by J. C. Gatlin
Moving past him and out the door, she pulled Zeus onto the front porch and toward the sidewalk.
He barked and howled, struggling against his leash to turn and look at the landlord kneeling at the front door behind them. Kim wondered what the neighbors must think.
She headed over to Mallory's next door, when she noticed the BMW parked near the garbage bin. It was running, facing their building. There was someone inside, watching.
“Addison,” she said. Her eyes focused on the man behind the steering wheel. Dragging Zeus by his leash, she stepped off the sidewalk toward the BMW.
It rolled forward, then moved through the parking lot. Kim screamed and ran after it. Startled by the sudden yank, Zeus turned and ran with her.
“Addison,” she yelled. “Addison, stop.”
The freshly-waxed car with tinted windows inched forward. Its engine revved then it rolled to the security gates. When they opened, it raced out and down the street. Kim ran to the gates as they closed and watched the car disappear.
Pausing, she was certain it was Addison's BMW. He had been watching them, again. Then she turned and dragged Zeus back to the curb. A moment later, she was pounding on Mallory's door.
Her front door opened and Mallory poked her head outside. Her hair was a tangle of red, and a blue blanket wrapped loosely around her bare shoulders.
“What is it?” she asked.
“We need to talk.” Kim pushed the door open and entered the living room. Clothes were strewn across the floor, and she noticed a black and white striped baseball jersey draped across the couch. A pair of cleats lay at the bottom of the spiral staircase.
She looked at Mallory.
Mallory pushed Kim back toward the doorway. “Do you ever stop to think about what’s happening to others before you come barging in?”
“Mal, listen to me…” Kim pushed back against her friend. Mallory struggled to hold up the blanket as she leaned into Kim, forcing her to take another step back. Kim held up her arms, blocking her. “Would you listen to me? Just listen.”
Mallory shook her head and grabbed Kim’s arm. “Now isn’t a good time for your drama. I have company.”
“Mal, listen. Does Addison have a key to your townhome?”
“Of course not. Why?”
Kim leaned forward. “Do you have my spare key?”
“What?”
“Where’s my spare key?” She raised her hand, pointed a finger. “You have a key. Where is it?”
Mallory gestured toward the door, then paused. The key hook was empty. “They're... It's gone.”
“What?”
“My spare key ring. It's gone.”
“So Addison has it.”
“I don't know. Why would he…”
Kim interrupted her. “If Addison has a key to your house, then he has a key to my house.”
“What are you getting at?”
Kim paused, collecting her thoughts, then continued. “Addison is watching you.” she said, breaking free of Mallory’s vice grip on her arm. “Addison is watching us.”
“What?” Mallory sounded curt, evidence that she was not amused. “He's out of town.”
“No, he’s not.” Kim glanced at the jersey again. “I just saw him outside sitting in his BMW.”
“You’re being paranoid.” Mallory turned her back, dismissing her. Kim started to protest but Mallory seemed bent on changing the subject.
“Besides, I’ve got something to show you.” Gushing, Mallory ran over to the couch. She picked up a baseball bat and held it up to show Kim. He had autographed it in black marker. “Look what Gunz gave me!”
“Mal, you're not listening to me.”
“It's the bat from his home run the other day,” Mallory continued. “And let me tell you, Kim. This bat here, isn't the biggest bat he's got.”
Kim grabbed the bat from her hands and threw it on the floor. “You’re not listening to me, Mal. Addison was just here, and I think he may have been at Greico's when I was waiting for Ross. The waiter said my grandfather was there.”
“What exactly are you trying to say?” Mallory crossed her arms as the corner of her mouth twisted with exasperation. “And say it quietly so that you don’t wake-up the Gunz. We had a late night last night.”
“What I’m saying, exactly, is that Addison is spying on us. Something is wrong, really wrong and I called the police...”
