by Cheri Lewis
I point with my thumb behind me. “There’s all kinds of stuff she’s got frozen, I’ll go check.”
He shakes his head. “Why don’t we just order a pizza? You look like you’ve been working hard all day.”
That sounds great. “Pizza’s great! That’ll give me time to take a shower.”
He opens the top of a pouch on his belt and pulls out his phone. “Okay, I’ll order. What you want?”
“I’ll eat anything, well except anchovies, but if you want them just get them on your half of the pizza. And will you order some wings with mild sauce?”
He put his hand over his heart. “I’m in love! A woman who eats anything on her pizza, likes wings and does yard work. Are you single?”
I can’t help but smile; boy, he is a flirter and now I have a pretty good idea how he got his name. “A little,” I reply.
He smiles and wiggles his eyebrows. “Hey, I don’t need much, that’s a start so there’s hope.”
I roll my eyes. I can tell he’s only kidding around but it was still cute, “I’m going to get a shower.”
“Hey, if you need any help, I’ve got lots of experience washing things.”
I spin around shocked. I can immediately tell he really was only joking, but still, “Oh, I bet you do. But I’m good. Does that line really work on women?”
His chubby face lights up in a smile. “It does at Weasel’s.”
I raise my eyebrows, and then leave him in the front lobby. I wonder if that’s what Tank is doing right now at Weasel’s. Picking up a biker woman. I feel something stir inside of me at the thought of him picking up a skank at a biker bar which causes me to frown. And what kind of name is that anyway? Weasel’s.
After my shower Cootie and I sit on the basement living room floor, devour a meat lover’s pizza and play go fish. He tries to get me to play poker but I kindly decline. I notice he keeps checking his watch so I ask, “Everything alright?”
“Yeah it’s just been awhile; they should be getting back soon. I just know how he gets; Alex can handle him with no problem. But you know what? It might be best if you stay downstairs once he gets home.”
“Is it that bad?”
He blows out a large puff of air and stares into space, a sad look coming over his face “After Suzie died, he had a lot of guilt and he still has a lot of guilt. He doesn’t know we know but they were having problems at home and he just feels like if he’d been there all of it could’ve been avoided.”
I think about that a moment before I say, “He has to know it’s not his fault. I mean they were murdered, I know, but it wasn’t him who murdered them.”
He raises his hands. “Hey, I know. We’ve all told him the same thing but he still blames himself.”
“What happened exactly? Can you tell me?”
“I can tell you what you’ve read in the newspapers.”
I nod in understanding. Cootie’s phone lights up and chirps, causing him to stand straight up from the floor. He picks his gun up off the coffee table, “You stay down here, lock yourself in your room.”
“What is it?” I whisper.
“The perimeter alarm. Somebody’s here that isn’t supposed to be.” He replies as he takes two stairs at the time.
What if it’s Jessie? Or my parents came back. They may have forgotten something. I remember Tank’s and Alexander’s phones chirped that same way this morning when my parents showed up unannounced. But Tank’s phone didn’t go off the first night my parents came over. I sit in fear completely confused. Has Cootie met Jessie yet? I can’t stand not knowing any longer. I run to my room and slide my shoes on, then creep slowly up the steps listening for any unusual sounds. I can hear what sounds like someone moaning, Oh shit, somebody is in the house and they’ve hurt Cootie.
I crouch low behind the kitchen cabinet and continue to listen. My heart races and I have to calm myself down; I take in a few deep breaths trying to get my breathing under control. “Where is she?” my fear subsides when I recognize the voice.
“She’s downstairs,” Cootie replies.
“You call and get Peacock or Hunter over here or anybody 'til we can get back,” Alexander orders.
“You know you’re bleeding right?” Bleeding, what is going on?
“Fully aware, and now I get to explain to Millie why I’m bleeding.” He sounds less than happy about that.
“Millie, who’s Millie? Dude, put a bandage on it. She’ll never notice it,” Cootie replies quickly.
