"But how?" James said, "she's always got her gang with her. Even if we could get to her, there would be too many witnesses."
"Now that's your problem, isn't it," Manuel replied. "It's her, or it's you. You’re resourceful, I'm sure you'll come up with a way. You've got three days." Manuel motioned to his entourage. "Now, get these pieces of shit out of my sight."
Manuel returned to rack the balls for another game. Wiping the blood from the butt section, he calmly screwed his cue stick back together. His men picked up James and Javier, dragged them to the rear exit of the bar and tossed them in to the alley. They stumbled and fell from the forceful ejection and ended up face down on the pavement.
"Javier," James said, clutching his injured hand. "I ain't never killed anyone before. And I sure as hell don't want to kill some girl."
"You heard Manuel; it's her, or it's us," Javier replied, as he got to his feet, brushing the alley filth from his pants.
"Maybe we could run," James argued. "You know, split from here- until this all blows over."
"Trust me, it ain't going to blow over. Remember last year, that dealer that shorted Manuel money. He tried to run. I heard he got as far as Jersey. They found his body in the river, his throat slit, ear to ear. Shit, they even cut off his dick and stuffed it in his mouth. It was supposed to be a warning to anyone else who might think about crossing him. No, we're stuck. We don't have a choice. The girl has to die!"
Kit and her friends got off the bus and started to walk home. They talked about their day and were in good humor. It was their last official day of the school year.
"So you guys excited for graduation tomorrow," Alicia asked.
"God," Lizzie said, "I didn't think it would ever be over."
"Yeah, next year, High School!" Alicia said.
"I can't believe we have to wear those stupid caps and gowns," Kit said.
"Yeah, aren't they the worst?" Alicia said. "Whoever invented that outfit ought to be shot."
Alicia and Gwen left the group as their route's home came up. Lizzie was the last to say good-bye to Kit. Then she was by herself for the remaining distance to her apartment. She decided to take the shortcut that crossed the park past the jogging path.
She had gotten about half way across an open stretch of grass when she heard the loud roar of an engine behind her. She turned to see someone on a motorcycle bearing down on her at high speed. She instinctively dove out of the way and rolled across the grass. The rider had missed her clean and started to turn around. She noticed the rider had a full-face helmet with a reflective visor, effectively concealing his identity.
"Who did I piss-off now?" she thought to herself, barely having time to form the thought. The rider had just popped a wheelie and was again heading straight for her. The roar of his engine almost completely masked the sound of a second bike coming from behind her, its rider holding a baseball bat in his free hand. She glanced around just in time to dodge to the side. A blow, obviously intended for her head, instead, struck her in the shoulder. The impact spun her around, and she fell on the ground. She struggled to her feet as the first rider swung out his booted foot catching her in the side of the face. She saw stars from the impact of the kick and fell backwards laying on her side. From the haze of her consciousness, she noticed the second rider bearing down again; his bat raised menacingly, preparing to deliver another blow. Still too stunned to move, she thought about just closing her eyes, but couldn't. She would face whatever came with her eyes open. She stared transfixed; her vision clouded, on the approaching danger. She had already accepted that there was nothing she could do about it.
At fifteen yards from his intended victim, a projectile struck the rider, blowing through his faceplate and striking him between the eyes. He instinctively clutched at his face causing him to drop his bat. The motorcycle veered out of control, colliding with a nearby tree. Kit's mouth hung open in bewilderment. The second rider lay motionless after the impact, his motorcycle next to him, its engine roared like a wounded animal, sputtered, then died.
The first rider pulled up to within ten feet of Kit and got off his bike. He stood for a moment surveying the scene, then lifted his visor. Through her still clouded vision, she could see the face of Javier looking down on her.
"What did you do to James?" he asked.
"What did I do to James?" she thought her head still in a fog. "Don't know what you're talking about-" she wanted to say, but could not.
"Well, it doesn't matter," Javier said, pulling a small 32 caliber pistol from his jacket pocket. He pointed the gun at Kit's head.
