Dew Angels

by Melanie Schwapp

  The man sniffed as he pulled the toothpick from of his mouth. He wound down his window and flicked it into the street.

  “Lookin’ round, eh?” He feigned deep thought. “Lookin’ round at the chewing gum that stick on to the walls, or the juice boxes and patty paper lyin’ in the walkway?” His voice raised a notch with the last word.

  Suddenly Nola realized how stupid she’d been to have gotten into the car. She knew nothing about him except that he drove this black car and claimed he owned the plaza. He could be a rapist, or a murderer!

  The man gave a dry laugh. “Just chill, man. I not doin’ nothin’ to you—yet!” He laughed again as Nola shot him a frantic look. “You look like you just see a duppy,” he said, then shook his head. “Nah man, Eric cool. Eric cool. Eric nah hurt you. I just want make sure that whoever send you down there know that I on to them, right?”

  “Nobody send me. I just lost a friend there, that’s all.”

  “How you can lost a friend? The only way you can lose a friend is if them don’t want to be friends with you no more, and that mean them don’t want you to find them!”

  Nola studied his face as he turned his attention back to the road. It was cool, skin smooth, with a slightly darker haze around the cheeks and chin where he shaved. Smooth like a dark river. Smooth and cold.

  “So, Clumsy,” he said, “here’s what you goin’ do for Eric. I want you to do this for me. You see, I have to watch my interests carefully. Believe it or not, plenty people out there might not love Eric.” He tapped his chest with his slim fingers. “You know how it is, you can’t be nice to everybody, so not everybody goin’ love you all the time.”

  Nola looked out the window.

  “That’s how business have to run. If you don’t know what goin’ on round you, then you might as well give up your business! So, anybody who come into my place, I make it my business to know what them come there for, whether to buy tings ….” He flicked his head mockingly towards her, “… or whether them come to look for lost friends. So here’s what you goin’ do for me, Clumsy. You goin’ check in with Val, my manager, you goin’ check in with her every time you set foot in my plaza, and you goin’ let her know what time you come, and what time you leave – understand? That way, both of us win. You can look for you friend, and I can know that my interests are safe.”

  “Check in? What I checkin’ in for? I tell you a’ready, nobody send me there. I just lookin’…”

  He stepped on the brakes so suddenly that Nola flew straight into the lights on the dashboard.

  “Clumsy ….” His voice was frighteningly quiet. The hairs on Nola’s neck prickled with warning. “Clumsy, you not understandin’ someting. Eric watch tings. Maybe two, three times, then when Eric see that someting not addin’ up, Eric know someting not right! So, like I say, if you want to put your foot back in my place of business, even if is just to stand by the gate and count the pick-pockets, you go in to Val first, and you let her know that you is there, and then after that you can return to the gate. Understand me, Clumsy?”

  Nola stared straight ahead. They were at the bottom of Preston Road, four doors from the garage. How far could she get if she opened the door and ran?

  Not far. His car looked pretty fast, and he looked like the type who would simply run her over and drive off. Besides, she’d stupidly given him Aunt May’s address, so he would know where to find her anyway. She shrugged, “My name is not Clumsy, it’s Nola.”

  He smirked as he pushed the car into gear and began to drive again. “I like ‘Clumsy’. Pity your mother neva know what I know ‘bout you, so she could’a give you the right name when you were born.”

  But she did, Nola thought, her cheeks suddenly burning. ‘Nola’, as in NO-love, NO-beauty, NO-damn luck to end up runnin’ into, of all people, the owner of the stupid plaza!

  The car turned the corner unto Palm View and drove past Abediah’s shop. Nola could see the Rasta hauling two bags of coal from the house. He looked up as the black Honda drove by, and Nola sank low in the seat to prevent having to answer numerous questions later, but thankfully, Ab did not pay attention to the car and quickly turned his concentration back to the bags.

  They pulled up in front of Aunt May’s gate and Eric nodded at the numbers painted on the post.

  “Eighteen Palm View Road,” he said, looking straight into her eyes.

  She shivered again and quickly turned to open the door, but froze when she spotted Petra walking up the road towards them. Damn! Damn! Damn! NO-damn luck!