“You called the police?” Mallory shot a throaty laugh, clearly to cover her annoyance. “Would you listen to yourself? What I hear you saying is that Addison cares about me.”
“Then why is he spying on me? Why was he at the restaurant last night and why did he tell the waiter that he was my grandfather?”
“You're getting all melodramatic again.”
Mallory's chiding tone angered her, and Kim cut her off. “The shrink, er, the doctor, Alec Whitman, he said that Addison has a past of stalking some ex-girlfriend. He genuinely made her life a living hell.”
“What's your point?”
“My point is that everything that's going on, everything that I thought was Ross, I think Addison is involved,” Kim insisted, moving her hands to further illustrate the point. “If he was at the restaurant like the waiter...”
“I can't believe we're having this conversation again.” The expression on Mallory's face bordered on mockery. “Strange phone calls. Strange notes. Exploding garbage disposals. It doesn't end with you, and now you're trying to draw my Pudd'n Toes into the middle of it.”
“He found my engagement ring.” Kim removed the diamond ring from her pocket. She held it up.
“What?” Mallory's eyes widened and she reached for it. Kim drew back.
“He set it on the nightstand next to my bed,” Kim said, “like a display or something.”
“Your ring?” Mallory couldn't take her eyes off it. “But why?”
“Because he’s lying to us.” Kim closed her fist, hiding the ring. She returned it to her pocket. “He’s not stable. You need to cut him out of your life. Out of our lives.”
“You can’t tell me who to see and not to see.” Mallory stepped closer to Kim, her whole demeanor was growing in severity. “Especially after I tried for years to get you to cut Ross out of your life.
“But you’re dating a man that is affecting us both. A true friend would not put her best friend in jeopardy over a man.”
“Don’t tell me how to be friend.” Sudden anger lit her eyes. “I’ve been a friend through this whole circus you call a life. I’m the only friend you’ve got.”
“You are not the only friend I’ve got, Mallory Astin. In fact, I’ve lost a lot of people lately, and you're making it very easy right now to cut one more person out of my life.”
“Oh that does it!” Her temper flared and Mallory leaned in toward's Kim's face. She spat out the words contemptuously. “Get out of my house!”
Mallory pushed Kim backwards toward the door. Kim resisted as Zeus barked and snapped at her.
Struggling to keep the blanket wrapped around her midsection, Mallory screamed at the dog, igniting him into a spasm of barks. Kim gripped his collar and held him back as she stepped backwards out onto the porch.
“Fine.” Kim shot her a hostile glare.
Mallory slammed the door shut.
She stared at it a moment, then looked down at Zeus. He cocked his head, watching her. Kim looked back at the door as her gray eyes darkened like angry thunderclouds. Curses fell from her mouth. Tugging on his leash, she marched Zeus back to the sidewalk and around to her home next door.
The landlord was still installing the locks and he looked puzzled when Kim and Zeus raged inside.
She grabbed the edge of the front door, knocking his tools out the way and slammed it shut.
Zeus whimpered and then ran up the spiral staircase. She watched the dog disappear upstairs then turned to the landlord. He looked puzzled, not sure what to say. She frowned at him, leaning against the door.
“Did you and Mallory h
ave words?” he asked, picking up a yellow and black powered drill from the floor. There were several parts and pieces of locks scattered around the threshold. Kim noticed this, ignoring his question, and instead focused on the door.
“How many locks are you installing?” she asked him. The landlord had cut five holes in the door and installed three deadbolts, with two more to go.
“You can’t be too safe around here,” he said to her, holding up the drill. Removing his straw hat, he wiped the sweat from his brow. He then replaced the hat and smiled at her. “Mallory’s a hot head. I’m sure you’ll make up.”
Kim shook her head.
“Not this time.” She folded her arms across her chest and turned away. “Mallory thinks of no one but herself. She is the most selfish, self-indulgent, egotistical…”
A knock at the door interrupted her. Startled, Kim jumped. Zeus barked and scrambled out the bedroom loft and down the spiral staircase. Kim saw him and grabbed him by the collar as he rushed past.
