Courted by Karma (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod)

by Ellen, Tracy

  Mr. Barkley agreed with alacrity to this arrangement. “How do you say it, Anabel? My night vision sucks big time, is that right?”

  I laughed and said that was exactly right.

  We chatted for several minutes more about the recent events until, rising to his feet, Mr. Barkley was off to go meet a few friends for a late lunch.

  At the office door, he remarked casually, “Oh yes. I have made a list of possible candidates that are my first choices to be your new money manager.”

  One of my recent meetings with Mr. Barkley was on the subject of my Blood Money. He wanted to get me hooked up with a younger, reliable money man. I think he felt the Grim Reaper breathing down his neck. I didn’t like to contemplate his demise, but above all else, Mr. Barkley’s a practical man and he’s being annoyingly insistent.

  I looked up and met his gaze, but remained stubbornly silent.

  He smiled kindly and took my hand. “Anabel, you are a darling, loyal girl and I want to assure you that I have no immediate plans to kick the bucket. By interviewing these candidates and making a choice now, when I am still healthy and in possession of all my mental faculties, it allows me the opportunity to watch over this youngster we choose. Doesn’t that make sound business sense to you?”

  “Yes,” I answered, but very reluctantly.

  Sometimes change was good, but sometimes change sucked dead donkey dicks. Or so my brother has been known to say. Right now, I could only agree with him.

  After Mr. Barkley kissed my cheek and left, I kept the office door ajar to hear if my help was needed in the store. Sitting at my desk, I checked my phone but hadn’t missed any calls. I resolutely pushed Luke’s earlier call out of my mind and texted Mac the request to pick up Mr. Barkley tomorrow. I called Jazy back, but she didn’t answer. I would catch up with her later when I went over to Mac’s at three. I decided to save peeking in the gun bag for my special reward after doing my grunt work.

  For the next hour, I worked at the computer doing the tedious tasks of payroll, general ledger accounting, and ordering supplies. I was deep into combing the wholesale book distributor’s catalogues I frequented for new titles to buy for February’s book order when I became aware of Anna’s distinctive voice somewhere outside the office door.

  “Un memento por favor.”

  I didn’t take my eyes off the monitor in front of me when I heard the office door close and Anna dropped heavily onto the small loveseat.

  As I typed, I murmured distractedly, “Are you coming in here to show off, Miss Mexico? You know I am linguistically challenged, so your skills are lost on me.”

  At Anna’s continued silence, I glanced over at her. She was slumped on the green velvet couch and staring straight ahead. Her face was white. She looked sick with apprehension.

  “What?” I demanded sharply.

  Motioning with a thumb towards the store, she brought her eyes up to mine and gulped. “Uh, you know my new tutoring pupil, Maria?

  “Not personally, but go on, what about her?”

  Anna’s words tumbled out. “We haven’t even started the tutoring lesson today.” I flicked a look at the computer clock. It was 1:20 now and the session normally ended at one. “Maria asked about you the minute she sat down. She wanted to know if it was true that you saved another woman from her bad husband intent on hurting her. When I said yes, thinking she was just being curious, Maria burst into tears and started bawling. I mean, we’re talking a hysterical storm lasting a solid twenty minutes here, June.” Anna rubbed a shaking hand over her face. “Long story short, she’s begging for your help. Her sister’s latest husband owes some moneylender guy a lot of cash. Maria says this brother-in-law, Jorge, is not truly a bad man, but he’s got a nasty gambling problem. He sounds like a weak-ass. He owes money to this old dude and can’t pay it back. He’s been threatened to pay up by this Sunday deadline or they’ll hurt Maria’s sister and him.” Anna whispered in fierce disgust, “This old dude that lends the money doesn’t care how he gets his money, he just wants it back. One of his enforcers is a douche bag pedophile, Junior. The niece, Blanca is her name, is only thirteen-years-old! Maria says she is very pretty. After this enforcer man saw Blanca, he told them he would take Blanca in exchange for paying off the debt. Maria is absolutely going nuts with worry her niece will somehow be forced to go with this man, or he will take her.”

