Holliday's Gold

by Steeven R. Orr

  The store was called The Brick House Gas and Groceries. It sat at the crossroads of Walter Road and Hickory Lane. Called simply ‘The Store’ by the locals, the Brick House had been a Grimmelton landmark for the past sixty years. It was owned and operated by the three Pig Brothers; Larry, Gary, and Colin. The store had been in their family for years, going back to the time when their grandfather, Wilbur J. Pig, opened up the place in 1952. Since then, The Brick House Gas and Groceries has been the one place the citizens of Grimmelton could count on to get their gas, and yes, their groceries.

  A plan came to mind so Goldilocks stashed her backpack behind a trashcan and entered the store.

  Colin had the misfortune to be working the counter that afternoon and, as many a wary woman from within a fifty mile radius knew, he had an eye for the ladies. So he noticed Goldilocks the moment she stepped through the door. It was a slow afternoon, and he put down his Modern Architecture magazine and greeted Goldilocks like the player he thought he was.

  “Good afternoon, beautiful. Welcome to the Brick House. My name is Colin, and if there is anything I can do for you, anything at all, please let me know. I am at your every beck and call,” the words dripped from his mouth like oil from a can. He grinned confidently, not hiding the gaze that looked her over from top to bottom.

  Goldilocks pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head, smiled, and approached the counter the way a panther approaches its prey. “I’m sure I can think of something you can do for me,” she purred, putting a slight emphasis on the word ‘do’ and leaning forward over the counter, her eyes twinkling wickedly.

  Colin couldn’t believe his luck. A platinum blonde party girl, right out of a magazine, standing right before him, and giving him the eye.

  Goldilocks couldn’t believe her luck. An ignorant pig with delusions of grandeur, standing right before her, and he had control of the store.

  “I’m afraid that my car has broken down,” she pouted, her lower lip sticking out slightly. “And I lost my purse last night. It had my wallet and my phone in it. I just don’t know what to do.”

  “Is there anyone I can call for you?”

  “That’s so sweet of you,” she said, leaning forward a tad more. “But, I have a friend meeting me here in a couple hours.”

  “A friend?” Colin looked panicked, worried that the friend might mean a guy.

  “Yeah, one of my sorority sisters.”

  “Sorority?” Colin could have giggled.

  “She’s coming to pick me up and take me home. But I’m so hungry. I haven’t eaten since last night,” she pushed her lower lip out even more and added fairly more angle to her frame, providing Colin with such a site to behold.

  “Baby,” Colin practically danced. “You’ve come to the right place.”

  “My name is Goldilocks, by the way,” she held out her right hand, palm down.

  Colin took her fingers and planted a soft kiss on the back of her hand. “Just tell me how I can help, Goldie.”

  Colin had this amazing gift of looking at Goldilocks everywhere but her eyes. Goldilocks didn’t mind. Actually, she counted on it. Otherwise she wouldn’t have been leaning over the counter to give Colin so much look at.

  “Do you think you could spare a burrito and a drink for me? My friend can pay you when she gets here. I’m so hungry, and I would be so appreciative, and so would my friend,” she smiled and gave her eyebrows a slight flutter.

  “Appreciative? How appreciative?”

  “Hmm,” she said, looking up with a finger on her lower lip. “I think better when I’m not so hungry.”

  Colin smiled, walked out from behind the counter, grabbed a burrito from the freezer, and put it in the microwave. Goldilocks took a quick survey of the lot through the double glass doors. She could see the entire lot from her vantage point, and the only car in view was a shiny new Chevy Camaro, black with white racing stripes.

  “Is that your car?” she asked Colin.

  “That’s my girl,” he said, filling a soda from the fountain.

  “I just love fast cars.”

  Goldilocks threw a quick glance over the counter and spied a set of keys on a ring lying next to the cash register. Attached to the key ring was a small, plastic, novelty license plate. On the license plate she could read the words:

  REAL MEN DRIVE FAST

  This would be too easy. She almost felt sorry for the pig.

  “So,” Colin said as he brought Goldilocks her drink. “While we’re waiting for your burrito, why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself.”

  Goldilocks leaned back on the counter. “What do you want to know?”

  “Well, first off, you aren’t from around here. I’d remember running into you before,” Colin leaned in close to her as she sipped her soda through a straw. “Where are you from?”

  “I’m from Nunyo.”

  “You’re from where?”

  “Nunyo.”

  “Nunyo?

  “Nunyo.”

  “I’ve never heard of Nunyo,” Colin said, scratching at the stubble he had growing on on his chinny-chin-chin.

  “It’s in the southwest,” Goldilocks smiled quietly to herself. This pig was a real idiot. He obviously didn’t get the joke. Nunyo, as in Nunyo business.

  The two stood there for a moment in silence.

  “Is the store always this empty?” she asked.

  “Oh yeah, this time of day, everyone’s working. We should pick up by 12:30 as folks come in for lunch,” which was just over twenty minutes away. Goldilocks would have to work fast.

  “I like it empty like this,” she said, smiling and leaning closer. “I don’t know what it is about you Colin. I mean, we just met and everything, and I don’t even know you, but I like being alone with you. You make me comfortable.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Oh yeah. I feel like I can let go with you, Colin. You ever feel that way with anyone?”

