by Chris Dolley
Brenda checked her watch. It was five to eleven.
“Do we stay and watch?”
“Indeed we do. Though not like this. I think a disguise is called for.”
He changed before her eyes. Years dropped off him – and pounds – he morphed into a gangling adolescent – thirteen, fourteen – with acne and lank, greasy hair.
“Do I get a disguise too?”
Brenda’s vanity had wrested control of her vocal chords before her sensible genes could react. But now they were reacting. Having years and pounds stripped away may be a huge tick in the plus column, but Brian had a puckish sense of humor which was an even bigger tick in the minus column. And wouldn’t it deplete his magical reserves?
“I think I can risk a minor makeover,” said Brian, leaning back and tilting his head to one side in an appraising stare.
Before she could react Brian’s hand darted out and closed around her left hand. Instinctively she struggled to pull free, but he held on, staring into her eyes for two whole seconds while her flesh tingled and burned.
“There,” he said. “I think that should do.”
Shit! Her clothes had changed. Some hideous dress that looked like it had been spawned by a pair of mutant bathroom curtains – bright colors, huge flowers and ... giant lobsters! What the hell were giant lobsters doing on chrysanthemums?
Her hands flew to her face. No beard, so that was a plus. But something felt different. Her nose! It was smaller. And her hair! It was big and falling around her face in curls.
Instinctively she looked for her purse, but she’d left it back at the house. So much for travelling light. She needed a mirror. She needed a mirror now!
“Will this do?” asked Brian, holding up his right hand. He’d flattened and glazed his palm into a hand shaped mirror. Brenda grabbed it and stared.
It was like seeing a stranger. A big-haired blonde with too much make-up.
But...
She liked the nose. Back in her teens she’d even considered having a nose job. Until her best friend, Jackie Lowell, had filled her head with Michael Jackson horror stories. First the nose, then you turn albino and your ears drop off. But now...
Maybe she should have a nose job. Maybe Brian would let her keep the nose! Lose the hair and clothes, but the nose was a keeper.
“You want to lose your clothes?”
“No!” She let go of his hand and wrapped her arms tight around her body. And felt ... different. Bigger. She looked down, her eyes widening. Are my boobs bigger?
“I thought they went with the character.”
Brenda was incandescent. She’d been violated. “You can’t touch my boobs!”
“I didn’t. I just thought them larger.”
“Thought! You shouldn’t even think about my boobs.” She paused to take a breath. “Did you think my boobs were too small? No! Don’t answer that! Don’t even think about that.”
She backed away from him, holding her arms out as if somehow that would fend him off.
He looked confused. He flexed his right hand and morphed it back to a human hand shape. “Do you want me to put you back as you were?”
“No! No touching. No thinking.” She wanted desperately to have a look at what he’d done to her. Knowing Brian he might have given her five nipples.
“I didn’t.”
“You’re thinking! I said no thinking. My nipples are not a topic for conversation.”
Especially from a fourteen year-old boy.
Brian checked his watch and thankfully changed the subject. “It’s nearly eleven. We’ve got to go. I’ll take the shop. You find somewhere close by.”
Brenda lingered in the alley for an extra second or two to check on the girls.
‘Mmmm, nice,’ echoed a voice in her head.
‘Brian!’
‘Just getting into character. I’m a fourteen year-old boy, remember?’
Brenda stormed out of the alley. The dress was too tight. The hair too big. The shoes didn’t match anything, and the least said about the lobsters the better. She looked like she’d just stepped out of an eighties trailer park seafood restaurant.
‘You’ll pay for this.’ She threw the thought at Brian’s disappearing back as he jogged along the sidewalk. He didn’t react. He didn’t even glance her way when he turned into Cassini’s convenience store.
“Urrrgh!” Brenda was about to stamp her foot too, but thought better of it. Her dress was already attracting too much attention – people not wearing dark glasses were having to shield their eyes. The sooner she got the lobsters off the street the better. She noticed a cafe opposite. She’d nip over there and wait.
As soon as she ordered her coffee, two large men – neither of whom Brenda would have wished to meet in an empty parking lot – entered the convenience store over the road.
Chapter Nine
Brian was standing by the comic rack at the back of the shop when they came in. The sense of fear from Frank Cassini was palpable, his thoughts condensed to the words ‘oh, God’ repeated over and over again.
“Have you got it?” asked the older of the two men. He was in his late twenties, six two, well-built, expensive suit. He looked like a Mafia enforcer – dark hair, designer stubble, and giant hands. His friend just looked like a thug – six four, broken nose, tracksuit, and tattoos. He stood by the door, arms folded and feet planted slightly apart.
Frank Cassini handed over an envelope. A payment? The furtive way he produced the white envelope from beneath the counter suggested as much.
“It feels light,” said the Enforcer clone, hefting the envelope.
“It’s been a bad week. I’ll make it up next time.”
“You’ll make it up now.”
Brian kept perfectly still. He was behind a comic rack at the end of one of the four small aisles. The top shelf was at shoulder height, the comic rack a foot higher. It wasn’t the best hiding place, but neither of the newcomers had given the aisles more than a cursory glance. Which was strange. Everything about the transaction cried out shakedown. Why weren’t they concerned about witnesses?
