1 Margarita Nights

by Phyllis Smallman

  “Where would he go if he didn’t go home?”

  “Are you more worried about him than usual?”

  “Yeah.” I picked up the cup of coffee and blew air over the top of the black boiling tar. I bet it had been percolating for hours.

  He thought for a moment. “He might be out behind the big-box stores two blocks south. You know that big undeveloped area? Used to be a cattle ranch, the King Ranch. Now it’s just wasteland.”

  “The one the development put on hold because of the nesting eagles?”

  He nodded. “That’s it. They’re trying to get the zoning changed on it. They’d have it already if they hadn’t cut down the eagle tree. Some of the county commissioners have dug their heels in and are holding up approval.”

  “Serves the fools right,” I said. “Imagine thinking you can just go cut down a tree with an eagle’s nest to solve your problem with the environmentalists. What were they thinking?”

  “I agree,” David said. “I went out there to protest.” He was talking to me but his eyes were on Marley. “Carried a sign and everything.”

  “I wish I’d been there too,” Marley said. Her voice was all breathy and full of awe.

  “And you think Andy might be there?”

  He turned up his palms. “Some people live rough out there,” he said. His eyes were focused on Marley as he explained. “They use big cardboard boxes from appliances and bits of wood from construction sites, anything they can find to make shelters. Not the best solution for homelessness, but some people prefer it to regular shelters.” David Halliday looked deep into Marley’s eyes and said, “Andy lived there once when he was evicted.” Hello, had I stopped existing?

  “Or Andy might be in a shelter,” he said. Marley was nodding in agreement.

  I could have fallen off the earth and they wouldn’t have noticed. I really wished they’d concentrate on my problem instead of their own itch. “Andy doesn’t trust authority. He’s more likely to live in the open than go to a shelter. I’ll look out there.”

  “Be careful,” David told Marley. “There are a lot of drugs and alcohol used out there.”

  “In that case, Sherri will feel right at home,” said Marley with a big grin.

  “Tell me everything,” Marley said, as the door shut behind her.

  “Everything about what?” Playing dumb is so pitiably easy for me.

  “About David Halliday. Is he married?”

  “Not that I know of. Probably gay.”

  She whacked me across the arm. “No he isn’t. For sure.” She started on a long list of questions and suppositions while I drove out to the abandoned ranch off Tamiami Trail. “How’d you meet him?” she asked.

  “Andy. I came out at Christmas to help serve dinner.”

  “You aren’t,” she waggled her fingers, “you know.”

  “David and I? Hell no.” She didn’t look like she believed me.

  We drove around behind the new superstores to the loading docks where the deliveries were made.

  “I wonder where the eagles went,” Marley said. “Not many places along the coast left for them.”

  Broken bottles and leftover packaging littered the pavement. The parking lot was separated from an empty field by a chain-link fence with grass growing though it and plastic bags and bits of paper blown into the metal webbing. Undeveloped acreage, where longhorn cattle had wandered two years before, stretched out behind the buildings. It was amazing that a prime parcel of land like the King Ranch had escaped development this long. The property fronted Tamiami and was across from strip malls with housing developments behind them.

  A six-foot-square sign wired to the fence said “Gridiron Developments” with a St. Pete telephone number. I pointed it out to Marley.

  “The name figures,” she said. “A tree with eagles would be just one more opponent to be knocked down.” Marley and I drove along the chain-link looking for a way through until we came to a place where the links had been cut and the edges forced back to form a small breach in the fence. Someone had hung a used condom on the wire above the opening.

  “Charming.” We sat there staring into the jungle, hunting for courage or a face-saving reason not to get out of the truck. “I don’t like this,” said Marley, looking anxiously about.

  “There’s only us.”

  “That we can see; you can’t see beyond ten feet. The palmetto hides everything. We could be murdered and no one would know.”

  “Now who’s paranoid?” I opened the door and jumped down with a great show of confidence.