I don’t hear his response but I hear more moaning. I stand and walk into the front lobby then I ask, “What’s going on?”
Tank is slumped over the chair. Alexander has a rip in his black shirt and it was stuck to his body like it was damp. His hair is still pulled back but you can tell it’s a mess. Tank moans again. He reeks of alcohol and cigarettes. Which reminds me, I haven’t seen him smoke since the day I met him.
Alexander looks at me. “There’s a first aid kit in his office against the wall next to the safe.”
I quickly turn to go get it and when I get back they have moved him to where he’s sitting up in the chair. I can see his face is bruised and he has a nice cut above his eye. Alexander checks his watch. “Look I’ve got to go back and get my truck and he better pray to God those bikers don’t find it and don’t fuck with it.”
“Hunter’s on his way. Somebody that’s on duty will sit out front until Hunter gets here,” Cootie says fast.
Alexander grabs a large bandage out of the kit, pulls the wrapping off and then eases up his shirt. I gasp loudly and he cuts his eyes to me. “It’s not as bad as it looks.” He slaps the bandage over it and drops his shirt.
Alexander turns and walks out the front door, Cootie quickly says as he’s walking out the door, “Look, if you hear that noise again you call 911, but everything should be fine. Hunter will be here in a few minutes and I’ll be back, too. Just leave him in the chair. I’ll deal with him when I get back. Don't forget to lock the dead bolt behind me.”
I lock the door, then go and sit in the chair across from Tank. I watch him breathe slowly in and out. If he didn’t have the bruises, the bad cut, and reek of alcohol, it would seem like he was sleeping like a baby. He moans again and moves his head over in the other direction. Blood smears on the cloth of the chair. I stand and grab some gauze from the first aid kit. I gently move his head and stick the gauze underneath, then let his head fall back. He grumbles a little more, then breathes quietly again.
The front door knob jiggles and as I stare at the door frozen with panic; it jiggles again. Three knocks sound. “Sunshine, let me in. It’s locked!”
I race the few steps to the door and open it. “Thank God you’re here! I don’t think I could be here another second by myself.”
“What’s wrong?” He studies me.
And I study him right back, it’s apparent something is very wrong with him and it isn’t good, “You first,” I say. “What’s wrong with you?”
He drops his head and quietly states, “They’re moving to Florida.”
“Oh…OH.”
“My mother wants me to come with them.”
Tears instantly hit my eyes. “What are you going to do?”
He opens his mouth and then his eyes zero in on Tank. “What in the world?”
“He’s drunk.”
He walks past me and stands in front of Tank with his arms crossed. He frowns. “I didn’t have him pegged as a drunk.”
“This is only the second time I’ve seen him this way and the first time, he wasn’t like this but he smelled of alcohol pretty badly.”
He sighs. “Come on, sunshine, let’s get him up and get him to bed. Where’s his bedroom?”
I shrug my shoulders. “I have no idea. He says he sleeps on a couch.”
“On this floor? Or upstairs or down?”
“Jessie, I don’t know and Cootie said he would be back in a little while and he would deal with him. He says he’s hard to handle when he’s had too much to d
rink.”
Jessie huffs. “He’s not hard to handle; hard to handle was the man who went to bed with my mother and made me. Come on, let’s get him up. Carrying him downstairs will be easier than carrying him upstairs.”
“I don’t know about that,” I argue thinking back to riding the mattress down the stairs to the basement.
He reaches under Tank’s arms and lifts him up, hugging him to his chest. “Grab an arm and get on the other side,” he orders.
It takes us a few minutes but we finally get him downstairs and put him in my bed. I grab the trashcan out of the bathroom in case he needs to throw up, then unbuckle his boots. Jessie brings me a wet washcloth and says, “Boy, he’s living up to his name, he’s tanked… Here put this on his forehead. I’m going to go get a bottle of water for him and make me some coffee. You want anything?”
“Yes, please. Water would be great.”
I sit on the bed beside him; I gently put the washcloth across his forehead, and then rub my hand lightly down his cheek, his five o’clock shadow scrubbing my hand, “Oh Tank, now you’re going to have another scar to match your others.”
