Blind Man's Bluff

by Gene Lembrick

  “I could go for a good Grinder,” says Brandon.

  “Yes, a Hero does sound good,” says Dominic.

  “Okay,” says Chris. “I good Sub made in a Pizza shop is the only way to go. I’m not a fan of a five minute Sub where they put the meat at the top and the veggies underneath. I’ve been told they’re trained to make it that way because it’s easier for them to fold the sandwich over after all the veggies have been added. When I bite into it, I don’t want to taste the veggies first. The taste buds are on the tongue, not the roof of your mouth. The meat is what makes the sub good. My tongue always wants to taste meat first.”

  Brandon and Dominic look at each other with a smirk.

  “So, you love meat on your tongue?” asks Dominic.

  “First it’s the saggy pants, now this,” says Brandon as he shakes his head.

  “Right here wise-guys,” says Chris as he gives the both of them a middle finger from both of his hands.

  “Now let’s go, I’m starving,” he says to his wisecracking friends.

  Chris is the driver; Brandon is in the passenger seat, and Dominic is in the backseat in Chris’s 2008 Pebble Beach-colored Nissan Maxima with smoke-tinted windows. When people ask what color his car is, he’ll say light brown rather than say Pebble Beach. Chris pulls up to an ATM machine to get some cash.

  “Isn’t it kind of funny that the drive-up ATM’s have Braille on them?” Chris asks.

  “What are you talking about?” asks Dominic.

  “Drive-up ATM machines have Braille on them for blind people. Having it for the walk-up ones is fine, but it’s funny to me that the drive-up ones have it also.”

  All the three boys laugh at Chris’s silliness.

  Brandon says, “I’ve never thought about it before or noticed it.”

  “How many blind people do you know drive?”

  “Man, you over analyze everything,” says Dominic. “Maybe they have a driver?”

  “Oh, sure, take the fun out of it with your damn common sense, Dom!”

  “By the way, get some gas,” says Dominic. Your gas needle is nearly on E.”

  “I know my car, we’re all set. I could drive for another hour with the gas I got.”

  “Why do you even risk it?” asks Brandon. “I’m not in the mood for walking.”

  “Relax, I got this.”

  Brandon and Dominic are always stressed when Chris drives; he lives on the edge of running out of gas whenever he does. Thus far, his luck has been outstanding because he’s never run out of gas as far as they know.

  After withdrawing forty dollars from his bank account, Chris pulls into the traffic and stops at a red traffic light. Slightly ahead and to their right, a brand new black Mercedes-Benz E350 also stops. Sitting in that car alone is a well-dressed, middle-aged, balding Caucasian male. Brandon looks over, admiring the kind of car he hopes to own one day.

  Chris and Dominic also look over at the impressive vehicle.

  They happen to catch the man in an awkward private moment. He is picking his nose, unaware that anyone sees, or not caring.

  “Oh, snap,” says Brandon. “Five dollars, he eats it!”

  “No way,” Chris says.

  “What about you, Dom? Five dollars.”

  “C’mon, no way he does that! Look at his car. He could pay someone to pick his nose and eat it.”

  “Nasty people come in all forms. I see it all the time, I’m telling you he will. Guarantee he’s going to eat it. What’s up?”

  “You’re on!” says Chris.

  The light turns green, the driver of the car drives off; the boys take off as well in the same direction.

  “Be careful; don’t get to close to him because if he thinks that we’re watching he’ll play it off like he won’t do it.”

  Shortly after pulling away, the driver does exactly as Brandon predicted. The very finger that was in his nose finds its way into his mouth. All three boys have the same response.

  “Ewww!”

  “Pay up punk!” Brandon tells Chris. A shocked Chris shakes his head, and says, “Wow!”

  “I can’t believe he did that,” says Dominic.