"Sorry girl, you pissed off the wrong guy. Caesar's brother gave us a choice; either kill you, or he'd kill us. It's nothing personal. I wish there was another...” his words were suddenly cut off, mid-sentence. Another projectile struck Javier in the forehead; he fell backwards like a fallen tree from a lumberjack's axe.
Now totally confused, Kit saw someone walking toward her from several yards away. Through her still muddled perception, she saw a boy, holding what she thought was, of all things, a slingshot. He came up to her and knelt beside her. His brown hair and finely chiseled features reminded her of the Greek statues that she had sketched at the museum. She could not help thinking what an amazing shade of blue-green his eyes were, almost turquoise.
Through her blurred vision, she thought she saw the boy wearing a shining suit of armor. She closed her eyes tightly, slightly shook her head, then opened them again. "No, she must have imagined it," She thought.
"Hey, you okay?" the boy asked, now supporting her head. The outer corners of her vision started to grow dark, gradually working its way to the center, until all was black.
Kit awoke in a strange room and found herself on someone's couch. She reached up with a hand and felt a wet washcloth folded across her brow. She tried to sit up but felt a sharp pain in her head as if someone had just rolled a strike in her brain. The throbbing in her head caused her to fall back, if only to wait for the pain to subside a bit.
The boy who looked like a statue came into the room and sat on the chair next to her. He reached out and turned the washcloth over to the cooler side.
"You're awake, good," the boy said, smiling.
"Wh-Where am..." Kit started to ask.
"Where are you?" he said, finishing her question. "You're at my place. I just live a few blocks from where those guys jumped you. I carried you here."
Kit looked at the boys' dark tanned, well-developed arms. There was little doubt in her mind that he was plenty strong enough to carry her. Heck, he could probably carry her at a full run; she thought.
"Who are you?" Kit asked, finally tearing her gaze away from his beautiful arms.
"David, David Tyson," he replied. He took her hand and pumped it. Her small hand all but disappeared in his grasp. "And you are?"
"Uh, Kit, Kit Collins," she said, trying to clear her head. "I don't understand. Javier was going to shoot me. What happened?"
"Yeah, I caught that. Seemed like if I was going to do something, I'd better do it fast," David said. He reached around to his back pants pocket and produced something in his hand. He unfolded it and handed it to Kit. She held the weapon in her hand, turning it to examine it closely.
"You shot them with a slingshot?" Kit asked, incredulous.
"Well, not just any slingshot," David replied, drawing the elastic bands full stretch. "This here is a Wrist Rocket," he said, with obvious pride.
"A what?" Kit asked, still groggy, wondering if she had heard him right.
"A Wrist Rocket," David repeated. "Accurate up to 100 yards, you shoot these little steel balls with it, silent but deadly," He fished a handful of 5/16 inch steel balls out of his pocket and placed them in Kit's hand. Kit studied the handful, then handed them back.
Kit looked around the small apartment. Not much different than mine, she thought. She could see pictures on a coffee table. There was a framed photograph of the boy with a man and woman, all sitting on horses and all wearing co
wboy hats. She assumed that they were his parents.
"You're not from around here, are you?" Kit asked.
"No, we moved here a few weeks back. I came from Montana."
"Who's we?"
"Me and my Pa," David said. "Last year Ma got sick and passed away. Then we lost the ranch from all the medical bills. Pa took a job here as a horse trainer. He trains racing thoroughbreds.
"My Pa, My Ma?" Kit thought, "Was he for real?"
"The boys on the motorcycles; Are they?" she paused.
"Dead?" He said, completing her question. "Nah, they were still breathin when we left em. They'll wake up with a powerful headache, but they should be alright in a day or two."
Kit thought about what David had said. It was a sure bet that Caesar's brother would hear about this. She remembered his name; Manuel. She wondered if it was the end of it, or if he would send someone else to avenge the attack on his brother.
"What'd you do to get them so riled up," David asked.
