5 Highball Exit

by Phyllis Smallman

  I was beginning to think there was a whole lot we didn’t know about Holly. The happy young woman, chatty and friendly, had become someone I didn’t recognize. Even Aunt Kay thought she was capable of selling her baby.

  I was pouring a glass of wine when I had a glimpse of a new hell. Perhaps Cal already knew where Holly’s baby was and he wanted to make sure I didn’t find Angel. If Holly had given away or sold her baby, Cal Vachess might be the one who had Holly’s baby. I tried not to think about what a purveyor of flesh would want with a little girl, pushed away all thoughts of what would happen to a child in his control. It was too ugly.

  One thing was for certain. Whatever the reason Cal Vachess was in the Sunset, it didn’t bode well for my earning easy money and leading a quiet life.

  My cell started to whir. Normally I hate cell phones in my bar and glare hard at anyone holding one, but I’d left mine on. I looked at the display and said, “Hi.”

  Aunt Kay didn’t waste time on hello, she just said, “Sunny called me. She was pretty upset.”

  “Why?”

  “Cal Vachess came by to see her. Seems Sunny has the same reaction to him as you. She’s terrified of him. She was really angry when she called me. She thought we’d told Cal her name and it took a while to make her believe me when I said we hadn’t.”

  I moved out of earshot. “Holly again.”

  “That’s what Sunny and I decided. Holly talked about everyone she knew.”

  “It was a problem at the Sunset. She’d be chatting when she should have been working.” I glanced back at Cal, but he had his back to me, talking to Brian.

  “Cal asked Sunny if she knew where to find Holly’s baby.” Aunt Kay asked the scary big question, “Why is he looking for Angel?”

  “No idea.”

  “Do you suppose he thinks he’s the father?”

  “Or he thinks his brother is.” I watched Cal, arms waving, as he recounted a tale. “Then again, maybe Cal sees this as a chance to pick up a little change.”

  A roar of laughter went up from Cal’s listeners.

  “Knowing where the baby is could be profitable,” I said. “That’s all he’d need to know to get interested.”

  Cal swiveled around to stare at me. I tried to smile before I turned my back to him. “What did Sunny tell Cal?”

  “She said she told him nothing. She explained that she hadn’t seen Holly and the baby after they moved out. I think Sunny can be close-mouthed when she wants to.”

  “No kidding.” It brought a real smile to my lips. “Well, let’s hope that’s the end of it.”

  Through all the camaraderie and laughter, there was a tension about Cal, a taut wariness as if he were watching and waiting for something. I began to do the same, but the problem was I didn’t know what I was waiting for.

  I saw the change in Cal, saw him sit up a little straighter and grip the bar until his knuckles turned white. What he’d been waiting for had finally arrived. I followed his gaze to the door.

  As if one Vachess wasn’t bad enough, Ryan Vachess stood at the entrance. He was looking around as if he’d arrived at the zoo and he was trying to decide just which animal to study first.

  I looked back to Cal to judge how worried I should be. Cal was on his feet, edgy and ready for action. His grim face told me all I needed to know. I swore under my breath. If his brother’s arrival worried Cal, it sure as hell got my attention.

  Ryan either didn’t see Cal or was choosing to ignore him. But Ryan found me, standing behind the bar. A big grin spread across his face and he started for me. I debated moving away and letting Chris take care of Ryan, but experience has taught me that avoiding assholes seldom works.

  When Ryan was in front of me, his dilated pupils showed he was either still high from this morning or was already tripping on something else. The second option would be better because coming down is when meth-heads are most dangerous, a time when they are to be avoided at all costs. Oh, yes, up was best.

  I took a deep breath and reminded myself not to be confrontational, to just jolly him along. Too bad I never listen to my own advice.

  Ryan said, “Bring me a scotch, sugar.”

  I placed the drink in front of him, picked up his twenty and went to turn away. He grabbed my hand and said, “I want to talk to you.”