  She sank back into the seat again, and turned to face Eric.

  “Thanks for the ride.”

  He gave that cold, half-smile and shook his head in mock sadness. “Clumsy, Clumsy, Clumsy! Playin’ round in big man game and can’t manage it.” Then he leaned over her and flicked the car door open. “Get out, and remember this—don’t play with tings you can’t handle!”

  Nola turned to leave, almost falling out of the car, right at Petra’s feet.

  The girl stopped and watched curiously, her eyes going from Nola to the black car with its frosty breath blasting into the street. She said not a word, just crossed her arms and gave Nola a look that said, “So this is what you been doin’? Gallivanting round with men!”

  Nola said nothing either, cutting her eyes dismissively at Petra when she stood up. But even in her annoyance, she shut the man’s car door with care.

  “What a pretty little ting like you doin’ walkin’ round in this sun hot?”

  Nola’s mouth fell open before she could catch herself. Eric was out of the car and walking towards them, his eyes unabashedly giving Petra a head to toe assessment. He liked what he saw, for the hand with the yellow stone winked flirtatiously as he offered it.

  “Eric McKenzie,” he said, and gave a little bow.

  A bow? Nola wanted to scoff, but she just scratched her forehead so that her arm could cover her bemused expression.

  Petra stared up at him, the smug expression she’d rained on Nola now faltering as she took in the sheer perfection of the man.

  And Petra crumbled. Just like that, it was over.

  “Petra.” She gave a delighted giggle as she put her hand in his.

  Eric gave it a little shake, not letting go even after the pumping had stopped.

  “Petra,” he crooned in a voice as mellow as his radio. “Petra for ‘perfectly pretty’. You live near here?” Eric asked.

  Petra nodded and pointed at their gatepost. “Right here, with her.”

  Eric passed a dismissive glance over Nola.

  “You want to come inside? I can make some mint tea …”

  Nola watched with amused interest as Petra blushed.

  Eric flashed his wrist, a gold watch gleaming from beneath the sleeve. “Next time,” he said. He smiled again before turning to go back into his car. “Definitely, next time!”

  The car skidded off dramatically. Petra and Nola stared as it raced to the bottom of the road. The horn blared obnoxiously as it turned the corner without even slowing down, almost colliding with a car coming from the opposite side of the intersection.

  When Petra eventually tore her eyes from the road, she threw Nola a sly glance before she sashayed through the gate.

  Nola could not stop thinking of the man’s smile. It was the realization that, even with all the sweet words pouring from it, that smile had never once removed the cold glint from his eyes.

  CHAPTER

  34

  The black Honda became a regular fixture at the gates of 18 Palm View Road.

  Eric McKenzie’s sweet words, as perfectly timed as a stunning sunset, swept all off their feet. He reminded Nola of the magician at the church fun day, wielding his wand so that every face turned to stare with unabashed admiration and awed expectation.

  But, by far, Nola thought his greatest trick was the one he performed on Slugga. With just one sugary compliment, Eric’s magic wand transformed Slugga into a skittish schoolgirl. He brought the woman’s hands fan
ning at her face, and made her cheeks flush as red as otaheiti apples – her cooking was the best; her eyes were so dark and deep that if she’d been 20 years younger he would have drowned in them; her hands were as soft as feathers when their fingers touched as she handed him a frosted glass of ginger beer. Nola was shocked but, admittedly, a little awed by the man’s prowess. May ‘Slugga’ Simpson, crumbling as easy as Petra had? The woman chuckled at the man’s easy jokes, tapping his shoulder playfully as if she’d known him for years, flushing coquettishly when she said, “I laugh. Oh, how I laugh!”

  There was no denying that for some reason, Eric McKenzie had developed an interest in 18 Palm View Road, an interest which had tucked the serrated weapon within its smooth sheath.

  Eric McKenzie knew everything about everyone. Poor Nathan melted the evening that Eric brought him a dome-shaped object to put in his callaloo bed. It supposedly gave off a vibration, undetected by humans, which kept slugs and snails at bay. “Poison-free, trouble-free,” Eric announced as he handed the dome to Nathan.

