.

  Clarissa glanced back at Carol. “I find that to be true, Constance.” She took the steps from the porch to the gravel drive one at a time, and by the time her expensive black shoes hit the ground, Daniel was at her side.

  Carol and Pamela looked on as the pair walked around the side of the house and toward the back of the facility.

  “I hope those heels get stuck in a big old pile of mud,” Carol muttered beside Pamela.

  “I can’t believe the fate of my rehab center rests on the shoulders of a half-naked bartender,” Pamela mused as she felt the weight of the world descend upon her.

  “Well, those shoulders can definitely handle the burden.” Carol shook her head. “I’ve seen monkeys in heat more subtle than that woman. Now there’s a troubled marriage.”

  Pamela stared at her. “What makes you say that?”

  Carol pointed at Clarissa. “If she’s on the prowl, so is Bob. A woman never goes after another man unless the man she’s got isn’t man enough, if you know what I mean,” Carol expounded with a wink.

  Pamela drew her blond brows together. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” Pamela turned and watched as Daniel lifted Clarissa over a large puddle on the ground.

  The woman’s squeals of joy could have been heard all the way to New Orleans.

  “God, I hope I never become that desperate,” Carol commented with a sigh.

  “I don’t care how desperate she is,” Pamela said with a frown. “If I knew it would help, I would pay Daniel to sleep with that stupid woman. I will do anything to keep this place going.”

  “Maybe you could get a two-for-one discount. He could do Clarissa and then you.”

  Pamela snapped her head around and glared at Carol. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You two seemed real cozy earlier this morning around the side of the house.” She shrugged. “All I’m sayin’ is, maybe you and the gigolo should get to know each other. You know, horizontally.”

  Pamela rolled her eyes. “Carol, all you think about is sex!”

  “Yeah, maybe. But at least I’m thinking about it.” She nodded her head slightly toward Pamela. “Are you?”

  * * * *

  It was well into the afternoon when Clarissa’s bright red Mercedes pulled out of Pamela’s gravel drive and headed back to the city. Soon after she saw Cl
arissa’s tail lights turn on to the main road at the entrance to her property, she heard the hammer start up again on her roof. Pamela stood outside on her porch and fought back the urge to go running to Daniel and ask what happened between him and the insufferable woman. She decided instead to go inside her house and feed her collection of baby gray squirrels. But as she shut the front door to her home, the images of Clarissa and her high-heeled shoes walking off with Daniel to take pictures of her animals, in her facility, irked her. Maybe she should have insisted on tagging along, but the idea of spending any more time than necessary with her ex-husband’s wife made her stomach almost heave in revulsion.

  After she had settled on the floor and began to feed one of the baby squirrels, a knock came from her front door.

  “It’s open,” she shouted.

  The door flew open and Daniel rushed in. Shirtless and out of breath, he hurried toward her with something cupped in his hands.

  “I found this when I was up on your roof, by the chimney, sealing up some leaks. It fell into my hands when I moved some of the loose tiles away,” he said as he leaned over to her and opened his hands to reveal a tiny creature with bright brown fur.

  Pamela put the baby she had been feeding back in its container and analyzed the speck of life cradled in the man’s long hands. She tenderly lifted the creature out of his hands and carefully inspected it.

  “It’s a flying squirrel,” Pamela announced. “Don’t get many of those unless they are trapped up in people’s attics.” She smiled up at Daniel.

  “Is it hurt or something? It didn’t move too much when I brought it down the ladder.” He paused and a worried look crossed his face. “Do you think I could have injured it?” he questioned.

  She felt a sudden tug at her heart as she caught sight of the man’s pained expression. “No, I’m sure you didn’t injure it,” she reassured him. “Let’s find out exactly what is wrong.”

  Pamela pulled at each of the animal’s spindly little legs and ran her fingers over its soft, silky fur. Finally she extended its feather-like tail and pressed gently on its head.

  “Nothing appears to be broken. There are no cuts or blood anywhere on the fur,” she told him as she turned the creature over in her hand. “Might be sick,” she added.