Gold Lame' (That's le-mayy) (Gold Lame' Series)

by C. Pic Michel

  Of course it’s not. Karen filled in her own silence with candid thoughts that threatened to set them back. How does she run a business with this level of organizational skill?”

  “Okay,” Amelia responded to the silence. “Perhaps I should stop and make a list then call you back.”

  “No, no. Really,” Karen insisted. “I have the cell phone. You can call me as you go and I’ll just head for that aisle.” Amelia overlooked her tendency to fill in the sarcasm for her mom.

  “Okay then.” She jumped into the clenches of Karen’s two-fisted helpfulness.

  “Wait! I can’t drive and write!” Karen pulled over to the curb and picked up the shopping list and pen that were waiting for Amelia’s additions. “Go!” Karen blurted as if starting a race.

  “Okay.” Amelia waited for another delay. None was forthcoming. She unwillingly acknowledged a purchase her mother had suggested hours before, “I do need a tiny toothpaste, some sort of container for my supplements, lens cleaner, and gum.”

  Karen looked at the list that seemed to issue forth from her daughter’s mind in no particular order. “Feminine protection?” she asked.

  “Lucky for you, not on this trip.” Amelia gave a laugh that broke the tension. “If it seems I have PMS, you can rest assured it’s really your menopause!” They both laughed.

  “You’d never survive in this life as a man with that kind of candor!” Karen retorted.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Amelia continued to tease remembering her dad’s favorite way to diffuse her mother’s temper, “You’re right. How is it that you’re always right?”

  “Now you’re talking!” Karen spouted and laughed until a tear came to her eye. Amelia took a deep cleansing breath and quieted her tone.

  “Listen, Mom, I’m really glad you’re coming with me. I’m sure we’re going to have a good time.”

  “Me too.” Karen smiled. She playfully shifted her tone to one of being on a stealth mission, “I’m going in.” She put down the pen and paper and turned back onto the road. “Call me if you have any further instructions!”

  “Check and double check!” Amelia adapted another of her father’s favorite clearings for executing the vacation checklist.

  Ten minutes after Karen Bradford entered Trifles discount store the cell phone vibrated on her hip. Pressing the headset button to answer the phone she stood in the center aisle poised with pen and paper ready to write. For the next 20 minutes, every five minutes, the phone vibrated and Karen took down more instructions from her daughter. Not only was Amelia’s checklist finally checking off, but it was also producing a complex choreography of short jaunts and little stops all over town. By the fourth call Karen stopped in the snack shop, ordered a soft pretzel and a medium cola so she could sit at a table and plot her course.

  “Where are you now?” she asked Amelia.

  “I’m at home picking up Zeke and putting away my dry cleaning.”

  “When are you meeting Jojo?” Karen asked. Again, the name rattled Amelia’s thought process.

  “3:00, though I’m sure it won’t matter if I’m a little late.”

  “Honey, we need to be leaving at 4pm. We have to be at the airport two hours in advance for international flights,” she reminded her daughter. Amelia winced at the seriousness with which her mother regarded the rules.

  “Okay, I’ll get there on time. The visit will only take about 15 minutes, I’m sure,” Amelia stretched. Karen winced on the other end of the call knowing it wouldn’t be so short. Only by Amelia’s standards could the visit happen in 15 minutes. Miguel Alvarez would have a different agenda.

  “Okay,” Karen knew it was fruitless to argue with her hard-headed daughter, “I’ll drop this stuff at the front desk so you can add it to your suitcase.” She paused. “You are packed and ready to go except for this stuff?”

  “Of course,” Amelia lied, pulling out luggage from the walk-in closet in her bedroom.

  “Good.” Karen could still tell when her daughter was fibbing. “I’ll be there in an hour.” Amelia checked her watch. She gave herself 20 minutes to pack in order to miss her mom, so she could deliver Zeke and Binga to their caretakers, and still get to the appointment on time.

  “Okay, Mom, that’ll be great. Thanks so much. What would I do without you?” Amelia poured all of her make-Mom-happy language into the receiver.

