Gold Hill

by Christian, Claudia Hall

  “Oh great, you’re still here,” the clerk said. “Sorry it took so long.”

  “Did you find them on the bottom shelf?” Yvonne asked.

  “No,” the clerk gave Delphie an irritated look. “Top shelf on the other side.”

  “My mistake,” Delphie smiled and took two bundles of yellow tulips wrapped in plastic. “Sorry.”

  The tone of Delphie’s voice surprised Yvonne more than the words or even that Delphie had made a mistake. Yvonne turned to really look at her friend.

  Something was going on.

  Delphie was never wrong. Never.

  Delphie smiled to acknowledge Yvonne’s thought. Her keeper’s phone rang again. Yvonne watched his bored face shift to irritation and then worry. His eyes glanced at her.

  “No matter what happens,” Delphie said to her in a low voice. “Just go with the flow. Don’t argue or fight it. Promise me.”

  “Go with the flow,” Yvonne replied in the same tone. “Do I get to see Tanni?”

  “Better,” Delphie’s filled with moisture. “Don’t get yourself killed.”

  “Killed?” Yvonne’s hand went to her throat in panic.

  “Just go along,” Delphie said. “Promise me. Repeat it because you won’t be able to write it down.”

  “Go along,” Yvonne repeated what she heard. “Don’t argue or fight it and I get something better than seeing my Tanni for a couple hours. I don’t get killed. I go along.”

  “Good girl,” Delphie said.

  Yvonne gave Delphie a sincere nod. Delphie hugged her tight.

  “Love you, Yvonne,” Delphie said.

  “You too, Delphie,” Yvonne said.

  Delphie gave her the tulips. She walked close to Yvonne’s keeper. He opened his mouth to ask his question but she interrupted.

  “They’ll find you in Florida,” Delphie told him. “No one knows about that property you inherited from your grandmother. The lot and house in Georgia? Take your car. Get to Saint Louis by morning. That’s soon enough. You’ll be in Georgia by end of day. Start a new life. There’s a better one waiting for you there.”

  He bent forward as if he’d been punched in the stomach. She pushed him upright and patted his chest.

  “You’ll be fine,” Delphie said. She raised a hand to wave good-bye to Yvonne and wandered off inside the store.

  “What was that?” he asked.

  Yvonne shrugged and walked over to the check out.

  “You got lots of calls,” Yvonne said. “You remember I don’t work today. Today, I get to have lunch with Tanni.”

  “I know,” he said.

  “Then what about the phone calls?”

  “There’s something going on,” he said. “I’m not quite sure what. We got to get back.”

  “Ok,” Yvonne said.

  She gave the tulips to the clerk to check out. Because the flowers were from the back, they didn’t have a code and no one seemed to know the price. Yvonne and her keeper waited more than fifteen minutes by Yvonne’s watch before they found the clerk and got the price on her flowers. Yvonne paid and then realized she didn’t get a card for Tanesha.

  “I need to get a card,” she said.

  “You need to come with me,” he said. In her ear, he added, “Mr. Aaron’s called three times. He’s freaked out and wants us back.”

  “Okay, Yvonne smiled.

  He took her elbow for support and they made a slow journey out of the store. After walking so far, and standing so long, the journey back was slower and more painful for her keeper. Yvonne didn’t care because she still had time to make a card before Heather came to take her to see Tanni.

  They were under the trees, not quite to the sidewalk across the street from the four-plex, when Yvonne noticed something strange.

  “Isn’t that Shawnie? What’s she doing?”

  Yvonne pointed to a figure laying half in and half out of the apartment next to Yvonne’s. She could see the woman wasn’t wearing her wig. Shawnie never opened her door without her wig on.

  She was wearing what looked like a red T-shirt. But Shawnie never wore red. Shawnie said red made her look like an angry black whore.

  Yvonne stopped walking. Instinctively, she shifted deeper into the shade of the trees. Her keeper leaned forward to look.

  “The doors were kicked in,” Yvonne said. “Every one but mine.”