  “Not until now,” he leaned in even closer, putting each hand on the counter to either side of her, enveloping her. Her eyes were like pools and Colin took a few laps before he bent in to kiss her.

  Before their lips made contact, the microwave dinged, breaking the silence. Goldilocks screamed and jumped, which in turn caused her to drop her cup, which in turn caused Colin to scream and jump and back away as the cup hit the floor, spilling soda all along the linoleum. This was, of course, all part of her plan.

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a cute, pouting sort of way that always manages to turn men into putty. “The microwave startled me.”

  “That’s okay, baby,” Colin moved back in, awkwardly trying to lean in for a kiss while avoiding the spilled soda on the floor. “It ain’t nothing but a chicken wing on a string.”

  “No,” she said, pushing him away. “This isn’t going to work. I have this thing about spills and messes. They’re icky. I can’t feel comfortable, I can’t – let go – with that on the floor.”

  “No?”

  “No. Would you clean it up for me,” she stuck her index finger in her mouth to suck off some of the soda that had spilled there.

  Had Colin been a cartoon character, his eyes would have shot three feet out of his eye sockets while a steam whistle popped up out of the top of his head and blew a shrill, steady note. Colin wasn’t a cartoon character, but he made a fairly good go of it.

  “Sure, sure babe. I’ll clean it up in a jiffy,” he sprinted to the back of the store, to a door that said “Employees Only”.

  “Don’t be long,” she called after him as he launched himself through the door.

  As
soon as the door closed behind him, Goldilocks vaulted the counter, grabbed the keys, vaulted back, and ran through the double glass, automatic doors and into the parking lot.

  She snatched her backpack from behind the trashcan and got behind the wheel of the Camaro. She tore out of the lot, smoke billowing from the tires as she spun out onto the asphalt, leaving two dark lines of burnt rubber.

  As she sped out of the lot and onto the two lane that was Walter Road, Colin came running toward her, fear and confusion on his face. She just smiled, smashed the gas pedal to the floor with her foot, and shot up Walter Road at over eighty miles an hour, passing three bears who looked to be out for a leisurely stroll.

  In her rush to get a set of wheels, Goldilocks forgot all about the burrito. She was still hungry and needed to eat. Going back for the food would be foolhardy. She’d have to find something else. Some other poor sucker to con out of food, money, or both. She always did.

  Goldilocks roared up Walter Road, which took her back into town. She figured she would drive the back roads as much as possible to avoid the interstate and the police. As she crested the hill that made up most of Walter Road, she spied a sprawling mansion off on the horizon. It stood alone. The sun shone behind it, causing the house to glow in an angelic light.

  She stopped the car, got out, and stood on the side of the empty road, looking up at the house. This was a place to get a decent bite to eat. Heck, if she played it right, she might even have a place to stay for the next couple of days, and leave with some money in her pocket to boot.

  First she’d have to ditch the car. Stash it someplace where no one would find it, but also a place where she could come back and get it, just in case.

  Next, she’d have to beat herself up some. After all, no one can resist a damsel in distress.

  CHAPTER THREE

  A THICK FOGBANK OF scents rolled slowly through the Griswold’s massive kitchen. Lobster, onions, and a hint of tomato. Jack inhaled deeply, filling his nasal passages with the heavenly aroma as he sat at an out-of-the-way counter, snacking on crackers and cheese and reading a book.

  To say that the Griswold’s kitchen was a hive of activity would only belittle the military precision that took place each day in the cavernous maze of stainless steel. Scores of men and women – dressed in white – scurried here and there, knives flying, spoons swirling, all under the scrutiny of Chef Michael Greengrass.

  “You need a refill there, Jack?” asked Chef Greengrass.

  Jack had been nursing a diet soda for the last fifteen minutes. “Oh, no thanks, Mike,” he replied, looking up from his book.

  Jack liked Mike Greengrass. Of course, it was hard to dislike such a man. Mike ruled his kitchen with an iron spoon, yet was always kind and fair. In truth, Jack considered Mike to be his closest, if not his only friend, and figured Mike felt the same toward him.

  “Whatcha reading there?” the chef asked, wiping his hands on his apron.

  Jack handed the hardback over to Mike and took a sip of his soda.

  “The new Jack Reacher,” Mike said in awe as he read through the synopsis on the inside cover.

  Jack loved to read. He also loved to follow the adventures of characters who shared his name. Jack Reacher, Jack Ryan, or Jack Bauer, it didn’t matter. He just enjoyed the fantasy. He liked to imagine himself as the hero. The only one willing to take a stand. To do what needed to be done to protect the innocent masses who probably didn’t even understand that they were in any danger.

  “It any good?” Mike asked as he handed the book back.

  “So far,” Jack replied. He wanted to elaborate, but was interrupted by a voice in his ear that only Jack could hear.

  “Jack, this is Stan at the main door. You copy?”

  “Just a moment, Mike” Jack said, holding a finger to his left ear.

  The voice spoke from a small speaker in Jack’s right ear, the cord twisting back behind the ear and down into his suit jacket.