  “Miss your flight,” Karen joked and ended the call without the usual ‘love you, bye’.

  Amelia’s formula for packing was to put everything on the bed she thought she might like to take arranged by color, event and temperature. Then she would remove half and find that she was well prepared for her trip. Today she had no time to calculate the variables. She grabbed two of everything from every drawer, from each end of the hanging clothes in the closet, and the shoe racks, and piled it into the two bags. She emptied her bathroom vanity into three plastic zipper bags to protect her clothes from high altitude leaks and threw in her brush, blow dryer, and power adapter. The rest would arrive via her mom. She zipped the bags closed, laid her tickets on top, and grabbed Zeke and his favorite squeaky toy before adding her keys and purse to her clenched fists. Grabbing the doorknob she pulled and walked through the doorway into the narrow hall outside her condo.

  Binga! She realized she was missing the bird and stuck her foot between the door and the frame before they could connect. “Okay, slow it down a bit,” she said aloud checking her watch. “It doesn’t help if you miss a major piece at this point.” She set Zeke down on the floor and grabbed his leash from the bookshelves near the door.

  Amelia stacked Zeke’s toy and her keys inside her purse and pulled it onto her shoulder. She took Binga’s special food from under the sink and added it to her bag. Retrieving her cell phone she called the front desk and asked for her car to be brought up. Amelia emptied Binga’s water dish, and returned it to the cage, then grabbed the wire handle and guided the cage to her side. There was more than one thing she had almost missed.

  “We have to be more careful.” She said to Zeke who was jumping at the door. Amelia threw her overstuffed purse over her shoulder, and opened the door allowing Zeke to bolt down the hallway knowing he would wait at the elevator. For a moment she paused, holding the door open with her hip, searching her mind to make sure she had everything she needed. I think that’s everything. She let the door close and followed Zeke to the elevator.

  Amelia glanced at her watch. It was two o’clock, she was sure she could make it on time.

  Pause, pause, pause…

  7 Dreaming Duets

  Miguel paced the floor of his South Avondale home. The naturally dark woodwork matched his mood. His call had come too late and Joseph had already left for the day. Alicia had called all of his friend’s houses and even some of his cousins but no one had seen him.

  Miguel didn’t like the idea of facing the lawyer without the boy she had come to see. He wasn’t entirely sure the boy was even okay given the temperament of Darius Lovelle and his propensity for revenge. Miguel was really beginning to worry.

  “Did you check the pool?” he asked Alicia for the third time.

  “Yes. They said they would call if he showed up, but he didn’t take his suit.”

  “I’m going to drive around the block.” He grabbed his keys and headed toward the door then called to Alicia, “Let me know if he shows up.” He slammed the door as he left. Miguel knew Joseph didn’t comprehend the danger he could be in. Miguel refrained from telling his kids anything that might scare them too much, sometimes even when they needed to be scared. He could see how much the kids had already been hurt, and he believed himself capable of protecting them.

  Damn! Miguel thought, I should have warned him. The feeling of urgency that had been following Miguel all morning was growing in his chest.

  Pulling away from the curb Miguel began cruising and searching down every alley in South Avondale. Occasionally druggies would start to approach his slow moving vehicle before they recognized the
city plates and backed off.

  Any other day, Miguel dared them to try to sell him weed when he wasn’t already occupied. He wished he had asked Alicia what t-shirt Jojo was wearing as he found himself checking out every color of t-shirt he saw.

  No kids in Miguel’s care were allowed to wear the white t-shirts dawned by most of the neighborhood males. It was a strategy to make everyone look the same, hence nondescript. Ask any victim of crime what the attacker was wearing in South Avondale and the answer would always be, “white t-shirt, baggy pants.” For that reason, baggy pants weren’t allowed in Miguel’s house either.

  By the third trip around the block Miguel was completely frustrated. He picked up his cell phone and dialed headquarters.

  “District 2, Detective Green.” Miguel was relieved his best friend answered the phone.

  “Hey Nick. It’s Miguel,” he started, “have you heard of anything going down in South Avondale?”

  “No, why?” Nick asked.