  Her keeper grabbed her elbow, turned her around, and started marching back toward the store. They walked at a steady clip across the sidewalk in front of the store. He didn’t say a word until they were past the store and in a small parking lot on the other side of the supermarket.

  “We’re in big shit, big shit,” he said in her ear.

  “Where’s your car?” Yvonne asked.

  “It’s down the street,” he pointed to the side street behind the store. “You know I never park near the apartment in case the cops come.”

  “Can we take your car?” she asked.

  “They’re probably waiting for us at the car,” he said. He looked like a terrified little boy. For the first time in all these years of knowing him, Yvonne felt sorry for him.

  “Delphie told you to take your car,” Yvonne said. “I didn’t write it down but it’s been less than an hour. I can remember for an hour and a half.”

  Her keeper gave her a long look. He grabbed her elbow and they took off at a trot. He had just started the car when they heard a muffled explosion. They ducked below the dashboard. When nothing happened, he started down the street.

  Driving past the four-plex, she saw angry orange flames shooting out of her apartment. She’d spent more than fifteen years in that apartment. She had a lot of things in that apartment. Right at this moment, she couldn’t remember what, but she knew that a lot of her personal things were getting burned up. Sitting at the stoplight on Fourteenth Avenue and Krameria Street, she turned around to look. The fire was consuming the entire building. A siren sounded in the distance.

  “I have a full tank,” he said. “How ‘bout if we just drive for a while?”

  She was about to say that she had lunch with Tanni and Heather was coming at noon and she was going to get her hair done and she didn’t want to miss it, when she remembered what Delphie had made her repeat.

  Go with the flow.

  “That sounds nice,” Yvonne said. She rolled down the window and gave the tulips a little toss so they rolled next to the curb.

