The House of Wolfe

by James Carlos Blake

  However, people being how they are, a nasty rumor about Charlie and Jess began to circulate not long after they started living together. Frank or I or anyone else of the family would have loved to be the ones to deal with whoever started it, but we all knew Charlie would want to attend to it himself. He made inquiries and learned the rumor had originated with a former football teammate who’d long been resentful of Charlie’s having stolen a girlfriend from him. The fella now owned his own construction company, and that’s where Charlie ran him down one morning. Frank and I tagged along to make sure nobody else stepped in. The guy had been a defensive end and was every bit Charlie’s size, but Charlie pounded his ass from one end of the parking lot to the other. The fight being in public view, somebody called the police and they showed up pretty quick, which was a good thing or Charlie might’ve hurt the guy even worse. As it was, he was all busted up—broken jaw, one eye shut, a broken foot where Charlie stomped his arch, a few other ailments. Nonetheless, he was able to convey to the cops that he’d been the one to start the fight and didn’t want to press charges, which all in all was a right thing to do. Not too long afterward, Jessie got a note from the fella, expressing his regret for having said the awful lies he did and asking her to forgive him. She asked Charlie if she should, and he said it was up to her. And she did.

  At the conclusion of her high school graduation ceremony, Jessie came running up to the family bunch of us in attendance and waved her diploma in Charlie’s face, saying, “My emancipation paper, Mr. Charles Fortune Wolfe! I’m free of you at last!” Then she flung herself on him and whooped like a kid as he whirled her around.

  Yeah. If anybody else knows Charlie as well as Frank and I do, it can only be Jessie.

  III

  17 — JESSIE

  She awakens in fright and confusion, staring at a puzzling gray blankness. She’s lying on her side. A knot of pain pulses in the center of her chest. She’s wrapped in a blanket, her head half-shawled with it, her face only partially exposed to the grayness before her. Despite the blanket she’s cold.

  She makes no move, no sound. Takes shallow, silent breaths through her open mouth. Listens hard. All as Charlie had taught her, though she had not believed she would ever have need of such instruction. She senses a proximity of others but hears no voices. The only sound is a low, drumming monotone, not unfamiliar, yet it takes her a minute to recognize it as rain on the roof. And now she remembers she’s on a cot in a dimly lighted room and understands that she’s staring at a bare wall not a foot from her face.

  Then she remembers everything. . . . Running through the streets and alleys. The fight with Apache. Crossing from roof to roof. The sight of the bright lights of better streets—how close those streets had seemed! The old pickup truck and the blond man and the astonishing pain of his punch. The little room and being bound to the bed. Being made naked. The Apache . . . the miserable failure of her vow not to cry.

  She thinks of Catalina, who has never wept in self-pity. Tears are a natural part of life, Aunt Cat has told her, and at times unavoidable, as with great grief or great pain. Tears of self-pity, however, are inexcusable and always to be withheld. The thought that Catalina would be ashamed of her for weeping prompts an urge to cry again, but she locks her jaws against it and derides herself for even having to fight the impulse. I’m sorry I cried in weakness, Señora, she thinks. Forgive me. No more. I swear. . . .

  When the Apache had finished with her, he’d picked up her torn underwear and wiped his cock with it and hung it on her big toe and laughed when she kicked it away and called him a cowardly shit. As he put on his pants he remarked to the blond man that he ought to take a turn while the opportunity was there. The blond made no response but just sat staring at the floor, still holding the pistol. She had never before wanted to cause anyone pain, but she nearly quivered in her desire to inflict screaming agony on the blond man and the Apache. Her capacity for vengeance was a frightening realization.

  Without looking at him, the blond told the Apache to take over for Gallo as outside lookout. You’re on till dawn, he said.

  Gallo, Jessie had thought. The hook-nosed guy. Rooster-looking.

  Why do I get the graveyard shift? the Apache said.

  Just do it, the blond man said.

