Just Like a Hero

by Patricia Pellicane

  She smiled. “You don’t want to feel it?”

  “I do. That’s not the problem. The thing is I can’t take another second of this. I need to come.”

  “Then do it,” she said as she raised her hips, and he pushed deeper inside her.

  He muttered a low, incoherent sound of hunger and forcefully thrust forward. She grunted with each plunge and watched with surprise as he lost it. He came wildly into her barely seconds after he had begun. He gasped, shaken.

  “Damn it! You’re like a freaking drug.” He took a deep breath and complained, “You’ve left me shaking and weak. I’ve never known anything like you. Why did we wait so long? We could have been doing this for more than a month.”

  “Greedy,” she stated, with a sigh.

  “I am,” he agreed. “When it comes to you, I’m afraid I’ll always be greedy.”

  “You want to go to bed?”

  “You don’t mind if I sleep here?”

  “I think it won’t hurt if we sleep together once in a while.”

  “That’s a relief,” he quipped. “I thought for a minute there you wanted to sleep together every night.”

  She laughed as he helped her to her feet and together they moved toward her bedroom. “And you’d hate that, I take it.”

  “Of course. I don’t want you getting any ideas that I want to live with you. That couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  She laughed again. “I know.”

  “We should make a plan. Tell me, what would you think if I said we should sleep together on Monday nights?”

  “That sounds perfect,” she sighed as she slipped beneath her sheet and pressed her butt into the warm curve of his body. “This feels good.”

  “It does,” he agreed. “In fact, it feels good enough to make me think, probably we should spend the weekends together, too.”

  “In bed?” she asked.

  “Well, now that you mentioned it, that sounds great.”

  “Now that I mentioned it,” she repeated with a touch of sarcasm, as she reached for her lamp and turned out the lights. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

  Lexie only smiled at the endearment, while wondering what he was up to. There was no way that he was finished. It wasn’t long before she found out.

  “Lexie.”

  “What?”

  “Monday’s are not enough. We’ll have to spend more than one night together.”

  “We agreed on Mondays and the weekends.”

  “Yeah, but―”

  “You’re not moving in here,” she said, cutting him off. “It’s too soon.”

  He reached around her and pulled her closer to his chest. His hand cupped her breast. “If we sleep together Friday, Saturday, Sunday and Monday, that only leaves Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday.”

  “So?”

  “I think we need to sleep together on Wednesdays, too.”

  “We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”

  “Fine,” he said in obvious disappointment.

  “Fine,” she repeated, hoping the subject was closed for the night.

  Chapter Seven

  It was…for the night.

  Early the next morning, they sat at the kitchen counter, having finished breakfast and sipping coffee. She looked over the newspaper while Jim scanned the sports section.

  “God, these Mets,” he said in disgust. “Lost again. They’re sort of pathetic, aren’t they?”

  She shrugged. “I wonder if I’ll live long enough to see them win another series.”

  “Are you a fan?”

  “I was.” She shrugged. “I suppose I still am, but I don’t mind telling you, it’s not easy to watch them play. Every time they put together a decent team, they sell off half of it.”

  “Yeah, they have a problem, all right. Some people blame it on Madoff.”

  “Still? I’m not saying he didn’t hurt the team, but come on… I think there’s no one to blame but the players.”

  “The All Star game is in two weeks. You want to go with me?”

  “Really? You have tickets? Of course, I’d like to go with you.”

  “So what about Wednesday nights?”

  She glanced at his hopeful expression. “Okay, here’s the deal. You’re not allowed to nag.”

  “What kind of deal is that?”

  “It’s the kind I’m willing to give.”

  “What am I allowed?”

  “Anything you want, except sleeping over on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday.”

  He grinned. “Does that mean we can make love, but not sleep together on those nights?”

  She shrugged. “If you like.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  “Take what?”

  “The deal.”

  “Go to work. I’ve got to shower and get ready for work myself.”