  I blinked and stared at Anna without speaking. Her frantic words penetrated my brain, but up until thirty seconds ago, I was lost in calculating numbers and book orders. Now my mind was lost in calculating the bizarre horror of some stranger’s life. I couldn’t help contemplating my own bizarre life, as well. I never thought I’d use the word “enforcer” in any connection to my daily world. Now it’s come up twice in one day, and both times in connection with exploiting young girls. Three times, if you wanted to get technical about the root word of enforcer, since Jack Banner was in law enforcement.

  It was taking me a moment to switch gears, although there was never any doubt of my answer.

  Saving the February book order on my computer screen, I smacked a hand on the desk and said, “Okay then. Of course we’ll save Blanca. Let’s get cracking on a plan. Bring Maria in here, Anna. Does she speak English fluently, because you know I can’t speak…”

  “Are you on crack?” Anna interrupted loudly, glaring at me in exasperation. “I knew you’d say that! Of course her niece needs to be saved, Junior,” she went on in a pleading tone, “but shouldn’t we tell Maria to call the police, or maybe we could just call Chief Jack for her?”

  I smiled evilly at the thought of calling Chief Jack on a pedophile case and all the fun I could have, but then I focused. Anna gets irritable when she was scared, so I didn’t take her crack personally.

  “Anna, tell me the truth, did Maria already tell you she can’t go to the cops?”

  Anna had the grace to look a little guilty, but gestured impatiently. “Oh, alright, she did say that, but I was hoping it’s because she’s frickin’ hysterical.”

  “I’d be hysterical, too, if I knew Diego was being extorted to sell Stella off to some filthy enforcer to pay his gambling debts,” I murmured thoughtfully, already thinking about how we could help out this lady and her niece. “I doubt Maria’s wrong about bringing in the cops. From what I’ve heard, you never mess with the bad guys you borrow money from by going to the cops. The bad guys lay low until the cops go away and then you’re really screwed. Even worse, the bad guys tend to send simple messages to get their point across. An eyeball or a finger of a loved one usually does the trick nowadays.”

  “Nowadays?” Anna repeated in frowning confusion. Not waiting for an answer, she hurried on, “Crap, Junior, that’s what Maria is saying! They’ve already punched her sister around as a warning!”

  “Oh, her poor sister.” I shuddered. On TV, when a woman heroine gets punched around I was always amazed at how the girl can bounce right up and go chase the bad guy. If a grown man punched me full-strength even once, I’m certain I’d need two weeks off from work before I recouped physically. Then I’d need to take another week off to get over feeling sorry for myself. As long as I took it easy, I could probably go hunt down the bad guy to retaliate within a month. “They must be terrified. We should plan on saving Blanca by tomorrow night.” I shook my head. “Can you imagine marrying a man in good faith and then this is what your life turns into? Anna, are you positively sure you want to make that announcement tomorrow?”

  Anna rolled her eyes, but snickered.

  “Okay, okay, but when Reg comes home missing something,” I held up my hands and wiggled my fingers, “and tells you it was from a power tool on the job, never say I didn’t try to help you.”

  I realized my best friend must really be terrified, as well. Instead of making her usual saucy comeback, she could only manage a little chuckle before her face got pinched with worry again.

  I sighed. “All teasing aside, when you borrow money from some backroom moneylender and don’
t pay them back,” I waved a dismissive hand, “threats of bodily harm and extortion is hardly surprising news. They’ve got a business to run. How else are they going to collect what’s owed to them—a black mark on your credit score?” I wrinkled my nose disdainfully. “Nor is the exploiting of women and children to pay for a man’s mistakes a new concept. The pedophile man will probably keep after Blanca anyway, now that she’s in his penis crosshair sights. Statistically, it’ll be just a matter of time before the gambler husband gets in too deep again, even if he can get out of this little pickle. You took the same history classes I did in school, Anna. Didn’t you read your books?”

  Temporarily dumbfounded, Anna found her voice and gave a strangled yell, “History classes?” She protested on a wail, “I don’t know what school you went to, but I don’t remember assignments like this!” In her agitation, some brown strands have fallen loose from Anna’s pony tail and her round eyes were rounder in frustrated dismay. “Listen, Junior, it was really cool that you saved Larissa, and then shot at the Hammer when he tried to kill us, and then co-shot him dead when he tried to kill you and Reg, but you…I mean, we… just can’t go marching into Minneapolis and take on some Mexican bad dudes like we know what we’re doing. It’s not like we’re super heroes, for Christ’s sake!” She shouted in outrage, “Besides, tomorrow is Thanksgiving!”