  Riley Klein

  It’s seven p.m. in Meriden, Connecticut, at Madison High School, Riley Klein, a brunette on her school’s swimming team, is leaving practice with her girlfriend/teammate Korey Moore. Korey is a light complexion, biracial teen. They’re walking to Riley’s car in the school parking lot. They’re the last of the girl’s swim team of ten to leave the school.

  “So, Riley, how do you like Meriden so far? Do you miss East Hartford?”

  “It’s okay. Since you were already living here for a while, you helped make the adjustment so much easier. We go back a long way, Korey. It would have been hard to leave my home after so many years of living there without you.”

  “You’re lucky,” Korey says, “because when I moved here a few years back, my sister and I didn’t know anyone. It’s good to have someone here now from the old neighborhood.”

  “I miss the girls back home,” says Riley. “Other than that, Meriden is cool. Just another town, no big deal. How’s your sister doing?”

  The girls arrive at the locked 2002 Silver Metallic Pontiac Grand Prix.

  “She’s good,” says Korey. “She comes home once a month on a weekend. I’m so exhausted! I’m so glad that you got the car today.”

  “Right, I hate having to wait for rides,” says Riley. “Who wants to wait around for their parents to pick them up?”

  “You have plans for the weekend?”

  “Not really.” Riley’s cell phone rings just before she starts up the car.

  “Hello?”

  Korey puts on her headphones to listen to music as Riley is talking on her cell phone. Korey sees two beautiful flowers on the back seat and goes to grab them.

  “Oh, my God, these are so pretty!”

  Riley looks at Korey holding the unfamiliar flowers, puts the phone aside and whispers. “I’ve never seen them before.”

  Riley returns to her call, looking out the side window while she converses. Korey puts her headphones back over her ears, and returns to her music. She’s bopping her head to the beat.

  The cushion of the back seat begins to move. The masked figure appears out of the darkness of the car’s trunk. With both girls distracted, the killer crawls from the trunk opening to the car’s backseat, then moves toward the front seat.

  The next sound is a whisper: “Tag, you’re it!”

  The killer’s sickle weapon digs into Riley’s shoulder and she screams in agony.

  The killer looks at Korey and says, “She’s it!”

  A panicking Korey is fumbling with trying to get the door open to escape. As she gets the door open, she screams as the killer cuts into her forearm. She runs back to the school, hoping Coach Smith is still there. Korey can hear her friend screaming. Coach Smith is just walking out of the school as Korey arrives.

  “You’re bleeding, Korey!”

  “Coach, it’s Riley! Someone is over there attacking her!”

  “Calm down. What are you talking about, Korey?”

  “Over there, in the car! Someone is attacking Riley!”

  “Here’s my phone. Call 911,” the coach says, running toward the car. She sees someone running into the woods. Riley Klein is dead.

  • • •

  A short time later; Korey Moore’s wounds are being treated in the hospital’s emergency room. The police want to ask her questions about her attack. They’ve already interviewed Coach Smith about what she’s seen. However, the pain medication has made Korey drowsy. Korey’s parents are with their daughter.

  “Hi, I’m Officer Anderson, and this is Officer Hall. We’d like to ask your daughter a few questions on tonight’s events,” Officer Anderson says.

&nb
sp; “I’m sorry, officers,” Korey’s mother says, “but she’s been sedated. Tomorrow would probably be a better day for questions.”

  “Okay, ma’am, we understand,” says Officer Hall. “Here’s my card. Please bring her to the station in the morning. It’s vital that we get her statement while everything is fresh in her mind.”

  “Yes, we will. I doubt if she’ll forget anything about tonight. Officers, what do you know so far? Why did someone attack our daughter and kill Riley?”

  “From what Coach Janet Smith saw, some person was running away from the car. She only saw them from their back. We’re looking for someone with red shoulder-length hair, wearing a black football jersey with the number zero.”

  “I pray you get this bastard!” says Korey’s mother. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  • • •

  Tomorrow morning, the Moore parents bring Korey to the Meriden police department.

  “Thank you for coming,” says Officer Anderson. He pulls out a seat for Korey, and puts chairs around his desk for her parents. While Anderson is doing that, Officer Hall calls up the station sketch artist to join them.