  “Good,” he said. They continued up Fourteenth Avenue.

  ~~~~~~~~

  Wednesday morning — 8:45 a.m.

  “You don’t have to tell me in depth,” Jeraine said.

  Bumpy was startled. He hadn’t realized Jeraine was awake.

  “Just the Cliff Notes,” Jeraine said. “I’ll just listen. I know you think I don’t know how to do it, but I’ve had to practice for couple’s therapy. And it’s a lot easier when I’m not doing cocaine. I’m actually pretty good at it now.”

  Bumpy glanced at him. He thought for a moment, then nodded.

  “I grew up on a farm out in eastern Colorado, near where your Grannie Louise lives. I couldn’t read, couldn’t write, but my mom . . . ” Overcome with emotion, Bumpy cleared his throat. “She dreamt that an angel told her I was smart. She argued with my dad for . . . months. Finally, in the middle of the night, she put us on a bus and we moved to town so I . . . could have a . . . life. I was twelve. They didn’t have the testing they have now and I was a big kid. They placed me at East High; that’s where I met Seth.”

  “Seth was just back from New York, very cool, and very open to . . . everything, even big, dumb me. He knew right away that I couldn’t read – even bought me my first pair of glasses. Kind of like Charlie, you know Sandy’s brother. I couldn’t read because I couldn’t see the words. That’s why when Seth calls, I always come. I owe the man everything.”

  Listening intently, Jeraine nodded.

  “They called me Lennie Small,” Bumpy said.

  “From Of Mice and Men?” Jeraine
asked.

  Bumpy nodded.

  “Ouch.”

  “Do you know my birth name?” Bumpy asked.

  “No.”

  “Leroy,” Bumpy said. “My mom said it like Lee-roy.”

  “Close to Lennie,” Jeraine said.

  “Close enough,” Bumpy said. “Seth named me Bumpy. Mitch was a jock, popular . . . I mean, everyone loved Mitch. Kind of like you. Mitch made sure everyone only called me Bumpy.”

  “Where are we going today?” Jeraine asked.

  “I thought you were going to just listen?” Bumpy asked.

  Jeraine scowled at him. Bumpy’s eyes were on the road, but he could feel Jeraine staring at the side of his face.

  “We’re going to Dearfield.”

  “Dearfield?” Jeraine asked.

  “It was an all black farming community from around 1910 to about 1940,” Bumpy said. “Your great-grandparents came from Texas to farm there.”

  “When?”

  “1911,” Bumpy said. “Dangerous time because Denver was a hot bed of KKK activity. They used to think any day they’d be wiped out by some band of nuts. But your great-great grandfather was born a slave. He was the force behind the move. His masters called him Jermaine. He changed it to Jeraine so he would have a free name. He changed the family name to Wilson after Woodrow Wilson who was the President when they lived in Dearfield.”

  “Free surname,” Jeraine said.

  “That’s exactly right,” Bumpy said. “That’s why you have the free name of Jeraine Wilson.”

  Jeraine watched his father’s face.

  “My dad was born in Dearfield. Most people left Dearfield during the Great Depression,” Bumpy said. “You remember the three Ds? Your Grannie Louise drilled it into you and LaTonya when you were a kid.”

  “Economic depression, drought, dustbowl,” Jeraine said. “Kinda like now.”

  “Yes, son. That’s why she wanted you to know it,” Bumpy said. “When we get home, I can show you pictures of our family if you’d like.”

  “I’d like that,” Jeraine said. “Why are we going to Dearfield?”

  “We still own land there,” Bumpy said. “It’s our heritage as a family, as a people.”

  “What decisions do we have to make?” Jeraine asked.

  “What to do with that heritage,” Bumpy said. “For our family. For our people.”

  Jeraine waited to see if Bumpy had anything else to say. He didn’t.

  “Thanks for telling me, Dad,” Jeraine said.

  Bumpy nodded.

  Chapter Two Hundred and Five

  Lies

  Wednesday — 10:35 a.m.

  “Hey hon,” Blane said when Heather answered the phone. “Are you watching TV?”

  “No,” Heather said. “I was getting Mack ready for school. He was a little fussy this morning so I let him sleep after you left. He’s just getting around.”

  “Is he all right? Is he sick?” The worry in Blane’s voice made Heather smile.

  “I think it’s another tooth,” Heather said.

  “No fever?”

  “No,” Mack reached up for the phone and Heather smiled. “He’s okay. Plus, we’re just going to lunch and hanging out with Sandy. I can always stop by and pick him up if he’s fussy.”

  “Oh right, lunch,” Blane said. “That’s why I called. Turn on the TV.”

  “Okay.” With Mack on her hip, Heather went into their bedroom and looked for the remote control. “Any idea where the remote is?”

  “Next to the window,” Blane said.

  “You could just tell me what . . . ” Heather clicked on the television. The screen lit up with pictures of an intense fire burning through a building. “Oh.”

  “That’s Tanesha’s mom’s house right?” Blane asked. “We have a crew out in that area vacuuming sewers. They said they heard a gas explosion. The police have cordoned off the entire area.”

  Heather took in scene. The picture switched to a live report in front of the blackened four-plex. She could make out four body sized shapes covered with white sheets. Water continued to stream into the charred remains of the building from fire trucks lining Fourteenth Avenue.

  “They found bodies,” Blane said. “The guys said no one could have survived the fire. You think . . . ?”

  “She’s always there in the morning,” Heather said. “Always. Especially today when she knows I’m coming to get her.”

  As she watched, a black limousine pulled up and State Attorney General Aaron Alvin stepped out.