  “I’m a little busy.”

  “Fine. I’ll wait until you’re done working.” He gave me a confident smile. “It’ll be better then. We can take our time.”

  I didn’t even try and hide my disgust. “So, what brings you to the Sunset?”

  Ryan took a deep drink of his scotch before he pointed the glass at me and said, “Holly told me all about you, told me about the Sunset. I had to see for myself.”

  “So now you’ve seen it.” I went and got his change and dumped it on the bar in front of him.

  “She had a real sweet picture of you. It took a minute, but as soon as you were out the door, I remembered you. I never forget a face, or a body. I remember yours.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “See, that’s what I like about you. You got attitude.”

  “Enjoy your drink.” I started to turn away but he called me back. “You came to find me, remember? Holly and you both. Why?”

  “You’re wrong about that. I knew nothing about you until today.

  My Aunt Kay just wanted to understand what happened to Holly. That’s why I came to see your brother Cal.”

  He wagged his finger at me and shook his head. “Holly and you were friends. It was me you wanted today.”

  “Holly worked for me as a waitress, we weren’t particularly friends, and we didn’t come looking for you, at least I didn’t.”

  He leaned towards me. “I don’t believe you.”

  “It was just a coincidence I met you today. They happen.” I should have left it at that but instead I asked, “How did you meet Holly?”

  “She said she called because of the name, Angel Photography, thought it was kismet, whatever the hell that is. She believed in fate and all kinds of shit like that.” He put the glass of scotch over his heart in mock sincerity. “She just knew finding me was the right thing, knew this was the break she’d been looking for.” The glass thumped on the bar. “She thought I was going to be her muse, make all her dreams come true. Where the hell did that come from? But she was sweet, all clingy and agreeable and incredible naive. That’s why I dressed her in white, because that’s how she was . . . pure, like life had never touched her.”

  “Guess that changed pretty quick after she met you. Not so sweet the way you treated her.”

  He scowled at me. “She liked it.”

  Any good sense I’d been born with disappeared with my rage. “And you liked using her and turning her into a prostitute.”

  He made a motion like cracking a whip. “I’m the circus master, controlling the action.” His harsh laugh was too loud and brought a hush to the drinkers closest to him. They edged away.

  I nodded to where Cal stood. “If you’re ringmaster, what does that make Cal?”

  Ryan’s eyes sparkled. He was enjoying himself. “Oh, he’s my dancing bear, dangerous and wild but on a leash.”

  “Well, why don’t you take your pet bear and go home? The show is over.”

  And the fun was over for Ryan. The look he gave me was terrifying. Fear ate through my belly and crawled up my spine. I stepped back. But then he smiled and the horror seemed to disappear. He appeared truly delighted.

  “We’re going to be good together, you and I. A girl with attitude is a whole lot of fun.”

  It had been a long day and I don’t react well to intimidation. My mouth slipped into drive before my brain was in gear. I leaned on the bar with both hands, wanting to spit in his face. “In the first place, I’m no girl. In the second pl
ace, my attitude precludes a guy like you.”

  Cal came up beside Ryan as I pointed to the door. “Have a good one.”

  Ryan’s face twisted with outrage. His fist shot up, and for a second I thought he was going to punch me, but Cal was there, dragging down on his brother’s arm with all of his weight, while I shot back away from him.

  Around us the bar went silent. And then Ryan laughed. “Oh, you’re fun.”

  He reached out with his left arm and picked up his drink and threw back the remainder of his scotch. “We’re going to have fun, lots of dirty fun.” He winked at me. “In the end, you’ll call me sir.”

  “In your dreams, asshole.”

  “I’ll remember that one,” Ryan promised. He jerked his arm away from Cal and shrugged his jacket up around his shoulders and smoothed back his hair. “Oh, yes, I’ll remember.” He strolled to the door like he owned the world.