  The Apache stared at him, then showed Jessie his mutilated smile and blew her a kiss. Then he went out and slammed the door.

  The blond then covered her with the sheet and went out too.

  Bound to the seamy bed in the cold little room that still held the smell of the Apache, she had never felt so helpless in her life. So alone. There’s a future beyond this room, she told herself, but had been hard-pressed to imagine it. Nor could she have said how much time passed before the blond man returned, seeming angry, though not with her, carrying a plastic bottle of water and a full paper grocery bag. He set the water on the bed and then emptied the bag’s contents beside it—a change of clothes, plus a small towel and a washcloth—then freed her from her bonds.

  She sat up and held the sheet to her breasts with her forearms so that she could massage her sore wrists and half-numb hands. He went back to the chair and sat down and partially averted his eyes while she turned her back to him and wet the washcloth and cleaned herself, then dried off with the towel and got dressed. The cotton panties were large but the elastic waistband sufficed to keep them up. She forwent the strapless bra—the act of putting it back on seemed somehow too intimate to perform in front of the blond—and pulled on a big yellow T-shirt. The khaki trousers were loose at the waist but snug on her hips, and she had to roll up the legs a little. She guessed they belonged to a teenage boy. The warmth of the large gray sweatshirt was unexpected—she hadn’t been conscious of how cold she was. After washing and patting dry the abrasions on her feet she pulled on a pair of thick wool socks and marveled at their comfort. Her soles hurt but she could walk without limping.

  He took her up the stairway to a narrow unadorned hallway with only one window—at the far end of the hall—and one door, midway down and on the left. The blond man opened it and stepped aside to let her enter before him into a large stark room that, together with the hallway, constituted the entire upper story.

  Directly across the room and between its only two windows, their drapes closed, sat two men who looked up at her from the magazines in their laps, the hook-nosed Gallo and a slight man who looked too young for his wispy-white, billy-goat beard—aptly named Cabrito, she would soon learn. They were in shirtsleeves and sat on chairs to either side of a small table and low-watt floor lamp, the room’s sole lighting, the Cabrito one apparently unarmed, Gallo with a shoulder-holstered Glock.

  Good to see you again, wildcat, the Gallo one said to her. Dressed a little less formal than last time, I see.

  She wondered if he knew what happened downstairs. If all the bastards knew. Her eyes burned and she thought, So what if they do? Damn them all.

  Sitting coatless on a cot positioned lengthwise along the right-side wall, young José Belmonte, his hands still cuffed behind him, was staring at her with an expression of confused awe, but he lowered his face when she looked at him. Jessie wondered if he knew. On an adjoining cot, Aldo lay on his side and facing her, also coatless and still cuffed, but his eyes were closed and the cheekbone under one of them was darkly swollen. His respiration raspy.

  Susi and Luz sat on cots along the front wall, unbound and barefoot and still in their ceremonial dresses, but their shawls had been returned to them and they held them around their arms and shoulders. Their faces were unreadable. Jessie found it hard to envision the image she presented to them.

  She was relieved to see the Apache was not there. She’d feared he might be, despite the blond having ordered him to replace Gallo on outside watch. It angered her to be so afraid of him.

  The blond ushered her to a cot next to Luz’s in the far corner of the front wall. As soon as she sat down she was dizz
y and felt herself sway, but the blond caught her by the shoulders and eased her onto her back.

  Better? he said.

  She nodded. But the discolored ceiling began to waver and she closed her eyes to it.

  She heard him tell the others they were now permitted to talk among themselves and that they would soon be fed. He was still speaking as his voice faded, and then she was aware of nothing more. . . .

  Staring at the shadowy gray wall before her, she hurts everywhere. Chest and stomach, joints, muscles. Her ass? Then remembers the Apache punching it in the fight. Her fingers ache, her palms are sore, but she can work her hands, her feet, she’s not incapacitated. She recalls now that she partially awoke sometime earlier, feeling the blanket placed over her and tucked gently about her, then half woke once again after that, when somebody—Luz?—put a hand on her shoulder and asked if she was hungry. Did she want some soup? She had wanted to say yes, but must have fallen back to sleep before she could speak.