“If that’s Mallory, I don’t want to talk to her,” she said, holding back her dog. She glared at the landlord beside the door. “You tell her I’m not accepting her apology so she can just turn herself right back around.”
As if getting a chuckle out of her theatrics, and like any true southern gentleman would, he approached the front door and opened it. Surprised, he stepped back and opened the door wider.
Kim was about to tell Mallory a few choice words but hesitated when she saw who was at the door. Staring at two uniformed police officers standing on her front porch, Kim took a couple hesitant steps forward. Zeus barked at them.
“Excuse, Miss Bradford?” the taller one said.
Kim froze. Her heart pounded in her chest. “Yes?”
“Are you Kimberly Bradford?” the taller officer asked. Kim glanced at the landlord.
“Yes. What can we do for you, officer?” she asked, stepping forward. She held her dog back.
“Miss Bradford,” he said, looking directly at Kim. “I'm afraid we have some bad news.”
“What is it?”
“It's Ross McGuire. A patrol car found his body.”
Kim was speechless. “What?”
“Ross McGuire is dead,” the officer clarified.
“And we're going to need you to identify the body.”
“Ross?” The word stuck in her throat. Her heart stopped. She wasn’t sure if she was hearing them correctly.
“Five weeks, five days and five hours.” Her voice caught in her throat. Her head spun round. She thought she was going to be sick. She looked back at the police officer. “Five weeks, five days and five hours.”
"Miss Bradford,” the officer said again. "We need you to come with us.”
15
The One You Love
Kim sat impatiently in interrogation room two and stared at the wall. She had been sitting in the small confines of the room since early that morning.
It was late afternoon before the Detective finally told her she was free to leave.
Kim stood and slowly stepped to the door, opened it and slipped into the busy hallway of the police station.
Mallory was waiting for her, and rushed to her as Kim came through the locked doors and into the lobby.
“Oh, Kim,” Mallory said, wrapping her arms around her. “I heard everything. I’m so sorry.”
Kim embraced her tightly, saying nothing.
Outside the police station, Michael was waiting for them and approached the girls as they made their way down the stone steps at the front entrance.
“What happened to Ross?” There was a possessive desperation in his voice. “Tell me what's going on!”
Mallory pushed him away. “Not now...”
“Something's happened.” His voice rose an octave as they brushed past him. Mallory's white Miata was at the curb in front of a parking meter. Bolting down the steps, he followed them. “I want to know what's going on.”
“Leave us alone.” Mallory opened the car door for Kim and placed a hand on her arm for added assistance. She did her best to shield Kim from the distraught young man.
Michael was crying now, blocking her at the car door. “Please,” he sputtered. “Please...”
Kim hesitated, raising her head to meet his gaze. She wanted to say more, but her voice broke slightly. She managed a slurred rush of syllables that formed some foreign-sounding phrase. “He's dead.”
It didn't even sound like her own voice. And the words were hollow, had no meaning. Kim felt like she was having an out-of-body experience, watching her mouth say those two simple words. She wasn't even certain for a fact that she had spoken them.
But Michael heard.
He stumbled backwards, speechless, tears running freely down his cheek. Standing at the curb, he watched Kim climb into the passenger seat and pull the door closed.
“He's dead...” His voice was barely a whisper.
He shook his head and wiped his eyes with his shirt sleeve as the girls sped away.
Mallory drove Kim home in silence. She wanted to talk about their fight. But it was pointless. She really didn't know what to say about it anyway.
Kim seemed so distant, lost in her thoughts, and stared out the passenger side window. Had Mallory said anything, Kim probably wouldn't have wanted to hear it anyway.
So she turned on the radio and cranked up the volume.
When they returned to the townhome complex, Kim knocked on the landlord's door. He asked about Zeus and gave her a new set of five brass keys dangling from a ring. He had installed five deadbolts into her door, for protection.
