Between the Lines

by KD Williamson

  “I’ll see you on da bus in the morning.” Brenda kissed her again, hard and quick. Then she was gone.

  Tonya wiped her face and slowly began to move toward the front of the house. She had no idea what was in store for her, but there was no getting around it. In the short walk home, she went from crying hysterically to grudging acceptance and back again. By the time she actually got there, her eyes were gritty and burning.

  She opened the door. No one was in the living room. Tonya trudged forward slowly. When she got to the kitchen, her father’s back was to her. Her little sister peered at her over his shoulder.

  “You take care of your own. I take care of mine!” he shouted.

  Tonya jumped at the volume of his voice. She jumped again when he slammed the phone down.

  He turned then. His expression was blank, save the anger in his eyes.

  “Why don’t you go play in your room for Daddy, baby girl?” He sat Tracy on the floor, and off she ran without a word.

  Tonya stared at him, but she still didn’t see the slap coming. Her face burned where his palm connected.

  She cried out. “I’m sorry!”

  Then there was a clap of leather, followed closely by stinging pain on her arms, back, and legs. Tonya covered her head and squatted to the floor as blow after blow rained down on her. She did her best to stay quiet, yet she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. In between her own cries, Tonya heard him yelling.

  “Fuckin’ embarrassment!”

  “I didn’t raise you to be like that!”

  “Not in my goddamned house! Yah heard me? You not bringing that shit in my fuckin’ house!”

  His words started to blend together, and pretty soon all she could hear was the thundering of her own heart.

  Tonya reared up in her bed, gasping. She wiped sweat from her face, along with the tears. “God!” Tonya took deep, fortifying breaths and reminded herself that it was all in the past. She leaned toward the nightstand and grabbed her glasses. After turning on the lamp, she opened the top drawer and took out her journal. Unclipping the pen from the side, she scribbled the date on a page that was nearly full and simply wrote, “Brenda dream.” Tonya set the journal aside and scooted back against the headboard, breathing through the residual anger and fear and filling her head with mundane things until she was able to relax. Eventually, Tonya eased back down in bed and let sleep reclaim her.

  Chapter 4

  Haley buckled her seatbelt and peered out the window as her partner, Tim “Tang” Hudson, pulled out of the parking lot of the second district police station on Magazine Street. He was from Alabama and sounded like it. His accent was thicker than hers. Haley didn’t know what Tang stood for or how he got the nickname, and she didn’t want to know either. The guy was a whole lot of ass, plain and simple.

  The area around Magazine was peppered with single and double shotgun homes, trendy coffee shops, bars, quirky bohemian clothing stores, art galleries, and restaurants that ranged from Jamaican to Asian fusion. A lot of the commercial buildings were packed together so tightly that there was no space between them, but the colorful exteriors and signs distinguished one from the other. Tourists wearing fanny packs, shorts, and big hats, mixed in with native New Orleanians, crossed against the red light as if it wasn’t there at all. The streets in the area were narrow but always busy.

  So, just like everybody else, they waited for the crowd to go by. It was so hot that it felt like hell had spilled over, especially after the daily hard-ass rain. If the heat didn’t keep people away, the water puddled on the streets and sidewalks wasn’t going to either.

  They came to another stoplight, and Haley felt Tim looking at her. She didn’t bother to acknowledge him because she was sure something stupid and redneck was going to come out of his mouth.

  “How you likin’ the late shift? Gettin’ used to it?”

  The radio murmured and spit in the background as other cops talked to dispatch and each other.

  Haley grunted and shrugged. It was a little late to try to be friendly. She could have fought for a new partner, but she was starting to think—no, Haley knew—that she had drawn the short straw. Tim was clearly some newbie rite of passage. The guy had been on the force for six years with no promotion, and every time he opened his mouth, Haley could see why. Tim was her trial by fire, and she was going to walk through it even if it felt like she’d been doused in gasoline. Other cops smirked at her when she walked by, and then there was the container of Tang powder she’d found in her locker. Haley couldn’t believe that stuff was still being manufactured.