"That's kind of a long story," Kit replied.
"Tell me about it," he said. "You need to lie still a bit longer anyway."
Something about this man-boy made her want to tell him everything. He saved her from certain death. To her, that made him the first boy in her short life that she felt compelled to confide in. She instinctively trusted him, and trustworthy men had been in short supply in her life experience. Starting with her father, who had left her as a child, she hadn't met too many males whom she would consider as trustworthy, let alone serious role-models. She freely related the events of the past several weeks as he listened. As she spoke he wrung out the washcloth in a pan of cool water and replaced it on her forehead.
"Damn," he said, as Kit finished relating the story. "Sounds like a bad movie."
"Yes," Kit agreed. "a very bad movie."
"Say, you're a pretty scrappy little gal, if you don't mind me saying so. Remind me to never get on your bad side,” he said with a chuckle.
"What time is it?" Kit asked, suddenly jerking to a seated position.
David looked at his watch. "It's half past six," he replied.
"Shit, I gotta get home! My Mom's already there. She'll be getting worried."
"You sure you're ready to travel?"
"Yeah, I think so," Kit said, struggling to sit up. The throbbing returned to her head. "It's just a few more blocks."
"Well, alright then, I'll walk you home."
"You don't need to do that, I'll be fine."
"Horse shit," David replied, "my Pa would have my hide if he knew I let you walk home all by yourself, especially after you were knocked out and all. Besides, maybe that guy's brother is checking up on those two guys he sent to do his dirty work. I don't think you're in any shape to deal with him alone."
"Yeah, maybe you're right," Kit said, secretly glad he made the offer.
God, she thought; he was so different than any boy she had ever met; so confident, so self-assured, so brave. They walked the perimeter of the park along the jogging path and could see the site of their encounter with James and Javier. The motorcycles and the boys were now gone, vanished, as if it had never happened. It seemed that David was right. They must have awoken and left, taking their bikes with them. She didn't know whether to be relieved, or disappointed, that the steel balls that he had struck them with, hadn't killed them.
Kit wasn't a particularly religious person, but the irony that a boy named David, had slain her Goliaths with a slingshot, hadn't escaped her attention; just thinking about it, caused the hairs on her arms, to stand up. David, seeing her rub the goose bumps on her arms, took it as a sign that she must be cold. Without a word, he gallantly removed his jacket and placed it around her shoulders as they walked. Kit's head swiveled around at the gesture; a look of bewilderment crossed her face.
"What'd you do that for?" Kit asked, entirely not used to being treated like a lady.
"You looked cold,"
She wanted to argue with him, exert her independence, tell him that she could take care of herself; but something stopped her. Maybe it wasn't so bad to have someone who had your back, that wasn't another girl. This would take some getting used to.
"Oh, thanks," she replied softly. "How old are you David?"
"Seventeen, and you?"
"Fifteen," she lied, but reasoned that it was just a little white lie. She would be fifteen in a few months. She couldn't understand why she lied, why it even mattered to her what this boy thought of her. After all, they were complete strangers a few hours earlier. She guessed that someone saving your life, just might accelerate the "getting-to-know-you" process.
"So you'll be a senior in the fall?" she inquired inquisitively.
"No, I skipped fifth grade. I got my diploma just before we moved.
"Impressive!" Kit replied, with a twinge of envy.
"Just one of the advantages of the one-room country schoolhouse. If you're doing above grade-level work, they move you up."
As they walked, David casually bent down, plucked a stone from the path and skipped it out across the river. He did it so effortlessly, and with such fluid grace that she thought about what it might be like to paint him. She wondered if he might be persuaded to pose for her, to remove his shirt exposing his naked torso. "What is wrong with me?" she thought to herself. Her thoughts caught her off-guard and caused her face to flush. After all, Julia had painted men with no clothes at all. She got used to it. Kit wondered if she could ever get used to it, especially if it was someone whom you liked.