  * * * *

  At work she got a phone call. “Lexie?”

  “Yes?”

  “Lexie, it’s me, Mrs. Morgan.”

  “Oh, hi is everything all right?”

  “Well, actually not really. We have a bit of a problem.”

  Lexie frowned. It was nine o’clock at night. What could possibly cause her neighbor a problem at this time of night. Most often, the lady was ready for bed by this time. Instead, Lexie heard voices in the background.

  “Tell her―” The rest was cut off as Mrs. Morgan or someone put their hand over the receiver.

  “Wait,” Lexie heard. Then came the sounds of a scuffle. “Don’t do that! I told you to wait.” There wasn’t a doubt in Lexie’s mind that voice belonged to Mr. Burton.

  “Don’t do anything. I’ll be right there,” she said and hung up.

  Barely ten minutes later, after muttering a quick excuse to her boss, she took off the last two hours of her shift. She stood in the hallway of her apartment building and glanced at Jim’s door. He was probably watching TV. Lexie wondered if she should get him. She shook her head and forced herself to calm down and take a few deep breaths.

  It wasn’t that bad. Of course, it wasn’t. What could these old folks have done that could have instigated this pounding of her heart. Nothing, she mentally added as she silently convinced herself her anxiousness was completely unnecessary.

  She knocked on Mrs. Morgan’s door then drew back as the door was instantly answered. Mrs. Dietz nearly dragged her inside. She shut the door and locked it behind her.

  “What’s happened?” Lexie asked. “Is everyone all right?”

  “We’re fine for now, dear.”

  “What does that mean, for now?”

  The moment she asked the question Mrs. Gilbert burst into tears. She was talking while crying all into her lace trimmed hanky, and Lexie couldn’t make out a word.

  “What? What is she saying? Why is everyone here?” And everyone was there. All six of her elderly neighbors. Mrs. Summers, looking smaller and grayer than usual, wrung her hands in some anxiousness. Mrs. Gilbert cried. Mr. Burton tried to look mean.

  “She’s saying she doesn’t want to go to prison.” Mrs. Morgan interpreted.

  Lexie shook her head, dismissing the possibility.

  “She won’t. Just let me do what I want,” Mr. Burton replied.

  Lexie’s gaze widened. “What do you want to do?”

  “He wants to kill Mr. Kerrington.”

  “Oh,” Lexie whispered with half a smile and a sigh of relief. “Mr. Burton, you know better than that.”

  “He’s trying to put us all in jail, so he can rent out our apartments.”

  “Jail?” she asked, unsure of what he meant. “He can’t just put you in jail. Remember what Jim said? You’ll be fine. One of his people colleagues is sending all of you papers to fill out in case the man harasses you.”

  “We caught him planting a bag of marijuana in Marsha’s apartment.”

  “That’s weed,” Mr. Burton told her.

  It took Lexie a second to remember, Mrs. Morgan was Marsha. She never called them by their fir
st names.

  “It’s weed, Tillie,” Mr. Burton said to Mrs. Gilbert. “I told you a dozen times, we can go to jail if the cops find it hidden in her boot.”

  “Okay, tell me what happened…”

  They all began to talk at once.

  “Wait!” she said above the sound of six eager voices. “You, Mrs. Morgan, you tell me, from the beginning. Everyone else be quiet.”

  She moved ahead of the group and entered the living room. With a horrified gasp, she instantly sought the steadiness of a wall and leaned against it. “Oh my God. What did you do?”

  “We tied him up.”

  A low muffled sound came from the man in the center of the room.

  “Why?”

  “Mr. Burton and I went to visit the puppies next door. You know the pet shop?” she asked, trying to explain.

  Lexie nodded. “All right, and…”

  “And,” Mrs. Morgan said, “when we got back we found him sitting on the floor, moaning in front of my opened closet.”

  “Moaning?”

  “Well, I was a little afraid, living here by myself and all, so I set up a trap, in case anyone looked into my closet without my permission.”