  Tim sighed. A second later he leaned forward. “Look at all that ass. I’m so glad I’m a single man, ’cause I got jungle fever.” He snorted at his own joke. “Not that bein’ married stopped me before.”

  She rolled her eyes. He was a man with strong features… something like a horse that had been kicked in the face by a mule. The pornstache did not help matters any.

  “This must be like pusstopia to you, huh?” Tim turned the car to the left.

  Haley groaned. He just said that out loud. He really did. Okay, yeah. She had the butch walk and the look. It was all a dead giveaway, and she wasn’t hiding. So was this a misguided attempt to be supportive? Or was he really that ignorant? Or he just didn’t give a damn. Maybe it was a combination of all three, which didn’t improve her opinion of him at all. But his statement did cause a lightbulb to go on in Haley’s head. She understood his nickname perfectly now, especially if poon was stuck in front of it.

  “I don’t even know how to answer that.”

  Tim looked at her as if she’d grown another head. “Well, it’s a yes or no question, but you can add some commentary if you want.”

  “I don’t.”

  “You don’t what?”

  “Want.” Haley was emphatic. She had to draw the line some-damn-where.

  He shook his head and sniffed. “Fine. I was just tryin’ to have a conversation.”

  “Let’s just stick to the Saints and the weather.”

  “No need to be shitty.”

  “I wasn’t bein’ shitty.” Haley watched the streetcars go by as they stopped at St. Charles and Felicity.

  “What you call it then?”

  “Keepin’ to myself.”

  “You don’t like me, do you?” Tim asked.

  There was no point in lying. Haley looked him right in the face. “Nope.”

  He snorted again. “I don’t much care for you either. Long as you don’t let me get shot in the back, I don’t give a good goddamn.”

  “Then we understand each other.”

  “Guess so,” Tim said.

  He continued to take them up Felicity Street. It was “neat” how the neighborhoods changed from beautifully restored single and double shotguns to ones that looked like they needed about ten coats of paint and a whole lot of love. At least there were no potholes on this street. No epic ones anyway, where tires and car suspensions meet their doom.

  She gave him five minutes. He was not the silent type. They neared South Claiborne, and Tim turned into the extremely small parking lot at the Church’s Chicken on the corner. The line was out the door.

  “You can get a two-piece dark and a biscuit for 2.99,” Tim said, as if she needed or wanted an explanation.

  This was just another reason to dislike him. Haley was Popeyes all the way. She’d actually found a fried chicken recipe that came damn close to their greasy goodness. She shook her head as he bypassed the line completely and went in. Most of the customers on the outside pointed and stared at her as if she had something to do with his craziness.

  Haley pulled out her phone and clicked on Nate’s name.

  Pusstopia: use it in a sentence n front of Jen. I dare u.

  It didn’t take long for him to reply. He sent an emoji, the one crying with laughter.

  That’s not right, but still I just went for a visit last nite. Hold on.

  Haley waited.

  Her phone vibrated.
r />   She says ur a horrible influence and we shouldn’t b allowed to play 2gether.

  Haley smiled.

  She can’t keep us apart.

  Damn rite!!! How’s work?

  Shite. Started my shift with pusstopia, can’t wait 2 c how it ends.

  LOLz

  We bonded I think tho over our mutual dislike for each other, so there’s that.

  Well thats something.

  Haley looked up. Tim was sucking on a drink and walking toward the car.

  Maybe it was something.

  He’s coming gotta go. I should b professional even tho he’s not.

  K dealing with the dinner rush neway. Later.

  Later.

  The smell of chicken wafted in as Tim opened the driver’s side door. He sat down and glanced at her. “Hope you didn’t want anythin’.”

  “I’m good.”

  Tim put his box of chicken between them. “Saints are gonna suck this year with Payton suspended for the season.”

  That was two things they agreed on. She hoped this wasn’t going to be a pattern. “Probably.”

