The Black Velvet Coat

by Jill G. Hall

  She felt for the amulet and touched its smooth surface, portended to bring her luck. How could she have been so stupid as to drive into a storm? She should have heeded the ranger’s warning. Just like she should have listened to Paul, Ella, and Milo when they warned her about Ricardo.

  “Please, God! I don’t want to die,” she yelled. Was he punishing her for killing Ricardo? Would she go to Hell? Would she die before having a chance to tell the ones she loved she was sorry? Rain continued to pound on the roof as the car drifted faster and faster and then spun in a circular motion into the flash flood’s whirlpool.

  37

  Despite the lumpy couch, Anne awoke rejuvenated from her nap feeling the lure of possible New York night adventures. Dottie was nowhere to be seen. So Anne broke down and texted Sergio.

  He got right back to her: Big Foot! Did you have a good day?

  Anne: Fabulous. Can you meet?

  Sergio: Love to.

  Anne: When? Where?

  Sergio took a few minutes to reply: 7:30. Corner of 6th Avenue and West 51st Street.

  She opened the map and found the spot. Then she ruffled through some drawers and slipped a chiffon baby-doll dress over her turtleneck. Dottie had bought it “thrifting” last year on her San Francisco visit. It had fit her like a baggy dress, but on Anne, it looked more like a blouse and hit the top of her thighs. She wore her jeans underneath and looked in a cracked mirror. Not so bad. With her new style, Dottie probably wouldn’t wear the thing ever again anyway. Anne donned coat, hat, and gloves, slipped out, and made her way to the bus stop, the snow piled thick along the sidewalk’s edge.

  As Anne rode the bus toward the designated corner, she removed her gloves in order to fondle the key in her pocket, hoping for a lucky night, and then giggled at her outrageous imagination. Looking out the window, she admired the colorful holiday lights strung on the bare trees and tall buildings. Her favorites were the white ones that looked like stars in a night sky. After a few miles, she jumped off the bus at Armani’s. The guidebook rated it as the best pizza in New York. She considered stopping in for a piece but didn’t want to chance being late to meet Sergio.

  Arriving just in time at their rendezvous corner, long lines stood on the sidewalk coming from two directions. The neon lights above Radio City Music Hall blazed: The Rockettes Christmas Spectacular! How exciting! She pushed through the mob scene and walked to each end of the building, staring into people’s faces. It was almost 8:00 PM when she finally spotted him standing on the corner right where he said he would be. He wore his wool coat again and a jaunty red tam that would have looked silly on anyone else but was fun and festive on him. He hugged her to him. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  She gazed up at the neon sign. “I’ve always wanted to see The Rockettes.”

  He frowned. “I’m sorry. It’s sold out.”

  “That’s okay.” She tried to hide her disappointment.

  He grinned and held up two tickets. “But I got the last two!”

  “Tricked me!” She laughed.

  They got in line and followed the crowd into the lobby. The art deco space with the cool chandelier and huge mural would make a great photo collage. She would add it to her New York list.

  “Souvenir programs!” With an armful, a teen in an elf costume stood before them. “Only $45.”

  “Want one?” Sergio asked and pulled out some cash.

  She grabbed his elbow and dragged him toward a rack of postcards. “No, thanks. I’d rather have a couple of these instead.” She’d mail one to her mother, Tootie, and Pootie and add the other to her collection. He bought her the postcards of high-kicking chorus lines.

  Inside the theatre, he held his hand on the small of her back and guided her to their orchestra seats. Sitting down, she said, “These are great seats. You can see the whole stage from here.” She looked up at the arched ceiling and scanned the balcony. “This place is humongous!”

  He smiled. “It’s one of the biggest in the world, seating almost six thousand.”

  “No way!” As the lights went down, she held her breath in anticipation, and he squeezed her hand. Soon the music began, and the velvet curtain rose to wild applause. Anne had never seen so many other long-legged women with big feet in her life. They wore reindeer antlers on their heads. How did they keep so synchronized? Anne knew that if she practiced for hours she wouldn’t ever be able to dance like that.

