Missy's Gentle Giant

by P D Miller

  “So?”

  “I shouldn’t have taken a ride with you.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Don’t you know anything about Mexican customs?”

  “Should I? What’s wrong with me taking you home?”

  “I don’t know what they’ll do if they see you—if the neighbors see you.” She glanced at her hands and then up again.

  “What in the world would they do?”

  “My father and brothers have this wild need to make sure I stay home until I’m eighty.” Her cheeks colored, and Ben felt a smile coming up from within his insides. “If they see you and think something happ—” Totally embarrassed now, she turned her head away again.

  He reached out, grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “What will they do?”

  “Well, they’ll probably beat you up.” Shaking again she looked down at her hands.

  He pulled her chin up until their eyes met and smiled. “I’ve got a lot of fight in me. Are they bigger than me?” His eyes gleamed.

  “I don’t think anyone could be bigger than you.” She swallowed hard, and her cheeks colored again. “But if the neighbors see us—”

  “What if the neighbors see us?”

  “If they start gossiping—” She tried to pull away and her shaking increased.

  “If they gossip?”

  “After my family beats you up, they—”

  “Tell me.”

  “They might make you marry me, and you’d be sorry! There, I said it, now just let me have my suitcase and I’ll walk from here.” Instantly Ben released her with a surprised expression. Still shaking she looked down and reached for the door handle.

  Suddenly furious, Ben stopped her. Both his hands shot up and grabbed her shoulders to pull her around to face him. “Either you give me the damn directions to your house or I’ll take you to a damn motel, call Sanchez Trucking Service and tell them they can get you there.”

  “You wouldn’t!” She went pale and tears jumped into her eyes spilling onto her cheeks. Her teeth chattered.

  “Wanna’ make a bet?” What did he just say? “Now give me the damned directions!”

  “G—g—go down four blocks, t—turn right and g—go two more blocks, t—turn left and it’s the th—third house on the right.”

  “Thank you!” He let her chin go and turned back to the wheel. What the hell was wrong with him? Hell nine brothers and a father could beat him dead! And force him to marry the little mite sitting as close to the right door as she could get? Never! What the hell was wrong with him anyhow? He’d scared the hell out of her. She shook all over, and alligator tears rolled down her cheeks. What the hell had come over him? On an impulse when he reached the last turn, he reached for the horn and let it blast. Melissa jumped. Ben pulled up in front of the white frame house. Was he daft?

  Damn what a poor neighborhood. How in the hell could Gonzalo’s family live in such a little house? Hell, his parents had ten rooms each to themselves plus all the quarters for the hired help. If Gonzalo was dealing in coke, he must be stashing the take somewhere else. Ben shook his head in disbelief, opened the door and climbed out. Again he reached for the horn and let it scream to the neighbors while he helped Melissa from the truck. Only his fury kept him from grinning when he saw her wide eyes of shock. Yeah, she did hear it. He was sure of it now. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a young boy about sixteen come to the door.

  “Amá! Melissa’s here in a big truck!” The boy disappeared, but moments later was followed a heavy set woman as she stepped off the porch.

  Ben reached for the suitcase and purposely hit the horn again while he pulled it out. Melissa went totally pale, glanced around and swallowed hard. She did hear it! Damn he wanted everyone on the damn block to see them! How could they be so narrow minded? Force him to marry her as if they’d done something wrong? And hell, if they were going to beat him up, he might as well have some fun with it.

  Ben lowered Melissa from the truck. She saw her mother and ran to her. “Oh Mama, my car broke down and he brought me into town, but when I asked him to let me walk to the house he wouldn’t.” Melissa buried her head against her mother.

  Fury hit him, and Ben dropped the suitcase with a loud thud on the sidewalk. “My name is BEN SPINELLI and I’m an ITALIAN, Mrs. Sanchez!” He glared angrily. “ITALIANS do not drop RESPECTABLE GIRLS off and leave them to walk home! ITALIANS drop CHEAP GIRLS off to walk because they’re ashamed to be seen with them! ITALIANS take RESPECTABLE girls home and make sure their parents meet them—him—so they know who their daughter’s with.” Ben took several deep breaths trying to cool his temper. He looked around for her brothers. What the hell was he doing? “Now you’ve met me and Missy’s safe. Tell her brothers and her father if they want to discuss this further, they can find me, BEN SPINELLI, at the first damn motel up the road. I’ll be ready for them.” Ben turned on his heals and started for his truck.