I pick up his hand and hold it in mine. I run my fingers over the scars on his knuckles. “What fights caused all of these?” I ask, quietly but get no response.
His grip tightens and he moans again. I try to let his hand go but he grabs a hold even tighter, and mumbles. “Don’t leave me, not again,” he pleads. Boy, he’s really drunk. He pulls my hand toward him and I lean forward. I sit up higher on my legs checking to see if he’s awake but he isn’t. I wait a few moments before I pull my hand away.
Jessie walks in, sets a bottled water on the table beside the bed, and then hands me one. His coffee smells great. “What’s the plan?” he asks.
I stare at Tank. “I don’t want to leave him, not like this.”
I look back up at Jessie and he arches an eyebrow as he asks, “Slumber party?”
A huge smile spreads across my face and my heart dances. “Yes! It’s been too long.”
We begin grabbing all the items we will need to have one of our fabulous slumber parties we’ve had over the years. Couch cushions, blankets, pillows, food, make up, and anything else we can think of. We pile it all in the bedroom floor and assemble our little nest neatly. We drag a chair into the room then take turns doing each other’s hair. Cootie comes and goes just as fast; apparently slumber parties aren’t his idea of fun. We finally settle down Jessie flips the light switch and we lie down and get comfortable facing each other on our makeshift pallet. I ask somberly, “What are you going to do?”
He knows immediately what I’m referring too. “I gotta leave her sometime.”
“So you’re not going to move with them?”
He sighs. “You know I swore I’d never leave her.”
“I know but we’re adults now, well sorta,” I joke.
He seems lost in thought then says, “I was eight when I came home from school and found my mother curled up in a ball under the kitchen table. He’d beat her again. Part of me was thankful I wasn’t home and then part of me wished I’d been there to take it so she didn’t have to. God sunshine, it was so bad. He didn’t use his fists. He used a belt— the whole belt— including the buckle. ”
Tears hit my eyes. “Oh Jessie,” I cry and quickly scoot over and lay my head on his chest hugging my body around him. I’m in a little bit of shock because he never talks about his biological father. In a low voice he finishes, “That day I promised her I’d never leave her alone ever again, and I remember praying to God for something to make the horrible man go away. The next day, he died.” I listen to his heartbeat. He breathes slowly in and out. He finally continues after a long silence, “I know my stepdad doesn’t want me to come… to Florida… I could see it in his eyes. Not in a bad way, I just think he wants time with just him and my mother. And that’s nice actually because after all these years together he still wants to be with her.”
“Jessie, have you ever thought that your biological father dying wasn’t the taking him away part, I mean it was in a big way, but God sending you your father now. He sent someone to save both of you, to look after both of you and someone to love both of you.”
His arm tightens around me in a hug then he begins twirling my hair as he says, “Sunshine, believe me, I know how lucky we both are that he came into our lives.”
We lay in silence a long while when Jessie states, “I wish I could sleep that good. Man he’s out.”
“I know, he must be plastered. I can’t believe he didn’t wake up when we carried him down the stairs.”
“I can’t believe he didn’t wake up when you ran his head into the wall.”
“Oh stop it. It wasn’t that bad.”
“Get Coot—” came muffled from the other side of the room. Jessie and I quickly sit up, when he says it again. “Get Cootie,” Tank whispers. I jump up and go to Tank who was lying on the bed with his eyes open but still not moving, Jessie flips the light switch. We both blink a few times allowing our eyes to get adjusted.
I lean over him. “You’re alright. Get some rest. Do you feel sick?”
He reaches over and grabs my hand. “Get Cootie now and tell him to bring his bag.”
“I don’t know where he is and what bag do you need?” I ask confused.
Tank began to move slowly and I can hear the alarm in his voice when he asks, “Who’s—who’s watching you?”
My eyes go wide and I shrug, “I really don’t know. After Alexander went and got you from Weasel's—”
I look up at Jessie when he ask, “Weasel's!? Who is Weasel?”