  She could have done without the 3-D glasses and flying Santa in his sleigh. When it flew toward her, she grabbed Sergio’s arm, laughing hysterically, and scrunched down in her seat, certain Santa would crash into her.

  In the next scene, a red tour bus rolled onto stage and twirled. The dancers bobbed up and down on the seats and exited the vehicle in sparkly costumes. In another sequence, tin soldiers marched: step touch, step touch, and kick, kick, kick in a long straight line. Sure they could tippy-tap across the stage, but Anne bet they couldn’t paint mangos like she could.

  During the Nativity sequence, Anne whispered to Sergio, “Are those real camels?”

  He nodded yes.

  After three curtain calls, Sergio escorted her out through the crowd to the sidewalk. Limos and taxis lined the curb.

  “I sure got a kick out of that.” Anne said with a straight face.

  “Ha! Ha!” Sergio smiled.

  She yawned. Despite her nap, the jetlag had finally caught up with her. “I should get back to Dottie’s?”

  “You can’t go back yet.” Sergio held her close as theatergoers bustled around them.

  “I’ve got an early flight.”

  “You sure? How about my place?” He kissed her and looked into her eyes. “I have a great bottle of Chianti.”

  “Don’t think so.”

  He kissed her again, and she could feel his heat all the way through their layers of clothes she wanted to nestle with him all night. “Okay. One drink, but not at your place. Somewhere public.”

  “I know a cool spot you’d like.”

  “Death and Company?”

  “How did you hear about that?” He hugged her to him again.

  “Saw it online.”

  “I know an even better place. PDT.”

  “What does that stand for?”

  “Please Don’t Tell.”

  She spoke through the side of her mouth. “You mean if I do you’ll have to kill me?”

  He laughed. “You’re good! There’s a subway station down the block?”

  She shook her head. “Let’s take the bus.”

  “I’ve got a better idea.”

  They walked a few blocks from the theatre crowd, and Sergio hailed a cab. He gave the driver an address. They climbed in just as it started to sprinkle. He dialed to make a reservation then put an arm around her shoulder while raindrops hit the windshield and dripped down the glass.

  The cab dropped them off at a hot dog joint. Sergio led her inside to the front of a long line that snaked out of an old-fashioned telephone booth. “Hi, Salvatore.”

  “Sergio. My man.” The burly bouncer shook his hand and then clasped him on the back and opened the door for them.

  Sergio put the receiver to his ear, dialed “1,” and said his name.

  A wall next to Anne opened up, and they stepped inside a dimly lit speakeasy packed with people. The hostess sat them at the corner of a long bar. Behind it, shiny liquor bottles were displayed.

  Sergio handed Anne the cocktail menu. “What do you recommend?” she asked.

  “This place is known for their bacon-infused whiskey.”

  “I don’t eat a lot of meat. Just fish.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m a pescetarian.”

  “A what?”

  “It’s like a vegetarian, but I do eat seafood.”

  “Okay.” He smiled. “That can be arranged. I don’t think they have any fish drinks though. He ran his finger down the menu. “You might like a Witch’s Kiss. It’s quite a concoction with Irish whiskey.”

&nbs
p; She nodded. “Sounds enticing.”

  He ordered her one and a beer for himself. “Hungry? You probably don’t eat hotdogs, but the tater tots are to die for.”

  “Sure. No onions, just cheese, please.” She wanted to remain kissable.

  They each sipped their drinks. Sergio touched her snowflake pin and then ran his hand along her coat’s arm. “Bella! Wherever did you find it?”

  “What?”

  “They don’t sell coats like that at Bloomingdales anymore.”

  She took a sip of her drink and hesitated. “I bought it at a thrift shop.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No, really.”

  A waitress delivered their tots in a paper boat, and Anne dipped one in some cheese and nibbled. “Mmm.”

  He ran his hand over the jacket’s velvet shoulder. “It’s so classy. I bet you got a great deal.”

  “I did.” She shrugged off the coat and showed him the label. “A Dior.”

  “It’s perfect for you.” As he toyed with a curl that had fallen over her eyes, she felt a connection with him as if she’d known him for a long time, maybe even in a past life. She pulled out the key and opened her hand. “I found this in the pocket.”