  Doves cooed in the thicket of thorn bushes. It sounded peaceful. Passing feet had beaten a sand path into the weeds leading towards a stand of pines. I dipped through the fence and stepped off the path, waiting for Marley in the knee-high dry grass. Even the air smelt dusty.

  “C’mon, Juice, where’s your sense of adventure?”

  “Home with my mace.”

  She took one more glance around, gave a huge sigh and told me, “I would so rather be at a garage sale,” then she ducked down to come through the fence. We stood side by side for a moment and looked at the strip of sand leading into the palmettos, and then I started down the trail with Marley right on my heels.

  “How are we going to find him?” she whispered. It was that kind of place, a place where you didn’t want to call attention to yourself.

  “I haven’t a clue,” I told her as we rounded a clump of Brazilian pepper trees and came upon a campsite. I stopped so suddenly Marley bumped into me. A wild collection of garbage—bottles and cans, broken furniture and what looked like used car parts—was strewn around a ring of stones containing ashes. A heavy cardboard box, which once contained a refrigerator, lay on its side with a pair of worn sneakers sticking out the end. The inhabitant was a satin lump formed by a ragged wine-colored quilt. The doves still cooed.

  “Holy shit,” Marley hissed in my ear. She took a big handful of my T-shirt. “Is he dead?” “Why don’t you go find out,” I whispered. She jabbed me hard in the ribs for the suggestion.

  We tiptoed forward, two parts of the same silent animal. The relief of passing our first test didn’t last. We followed the path as it circled around some pepper trees to where two teenagers, male and female, blocked the narrow path in front of us. Dressed all in black, they looked as if they only came out at night. They were studded and pierced, eyebrows, lips and noses—their ears weren’t just pierced in multiples but contained big metal plugs . . . I’m talking half-inch plugs at least, their lobes stretched thinly, just like those pictures in National Geographic at the dentist’s office. Black hair, dyed and spiked, crowned gaunt white faces. Their clothes were shiny and stiff with grime. Everything about them was designed to smack fear into people like us.

  Chapter 26

  I could hear Marley hyperventilating in my ear; her chin was digging into my shoulder. I told myself they could be really very nice people.

  “Good morning,” I said and stepped aside into the tall weeds. Marley’s skinny little body, pressed up tight to mine, shuffled sideways with me. Her damp breath filled my ear.

  The Bat People didn’t respond . . . didn’t even blink. They just kept on walking.

  “Have a nice day,” I whispered as we watched them disappear around the clump of pepper trees without looking back.

  “God,” Marley sighed and plopped her head down on my shoulder.

  “I wish I had an outfit like that,” I told Marley. “And I wish I was wearing it right now.”

  “I hope they don’t come back with their friends to rob us.”

  “They don’t have any friends. They’d probably eat them. Besides, that’s why we locked our bags in the truck.”

  “I’ve got to pee,” Marley wailed and tugged at my T-shirt.

  “Let’s go back.”

  “There’s lots of room out here.” I spread out my arm to illustrate the endless opportunities. “Feel free.” “You kidding? Not on your life.”

  She was still holding onto
my shirt. I pulled her forward.

  “We should’ve asked those kids if they’ve seen Andy.”

  “We should have asked them to call a cop,” replied Marley.

  “I should have brought a picture.”

  “Good idea. Let’s go get one.” She tugged harder on my shirt, trying to turn me around.

  “So you can run out on me? Not a chance.”

  “We don’t belong here,” she wailed in my ear.

  “Makes the Shoreline Mobile Home Park look real upscale, doesn’t it?”

  “If that’s your idea of a silver lining, can it.”

  “It’s the first time I ever felt that I had an advantaged childhood.”

  “Oh yeah! With privileges like that, how could you have gone so wrong?”

  “Hard work, my girl, hard work. Even with advantages it takes hard work.”

  Marley let go of my shirt. I didn’t bother to turn around to see if she was making a break for safety. I had the keys.

  “If we don’t find him now,” I said over my shoulder, “Let’s come back tonight.”