  “What was the trap?”

  “A bowling ball. I had it on the upper shelf.” She smiled. “Mr. Burton put it there for me.”

  The man nodded. “I had to use a stepstool. It was too high for me to reach.”

  Lexie nodded and repeated, “And…”

  “If anyone pulled my scarf out of the way, the small block above it would move and the ball would fall on them,” Mrs. Morgan said.

  “Would it? I mean did it?”

  “That’s why he’s bleeding.”

  “They hit me,” Mr. Kerrington muttered with his gag still in place. Still, Lexie was sure that’s what he’d said.

  “So you came home and found him sitting on the floor.”

  “Holding his head,” Mrs. Morgan added. “He was holding his head and the ball was against the wall. “I didn’t know it was him, so I grabbed Tommy’s bat.”

  “What?”

  “My grandson left it here. I grabbed the bat leaning against the wall behind the door and hit him. He passed out after that.”

  “He said he was going to press charges,” Mr. Burton added. “He said we were all going to jail.”

  “Did you?” Lexie asked the man tied at the center of the room.

  He shook his head no and moaned.

  “I’ll be right back,” Lexie said. “Don’t do anything while I’m gone.”

  “What are you going to do?” Mrs. Gilbert asked as another bout of tears erupted.

  “You’re not going to call the cops, right?” Mr. Burton asked.

  “I don’t know. I have to talk to Jim.”

  “I think we should kill him,” he said while Mrs. Gilbert cried harder.

  “If we kill him, we won’t get in trouble.”

  “You will!” Lexie exclaimed. “You definitely will. So don’t do anything. You hear me? Don’t do a thing, and don’t go near him, and give me that bat,” she said as she tore it from his hands. “What are you crazy?”

  A second later, she noticed the gun wedged between his belt and his stomach. She took that as well.

  “I told you she wouldn’t agree,” Mrs. Morgan calmly stated, as Lexie opened the woman’s apartment door.

  Lexie knocked on Jim’s door and watched his smile turn quickly into a look of concern. “What’s the matter?”

  “I don’t want you to get upset.”

  “I won’t. What happened?” he asked as he opened the door wider so she might enter his apartment. She shook her head. “We have to go.”

  “Where?”

  “To Mrs. Morgan’s place.”

  He nodded as he followed her into the hallway. “Are you going to tell me why?”

  Lexie thought it was best if he knew what he was walking into. This way, he could calm down a bit before seeing what she saw. “All right, wait, I need to tell you something, but you’ve got to promise not to get upset.”

  “I’m getting upset just listening to this. Tell me what happened? And why are you holding a bat?” His voice sharpened with horror. “And what the hell is that?”

  “A gun,” she said as she took it from her waistband and put it in Jim’s hand. “I took it from Mr. Burton, so he wouldn’t kill Mr. Kerrington.”

  Jim laughed. “You got me with that one,” he said, still smiling at what he supposed was a joke. “Where did you really get it?”

  “Jim, listen to me. Mr. Kerrington was in Mrs. Morgan’s apartment.”

  “Really? He’s bothering her again?” He shook his head and murmured almost to himself, “This is ridiculous.”

  “Because Mrs. Morgan lives alone and is sometimes afraid, she’s set a few traps should a burglar ever break in. One of them is in her closet. All you had to do was move her scarf that’s hanging from the shelf.”

  Jim frowned. “What?”

  Lexie nodded. “Moving the scarf causes a small wooden block to fall away. The little block is holding a bowling ball in place. Once it moves, the ball comes down on your head.”

  “Ouch.”

  “I know.”

  “Cut to the chase. She didn’t kill him, did she?” he asked. “Did she? What happened?”

  “He was going to call the cops, after he left a bag of weed at her place.”

  “Jesus! Is he that desperate?” He frowned. “Are you sure it’s Mr. Kerrington? Did you see him?”