  “I was just checking.” Miguel wasn’t ready to admit he’d lost the kid, even to his best friend. “I’m looking for angles on the Lovelle case,” he gave a good excuse.

  “He’s out. That’s all I know.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Miguel hated what he considered always too low bail on assault cases.

  “Sorry Miguel. Something will turn up soon.”

  “Thanks. Keep an eye on it, okay?”

  “Sure thing. Where can I find you?”

  Miguel looked at his watch. It was 2:30. He decided it would be better, though not easy to be home in case the lawyer showed up early. “I’m heading home. I have a meeting with Jojo’s guardian at three.”

  “What fun!” Nick’s tone reflected their mutual history of frustration with lawyers.

  Miguel snapped his cell phone closed. He thought about calling the lawyer to postpone the meeting but decided against it. He hoped to see Jojo walking up the front steps when he got home. That was the best he could do.

  Pause, pause, pause…

  “Turn left onto Northrup Avenue…” Amelia made the turn from Vernon Avenue as she obeyed the curt tone of the woman’s voice on the GPS receiver stuck to the inside of her windshield. She kept thinking of the unusual way Zeke acted when she dropped him off at the kennel.

  Usually Zeke was so happy to see his friends Sherry and Jill who were so wonderful with him. But today he clawed at the gate to his doggie suite and cried when she turned to leave. She had tried to console him, but Zeke had become more frantic the closer she got to the door. It was as if he didn’t want her to leave.

  Binga also threw a fit at the pet store even though she usually loved to visit with the other birds. By the time Amelia got to the front door the little bird had thrown such a fit feathers were literally flying from her cage.

  “5001,” the GPS reminded Amelia as she scanned 4997, 4999, 5001. Though it seemed impossible, she thought the address sounded familiar. Amelia saw the 1920’s craft house on a small hill and looked for a parking spot. On the sidewalk a foursome of men in white t-shirts were checking out her SUV. Surely, they can’t think I’m here to see them, Amelia thought, unaware of how many cars from her community regularly cruised the street corner dealers in this and many other neighborhoods like it.

  Amelia pulled over and parked in front of the address. The houses were in good shape. That surprised Amelia given the reputation of the neighborhood surrounding the local children’s hospital.

  Picking up her cell phone Amelia thought to call her mom one last time before she went in to see her young client. “Mom, where are you?”

  “At home. What can I get for you now?” Karen Bradford was sorting through her new finds from the days shopping and choosing what to take on the trip.

  “Nothing. I just wondered if you could call over to Sherry and Jill’s and see if Zeke is calming down. He was really acting strange.”

  “What do you need me to do if he’s not?” Karen couldn’t believe the way Amelia coddled the dog.

  “Just leave a message on my cell so I know before they close, that’s all.”

  “Okay. Anything else?”

  “Not right now,” Amelia chortled. “I’m turning off my cell, so I’ll call you when I leave.”

  “Okay. Tell Jojo I said hi,” Karen requested as she heard the line go quiet.

  Amelia looked up to the porch of 5001 Northrup and saw a tall man she assumed to be Detective Alvarez standing with a boy in a white t-shirt.

  That must be Jojo. She picked up the name her mother used. Amelia pulled on the door handle and locked the car using the remote as she slung her briefcase strap over her shoulder. Crossing the street, she squinted into the sunlight and waved hello to the pair on the porch. If they stayed outside, a brief visit would be much more likely.

  Pause, pause, pause…

  Miguel Alvarez looked into the eyes of the young boy on his porch trying to ascertain if he was telling the truth. “You’re sure?” he asked. “You haven’t seen him anywhere?”

  “No,” the boy sounded impatient. “Can I go now?” Miguel marveled at how much the too young boy already sounded like the dealers he usually questioned on the street.

  “Sure, okay.” Miguel looked down at the street and saw the foursome in white shirts. He watched as they spread out and started to run almost before he heard the sound of screeching tires coming around the corner three houses away.