  “What can you tell us about your attacker last night?”

  Korey says, “Riley and I were walking out of the school from our swimming practice together. She was giving me a ride home. Everything seemed fine at the time. When we got to the car, Riley answered her cell phone. I put my headphones on and patiently waited for her to finish her conversation. Suddenly, this person with a crazy mask comes up from the back seat.”

  “From the back seat?” Officer Hall asks.

  “Yes.”

  Officer Hall asks, “So this person was lying down in the back seat of the car?”

  “No, I looked into the car as I opened the passenger’s door. There wasn’t anyone in the backseat.”

  “Since you both were distracted,” says Officer Hall, “her with the phone call and you with your music, maybe this person opens the backseat door and enters?”

  “No,” Korey replies. “I definitely remember Riley locking the doors once we both got in.”

  “How do you suppose they got into the car?” Officer Anderson asks.

  “I have no idea. One moment we’re alone and then we’re not.”

  Anderson says, “We’ve impounded the vehicle for the investigation. Now explain to me, what did they look like?” The department’s sketch artist has arrived.

  “The mask they wore looked kind of like a skull. Where the nose would be was like a triangle shape. They had on dark sunglasses. Common ones that movie stars wear or maybe a blind person. The mask wasn’t white but a cream color or off-white.”

  “Did you see any hair color or length? ask Anderson.

  “The hair was red, probably shoulder-length.”

  “That coincides with what your coach said as well. Could you make out if it was a male or female?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Did they say anything?” asks Officer Hall. “Did they give any reason why they would want to harm you?”

  “I remember they said to Riley, ‘Tag, you’re it.’ Then they looked at me and said, ‘She’s it.’”

  “Tag, you’re it? Like some kind of kids’ game?”

  “Yes, it reminded me of the game Blind Man’s Bluff we used to play as kids.”

  “Would you remember that voice if you heard it again?” Hall asks.

  “I’ve been hearing that voice over and over again all night. It had a gravel-pitched tone to it.”

  The sketch artist gives Officer Anderson the signal that he’s done.

  “Does this look like our masked killer?”

  The sketch artist turns his drawing around, and Korey turns in her seat to face it. She gets chills through-out her body. The artist did such a great job that she felt the fear just as strongly as last night. A frozen Korey could only mutter the word, “Yes.”

  Officer Anderson says to Officer Hall, “We need to visit costume shops across the state to see if anyone may sell that mask.” Hall nods in agreement.

  Hernandez Home

  There’s no practice, but the team has a big game tomorrow against the number one ranked team. Brandon, Chris, and Dominic head over to the Hernandez home to hangout on this rainy Friday afternoon after school.

  “I’m grilling burgers,” says Jesus. “Who wants in?”

  “Yeah, hook me up,” says Chris.

  “I’ll take one,” says Dominic.

  “I’m all set,” says Brandon. “I’m taking Lucy out later. Today’s her birthday.”

  Jesus yells to his mother upstairs, “Ma, do you want a burger?” Mrs. Hernandez answers, “Sure!”

  “Jesus, don’t try to give me a damn end piece of bread,” says Chris.

  “Man, bread is bread,” says Jesus.

  “Okay, you eat those end pieces,” says Chris.

  Angel, Brandon, and Dominic shake their heads at Chris’s childish behavior.

  “Jesus, serve me the end pieces if you want,” says Dominic

  Brandon and Chris begin to play a video game against each other as Dominic reclines in a chair. Angel is waiting to play the next game.

  “So, Angel,” asks Brandon, “you and your brother play defense with a nasty edge. Why is that?”

  “Rice and beans, bro’!” replies Angel.

  Brandon and Chris stop the game and look at Angel. Even Dominic sits up after Angel’s reply.

  “What?” Chris asks.

  “Did I stu-stu-stutter?” says Angel. “Rice and beans, kid, that’s what give us a nasty edge!”