  “Of course we can’t do it alone,” I soothed the upset Bride-To-Be. “Would you feel better if I called in Batman and Boy Wonder to assist, or perhaps you’d prefer I round up some Pilgrims and Indians?”

  Chapter X

  “Man In The Box” by Alice In Chains

  Wednesday, 11/21/12

  1:25 PM

  Anna’s hands were loosely over her ears and she was steadily rocking back and forth on the loveseat. She was also making a keening sound low in the back of her throat, her hair was hanging in her face, and she’s glaring at me. I’m not taking any offense at her actions, indeed I barely noticed them. Throughout the years, that was how Anna routinely reacted anytime I came up with fun ideas that she thought would get our butts in the wringer, or possibly kill us. She was waiting to be convinced by me that we will not get caught, or die. Despite her current impersonation of an unstable mental patient, Anna has courage and was a daredevil. Sometimes, these traits just needed a little gentle coaxing and prodding to rise to the surface. I’ll say this for her, once she’s convinced we’ll live another day, there was no more enthusiastic partner in crime than my friend.

  I explained my glimmer of an idea how we could rescue Blanca immediately, and by association, her parents. Blanca’s long term safety needs remained unknown and would need to be determined upon receipt of more information. For instance, was her mother part of the problem or basically a good mother with bad taste in men? Anna stopped her moaning long enough to share a wry, heartfelt glance with me over that statement.

  It’s been about two years since I ticked Anna off and signed her up to start volunteering her tutoring services. During this time, we’d also started donating and delivering food and supplies to various organizations in Rice County. Along with all the good we’ve seen being done, this has also exposed us to some seriously ugly realities in life.

  If you’ve ever been in a woman’s shelter, or in a safe house providing emergency sanctuary for families escaping domestic threats, then you know there’s no walking away unscathed from the harsh truth of what some women and children endure in their everyday life. Professionals in occupations such as human services, hospitals, and law enforcement see this sort of thing routinely and build up a thick skin to keep dealing. For me, a single woman that owns a used bookstore in a small town, it has been eye opening and sickening.

  Abstractedly hearing the statistics that people from all walks of life suffer physical and mental abuse was one thing. Personally seeing a young mother swollen beyond anything recognizably human after being beaten within an inch of her life was another.

  What sickened me was finding out this particular woman took her kids and returned to the man that hurt her. It’s not like I couldn’t comprehend the twisted psychology that resulted in those warped decisions. After seeing the actual physical result of such a severe beating, it simply made it so much harder for me to shrug off her choice. I knew this was why I related to Larissa and her struggles to escape such a life. She’s choosing to fight for herself the best she can. A grown woman or man, no matter how messed up, still gets to make that choice.

  The kids of these people, however, sure didn’t ask to be born into this life. They didn’t have any power or choice. I would never turn down a plea to save a child from their abusive caregivers, or from the bleak future prospect of perpetuating the abuse chain and becoming another messed-up adult.

  I would help Blanca, even if I had to do it alone and take the chance of getting my butt caught in the wringer. Luckily, I hoped I didn’t have to do it alone, nor did I have any intentions of getting my ass touched, much less wrung.

  When I got down to the particulars and told Anna the first item on the list was to call Luke, she abruptly stopped moaning and rocking.

  “Why didn’t you say so from the beginning?” She demanded, her face splitting into a wide, relieved grin.

  “I did! I clearly asked if I should call Batman and Boy Wonder in to assist.”

  “Yeah, but I thought you were joking. How was I supposed to know you really meant Luke?”

  “Why would I joke when you were so upset? Who else would I mean?”

  Anna burst out laughing and retorted, “Oh, I don’t know Junior, maybe I assumed you were joking because you also said you’d round up some Pilgrims and Indians for me!”