“Hold on,” I say back to Jessie, then I continue talking to Tank, “After Alexander brought you here, he and Cootie went back to get his truck and, just so you know, he was a little pissed about that.”
Tank has barely even made it half way sitting up when he grabs his head and lays back down on the pillow. “My head is killing me. I need you to get my cell phone out of my pocket, call Cootie tell him to get here now and bring his bag.”
“We checked your pockets when you got here. No phone.”
“I forgot. It’s in my vehicle.”
I turn around to Jessie “Go get my cell phone. Call the police station and ask them for Cootie's number or for them to call him.”
He put his hand on his hip. “Do you know how ridiculous I’m going to sound calling a police station and asking for Cootie?”
I huff in exasperation. “Wait, hold on, his name is Bruce, Officer Bruce.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back.”
I reach over and grab the bottle of water off the nightstand. “Here you need to drink something.”
He slowly shook his head, “I can’t until Cootie gets here. I’m sure someone put something in my drink.”
“Put something in your drink, like drugged you?” I ask.
He closes his eyes. “Yeah, one second I was fine, the next I remember trying to stand to walk but after that everything went blurry.”
“You think someone roofied you?”
“I won’t know ‘til we get some blood work done.”
“Oh… why would somebody roofie you?” I ask again confused.
“I… don’t… know…” he replies annoyed.
“Do you think it was—?”
He reaches over and lays his hand over mine, this time with a kind tone said, “McKinsey I don’t know.”
I shake my head and stare at his bruised face. “I was hoping that it was all over. We haven’t had anything else happen since I got those dumb cookies.”
His fingers lightly caress my hand and it feels nice. “We’re going to get him.” He promises.
“I believe you,” I whisper.
“We’re here!” Jessie announces from the hallway.
They both enter the room with Jessie stopping at our pallet on the floor but Cootie comes around the bed carrying a black bag as he says, “I was out front, I didn’t know how long you’d be out.”
Tank leans up on his elbows with his eyes half open. “I need you to take my blood. Somebody slipped something into my drink and I want to know what it was.”
Cootie pauses and I can tell he’s contemplating something, so I ask, “What is it?”
“You know, I thought it was odd you weren’t talking last night when Alexander brought you back. You want me to do something about that cut, too, while I’m here?”
Tank reaches up and lightly feels his forehead. “Yeah. What happened anyway?”
“All I know is you got damn lucky Alexander went to find you. A piece of tuna had her claws all over you; he said it was pretty bad. You were drunk and she didn’t care.”
“Tuna?” Jessie and I both ask aloud.
Cootie who is busy doing medical things to Tank turns and looks at us but seems embarrassed. “Yeah, tuna… you know.”
“Oh that’s just gross!” Jessie shrieks.
I look at him confused; he leans in and whispers, “A woman’s va-jay-jay,” then waves his hand back and forth in front of his nose.
My face instantly wrinkles. “Oh man, that’s disgusting,” I cry absolutely repulsed.
Cootie grimaces then nods at Tank and says, “He would’ve regretted it more.”
I back up a few steps. “I’m out, I’m going to watch TV.”
Jessie immediately agrees, “Me, too, I’m right behind you.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
A Very Busy Day
The next morning I lay in bed listening to Jessie singing and apparently practicing dance moves to Hollaback Girl in the shower. Prima is kneading on my belly begging me to wake up and feed her. My mind is racing over all the things going on in my life: serial killer… Zebib… Tank possibly being drugged… Jessie’s parents moving… the disco for my mother's fundraiser in two weeks… my job… missing my house… basically my entire life is falling apart and it doesn’t look like it’s going to get straightened out any time soon. I crawl out of bed feeling sorry for myself, Prima constantly meowing at my heels. I turn around and face her and fuss, “Hold on. I gotta pee, dang.” I open the door to the bathroom and can barely breath it’s so steamy in here, “Hey, I’m in here, sorry but I really had to go.” I call out to Jessie.