  * * *

  Haley was wired even though she should have been tired. The night had been long and tedious and she still had about an hour left to go. They had answered noise complaints that ranged from loud music to real domestic disturbances in the Uptown area; dispersed a few groups of natives who were having too good a time at one o’clock in the morning near Tulane University; and investigated a couple of claims of breaking and entering in Hollygrove that turned out to be false. During it all, Tim had been a real peach. Haley knew what kind of police officer she wanted to be—the kind that exerted quiet authority unless she had to get loud. Tim was the exact opposite. He was always turned up to the highest level. There were times when she’d wanted to pull him aside, but instead she’d just glared at him while he did his best to scare all the body fluids out of whomever they encountered. To civilians, it probably looked like some weird version of good cop/bad cop.

  Now it was past 5:00 a.m, and the city, the part that slept last night, was waking up. The sky was lightening little by little. They drove up Oretha Castle Haley Boulevard, then turned onto St. Andrew for the fourth time in the past couple hours. She perked up; there hadn’t been any suspicious activity the last three times they’d been in the area. Something was up. She watched and waited. There were a few stragglers walking around and even a couple people sitting on their porches.

  The police cruiser stopped abruptly, making Haley jerk forward violently. “What the he—”

  Before she could finish her sentence, Tim was out of the car and running toward a young man. Haley had no idea what was going on, so she went with her instincts: secure the cruiser and give chase. She tried to radio Tim, but there was no response. Moving at top speed, she flew by the onlookers and took a sharp left through the backyard of the house on the corner in hopes of getting a better view. What she saw brought her to a complete stop. The suspect—or whoever he was—was brushing himself off, and Tim stood beside him. He didn’t have his weapon drawn and his cuffs were still on his belt. In fact, the two of them looked to be talking, but she couldn’t be sure. Their faces were all screwed up in aggravation.

  When he saw her, Tim waved, and Haley jogged closer.

  Tim sniffed. “I was just apologizin’. He looked like somebody I was supposed to pick up last month on a warrant.”

  Apologizing? That did not sound right coming out of Tim’s mouth at all. Talk about suspension of disbelief.

  The man’s eyes moved from Tim to her and back again. “Fuckin’ cops. Better be glad I ain’t suing yo’ ass. Yah heard me?”

  “Sorry for the confusion, sir,” Haley said to try to smooth things over.

  The man glared, brushed himself off, and walked away.

  “What kind of shit was that?” Haley asked when they were alone.

  Tim shrugged. “Didn’t you hear what I said?

  “Yeah, but you couldn’t have clued me in?” She’d heard him, but it had to be bullshit. Haley didn’t trust this guy at all.

  “No time. I knew you’d catch up. Don’t get your boxers all stuck up your ass. It’s not a big deal.”

  Haley wondered if she could get away with tazing him a few times. He probably wouldn’t remember. “Whatever, and you’re doin’ the paperwork for this,” she told him as they got back to the car.

  “Did you see me write anythin’ down? I didn’t even catch that kid’s name. Far as I’m concerned, that shit didn’t happen.”

  Haley shook her head and got in the cruiser. She just couldn’t wait to see what fun the next night would bring.

  Chapter 5

  Tonya pulled her BMW into the gas station beside pump ten. It was early yet, barely seven. Traffic was still light and there weren’t any other cars in the lot except a blue Toyota truck parked in front of the convenience store and a battered sedan near the dumpsters. This wasn’t her usual place; the Shell station had been blocked by a refueling truck, but it worked in a pinch. Tonya could have waited until after work like she usually did, but it was Thursday. Tonight was her therapy appointment, and her work schedule was unpredictable, especially this time of year. She didn’t want to be late if she could help it.

  Tonya had a love/hate relationship with therapy, even though it had been helpful. She had been able to figure out that her family couldn’t, or didn’t know how to, express or discuss deeper emotions. Neither could she, but she had taken crucial steps forward on that front. Tonya now considered herself a work in progress. The sessions with Dr. Finn had also given her an outlet to deal with the grief, rage, relief, and acceptance of her mother’s death, separate from her father and sister so that she could continue to be their rock. There were times when that role was exhausting, times when she desperately wanted to be someone else and enjoy a moment of freedom.