  “Hey, I would round some up, if that’s who you preferred. Geez Louise, make up your mind. Do you think a group of Pilgrims and Indians would help you feel safer rescuing Maria’s niece, or would Luke and his little friend, John? It’s your choice. You’re the Bride.”

  Standing up, Anna threw up her hands in surrender. “I’m so freaking tempted to call you out on the Pilgrims and Indians just to see who they would be, but I’m too afraid.” She walked over to the mirror. Staring at her image, she broke out into another huge, exuberant smile. “I am the Bride, aren’t I? Oh yes, I definitely pick Luke and little John.”

  Rolling my eyes, I smiled at Anna’s adoring tone when speaking Luke’s name. She has a ridiculously huge crush on my Dark Knight, and this was in spite of him getting her so drunk she threw up violently for three hours a few weeks ago.

  I nodded approvingly. “Good choice. The Pilgrim and Indian group would be more head count, but way less talent. Our odds of getting caught and tortured would go up significantly with that choice.”

  In the process of fixing her messy pony tail, Anna had to stop while she snorted with laughter. “And you wonder why I find your ideas so scary.” Turning around, she clapped her hands with eagerness. “Okay, General Junior, what’s up next with the big plan?”

  Happy to have gotten in my daily dose of tormenting my friend, I tipped back in my desk chair and crossed my arms behind my head. “Well, Brigadier Bride, why don’t you go talk to Maria? We need to verify she can stay here for a while, or she can come back at five. I’m sure there will be tons of details to cover and everyone will have questions. Plus, Luke may want to know specifics we don’t think to ask.” I felt a big yawn coming on and sat up. “Do you think Maria would want some juice or an energy smoothie to rehydrate her after all that crying?” I really liked this part of my plan. “Hey, could you please order me a latte, too?”

  “Okay, anything else?” Anna smirked and asked, “Want me to bake you a cake maybe?”

  “Why, is Reg here and you feel the sudden need to take off your shirt and bra?”

  Anna groaned and got red in the face. “Oh, man, come on! Are you ever going to let me forget I told you about that night in his kitchen?”

  I thought about it for a picosecond. “Nope. Never.”

  However, the idea of a pound cake di
d remind me of my box lunch calling my name from the employee kitchen. My body was starting to drag here a little bit. Two regurgitated mini-quiches and sucking the salty grease off Luke’s lips wasn’t cutting it after the massive amount of calories I burned off since last night. Usually during that time frame I’d be home, sleeping peacefully and minding my own business. Shaking my sexually obsessed money maker for Luke Drake, not to mention my fists at Svetlana and Candy, had consumed up a lot of my extra energy reserves. I stood up to seek nourishment, but had a thought. I did a quick search of a desk drawer.

  “Here you go.” I tossed Anna the notebook. “This is for Maria. Ask her to start writing down everything she knows about the bad dudes, her sister and brother-in-law, and Blanca— full names, addresses here in Northfield and in Minneapolis, descriptions, cars, hangouts, the whole shebang. Also, ask her if she has any pictures in her purse or phone?”

  Anna reached for the doorknob. “Got it, but no way I can remember all of that.”

  “Just don’t forget the General’s important stuff, like my latte,” I advised pointedly, joining her at the door.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes with an update.” She grinned. “I’m so happy I won’t be dying before my wedding day. Now call Batman ASAP. Oh, and thank you so much for basing your life in reality. I’m so relieved you know you’re not Wonder Woman.”

  “Wonder Woman?” I scoffed, fluffing my hair. “I’m Bat Girl!”

  Groaning, Anna opened the door for us both. I almost walked into Stella’s raised fist.

  “Knock, knock puddin’ head!” She rapped my forehead lightly, and giggled with Anna over the look on my face. She said over her shoulder, “Hey, come around the counter.” Stella raised her eyebrows at me and sing-songed, “Oh, Auntie Bel, look who’s here to see you!”

  Behind her a few feet stood Mike McClain. He was looking much more alive since I’d seen him last. Gone were the red-rimmed eyes, the tight lips, and the brown stubble. He’d put on an oxford shirt and navy sweater under his open jacket. He was wearing gray flannel trousers and horn-rimmed glasses. The Ralph Lauren golden-boy was back in full regalia, down to his Cordovan tassel loafers.