Kit and David arrived at her apartment. Kit looked up at the door and steeled herself for the third degree, she was sure she would get from her mother for coming home so late. She also knew that there would be the inevitable questions about the boot mark on the side of her face where Javier had kicked her. David noticed the look on her face and seemed to know just what she was thinking.
"So I take it, you're not looking forward to your folks asking questions?" he asked.
"Well, it's just my Mom, but that's bad enough."
"Want me to come in for a minute. I find it's a lot harder for parents to bawl you out if someone else is there."
"You'd do that?" Kit asked.
"Sure, no problem."
"Just one thing David," Kit said, "let's leave out the part where I almost get killed with a gun. My Moms got enough to worry about, without her knowing that little tidbit of information."
"Yeah, I guess that might tend to freak her out a bit."
"You think?" Kit said, a note of sarcasm in her words.
Kit led David into the apartment. She was immediately inundated with questions. Celeste put her hand to the mark on her face.
"Oh for God's sake, what happened now?" Celeste asked.
"Look, I'll tell you all about it, but I want you to meet the boy who helped me. Mom, this is David Tyson," Kit said.
Kit's ploy worked as Celeste transformed to the role of the gracious host.
"David, I'm pleased to meet you. Thank you very much for looking out for my Kit."
"Oh it wasn't no big thing Mam," David replied, easing in to a disarmingly charming western drawl. "Kit already had them on the run; I just helped scatter them."
Kit stood just behind Celeste and mouthed a silent "Thank you" to David.
"Well, I'd love to stay and jaw a spell, but I better head out before my Pa get's to worrying himself. It was a pleasure meeting you Mam."
"I'll walk you out," Kit said.
Kit and David stood on the steps of the apartment. There was an awkward moment of silence, then they both laughed. David spoke first.
"Well, that wasn't too bad, was it?"
"No, thank you,” she said, then added, "and thanks for saving my life."
Kit put a hand around his neck and kissed him gently on the cheek. David blushed a deep red. Then his blushing caused Kit to blush too.
"You stay out of trouble, Kit Collins." David said, as he started to walk away.
"I'll try," Kit said. "I just
have graduation tomorrow. I don't think I can get into too much trouble then."
Kit went back into the apartment, and Celeste started to question her again about the incident.
"Mom, I'm just so tired, and I have a really bad headache. Can't we talk about it tomorrow? I just want to take a few Advil, take a hot bath, and then go to bed."
"Of course baby, it will keep. You get some rest. I'm a little tired too, so I think I'll turn in myself. Good night Kit," Celeste said.
"Night Mom," Kit said.
Kit started to draw her bath and poured some of her Mom's bath beads into the water. She took off her clothes and stood in front of the mirror. Lately, it seemed as if she always had some marks on her body. Why today should be any different, she thought. She turned her shoulder toward the mirror. The mark of the baseball bat was starting to bruise badly.
Kit turned off the water and prepared to step in, but was distracted by something. She paused to study her side profile in the mirror. Were her breasts getting bigger? True, they were still small buds of womanhood, but she could swear that they had gotten bigger since she last noticed them. She took her hands and pushed them together, trying in vain to form some measure of cleavage. "Hmm, she thought, not there yet." She still resisted even the thought of a training bra. A "training bra," she thought. I wonder how it got that name. You'd think we were talking about some wild animal that needed to be tamed, or some pet that needed to be housebroken.
At last, she settled into her bath. The hot water and the bath oil brought much-needed relief to her tired, aching body. She thought back on the day until one thought stuck out in her mind. Someone tried to kill her, not just hurt her, but to end her life forever. She thought she should be more upset than she was. I guess a person could get used to almost anything; she thought.
It was actually more troubling to her that she was more focused, on if and when, she might see David again. She closed her eyes and saw his strong muscular arms. She imagined him wearing a costume of ancient biblical times. She saw him whipping a leather sling overhead, aimed at her enemies, hurling stones at their heads, vanquishing giants, and all who dared to threaten her.
The Ghost Locket Page 11