  As to Mrs. Lyndsay, she was a goner from the moment Eric sadly mentioned that his mother had passed on five years ago, but had been a nurse all her life. When asked the mother’s name, since Mrs. Lyndsay was certain she might have known her, Eric explained that his mother had worked in Montego Bay at the Cornwall Regional Hospital, and no, Mrs. Lyndsay could most definitely not have known her. But no matter, Mrs. Lyndsay was satisfied that Eric had come from good stock, and beamed proudly in the general direction of his voice and scent whenever he was around.

  It was as if Eric had researched every single resident in the house. He knew all their interests. No one was exempt from the spell of Eric McKenzie’s velvet tongue. No one, that is, except three stubborn souls—Nola, Kendra and Nero.

  Nola had already glimpsed the barbed spikes. She’d already seen the bristle hidden beneath that velvet sheath, and she knew that that was all it was—a magician and his tricks.

  And, no compliment, no joke, could do anything to endear dog or child to the man.

  Whenever Nero spotted Eric’s smiling face, the animal would begin a barking that sounded like a persistent dry cough, interrupting the conversation so much that Mrs. Lyndsay would have to take him to the front of the house and tie him to the column.

  And Kendra. Poor Kendra. At first Petra hid the child from Eric, keeping her tucked away in the bedroom when he visited. But on that fateful day, when Kendra was finally brought to meet Eric, the child never stopped wailing. From that day on, every time Kendra laid eyes on Eric McKenzie, her head would fall back to release a wail that Nola was certain must have done just as good a job at chasing away the slugs as the vibrating dome. “She just tired,” Aunt May would murmur, whisking the baby out of the kitchen lest she chase the man away with her dour demeanor.

  It was Mrs. Lyndsay who’d insisted that the baby be brought out. After about Eric’s sixth visit, during which the woman repeatedly asked where the little ‘boogsie’ was and caused Eric to raise curious brows, Petra had had no choice but to reveal her offspring.

  Nola was there. “Clumsy,” he’d greeted softly, squinting for no one else to see but her. Then he’d been bombarded with questions about the nickname for Nola, and he’d laughingly explained how they’d met when Nola had bumped into him at his supermarket and had subsequently looked so lost that he’d offered to drive her home. His story had been followed by a chorus of “Him so kind!” and “What a genkleman!” and a deep frown from Petra. Nola had wanted to shout at the girl, Open your eyes! You don’t see?! You don’t see that squint? You busy watchin’ me when you should be watchin’ him!

  “Such a good heart …” Mrs. Lyndsay had crooned, “… must love children!” And then, “Petra, where’s that little boogsie? Bring her out to meet Eric, nuh?”

  Petra mumbled something about the baby falling asleep.

  “Foolishness!” Nathan had exclaimed. “This time of day Kensey love to come outside and get little afternoon breeze.”

  So Petra had hesitantly explained to Eric that her daughter was not normal. She’d tried to prepare him for the sight, tried to tell him about the ‘Down’s Syndrome’, but Eric had lifted his hand in protest and told her that any daughter of hers must be perfect. So Petra had retrieved Kendra from her hiding place, and Eric had smiled gently when she returned with the baby, and crooned in his sweet voice that the baby was even prettier than her mother. Tears came to Petra’s eyes, and Aunt May nodded her head firmly, as if an important decision had just been made.

  Then Kendra started to wail.

  After the next couple times of the baby screaming into Eric’s face, and Nero howling in unison from the garage, it became clear that there was nothing they could do to stop the hysteria, and her exile was resumed. It was never outrightly stated, that Kendra was being kept away, just that things were immediately found to do with the baby whenever the black car drove up—a bath, or a bottle, or a walk down the road. Eric pretended not to notice the baby’s coincidental disappearances upon his arrivals, and persistently asked for her each time. Sometimes he even brought with him a stuffed toy or new dress from the plaza, handing the gifts to the teary-eyed mother.

  But he was smug. While everyone else had been enthralled at his crooning smile that afternoon when Kendra had first been brought out, Nola had been the only one who’d watched his eyes. It had been a very subtle movement, and probably would have even been undetected if not for that drive home in his car that day.