  She’s thinking clearly now, trying to assess the thing. Wherever they are, they by now are surely known to be missing. Maybe already known to have been snatched. Maybe already under ransom demand. And from whom demand ransom but the parents? Who have certainly been warned not to tell anyone. But there’s still Rayo. When she gets home and sees you’re not there, she might think you decided to go off with Aldo for some fun of your own, but chances are—

  She gasps and flinches at the touch of a hand on her shoulder.

  It’s all right, sweetie, it’s me, Luz says.

  Jessie rolls onto her back and Luz sits down beside her on the edge of the cot, silhouetted against the low light of the floor lamp on the other side of the room. Someone else is standing close behind her. Susi.

  Sorry I scared you, Luz says, speaking softly. You made sounds. . . . We thought you might . . . oh God, JJ, are you hurt?

  Jessie shakes her head. “I’m all right,” she says. “I just—”

  “Nada de’se pinche inglés!” the Gallo one commands from his chair by the lamp.

  We can talk, Luz tells her, but like the man says, no English.

  Susi sits on the cot and takes one of Jessie’s hands in both her own. In the soft sidelight of the lamp, her eyes shine with tears. Jessie pats the girl’s hands and says, I’m all right, really.

  Keeping her voice low, Luz says, My God, Jess, the Apache’s face. We saw it. They said you did it. That true?

  Jessie smiles.

  Good Lord, girl! He could’ve killed you. They might’ve . . .

  I’m all right. Little sore is all.

  Luz and Susi scan her clothes. At least they gave you something warm to wear, Susi says. Your dress, it must’ve . . . you must’ve . . .

  It got all torn up, Jessie says. You should’ve see me going over those fences.

  They don’t know what the Apache did to me, Jessie thinks. They may suspect but they don’t know. She’s not about to tell them.

  You hungry? Luz says. We saved you some soup in case you’d want it. It’s gone cold, but still. . . .

  The mention of food makes Jessie aware of her hunger. Yes, please, she says.

  They help her to sit up and put her stocking feet on the floor. Luz asks Gallo if she may go to the table for Jessie’s food. He nods, and she heads for the left-side wall where a high narrow table holds a plastic cooler and other items.

  José is now lying on his side with his back to the room, his bound hands in view. Aldo appears not to have moved since she last looked at him, and his breathing is still labored.

  I just want this to be over, Susi says. She seems on the verge of crying again. Jessie pats her hand and says, I know, sweetie. It will be. Soon.

  She attempts a mental picture of the configuration of the house, the way the upper floor is situated over the lower, but has no idea what it’s like in the rear of the building.

  There’s the sound of a toilet flushing, and only now does she notice the small door at the far left corner of the room, adjacent to the windowed wall. The Cabrito one emerges, leaving the door open. He sees her and says, Ah, the sleeping lovely has awakened. I thought I would have to do it with a kiss.

  He plops into his chair and loudly informs Gallo that he feels ten pounds lighter. Gallo picks up the deck of cards on the small table between them and starts shuffling it as Cabrito’s bathroom stink begins to infuse the room. Jesus Christ, man, Gallo says. You been eating roadkill again?

  Cabrito laughs.

  Luz returns with a small plastic bowl of soup and plastic spoon in one hand and an opened can of cola in the other. She hands the soup to Jessie, then sits on the other side of her and sets the cola under the cot, saying, This is here if you’re thirsty. She wrinkles her nose at the malodor from the bathroom. My God, she says, and looks over at Cabrito.

  He grins and winks at her, and she turns away. He gives his attention back to the card game.

  What time is it? Jessie asks.