He tried to scan the men’s thoughts, but they were at the edge of his range. Only Frank was readable, but the adrenaline that magnified his thoughts garbled them as well – running them together into an over-amplified mess. What had Frank gotten himself mixed up in? Blackmail? Protection racket? Loan sharks?
Could someone have found out about Mary Alice and started blackmailing him?
Brian had to get closer. He stepped out into the center of the aisle. “What yer doing?” he asked.
Enforcer turned and glared. Most street-wise fourteen year-old boys would have taken the hint. Brian stuffed his hands in his pockets and ambled forward.
“What yer doing?” he repeated.
“Beat it, kid.” Enforcer hooked a thumb towards the door. Thug opened it for him.
Brian walked closer, smiling innocently. He was within range now. He focussed his mind on Enforcer and asked, “Are you blackmailers?” He added a wide-eyed excitement to his delivery. This would be his role – the star-struck teenage wannabe hoodlum.
“I’m not telling you twice, kid. Fuck off.”
Enforcer was annoyed and impatient, but there was no reaction to the blackmail question – not physically nor mentally. Brian moved to the next question.
“I bet you’re loan sharks, aren’t you? I can help if you want. Let me hold him down while you hit him.”
Disbelief from Enforcer, sprinkled with a growing anger, but no reaction to the loan shark comment.
There was, however, a reaction from Thug. He’d moved away from the door and was now striding down the next aisle. He was going to block Brian’s escape, come at him from behind, sweep him up, give him a couple of slaps and throw him onto the street.
Brian was running out of time. “Is it protection money?” he asked. “I bet he can’t pay. Shall I start pulling food off the shelves and smashing the place up?”
That got a reaction
. Protection money, can’t pay, smash the place up. Frank spiked on all three. And kept on spiking. No, no, no! What are you doing, kid! Don’t wind these guys up. I could have found the extra hundred. Now they won’t stop.
The two hoods did their share of reacting too. Rage, exasperation. It came off them in waves. Brian was going to get more than a slap. Enforcer moved to block one end of the aisle while Thug covered the rear.
“Aw, come on,” said Brian, still smiling, still radiating a childlike enthusiasm. “Cut me in on the action. I can be your apprentice. Like on TV.”
A large hand grabbed him from behind, scrunching his jacket up just below his neck and hoisting him off his feet. He dangled for a second, the tips of his toes just touching the floor, listening – listening to the thoughts of the man whose breath he could feel on the back of his neck. Thug was a killer. Images of previous victims flashed through his mind. Men begging for their lives. Men kneeling on the ground. He could snap Brian’s neck without hesitation.
Which would open up a restaurant size can of worms. Brian didn’t want to reprise his headless zombie act. Or be rushed into anything precipitous. He hadn’t finished probing these men’s minds and one thing he’d learned over the years was that humans tended not to think straight when placed in close proximity to a headless zombie.
“Get him out of here,” snapped Enforcer.
Brian was carried up the aisle, then thrown towards the check out desk. Thug intended it to hurt, pitching Brian off balance hoping he’d hit his head or a shoulder on the sharp wooden edge. But Brian had read the thought and threw out his arms, cushioning the fall.
Thug kicked him – hard – below the ribs then picked him up, marched him to the open door and threw him out. This time Brian couldn’t keep his balance and hit the ground hard, landing on his shoulder and hip. He rolled once, then flung out an arm to stop to himself. The shop door slammed shut behind him.
No one came to help him. The street was busy, but only a few people even glanced his way. He scanned their thoughts. Walk on. Don’t get involved. Stupid kid. Bet he was stealing. And other thoughts in languages he didn’t understand which probably distilled down to the same collective thought. Walk on by. Don’t get involved. It could be dangerous.
This was not a neighborhood with a strong sense of community.
Brian jumped to his feet and looked towards the shop. The two hoods were at the till talking to Frank. Any second now they were going to hurt him.
They weren’t even watching the door.
Which meant they didn’t care. The street was busy. There were hundreds of potential witnesses. They’d even drawn attention to the shop by throwing Brian out onto the street.
And yet... he hadn’t picked up one concerned thought from either of the two hoods about being observed. Yes, they’d wanted Brian out of the way. But only after he’d spoken up. No one had bothered to search the shop for customers before that, or lock the door to prevent anyone else coming in. The door was still unlocked now. Anyone could walk in.
Which meant they really didn’t care. The whole street was probably in fear of them. Every business paying them protection money. They could do what they wanted with impunity knowing that no one would testify or call the police.
And where was Frank’s assistant? She’d been in the back of the shop ten minutes earlier. She obviously knew the men were coming at eleven. Was she still in there, hiding?
Brian had to act. He’d made things worse. Innocent people could get hurt. And there were several questions still unanswered.
He ran over to the door and opened it. Thug had a gun pointed at Frank Cassini’s head. Enforcer was taking money from the open till drawer.