  When Eric was not pleased, he squinted. Almost an involuntary reaction, a very slight narrowing of the lids, but a movement that was definitely there. And, sure enough, that afternoon when Petra had walked hesitantly towards him with Kendra, Eric had squinted ever so slightly.

  One afternoon, while Nola sat on the curb outside Ab’s shop with Mattie, sharing a bottle of Dragon Stout, she blinked in confusion at the familiar figures of Eric and Petra walking towards the shop. She handed Mattie the bottle and stood up, thinking they were coming to summon her for something, but they just casually walked up to the window and ordered two stouts from Ab.

  Why here?—The place she came to get away from the whole lot of them? Stupid Petra, coming to show off her prize.

  She sat back down quickly and grabbed the stout from Mattie. He wouldn’t stay anyway, she shrugged to herself. His crisp shirt and shiny shoes didn’t go with Ab’s décor of cracked sidewalk and piss-stained walls.

  But, she was wrong. By the time Barry and Bunty, and Keshawn and Panhead came by, they all fell into position—into the awed circle around Eric McKenzie.

  Nola sat on the curb and steamed while Petra beamed beside her prize, nodding sensibly as he told Abediah that he would do better business if he put some tables and chairs on the sidewalk. Ab explained that he had tried over and over, but had been denied the permit that allowed for a restaurant on that street. Eric said he would help him, that he had ‘contacts’, and Ab handed him two more stouts, ‘on the house’.

  The next week, four round plastic tables and 16 chairs arrived at Ab’s. Mams hurried downtown and bought four yellow plastic tablecloths and four plastic bouquets.

  Later that evening, when Eric’s car screeched up to the shop, before they could even thank him for the tables and chairs, he unloaded a boom box from the trunk.

  “Now you can add some real spice to you place,” he told Abediah as he handed the man some cassettes. “Music always make food go down better. People stay longer, buy more drinks.” When asked by Ab if repayment could be made in installments, Eric simply brushed him off and said, “We’ll work someting out, man.”

  So ‘Abediah’s Ital Stop’ adopted a different tone. On Fridays music now blared so loudly that the base vibrated Slugga’s kitchen. But no one complained. In the beginning, Miss Myrtle’s frowning face was brought to the window, but after Eric commissioned a truck to churn globs of black asphalt into the craggy gaps on Palm View and Preston Roads, the head only appeared to beam at the sparkling new road o
utside her window.

  Very soon, strange faces began to appear at Ab’s shop—friends of Eric who came to visit him at his new ‘hang-out’. Ab and Mams happily increased their supply of drinks and food. Even the garage that Barry worked at began to see a rise in business. Cars of Ab’s new patrons were left there for quick washes and tunings while the owners relaxed at Ab. And, with popular requests for ‘something sweet’ after their meals, Ab asked Mattie to supply him with plantain tarts, sugar buns and rock cakes from the bakery.

  It was a good time for everyone. Palm View and Preston Roads were booming, and everyone beamed at Eric as if he was some kind of angel sent from above. And to think, all because of Nola’s clumsy collision with such a ‘nice, nice’ man.

  Of all the friends who visited Eric at the Ital Stop, he seemed closest to a younger man named Pedro. From afar, the two even looked like brothers—same smooth, sifted cocoa colouring, same slim build that allowed for clothing to hang gracefully from their shoulders. But, where Eric’s features were finely sculpted, Pedro’s were thicker. His brow jutted out above his eyes like a shelf, so that the eyes retreated into the shadow of his forehead. Where Eric’s eyes made Nola shiver inwardly, Pedro’s shaded eyes made her quake in her shoes.

  Eric always beckoned for the man to sit beside him, instructing whoever was in that spot, even Petra, to get up. Nola noticed that as the men sat and sipped their drinks, neither of them ever sat with their backs to the road, always favouring the table closest to the shop window, facing the street and shifting their eyes to the road whenever a vehicle drove by. But, while Eric ate happily of the meals that Ab and Mams prepared, Pedro refused all offerings of food. Instead, he sucked on bottles of hot Dragon Stout, all of which he insisted on opening himself. Pedro also never smoked the ganja from Ab’s shop, or from anyone else for that matter. He always pulled his own delicate rolls from his shirt pocket.

  CHAPTER

  35