  Cal said, “That wasn’t a good idea.”

  “No kidding!”

  “Stay away from Ryan. He’s not coping with things too well right now.”

  “Ice and booze won’t help his coping skills, and I wouldn’t go near your brother with a ten-foot pole. Keep him out of my place.”

  Cal’s bitter little laugh didn’t lighten the mood. “I wish I could keep him out of a lot of places. Just stay away from him.”

  “Thing about a bar is people know where to find you.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Violence leaves a residue that adheres like grease. Having friends and family say “It’s over,” doesn’t help at all. It will never be over because death and brutality can’t be put behind you like a bad dream.

  Some days I hardly think about what happened to me in the past, about Jimmy’s murder and being kidnapped by a psychopath, but every day I take precautions, habits that comfort me even if I don’t acknowledge the need for them.

  Even during the daylight hours I keep all the doors and windows locked and only the people closest to me know where I live. I always park directly under the light nearest the side door of the Sunset and I always make sure I don’t stay at the restaurant after everyone else had gone. Anything left undone has to wait until morning.

  Nights are my bad time. Taking martial arts, going to the shooting range and keeping pepper spray with me at all times hadn’t added a thing to my sense of safety. Instead, they only made me feel more anxious, like I was preparing for the next time it happened, confirming a reason for my panic. For me no place feels safe anymore except when I’m behind the bar with a room full of people in front of me. Being alone, that’s the worst and something I could never explain to Clay.

  After the encounter with Ryan I went into my hunker-downand-take-care mode, aware of every shadow and every possible hiding place as I left the Sunset. Once again, I had Miguel walk me to my pickup. The good thing about Miguel was that he never asked if it was necessary. If I asked him to stay with me or even follow me all the way home, that was good enough for Miguel. Tonight I asked him to follow me just as far as the south bridge.

  The Sunset is on a barrier island, we call them keys in Florida, and it has a bridge to the mainland at the north end and another at the south. The only other access to Cypress Island is by boat. It should be the safest place in the world, but tonight it didn’t feel like it. I locked the truck door as soon as it closed behind me and scanned the empty parking lot again, looking for Ryan’s red Mustang.

  As we headed south, a vehicle turned out of a public lot on the beach and pulled in behind Miguel. The roads were empty so Miguel had to be as aware of it as I was. Three vehicles now headed for the south bridge.

  I reached for my cell to tell him to stay with me until I was safely home. The third set of lights disappeared. I dropped the phone back into my lap. Miguel’s day had been just as long as mine.

  There was just Miguel and me on the road now. At the bridge, Miguel hit his horn and made the left to go off the island. I tooted back and kept going south, down to the isolated beach house at the tip of the island. South Beach would never be my choice of a place to live. There was no street lighting on this stretch of the beach, and most of the houses were unoccupied in the off season. It was too remote and too unpopulated for me and I only stayed because I could live there for free.

  Suddenly there were lights behind me again. They stayed well back, and didn’t threaten me in any way, but I didn’t like it. In the six months that I’d been traveling these roads at night I could count on one hand the number of times I’d met another vehicle.

  I turned into the shell drive of the beach house and the SUV went on by. Someone going home? I sat in the truck with the engine running and the lights off to see if they’d turn around and come back.

  The drive was overgrown with thick underbrush on both sides, which kept any lights passing on the road from shining in towards the house. I’d only see the lights of another vehicle as they went by the end of the driveway. Nothing happened.

  I checked out the house. It was well lit up. I don’t go into dark houses anymore. I drove up as close as I could get to the house and waited some more.

  The night was quiet. Even nature held her breath. I told myself that there was nothing to worry about, that the fear was all in my head, but I watched the rearview and stayed locked in the confines of the cab. Even though there was only glass to protect me, it felt safer there than running for the house and being exposed.

  After ten minutes no lights had appeared at the end of the drive. No one had followed me home.