  Jack stood and spoke into the cuff of his sleeve, “Go for Jack.”

  “Jack, we got a young lady here at the main door. Claims she was carjacked. She’s asked to use the phone.”

  “She injured?”

  “Minor injuries. Cuts, scrapes, possible bruising. Nothing life threatening.”

  “Okay,” Jack paused, looking around at the activity in the kitchen as he thought it through. “Have Keith bring her to me in the kitchen. And send Melanie after them. I’ll sort it out.”

  “Copy, Jack. They will be with you momentarily.”

  “Problem?” Mike asked.

  “Not really,” Jack related his conversation.

  “Anything I can do to help?” Mike asked.

  “Thanks, Mike, but no.” Jack gulped down his soda. “You can have someone clear this stuff away if you really want to help.” Jack smiled.

  “Sure thing, pal,” Mike said, and cleared it away himself.

  Jack smiled again as he watched Mike carry his stuff away. Mike wasn’t the kind of guy who would ask someone else to do something that he was perfectly capable of doing himself.

  Jack brushed the cracker crumbs from his tie and adjusted the Beretta in his shoulder holster. It was a thing with Jack, periodically adjusting his side arm. Not because wearing it was uncomfortable, which it wasn’t, but mainly just to reassure himself that it was still there.

  Mike always poked fun at Jack for taking his job too seriously. Being the head of security for the Griswold Family didn’t entail much in the way of, well … security. Grimmelton had been in the record books for generations for having the lowest crime rate of any city of like population in the world, but Jack knew better. He had been in the war. Jack had seen and done things he would never forget. Things that twist his dreams and weigh heavy on his soul. He knew that there was still darkness in the world, even in Grimmelton.

  It’s why he had always had the family shadowed when they went out for their afternoon walks. Jack tried to send a security team out with the Griswold’s whenever they left the house. No, the family wasn’t royalty, nor was Mr. Griswold the President. It was rather unlikely that the family would be the target of a kidnapping, assassination, or simple random mugging. But the family paid Jack to keep them safe, and by God that’s just what he would do.

  Besides, he’d grown to like the Griswolds, and they him. He was practically family, and Jack was raised to cherish family.

  So even though Mr. Griswold insisted that he and the family could take a walk about town without five or six of Jack’s guys watching out for them every step of the way, Jack sent a team out anyway. The Griswolds were just unaware that his team was there.

  Soon Keith arrived in the kitchen with a young blonde woman, and for a moment Jack found himself speechless. The woman was stunning.

  For a few moments, nothing happened. Jack found that he wasn’t able to make himself talk. Jack was typically uncomfortable around women. He found them strange and difficult to understand. Jack was even more uncomfortable around attractive women. So for a moment or two, just long enough for the silence to become real and truly awkward, Jack just stood and stared.

  “Sir?” Keith said, breaking Jack from his spell.

  Jack was about to reply when something about this woman caught his eye. Maybe it was his imagination, but while she looked as frightened as a caged deer, Jack swore he could see something else in her eyes. Something like … triumph?

  “Sir?” Keith said again, and once more Jack was back from within his head and whatever it was Jack thought he saw was gone.

  “Thanks, Keith,” Jack said, clearing his throat to try and mask the awkward moment. “You’re dismissed.”

  �
��Thank you, sir,” Keith nearly saluted before walking away.

  Jack then turned to the woman. “I’m Jack Horner,” he said, offering the woman his hand. “I’m head of security.”

  She looked at his hand with unmasked anxiety and Jack could see that she shook visibly as her eyes darted around the kitchen like a scared mouse.

  “Are you okay, ma’am?”

  “Oh,” she seemed quite startled by the question. “Yes, I’m sorry. It’s just,” she paused. Jack thought for a moment that she might cry. Crying women made Jack more even uncomfortable than attractive women did. “It’s just been an incredibly bad day. Horrifying, really,” she smiled meekly.

  “Melanie should be here in a moment to see to your injuries. She’s a registered nurse. In the meantime, please have a seat,” Jack gestured to the stool he had been sitting on just minutes ago.

  She thanked him and sat. She almost didn’t make it. To Jack it looked like she might faint, but in the end she sat and began to look more relaxed.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” Jack asked.

  “Oh, goodness. It all went down so fast. I don’t even know what happened. I had stopped at a stop sign, then there was a gun in my face and this man was screaming at me, and then,” she started to cry. “And then, he,” her crying became more frantic. She buried her face in her hands.

  “It’s okay,” Jack said soothingly, handing her his handkerchief. “Everything is going to be okay. Once I call the Police, you can give them a description of this guy, and then you can maybe get your car back.”

  “The Police?” she said, raising her head. “No, please, don’t call the Police.”

  Jack was confused. “Why wouldn’t I call the Police? You were attacked.”

  “I just need to use the phone,” she sniffed and then blew her nose. “I have a sister in the area who can come get me. I need to get back home. I have a job interview waiting for me.”

  “But, what about your car?”

  “It was a rental.”

  “Ma’am, I can’t let you go without talking to the Police. The rental company will need a Police report.”