  These were such odd thoughts to be having, but it was happening more and more as of late. “Get it together.” Tonya opened her purse, fished out her bank card, and popped the gas cap before getting out of the car. The heat was oppressive and the humidity even more so. Within seconds, she was sweating. Tonya swiped her card quickly and started the pump, then got back in the car to enjoy the air conditioning. Minutes later, the nozzle clicked, and she got out to return the hose to the pump.

  “Damn, ma, you fine as hell. I like my bitches redbone,” a man said as he and his friend walked toward her.

  Tonya whirled around, nearly spilling gas all over herself and the hot pavement. The sudden jolt of fear sent her heart into her throat and then back down to her stomach. It was broad daylight, but this was New Orleans.

  “For real doe,” his friend chimed in.

  Tonya didn’t trust her ability to speak as the rest of her went on alert. Her muscles stiffened to the point of pain. Her heart thudded as if it were trying to escape from her chest, and her stomach cinched into hard knots. These men were sharks, and they would be able to smell her fear.

  “What? Y’all too stuck-up to speak?”

  One of the men took a step forward.

  His friend eyed the BMW and said, “Hell yeah she stuck the fuck up. Look at dat car.” He caressed the hood. “Yo man get dat fo’ you? I bet you doin’ all kinds of nasty shit to him to pay him back.”

  The other guy laughed hysterically.

  Tonya scanned the area, trying not to be obvious. There was a woman and her child moving slowly toward the bus stop and a few homeless people gathered on the neutral ground that separated the lanes going up and down South Claiborne. They all looked a little too fragile for a rescue or interference. A few cars passed but didn’t even slow.

  Both men moved closer. One reached out and twirled a strand of Tonya’s hair around his finger. She couldn’t breathe, and her mind went blank.

  He pulled the strand taut. “Is dis even real, ma?”

  Both men laughed this time. In her terror, they were starting to morph together. Tonya couldn’t distinguish one voice from the o
ther, and black and white turned to muddled gray. It seemed as if they’d been out here for hours, although in reality, it had only been a couple of minutes. Tonya was still frozen with fear, but as he yanked harder, she thawed. She knocked his hand away and stepped back. Self-preservation kicked into overdrive. She wasn’t going to be a damned victim. She didn’t want her face splashed on the news as another example of the rise in violent crime. Not if she could help it.

  “Ohhh there we go. I knew there was some fire under dat hot ass.”

  “I wanna see what she did to earn dat car. Just put her in da back. We need to get outta here anyways.” He lifted his shirt to reveal the butt of what looked to be a gun.

  Tonya’s entire existence narrowed to this moment. Her life didn’t flash in front of her eyes, but she was suddenly acutely aware of everything she hadn’t yet done; everything she wouldn’t get to be. She didn’t want to die. Tonya took another step away and bumped into the pump behind her. That was when she felt the weight in her hand.

  She still had the nozzle.

  Tonya had a choice. She could give in and hope somehow she’d come out on the other side with enough pieces to put back together, if they allowed it. Or she could fight and hope that she’d come out on top.

  In the span of a breath, Tonya made her decision. She categorically refused to be a victim. Tonya tapped into her anger, used her fear, and compressed the handle. Gas spewed out, and she flung the handle at them. It hit one man in the face.

  “Fuckin’ bitch!”

  “Hey! NOPD! What’s goin’ on here?”

  The voice was commanding and deep, and those words were beautiful enough to bring Tonya to tears. She turned around to see a young white woman in plain clothes, holding a badge in one hand and a gun in the other.

  “Shit!” The man with the gun started to run. As he moved, he yanked the weapon out of his pants and fired a couple shots at the store. His friend was a few steps in front of him.

  “Get down!” the officer screamed.

  Tonya hit the pavement but kept her eyes on the cop in front of her.