  She didn’t answer him. “He thought she was out for the afternoon. She thought he was a burglar. She hit him with a baseball bat. Her grandson’s baseball bat. It was leaning against the wall behind her door. After the bowling ball hit his head, she hit him with a bat. The last blow apparently knocked him unconscious.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “I know. I said the same thing.”

  “He’s not dead, is he?”

  She took a deep breath and shook her head. “The thing is Mr. Burton wants to kill him. Thank God, I talked him out of that.” She shivered at the thought. “At least, I think I did.”

  “Where is he?”

  “They tied him to a chair. They were trying to think of a way out of this mess. So they called me. Mr. Burton insists the only way out is to kill him. The ladies don’t like the idea.”

  “We’re moving out of here. Let’s go.”

  “Where? We can’t move now.”

  Jim frowned. “What are you talking about? Across the hall. We’re going to fix this mess. And we’d better hurry before Mr. Burton changes his mind.”

  “Oh I have the gun. He can’t kill him.”

  Jim muttered a curse. “Why did he have a gun? Is it licensed?”

  She gave the smallest of shrugs. “I don’t know. He told me once he’d had it since he was a boy. And he didn’t give it to me. I took it.”

  “Good God, does he take care of it? Will it explode if it’s fired?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Jim beat her to Mrs. Morgan’s door and knocked as she reached his side. “Just calm down. Don’t be angry. They’re terrified, and they didn’t mean it.”

  “Bullshit, they didn’t mean it. They tied him up, but they didn’t mean it?”

  “They were only trying to buy some time to think.”

  “And no one, including you, thought to call the cops?”

  “I wanted to talk to you. I thought you’d know best what to do.”

  “After this is all over,” he said, “I never want to see another senior citizen.”

  “Too bad, because in about fifty years you’ll be one.”

  “It’ll take that long to get over this.”

  That night, all six seniors went to jail. The cops thought it was hilarious, since not one of them was under eighty-five, but they had no choice. Kidnapping charges were mentioned—Mr. Kerrington was very angry to say the least. Still, the charges were instantly dismissed once he spoke with his lawyer. A deal was the
n fashioned between his lawyer and the DA. Mr. Kerrington’s trespassing/breaking and entering plus drug possession charges, as well as the bag of weed, would disappear, along with the kidnapping and attempted murder charges he was eager to see brought against his six tenants.

  An uneasy peace was declared.

  Mr. Burton’s gun disappeared. Locks on each apartment were changed. The tenants were exceedingly grateful. Both Jim and Lexie found homemade cookies outside their doors every day for the next week. Lexie didn’t hear a peep from her neighbors for days.

  “So what do you think?” she asked Jim when they met a few nights later, in the building’s hallway after work then entered her apartment together.

  “I think I’m starving. Did you bring home enough for me?”

  “Yes, there’s more than enough for us, plus—”

  “They’re not getting any,” he said, interrupting any intent on her part to share her food with their neighbors. “I’ll set the table.”

  “I wasn’t giving them any. Besides, I don’t have enough for all of them. I’m not happy you don’t like them. Jim.”

  “What are you talking about?” he asked, then added, a definitely weak, “I do.”

  “You don’t sound like it.”

  “Lexie, I wait all day to get home to you. I’m hungry. Just for once, I don’t want to share you or any food.”

  “All right,” she said, knowing it would take a little time before he got over their neighbors’ antics. She placed the bags on her table and asked, “Would you get the plates, forks and napkins? I’ll be right back.”

  He heard her shower run and smiled when hardly two minutes later he heard her behind him.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever taken a faster shower,” she said.

  Jim turned from the table setting. “It’s a good thing. You don’t…want the food…to get cold,” he said as he watched her walk toward him.

  A moment later, she asked to his stunned expression. “Are you surprised?”

  “A little,” he said, his voice sounding more like a croak. He appeared to be having a little trouble with his breathing. “Mostly, I’m loving this.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather eat naked?”

  He blinked and, as if in a trance, reached to loosen his tie as she helped him from his jacket.