  He took it from her and read the label, “Sea Cliff. Where’s that?”

  “I think somewhere in San Francisco near Ocean Beach.”

  “It must have belonged to the coat’s former owner.”

  Anne nodded. “That’s what I thought. A few days after I bought it, I saw in an old Life magazine a picture of a woman in a coat that looked just like it. It even had a snowflake pin on its collar.”

  “That’s amazing.” Sergio’s eyes penetrated hers.

  “Quite a coincidence.”

  He shook his head. “My grandmamma says everything happens for a reason.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “I do.” He smiled, pressed the key back into Anne’s hand, and kissed it.

  “There’s even more. Her fiancé was in the picture too. They were leaving their engagement party at the St. Francis. He looked scary.”

  Sergio nodded.

  Anne opened her eyes wide. “I think she was afraid of him.”

  “Sounds like that picture would be a good one for your artwork.”

  Anne couldn’t believe Sergio had said that. “I thought so too, so I made a photo transfer of it.”

  “I can’t wait to see it. I love that technique.”

  “You know it?”

  “Certainly.” He nodded.

  “I’ve become a bit obsessed. I Googled their names and found out that after that party, they went missing.”

  “Really? What do you think happened?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The bartender came over, and Sergio looked at Anne. She nodded, and he held up two fingers. They continued to talk until two o’clock in the morning. Then they left the bar and cuddled in the taxi’s backseat. “Big Foot. Please come home with me.”

  “Better not.”

  “I just want to be with you as long as I can.” His hands searched through the layers and found her bare back.

  She gazed into his eyes, and her heart stirred, like a brush mixing paints, then became awash with desire. She smiled and nodded slowly. “Okay.”

  He grinned and gave the address to the driver. And she floated along in Sergio’s arms all the way to his apartment.

  38

  Slumped over the T-Bird’s steering wheel, Sylvia regained consciousness with a splitting headache. She must have passed out. The sun, almost straight overhead, shone through the cracked windshield. She stretched her neck, looked in the rearview mirror, and winced as she touched a gash on her forehead. All she could remember was the pounding rain and her scream as the car flew. Silence surrounded the T-Bird; at least the rain had stopped.

  Lucy moaned on the passenger-seat floor, and Sylvia picked her up. “You okay, girl?” She gently moved each of the dog’s limbs, but when Sylvia manipulated the right front paw, Lucy let out a high-pitched shriek.

  Sylvia flinched and kissed Lucy’s forehead. “Sorry!”

  She looked out at the surroundings: a desert earth drenched a deep sienna and pockets of water pooled throughout. The driver’s side of the car tilted into a sandbar. She tried to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Damp dirt must have piled above the door’s bottom edge. She carefully put Lucy on the floor again, leaned over, and pressed the passenger door handle. It clicked but was stuck too. Sylvia crawled up onto her seat, leaned back, and kicked the door with her boot, but no luck. She kicked again, harder this time, and it flew open.

  Climbing out of the car, she sunk up to her ankles in deep sand. She put her purse over an elbow, gathered Lucy in her arms like a baby, careful not to hurt the leg, and looked around the vast landscape. At least there weren’t any dark clouds in sight.

  Sylvia trudged along for half an hour. The air became warm and dry, the wet sand releasing heat as the moisture evaporated. Her arms grew tired from the puppy’s weight, so she sat down on the sand to take a break. Removing her Pendleton she tied it around her waist. A nearby cactus pointed up from the earth. She felt like they were in the center of nowhere and had no clue which way to go to find civilization.

  Spying a dip on the horizon up ahead, she gathered Lucy in her arms again, and walked toward the indentation. Step by step, Sylvia’s boots pushed into the deep, thick dirt. She slid down a bank into an arroyo, where the ground remained hard. A trickle of red water ran through it. She knew people usually lived near rivers, so she followed the wash upstream.

  The afternoon waned and clouds began to gather, but she kept going, one foot in front of the other. With each step, Lucy grew heavier, but Sylvia, determined to take care of her, kept on. Sylvia touched the charm around her neck. “Please bring us luck.” Her voice rasped with thirst.