“Five deadbolts? Really?” Kim held up the key ring. “Really?” she asked again. When she got to her front door, she inserted each key into each lock and slowly unlocked her door. Zeus greeted her, jumping up and placing his paws on her shoulders.
“Do you need me to stay with you?” Mallory asked her.
Kim shrugged and shook her head. Shoving Zeus away, she stepped into her dark home.
Mallory reached for her. “Wait, Kim…”
Kim hesitated. She didn’t look up at Mallory or really even acknowledge her. She just simply paused in the doorway, staring down at her tennis shoes.
“Kim, I’m just really, really sorry,” Mallory's voice caught in her throat. She waited for a response, but Kim didn’t give one. Finally, she continued. “Not just about Ross, but about our fight and, well, you know, about everything.”
“Don't mention it.” Her voice had drifted away as she shut the door on her friend. With Zeus behind her, she locked it, slowly turning each deadbolt. It took all the energy she had left and she leaned against the heavy wood casing. Her eyes tearing, she slid down to the floor and sobbed.
Zeus approached her, sniffing her cheek then licked her ear.
* * * * * * *
It was the middle of the night when Kim rose from her bed. She couldn’t sleep. Zeus watched her as she dressed, grabbed her coat, and made her way downstairs. He followed. Coming to the door, she turned and told him to stay. A moment later, she was outside locking the five deadbolts.
The moon high above her, Kim walked across the shadowy parking lot and slipped through the security gates. She walked the streets, passing in and out of the glow of lamp posts, and made her way downtown. Her mind raced with memories of Ross. And, she fought back tears as she walked the empty sidewalks. The night wind screamed around her, and she buttoned her coat tighter, scrunching it around her neck.
She didn’t want to go home. Walking for another forty-five minutes, Kim found herself at the old folk’s home. She entered the building, the dry, hot air turned-up an extra notch on this cold January night. Stepping through the hallway, she found the night shift workers on the floor. Nurse Carla was nowhere in sight.
Kim came to her grandfather’s room and creaked open the door. She peered inside. Grampa was asleep in bed. Quietly, she slipped in and shut the door behind her. Coming to his bed, she watched him a moment. He was lightly snoring. S
he leaned over the bed and hugged him, then kissed his forehead.
Maneuvering through the dark room, she sat in the recliner by the window. Sitting deep in the chair, she brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. The window was drafty and cold, but the room was blistering hot. She could hear her grandfather a few feet away in bed, quietly wheezing as he breathed. Finally shutting her eyes, Kim fell asleep in his old recliner and dreamed about Ross.
When morning came, she opened her eyes and found her grandfather standing over her.
“Hey Princess,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
She looked up at him. “Grampa?”
“Kimberly?” He knelt beside her. “Are you okay?”
“No,” Kim said. She felt the tears welling in her eyes and her face flushed. “It’s Ross. He’s dead.”
“Oh, Princess.” He took her hands in his and caressed them. “Tell me what happened.”
Kim felt his thin arms wrap protectively around her, and she rested her face on his shoulder. She felt thankful for his embrace and brief lucidity, just when she needed it the most.
* * * * * * *
Morning sunlight spilled into the small living room of the rental home just two blocks from the University. A faded couch with springs breaking through the fabric faced an old television set in the corner and a scratched coffee table littered with text books, notebooks, empty pizza boxes and old beer bottles.
Michael sat on the hardwood floor in front of a dying fire. He ripped another page from a spiral note book and tossed it into the glowing blaze.
A shirtless teenage boy stumbled into the living room, stretched and let out a loud sigh. He then flipped through the empty pizza box looking for leftovers.
“Morning, Roomie,” he muttered with half a yawn. “You been up all night?”
Silently, Michael ripped another page from his notebook. He tossed it into the fire, where the page lit up in a burst of blue-orange and disintegrated.