  He stopped and turned back to Mrs. Sanchez. “Tell Missy—oh to hell with it—forget it.” He waved and climbed in his truck. He didn’t see the smile on Mrs. Sanchez’s face as he drove off blasting the horn one more time just for the hell of it! Damn, he was losing his mind. What the hell made him do such a stupid thing? Practically invited all her brothers and father to come and kill him!

  Oh, his father would love it! His dad could add it to the list of stupid choices Ben had made rather than take over the damn chain of stores his father owned. Angrily Ben pulled into the first motel he saw and registered.

  A few moments later, he dropped the keys to the room on a nightstand and rubbed the back of his neck. He was supposed to find out which one of her family was pushing coke! Great way to start things off. Feeling very tired, he dropped on the bed. He ached from being cramped up and sitting, and as usual the bed was too damn short. Worse, his brain was useless. After pulling off his clothes, he lay back, rolled over on his stomach, pulled himself up on the too short bed from the left top corner to right bottom corner so he could stretch out and fell into a dreamless sleep.

  Chapter Two

  Later in the evening Mr. Sanchez hovered worriedly over his only daughter. “All right now, Melissa you’ve had plenty of time to calm down.” He patted her on the shoulder. “Just tell me what happened.”

  “My—my car broke down and he stopped and tried to fix it. He said it was my—no—Abigail’s rear end and more like a heart attack than a heat stroke. Anyway I asked him if he’d take me to the next gas station and—and—”

  “And?” Mother and father asked in unison.

  “He got mad at me and said he wouldn’t.” Melissa bit her lip. “Then he said he’d bring me to McAllen, got my suitcase and threw it in his truck.”

  “Melissa why the hell’s your car been towed to the shop?” Gonzalo burst into the living room. “And who the hell paid the towing charges?”

  “Quiet!” Mr. Sanchez put his hand up. “Go on Melissa, what did he do?”

  “He?” Gonzalo stopped stunned.

  “Quiet!”

  “He—he—when we got to McAllen, he asked me where I live. I didn’t want to tell him because I didn’t want the neighbors seeing me get out of his truck, and he—”

  “Who the hell is she talking about?” Gonzalo yelled.

  “The trucker who brought her home when her car broke down. Be quiet, son.” Mrs. Sanchez smiled at Gonzalo.

  “Who the hell was he?” His mother smiled? Some damn trucker brought Melissa home and his mother smiled?

  “We don’t know.”

  “You don’t know? How the hell can I kill the bastard?”

  “Now calm down, Gonzalo.”

  “Calm down? My baby sister let a strange man bring her home and in a truck no less, and you want me to calm down?”

  “Yes, now shut up, dammit!” Mrs. Salinas glared. Three more heads appeared in the living room.

  “Melissa, tell me—what did he do when you didn’t want to give him our address.”
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  “He—he got mad at me again and told me if I didn’t tell him, he was going to take me to a motel and—”

  “The damned bastard!” Mr. Salinas and Gonzalo said in unison.

  “And?” Mrs. Sanchez grinned.

  “He said he’d call the trucking service and tell them to pick me up at the motel.” Melissa looked up. “Mama he didn’t do anything wrong—”

  “I know.” Mrs. Sanchez pulled her daughter into her arms. “I know.”

  “I’ll kill him!” Gonzalo stomped. “I swear I’ll—”

  “You’ll do no such thing!” Mrs. Sanchez glared. “Both of you will—” She looked around the room. “All of you will sit down and cool off while I get Melissa up to bed. “And you’ll wait until I come back downstairs. Do you hear me?” She glared at her husband who was the first to sit.

  “Whatever you say, Mother.”