  Miguel’s eyes locked on the window of a long dark Camaro that had come around the corner and was slowing down in front of his house. The mirrored glass window was sliding down into the door panel. Miguel saw the flash of the gun barrel at the same time he saw who he knew must be the lady lawyer. The sound of bullets splicing the air was in rhythm with the bounding steps of the lawyer as she mounted the stairs waving her hand in a friendly gesture.

  While every muscle in Miguel’s body that had a connection with survival flexed and pushed the small boy to the wooden porch, the lady lawyer seemed to be oblivious to the danger that was rolling by behind her. The barrel of the semi-automatic AK-47 started broadcasting bullets across Miguel’s front yard as the car cruised by in slow motion.

  “Get down!” Miguel yelled. As Amelia looked into Miguel’s eyes, a growing look of concern shot across her face. She felt a sharp pain between her shoulder blades and the concern turned to shock. The steps started spinning beneath her feet. She turned as she fell to the concrete, landing on her back as she looked into the open window of the Camaro and closed her eyes.

  Bullets whizzed past Amelia’s body on the steps toward Miguel and the boy on the porch hitting the screen door of the house. Miguel was helpless to do anything but stay on top of the boy to further protect him. In the smattering of 10 seconds the attack was over and Miguel raised his head from the ground. Expecting to see the aftermath of the shooting, Miguel saw only white. He blinked his eyes and tried to focus on the misty fog that surrounded him.

  “Holy Shit!” Miguel heard a familiar voice, and turned his head to focus on the curly redheaded lawyer lady he’d last seen in his front yard. She looked at him in amazement. “I was shot!” she exclaimed.

  Miguel jumped to his feet checking for the boy he had been covering but he was gone. He peered deep into the mist for signs of the white t-shirts or the Camaro but saw no one other than himself and Amelia in the fog.

  Am I dead? he wondered, resisting a temptation to make the sign of the cross over himself.

  “Not exactly.” Another voice came from the fog as a tall elephant moved into view.

  “Hrim!” Amelia gasped, “Hrim, I’ve been shot!”

  “Thank goodness,” Hrim replied as the fog revealed his entire towering countenance.

  “Thank goodness?” Amelia looked stunned as she checked her body for signs of blood. She noticed the gold lamé shoes were on her feet again. Oh, that’s what was missing, she thought, I should have known.

  “Tough gaining consciousness in a non-lucid dream,” Hrim commented.

  Looking u
p Amelia resumed the exchange with Hrim. “What do you mean ‘thank goodness’? Can’t you see? I’ve been shot!”

  “No, I don’t see, but I don’t doubt it. Word has it you took quite a few of those little silver babies.” Amelia’s head cocked as if she couldn’t quite believe what the elephant was telling her. “I’m just happy you now know what’s going on.”

  “What the hell is going on?” Miguel looked at Amelia and the elephant incredulously.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Hrim replied, “This is just your second lucid moment in this whole scenario. How can I help you?”

  Miguel stared at the talking elephant and the lady lawyer about whom he felt an incredible sense of déjà vu’. Miguel reached for the gun in the holster under his right arm but it was not there.

  “Sorry Miguel.” The elephant knew his name. “There are a few things you need to catch up on before we can allow you to play with firearms. But first I would like to get out of this whacky get up.”

  Hrim looked at Amelia who seemed perplexed. That moment of doubt about what she was seeing was all Hrim needed to melt down into the personage of a very old, bald man wearing a white robe and sandals.

  “Hiram?!” Amelia gasped. A part of Miguel seemed to know the old man as well.

  “Hrim is fine. Hiram was just an adaptation to the Main Street dream sequence.”

  “You’re not an elephant?”

  “No, that’s just how you expect to find me now when you enter the fog.” A staff materialized in Hrim’s waiting hand. “Thanks for releasing me from that illusion. It will make our talk a little easier.” Hrim tapped the staff on the ground and a boulder appeared through the mist.

  “Pull up a rock and have a seat,” Hrim invited. Two more boulders appeared in the fog. Hrim was amused at the images Amelia and Miguel agreed upon as appropriate for some transcendental instruction.

  “Miguel,” Hrim began, “Do you understand that you have been here before?”