  The sky filled with a sunset like she had never seen: orange, purple, and reds, fire colors. Just as it grew dark, exhaustion overtook her, her knees buckled, and she fell onto the sand, unable to get back up.

  A half moon shone like a snapped pearl button as it peeked out from behind a tuft of clouds. The sky cleared, and stars beamed. Her body shivered from the cold. To keep them warm, she huddled over the moaning Lucy in her lap. Would they die right here?

  Sylvia’s head throbbed and her body ached, but she forced herself to stand again with Lucy still in her arms. She climbed to the top of a dune and looked around until she spotted what might be a road and headed toward it, step by step, until she reached the highway.

  She’d heard of people hitchhiking (Wasn’t there another Twilight Zone episode about that?) and thought someone might pick them up. They stood by the side of the road and waited for a car to come by. One approached, and she pointed a free thumb east, but the car passed by. She tried again with the next one, but that sedan kept going too. Sylvia finally collapsed down from exhaustion and nodded off.

  A honk woke her as dawn approached and a truck pulled up beside them. “Need a ride?”

  Sylvia touched the amulet around her neck as relief washed over her. She plodded to the truck. “Thank God!” She opened the door. “My puppy’s hurt.”

  The driver tugged at her gray braid. “See, amulet work.”

  “Betty Lou?” Sylvia had been half afraid of her at the trading post but now was thankful to see her.

  “I felt you were in trouble.” Her almond-shaped eyes showed concern as she looked at Lucy.

  “How?” Sylvia asked.

  Betty Lou chuckled. “Magic.”

  Sylvia didn’t believe in magic but smiled, grateful for whatever had brought Betty Lou to her.

  “Get in.” Sylvia handed Lucy to Betty Lou and climbed up into the Ford.

  “Got caught in the storm, huh?” The Indian woman scratched Lucy behind the ears. The puppy looked up and blinked at her.

  “Yes.” Sylvia nodded.

  “Where were you going in that deluge?”

  Sylvia fel
t like a little girl being scolded. “I wanted to see Monument Valley.”

  Betty Lou pulled the blanket from her shoulders and draped it around Sylvia. “Monument Valley is far away.” She touched Sylvia’s head wound with the blanket’s edge.

  “Ouch!” Sylvia backed away. “That smarts!”

  Betty Lou opened a cold Coke bottle and handed it to Sylvia. “Put it on your head.”

  Sylvia took a few gulps and held the soda on her throbbing head. “Please take us to a veterinarian. Lucy’s really hurt.”

  Betty Lou stretched out the puppy’s legs one at a time. Lucy yelped when the front paw was touched, and the Indian woman stopped and set her on the seat. “No vet necessary.” She started the ignition, revved the engine, and pulled out onto the road.

  Sylvia frowned and put her hand on top of Lucy’s shaky body. “She needs a vet.”

  “I can fix her.” Betty Lou’s voice was firm.

  Sylvia wanted to believe her. “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “To hogan.”

  “Hogan?” Sylvia finished the Coke, put the bottle down, and looked at Betty Lou.

  “My hogan. Home.”

  “Is it nearby?”

  “Just down the road.” Betty Lou nodded ahead. “Hungry?” She handed Sylvia an oatmeal cookie. Lucy looked up and sniffed, eyes on the cookie. Sylvia broke off a piece and fed it to her.

  As the sun rose, the sky turned rose colored with a smattering of high white clouds. From the truck’s rearview mirror, a woven novelty hung; the crystal teardrop in its center glittered in the light. Sylvia was surprised she didn’t want to touch the shiny object but instead preferred to watch the landscape glide by. Small grasses poked out of the damp sand, fat barrel-shaped cactus dotted the horizon, and white bushes wafted in the breeze.

  They drove for what seemed like hours, but finally, the truck crossed a wooden bridge over a bloodred river and pulled off the highway onto a bumpy road. The jolting movement caused Sylvia’s head to throb even more. Betty Lou drove about another mile then stopped. Crows flew over an igloo-shaped building, and half a dozen sheep grazed nearby. A corral held a pinto pony. No other buildings could be seen for miles, just open desert.