  “Fine!” She reached for Melissa’s chin and pulled it up. “Melissa dear, it’s over now and we don’t care what the neighbors say. Your father and I trust you and know nothing happened.” She glared at her family; then smiled at Melissa. “Come now, I think you need to get some rest.”

  Everyone watched until Melissa and Mrs. Sanchez left the room. Gonzalo jumped up. “I’ll kill him! As soon as I find him, I’ll kill him!”

  “Might need some help.” Mr. Sanchez picked at the little doily on the arm of the sofa.

  “What the hell are you—”

  “Ricardo says he’s a giant.”

  “A what?”

  “A giant—much, much bigger than Marco—not only taller but all over bigger.”

  “You saw him?” Gonzalo turned to his little brother.

  “Yeah, he scared me he was so big.” Ricardo laughed. “After blasting his horn, he jumped down from the new truck and screamed for everyone to hear how he was an Italian and how Italians took nice girls home rather than leave them to walk.”

  “He screamed it?”

  “Yeah, ain’t no one on the block who could miss it.” Ricardo laughed and shrugged. “Guess that’s why Melissa’s shook up. Even honked his horn a couple of times afterwards. Made sure everyone knew he brought her home.”

  “Great!” Gonzalo raked his fingers through his hair and glanced at his father. “Great! Now what the hell do we do?”

  “I don’t know. I was dead set on going after him, but your mother says—”

  “He even told Mom how you could find him—” Ricardo laughed.

  “What?” Gonzalo turned to his brother.

  “I heard him. He yelled it, tell her brothers and father my name is Ben Spinelli, and I’ll be at the first motel—”

  “Spinelli?” Charger? Gonzolo’s face went pale. “What kind of truck was he driving?”

  “Brand new big rig—” Ricardo smiled. “New York license plates! I remember because they were a funny—”

  “You’re sure?” Gonzalo leaned over Ricardo with furious, threatening eyes.

  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  “And he said his name was Spinelli?”

  “Yeah, Italian—”

  “Dammit!” Gonzalo stiffened and raked his fingers through his hair. “Dammit!”

  “Gonzalo what’s wrong?”

  “If it’s—he’s a womanizer—he’s wild and crazy—damn, he lives just for kicks and what he can get from—” Gonzalo slapped his hand on his forehead.

  “Gonzalo what are you talking about?”

  “If it’s the same person, we were in Iraq together. He saved my—the son of—”

  “What on earth is wrong with you?” Mrs. Sanchez walked back into the room.

  “Did the guy say his name was Spinelli?” Gonzalo turned toward her.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Ben Spinelli?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “I’ll find him if it’s the last thing I do!” Gonzalo spun toward the door.

  “And when you do, you’ll bring him back here as a guest.” Mrs. Sanchez put her hands on her hips.

  “As a what?” Marco asked as four people’s mouths dropped open and Gonzalo stopped dead in his tracks.

  “Loud and clear he told me he couldn’t accept our custom of hiding the fact he brought Melissa home.”

  “So did he have to tell all the neighbors?”

  “Would they not notice a brand new tractor trailer? Loud and clear for everyone to hear, he told me he brought her to the house because according to his customs he should do so with a nice, respectable girl. He even said he’d willingly face you if you disagreed with his decision. He as much as said he couldn’t bear to leave Melissa to walk home alone—and in spite of you and what you might do, he had to bring her to me. He even said his name twice.”

  “If it was his name.” Mr. Sanchez scowled.

  “Mom—” Gonzalo frowned. “Was he so big Ricardo might see him as a giant?”

  “Yes, I did too.

  “Then he gave the right name.” Gonzalo nodded at his father. “I have to find him.” He glanced at the door. “We were in Iraq together, and he—I have to find him.” Gonzalo raced out the door.

  Ben groaned, blinked his eyes and wondered what woke him. He shook his head and heard the doorbell; no it was a damn phone. Did he even see a damn phone when he came in? Where the hell was the phone? Slowly he reached for the lamp willing the noise to stop. He rubbed his eyes, saw the phone right beside the clock and picked up the receiver.

  “Yeah?”

  “You bastard!”