  She yelped and slapped my back. “Forget it.”

  The path divided and I considered the options. On our right the track led to a large spreading oak while the left just went farther off into the scrub brush.

  “Let’s go home,” Marley whispered. “We aren’t doing any good here.” Her chin was on my shoulder again as I tried to decide which way to go. “Please.”

  “That’s where I’d take cover if I had to live out here.” Live oaks don’t drop all their leaves in the winter so enough remain to form a canopy. I headed for the oak. “We might find someone that knows Andy.”

  Marley grabbed my shoulders to hold me back. I turned my head to look at her.

  “Aren’t you scared?” she whispered.

  “Petrified . . . paralyzed with fear.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re still moving.” True, I’d started moving towards the oak. Walking backwards, I asked Marley, “Do you want to wait here?”

  She looked around judging if it would be safer to go with me or stay here alone. “No,” she said reluctantly. “I’ll come.” She shuffled forward a few steps then stopped again. “What if we run into someone that’s out of his mind on drugs?”

  I had no suggestions. My feet slowed and my brain said, “Marley’s right. This is crazy.” I started back towards her. From behind us came the sound of running feet, coming down the path to where it divided. I saw Marley’s eyes open wide with horror before fear galvanized me into movement.

  We dove below a bower of vines at the edge of the oak and stood up in an open area under the canopy. Dappled light fell on five primitive shelters, made from a combination of plywood and cardboard. One of the shelters had Clay’s Cypress Island Reality for sale signs tacked to its side. The sight made me smile for a heartbeat until I saw what else was in the clearing.

  Two men sat on listing aluminum lawn chairs in front of a circle of stones. They were staring at us like we were lunch, a very good lunch.

  “Whoops!” Marley said in my ear.

  They may have been homeless but these two weren’t beaten or downtrodden. Their eyes shone with sly malevolence; these were dangerous predators, not the victims we normally associate with homelessness–the sort of men you went out of your way never to be alone with.

  “Hello!” I said, trying for the perkiness of a Christian zealot going door to door. “The Reverend Halliday is conducting a little survey on the needs of the people who use his mission. He’s just over there . . .” I pointed behind me to lend credence to my lie, “and will be along in a minute, but perhaps you could answer some questions for us . . . if you wouldn’t mind, that is.”

  They exchanged looks. The bigger one, the one who looked like he was wearing a fright wig left over from Halloween, along with his worldly possessions, turned his head aside and spat on the ground. “Halliday can go fuck himself.”

  “Well, I’m really sorry you feel that way,” I said, edging backwards. “God bless you brother.”

  “I’m not your brother,” he growled. This man definitely did not have a religious nature.

  The smaller man smiled, which was unfortunate. He was missing his top teeth and it looked as if he would be better off without the bottom. “You can bless me if you want,” he said, cupping his crotch, to make it clear the exact nature of the blessing he had in mind.

  Chapter 27

  He planted his hands on the arms of the chair and started to push up. My feet were already moon-walking out of the clearing.

  The big man grabbed the little guy from behind as he reached his feet. “Forget it. You want to bring the law down on us?” Mr. Teeth whined deep in his throat but sank back down. “By the way,” I said, suddenly brave again, “we were also requested to ask if Andy Crown is here .” Their faces stayed blank. “He’s about six foot tall with wild curly hair.” I raised my hands in a circle around my head to help them visualize it. He’s thirty-two years old with blue eyes.” Even I wouldn’t have recognized him from this description.

  Nothing.

  By now Marley was moving backwards faster than I was and tugging on my T-shirt to get me moving. Not a good thing. They were getting a better view of my charms than was safe. “Well, goodbye,” I said, ever polite.

  We turned and ran. I’d won more than one trophy for track, but still, when we rounded the pepper tree Marley was the one that ran smack into the man coming up the path.

  Marley screamed and beat him with her fists while he ducked and dodged, putting his forearms up to defend himself and calling her name.