  While Angel is speaking, Mrs. Hernandez is coming downstairs to see if Jesus needs help in the kitchen. The visitors say hello. She peeks into the kitchen and sees that Jesus has everything covered. Before she gets out of earshot, Angel says, “Ma, tell them the rice and beans story.”

  “Mrs. Hernandez,” explains Brandon, “I asked Angel what gets him and Jesus so hyped during games. He comes up with rice and beans. What could rice and beans have to do with football?”

  Mrs. Hernandez laughs. “Before we moved here from Springfield, Massachusetts,” she begins, “the boys didn’t play any sports. All they ever wanted to do was goof around and fight each other. Once high school started for them, I explained that they needed some after-school activities to get into, to burn off all this energy that they had. They get their sense of humor from their dad and uncles; they’re all kidders. My brothers and father were big football fans, all athletes. Every Sunday, football was being played on our TV; I learned the game through them. My brothers were mean football players, so I figured the bloodline would be strong with these two. Boy, was I wrong, at least at first. They went out for the freshman football team, but clearly they weren’t aggressive like I had hoped; they were pathetic tacklers. I went to their first game of the season; their coach put both the boys in during some garbage time to get their feet wet. It was truly a sad sight.”

  “These two?” says Chris. “That’s hard to imagine.”

  “Yes, these very same two.”

  Jesus pokes his head out of the kitchen to listen to his mother tell a story he’s heard many times.

  “So what does rice and beans have to do with it?” asks Brandon.

  “Right after the game, the first thing out of their mouths was, what’s for dinner? I believe it was chicken, rice, and beans; that’s their favorite. With these boys it could be any type of meat. As long as they get their rice and beans, they’re happy. So I said, here’s the deal, you boys need to be more aggressive playing football; it’s not a passive sport. I recall reading that some parents give their kids money for tackles. Well, I told them that from the next game forward they will not be eating rice and beans in this house with a passive attitude. But that very next game they played with the very same passive attitude as before.”


  “That whole week,” says Angel, “mom made multiple dinners with rice and beans. We didn’t get a spoon of it. If she made chicken and veggies with rice and beans. We only got the chicken and veggies. Pork chops, veggies, with rice and beans, it was the same thing all week. Yo, she meant that when she said no more. Jesus and I were heated, especially since she knows how much we loved it.”

  “I told them that as far as I’m concerned, those players on the other team are keeping you from your passion.”

  “At practice later that week,” says Angel, “we were laying kids out, son! The coaches weren’t sure if it was some kind of abnormal thing, so he didn’t start us for that next game. At the beginning of the second quarter of that game, we were down 14-0, so the coaches felt now was a good time to see if we were for real or not. That next game after we started for our freshman team, we shut that team out because of our defense. After that game, the varsity coach moved us up. As freshmen, we took spots that seniors were playing.”

  Mrs. Hernandez says, “When we told the coaches that we were moving to Connecticut, I almost felt sorry for them. They begged us not to leave; they even offered to allow the boys to use their address out of desperation to keep them at their school.”

  The memory of it makes Mrs. Hernandez laugh.

  Angel says, “Like I said, rice and beans, bro.” Chris, Brandon, and Dominic laugh.

  Angel says, “It could go with anything. Rice and beans with pork, rice and beans with chicken, rice and beans with beef, rice and beans with fish, rice and beans with pizza, rice and beans with your morning coffee…”

  Brandon, Chris, and Dominic are laughing at Angel’s menu recap; however, Angel is dead serious and never cracks a smile.

  “…rice and beans with turkey, rice and beans with pie, rice and beans with cake, rice and beans with spaghetti. I could go on forever, kid. Brandon, you’re dating a Latina so be prepared to get served some rice and beans with your collard greens.”

  “You’re a trip,” says Brandon.

  “Don’t let me become a chemist one day. It’ll be rice and beans-flavored bubble gum, rice and beans-flavored soda, rice and beans-flavored beer.”