  “Huh?” Ben pulled the receiver away from his ear and stared at it.

  “What did you do to my sister?”

  “I didn’t do—your sister?” Ben raked his fingers through his hair and rubbed his neck.

  “We’re right outside, you son of a—”

  “Wait a minute—” Totally confused, he sat up.

  “Bringing her home and making an announcement about it yet! Outside! Come outside and face us.”

  “Look I just—” Ben blinked.

  “So you’re going to turn yellow now, huh?”

  “I’m what?” Ben shook his head. He hadn’t expected a fight, at least not in the middle of the night. “Look, why don’t you come back—”

  “No! Now dammit! Come out and face us like a man!”

  “Look—”

  “Oh, the screaming Italian has lost his nerve?”

  “Is this about my taking Missy home?” His head finally cleared.

  “You’re damn right it is!”

  “What do you want?”

  “You! Outside right now! You’re dead meat!”

  “Yeah, right.” He dropped the receiver, pulled himself up from the bed and reached for his pants. Ah hell, he’d been in fights in the middle of the night before. Might as well get it over with. He braced himself and opened the door.

  “Charger! You bastard!” Gonzalo stood in front of the door with a wild grin. “I ought to kick your ass!”

  “But you won’t?” Ben blinked surprised.

  “Not until I hear what the hell happened.”

  “Great!” Ben leaned tiredly against the door. “To tell the truth, I’m too damned tired to fight anyone right now.” He shook his head and pulled back so anyone could enter. He was surprised to see only Gonzalo. “No one else?”

  “The others will get you later.” Gonzalo grinned. “Damn! Four years! What the hell have you been doing?”

  “Trying to make it.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “Look—about your kid sister, I knew who she was the minute she said to have the car delivered to Sanchez Trucking Service.”

  “So why the big show in front of my house?”

  “Honesty?”

  “Yeah, I need honesty when it comes to you.”

  “Still think I’m a creep, huh?” Ben shook his head.

  “Not a creep Charger—just never could figure out how you always came out smelling like a rose.”

  “Would you believe my father used his influence?”

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sp; “In Iraq?”

  “Some of it was rotten luck on my part too.” Ben grinned.

  “I’m more inclined to believe it. Why the show in front of my house?”

  “I told your mother.”

  “But everyone else too?’

  “Yeah well, it grabbed me the wrong way when Missy said the neighbors might gossip.”

  “She was right; they will.”

  “Two people can’t get out of a truck without them thinking the worst?”

  “Missy’s different. The neighbors watch out for her.” Gonzalo looked away.

  “Yeah, she told me.” Ben touched his forehead and dropped on the bed.

  “Hey man, what happened to your head?”

  “Abigail’s rear end hit it.” Ben grinned.

  “Abigail?”

  “Missy’s car?” Ben’s grin widened.

  “Oh yeah. How come you paid the towing charge?”

  “The guy was worried about being paid, so I gave him a credit card number.”

  “So what brings you all the way down here?” Gonzalo dropped in a chair. “Trucking is the last thing I thought you’d be doing.”

  “Hauling a load of furniture to Harlingen.”

  “New truck—you haven’t been at it long. Should have come down Highway 77.”

  “Took a detour.” Ben grinned. “Had to stop and see someone in Three Rivers before I left civilization.”

  Gonzalo laughed. “Now that sounds like you.”

  “You been in trucking long Gonzalo?”

  “Since I came back from Iraq. It’s a family thing—Pop, my brothers and me.”

  “Run many trucks?”

  “Only have six.” Gonzalo rubbed his hands together. “Things are pretty slow now.”

  “I’d think you could do quite well with six trucks.” Ben rose and walked to the bathroom, ran some cold water and soaked his face.

  “We’re having trouble getting loads, and I have eight trucks to pay for. Gets rough sometimes.” Gonzalo stood up and grinned. “How about getting some coffee somewhere?”

  “Sounds good to me.” Ben reached for a shirt.

  “Damn, it’s good to see you Charger.” Gonzalo smiled. “But I sure as hell never expected to see you trucking—a hit man for the Mafioso maybe—but trucking, never.”