“Wow!” said Brian. “Is that a Glock?”
The Glock turned Brian’s way. “Get out!”
“Can I hold it?” said Brian, playing for time as he desperately tried to think of a plan that didn’t involve anyone getting shot in the head.
Enforcer was on him in two strides. One ape-like hand folded around Brian’s face and shoved him into the street while the other slammed the door shut behind him.
Brian hit the sidewalk hard, first with the seat of his pants, then his back and head. But this time someone offered him a helping hand.
o0o
Brenda had been watching from the cafe opposite. The first time Brian had been thrown onto the sidewalk, she felt he’d probably deserved it. But the second time – well, he probably deserved that too, but she was his partner and partners had obligations.
“What happened?” she asked, pulling him to his feet.
Brian filled her in as quickly as he could, breaking off every now and then to run over to the store door and bang on the glass, or give them a smile and a thumbs up sign. Anything to keep them distracted.
And all the while a plan was forming, deep in the sneaky half of his brain.
“You want me to do what?” asked Brenda.
“Play my mother.”
“I’m too young to have a fourteen year-old son!”
“The new you isn’t. Come on! We don’t have much time. We’ve got to get those thugs out of the shop and onto the street.”
Brenda looked at the store, then back at Brian. “You have placed a bullet-proof shield around me?”
“Like I said, it’s an everything-proof shield.”
Brenda thought about it for another second. She could do this. She was angry enough. This would be a chance to vent. She took another look at the mutant dress Brian had inflicted upon her. Then she grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the store. Two thugs were about to come face to face with the pushy mother from trailer park hell.
She threw the door open.
“Why won’t you let my boy be in your gang?”
Three heads turned her way. One red Frank Cassini head – which was wrapped in an arm lock – and two startled hoodlum heads.
“Well?” she said, tapping her right foot. “I’m waiting. And put that man down when I’m speaking to you.”
The two hoods exchanged confused looks. Thug maintained his grip around Frank’s neck and Enforcer pulled his jacket back to show the gun holstered at his hip.
“Beat it, lady,” he said.
Brenda leaned forward, screwing up her eyes in a myopic stare. “What am I supposed to be looking at? Are you trying to show me something in your trousers?”
Enforcer blinked. He was disconcerted, and at the same time struggling to control his anger. He pulled out the gun and pointed it at Brenda.
“It’s a gun, lady, now beat it–”
“Call that a gun? My grandmother’s got a bigger gun than that.”
“It’s a Glock,” said Brian, still clutching Brenda’s hand. “He wouldn’t let me hold it.”
“Is that true? You wouldn’t let my boy hold your gun?”
“Lady, get the fuck out. Now!”
Brenda recognized the ‘you’ve pushed me too far’ look on Enforcer’s face.
She sent a thought to Brian. ‘How do you know if a protective shield’s working? Is there a battery full light?’
‘Don’t worry, Bren. You’re doing fine. He’s thinking about scaring you, not shooting you.’
Brenda changed tack. She craned her neck and made a show of staring at Thug and Frank.
“What are you doing here, anyway? Robbery?” she asked.
“Lady–”
“With no look out, or anyone on the door. You guys must be real amateurs.”
“I’m not telling you twice.”
Enforcer stepped forward and leveled his gun at Brenda’s new, improved nose. His eyes burned.
The old Stay-at-Home Brenda would have turned and run. Even London Brenda would have been cowed. But Trailer-Park Brenda stood her ground. She had a protective shield, and a mission.
“Or what?” she said. “You’re going to shoot me in front of a street full of people? Take a look behind me. See the woman with the camera phone?”
There wasn’t a woman with a
camera phone – not as far as Brenda knew – but there could have been. There were enough people in the street – walking by, milling around store doorways, chatting. Enough to make Enforcer look. And think twice.
“Get out!” he said. “Or....” He turned the gun on Brian, keeping his eyes locked on Brenda. Back came the cool killer confidence as he spoke. “Or I’ll find out which school your boy goes to.”
The same thought arose simultaneously in Brian and Brenda’s minds. Mary Alice Cassini. Had she been abducted to put pressure on her father? Maybe to teach him a lesson?
Another thought entered Brenda’s mind. This time from Brian. ‘Time to leave,’ he said. ‘We need to regroup outside.’
“What about Frank?” asked Brenda once they were back on the sidewalk. “We can’t leave him in there.”
“We’re not going to. This is just a time out. We need to get them outside and the best way to do that is to make them come to us.”
“How?”
“By standing outside the shop and making a nuisance of ourselves.”
“Do you think they abducted Mary Alice?”
Brian shook his head. “Not this crew. They’re too young to have been active thirteen years ago. But the people they work for could have.”
“But Sacrifice was imprisoned by one man.”
“Did she tell you that?”
Brenda couldn’t remember. The girl had only spoken about ‘Daddy’, but had Brenda asked the right questions?
“Did you pick anything up from the two men?” she asked.
“Enough to know that the threat to abduct me was real. They’ve taken children before. When Enforcer made the threat, I saw an image of a boy climbing into their car. And it wasn’t me.”