  Luz shrugs and says that Susi asked Gallo a while ago and he said it was no concern of hers. About an hour ago the Cabrito guy pulled the drape open a little to take a look out, but all she could see was that it’s all gray and rainy. She guesses it’s around midday.

  The soup is covered with a thin layer of congealed grease, but in Jessie’s hunger the strips of chicken are delicious, the rice and bits of tomato. She has to restrain herself to keep from gobbling.

  Aldo coughs without waking, moans lowly, then goes quiet again.

  Jessie nods at him and says, What happened to him?

  The Apache. He got—

  No, wait, Jessie says, tell me everything.

  Luz takes a look at Gallo and Cabrito, then tells Jessie that when she ran away, Rubio—the blond man—had the rest of them brought up to this room and sent the other men after her. He removed everybody’s mask and gag but left their cuffs on. He said they had been kidnapped for ransom and were being held in two groups that would be ransomed by turns, but they would all be freed by early evening at the latest. He assigned everybody to a cot and ordered them to stay on it unless they were given permission to get up. He had the shawls brought up for the women, but not the men’s coats.

  Luz hesitates, saying, Then, ah . . .

  What? Jessie says. Tell me.

  Well, Luz says, Aldo said he had to pee really bad, but Rubio wouldn’t uncuff him and asked if anybody wanted to help him out, and . . . well Christ, somebody had to do it, and José sure wasn’t going to, and Susi’s just a kid, so I said yeah, I would. So he uncuffed me and I took Aldo in there and unzipped him and, you know, held him while he peed. Rubio then let me use the toilet in private, then Susi too, then cuffed us again. Christ, JJ, if Trio finds out I held Aldo’s thing, he’s not going to like it one damn bit.

  Jessie grins in spite of herself. I don’t know, she says. Given the circumstances, he’ll probably understand. So go on.

  It seemed like a long time later, Luz tells her, when Cabrito came in and said something to Rubio, who then went away and left Cabrito in charge. They were all still cuffed. She couldn’t say how much time went by before the Apache came in with his face all beat-up and went in the bathroom to wash. When he came out he glared at Aldo and asked him what he was looking at. Aldo said he wasn’t looking at anything, which enraged the Apache for some reason and he went over and punched him so hard that Aldo fell back and hit his head on the wall and Luz was sure he’d cracked his skull. The Apache left and hadn’t returned since. Aldo was unconscious and Cabrito couldn’t wake him, so he tugged him around and stretched him out on the cot, but then he started choking, and Cabrito rolled him on his side so he could breathe better. Some time later Gallo came in and told Cabrito they’d caught the gringa and that Rubio said it was okay to take the cuffs off the women but not the guys. Cabrito asked him what happened to the Apache’s face and Gallo said the gringa was what happened to it, and they ha
d a big laugh about it. Then Gallo saw Aldo’s condition and Cabrito told him what the Apache had done. Gallo pulled up Aldo’s eyelids to examine his eyes and said it was probably a concussion and he’d be all right, but Rubio and Espanto wouldn’t like it.

  Who’s Espanto? Jessie asks.

  Luz shrugs and says, The head chief, maybe? She tells Jessie that Rubio then came up to the room to fill a water bottle and when he saw Aldo out cold and with that big swollen cheek he looked angry. Gallo told him it was the Apache’s doing, not theirs, and was probably just a mild concussion. Rubio didn’t say anything, just filled the bottle and left.

  The next time he came up, Luz says, he had you with him.

  José stirs on his cot, keeping his back to the room.

  He hasn’t said a word from the time we were taken, Luz says. Hasn’t eaten, hasn’t had to pee. Nobody’s hit him, though, thank God.

  Cabrito starts arguing about a play Gallo has made in their card game and Gallo laughs and says it was perfectly legitimate and if he doesn’t think so he should learn the rules.

  Jessie puts the bowl aside and says, Excuse me, addressing Gallo, and asks him if she may use the toilet. Gallo flicks a hand for her to go ahead.