  “Who’s that?” Heather asked.

  “State Attorney General . . . um . . . Alvin.”

  “Ava’s dad?”

  “The radio says he owns the building,” Blane said. “Westword is running an article tomorrow saying that he ran prostitutes out of the four-plex for decades.”

  “He’s Yvonne’s owner?” Heather was so shocked that Mack made a surprised sound. She looked down at her baby. “He’s a very bad man, Mack. Not like you.”

  Heather watched Ava’s father survey the scene as if he was the injured party.

  “I can’t just watch this,” Heather said. “I have to go see for myself.”

  She jumped into action. Setting Mack in the middle of their King sized bed, she stuffed her feet into exercise shoes.

  “I’ll meet you there,” Blane said.

  “No,” Heather said. “You can’t be near the smoke.”

  “Ok, but don’t go on your own, okay? They haven’t found the source of the gas yet,” Blane said. “Find our truck and the crew will go with you.”

  “Okay,” Heather picked up Mack, grabbed her purse and ran down the stairs. “Oh my God, Blane, I don’t want to have to tell Tanesha that her mother’s dead. She . . . ”

  “She’s always hoped her mom would come home,” Blane said. “I know.”

  Heather ran through the downstairs and to her car.

  “I’ll call you when I know anything,” Heather said.

  “You’ll look for our guys?” Blane asked.

  She dropped Mack into his car seat and fastened the buckles.

  “I will,” Heather said. “Love you.”

  “Love you, Heather,” Blane said. “And . . . I’m really sorry.”

  “The bastard is cleaning his tracks,” Heather said. “Fucker.”

  Heather clicked off the phone before she went into a complete rant. Blane was only just starting to get better. He didn’t need to hear her rage at the man who’d stolen Tanesha’s mother and ruined her friend’s life. She started her Subaru and took Park Avenue to Fourteenth. She was almost there when Mack made a sound.

  Stopped at the light at Holly, Heather looked back to see his fist in his mouth. He laughed as if he was caught doing something he shouldn’t. His small gesture and smile wiped the dark thoughts from Heather’s mind. She switched on a music CD he liked and drove to the edge of King Sooper’s parking lot. She had just pulled into a spot on the street when a man from Lipson Construction tapped on her window. She waved and got out.

  “Blane said you’d come.” He looked worried. “It’s not a great place for a lady and a baby.”

  “My best friend’s mother lives there,” Heather said.

  She got out of the car and went around to get Mack from his car seat. When she stood up, the other two Lipson Construction employees were standing near her.

  “If you’d like, I can take Mack, ma’am,” a young woman said.

  “Oh, no . . . um . . . ” Heather looked up the street at the police, fire trucks, and media circus. She swallowed hard. “Can you just go with me? Would you mind?”

  “Not at all,” the crew chief said. They started walking along the edge of the chaos on Fourteenth Avenue. The crew gathered around her and Heather. “We were working around the corner. Lipson employee owners wanted to try some smaller jobs to see if they were profitable, so Jake got the contract to clean and check the sewers in this area. We’ve been working up here for three weeks.

  “We were
just around the corner,” the young woman said.

  “It’s a risk, with the sewers, you know,” the crew chief said. “If the gas builds up in the sewer, it can explode.”

  “Our work can make that happen,” the man she’d met at the car said.

  “These sewers are a mess,” the young woman said. “Either they weren’t done in the spring or . . . ”

  “We’re choosing to report that this area has heavy usage,” the crew chief said.

  “But we think they weren’t done,” the young woman said.

  “We heard the sound and thought it was from us!” the man she’d met at the car said. “From the sewer!”

  “We checked everything real quick,” the crew chief said.

  “Reported in immediately,” the young woman’s eyes became big. “Then I saw . . . and . . . ”

  As fast as they’d begun chatting, the Lipson crew fell silent. They continued walking until they were standing under the trees across the street. The water from the fire trucks poured into the building. The police directed traffic into the lane in front of them. And State Attorney General Alvin paraded around like an indignant peacock.

  “I’ll tell you, Heather,” the crew chief said in a low voice. “The police told us not to talk to anyone, but since you’re Lipson family, I’ll tell you . . . We were here, right here, not thirty seconds after the explosion and . . . ”

  He swallowed hard.

  “Everyone was dead,” the young woman whispered. Even with the wind and sirens and cars, Heather heard her whispered words like they were shouted from a bull horn next to her ear.

  “There was a woman lying on her face . . . ” the man she’d met at her car pointed to the apartment next to Tanesha’s mom’s place.

  “The fire, not a minute after, was already burning the entire roof,” the crew chief said. “We used hoses but . . . ”

  “They were already dead,” the young woman whispered.

  Heather lowered her head and put her hand over her eyes to block the view for a moment. She felt the young woman lift Mack from her hip. Heather sighed and opened her eyes.

  As if they were placed there just for her to see, two cellophane bundles of yellow tulips sat in the gutter just east of where she was standing. She walked over to them and picked them up. The receipt was tucked into the cellophane wrapper.