  At the sound of her name she stopped her attack, stared at him for the flick of an eye and then threw her arms around the Reverend Halliday. She’d found her salvation at last.

  “Marley,” I said, yanking on her sweatshirt, “Marley.” But she didn’t let go, she was drowning and he was a giant rock above the raging sea. To be honest, he didn’t seem to mind, seemed to be holding on just as firmly.

  “After you left I started thinking that this was no place for the two of you to come alone,” he explained over Marley’s shoulder, rubbing her back and rocking her gently. “I came to make sure you were all right.” He lost interest in me at this point and turned his face into Marley. “It’s all right. You’re safe,” he soothed.

  Marley was sobbing with her head tucked into the side of his neck and her arms locked around him. She was going to drown the poor guy if she kept this up. Making shushing sounds, he slid an arm across her shoulders and with her locked to his side, he led her slowly away.

  Oh for god’s sake—a little fear plus a few hormones and control goes right out the window. I felt quite left out. I stepped around them and stomped up the path to the hole in the fence.

  At the truck I dug out Marley’s bag and helped myself to her cigarettes. I leaned against the pickup, waiting for Marley and trying to figure out what to do next. With the three of us together it would be much safer to go back into that jungle, but I wasn’t sure that it would get us any further. The population beyond the fence was even less inclined to help than the people on this side. I dug around in my bag and found an old telephone bill, the second notice of an unpaid balance. I pulled the statement out of the envelope and stuffed it back into my bag for next month. I wrote Andy’s name in big block letters at the top of the envelope and tried to find words that would reassure him. In the end, I wrote, “Call me, Sherri.” I poked a hole in my note and tied it onto the fence with a bit of string from the pavement. Anyone going through the chain-link was bound to see it. Hopefully they wouldn’t rip it down.

  An idea hit me. I should have thought of it sooner. I could make up flyers and leave them everywhere Andy might be. It was a great idea. Maybe even add a picture of Andy and hand it out all over town with the promise of a reward. As quickly as this great idea came to me, sanity told me that you don’t find a paranoid person by putting up flyers with his picture on it. It would feed right into his delusions
.

  I helped myself to another cigarette. It was taking them a long time to get to the fence.

  I was about to lean on the horn when I saw them coming. Reverend Halliday still had his arm around Marley’s shoulder. I kept my eyes on Marley, trying to figure out was happening.

  I didn’t have to wait long.

  When they dipped through the fence, Marley started talking. “That was terrifying. I’m really shattered,” she told me. “David’s going to take me home.”

  Oh really! David! I wanted to ask her why she didn’t pick up guys in bars like the rest of us, but her eyes were warning me to shut up.

  “Okay.” I nodded my head in agreement. “Good idea.” I reached into the truck and got her bag.

  “I’ll call all the shelters and see if they have anyone named Andy Crown,” David promised. I handed Marley her bag.

  “And I’ll ask everyone that comes in for food if they’ve seen him. I’ll call if I hear anything.” “Now that’s a great idea, David. Thanks.” I sank back against the truck and watched them walk to his car, watched him unlock the door for Marley, watched her smiling at him like he was Superman. I felt a strange stab of jealousy, fresh and hot and unexpected. I wanted to feel like that again.

  Ashamed, I scrambled into the truck. I was turning the key even as I slammed the door. I squealed out of the parking lot like a teenager downtown on Saturday night. So much for being a mature adult.

  I stopped for groceries on my way home and was still putting stuff in the fridge when someone knocked on my door.

  “Hi,” Cordelia said. She tried a smile. “Sorry I’m not who you were hoping to see.”

  I laughed and held the door wide for her to enter. “Was I that obvious?”

  “Yes.” Cordelia settled gracefully into the bottomless couch. Man I wished I could do that.

  “I was hoping you were Andy Crown.” I told her the story as I went to the fridge for sodas. “I really want to find him.”

  “What can I do to help?” Her guileless blue eyes begged to be included, anything to keep from dwelling on the realities of her life.