  I turned off the engine and ran for the kitchen door with my keys in my hand. But even inside with the door locked I didn’t feel safe.

  I drew the drapes and left on all the lights, in the living room, the halls, second bedroom and bath. The only room with no light on was the kitchen because there were no window coverings there. A lit room without curtains makes me feel like a target.

  But I was alone. Sleep was a long way off so I opened the bottle of Chardonnay I’d brought from the restaurant and settled down in front of the TV. The late movie was The Sound and the Fury, with Joanne Woodward and Yul Brynner, a story about another dysfunctional Southern family. “See, it could be worse” is sort of a mantra for me.

  It was after one when I put the half-empty bottle of wine in the fridge. In the pale light from the hall, I rechecked the kitchen door and went cautiously to the window over the sink and tested the catch. The clasp was so wobbly a stray termite could break in and I’d promised myself for months that it was something that I’d get fixed. Tomorrow for sure.

  Leaning on the sink, I stared out into the darkness beyond the faint glow seeping from the light on the carport. In the silence, the refrigerator wheezed and ice dropped into the bucket.

  I studied the night, not really looking for anything, more as a ritual to reassure myself.

  And then a light, where no light should be, appeared at the road, briefly . . . for a second only . . . and then it was gone. What kind of a light was it? The only thing I could think of was the light from a cell phone of someone out walking late at night. But it was too late for a stroll and too late to be making a normal call. I’d been traveling these roads for months and had never seen anyone out walking after dark.

  I clutched the edge of the sink, every muscle straining, watching for the light to return. I told myself I was mistaken. Too many times lately I’d seen danger where there was none, cried wolf and had to apologize. This was just one more product of my overactive imagination. None of that stopped my panic. I waited. Only darkness.

  Telling myself it was my head playing tricks on me didn’t stop the terror. Grabbing up my purse, I ran for the bedroom, taking out the pepper spray as I went and slamming the bedroom door shut behind me. I wedged the toe of a shoe under the bottom edge of the door and then I shoved a chest of drawers in front of it before I got Clay’s revolver
out of the closet and fed six rounds into the cylinder.

  I flicked off the light. Separating the curtains with a finger, I peered outside. It was a bright moonlit night. The dunes cast long shadows, deep pools of blackness for concealment, while drifts of sand and clumps of beach grasses offered more hiding places. I watched for movement. The breeze off the water waved the grasses, but other than that everything was still. Then something rustled in the clump of palms growing at the corner of the house. I lifted the Smith & Wesson, took a deep breath and let it out slowly, bracing my gun hand with my left just as I had been taught to do when preparing to shoot. And then I waited for a target to appear.

  A coon ran through the shaft of moonlight from the house to the nearest dune.

  I stepped away from the window and lowered the gun. I gently placed the gun on top of the night table. My hands were trembling and my whole body was reacting to the release of fear.

  Sleep was gone. I huddled in the bed, clutching my cell in one hand and my canister of pepper spray in the other hand. Rationally, I knew no one was out in the dark stalking me, but it’s hard to be sensible in the middle of the night.

  I hit Clay’s number.

  “Hi, darlin’,” he drawled, as though it were two in the afternoon and not two in the morning.

  “I can’t sleep.” I didn’t even bother apologizing about the time. He’d heard it all before.

  “Tell me,” he said softly, as if it were the first time. “I saw a light where no light should be and I think someone followed me back from the Sunset.”

  “Want me to come home?” It was the same offer he always made when I called late at night, no matter that he’d already told me he couldn’t come home.

  I loosened my grip on the can of hot pink pepper spray and laid it on the bed. I rolled on my side. “Talking to you makes me feel better. I’m okay during the day but not at night.”

  I pulled the edge of the spread over me. “Will I ever get over these panic attacks? Will I ever believe that it’s over?”

  “God, Sherri, after what you’ve been through? It isn’t something you put behind you like a parking ticket. It’ll take time and some help.”