Satan's Breath

by Temple Madison

  Calvin caught up with him and grabbed his arm. “Well, Mr. Erik Grant, knowing what I do now, I extend my earlier offer.” Clamping his teeth down on his cigar, he pulled out a roll of bills and shook them in his face. “Just like old times, okay?”

  Erik saw red and before he knew what he was doing, he swung his fist and backhanded the ugly, sweaty, sleazy face.

  Calvin went down hard while his money flew up in every direction and floated to the ground like so many autumn leaves.

  Lifting himself up on one arm, Calvin began dabbing at a nose full of blood. “I take it that was a refusal, or maybe you just like to play rough.”

  “Bastard!” Erik growled as he turned and walked through the leaning shadows along the dark highway.

  “Good luck, son. But remember what you said, it’s not quite that easy. When no job comes along and the hunger pains begin playing ping-pong in your stomach, somebody’ll come along. Somebody just like me with a lot of money and a big, ugly dick just itchin’ to get eaten.”

  Erik’s eyes edged with tears as he heard Calvin’s laughter and his cruel, prophetic words echoing through the darkness. With the lights of Savannah twinkling behind him, and angry tears creeping down his handsome face, he made a big effort to walk away from Savannah, Blaze, and his past.

  Chapter 18

  Greg heard a faint tapping of what sounded like western boots echoing from the lobby. He looked up, waited a moment, and then saw Blaze sticking her head in his door.

  “Hi, I’m back.”

  “Blaze, what the hell are you doing here? I figured you’d need a little more time off, and arranged for another deejay to take your slot for you.”

  “Well, tell him to go home. I don’t need any more time. I’m fine.” She turned to leave.

  “Blaze!” Greg rushed up from his desk and grabbed her arm. “Are you sure? You went through hell that night. Surely you remember.”

  With an amused smile, she turned to him. “Of course I remember. Something like that would be pretty hard to forget, wouldn’t it? What the hell do you think I am, senile?”

  When Blaze turned, she immediately saw the back of a husky blond man pushing a broom outside Greg’s office and stopped, her heart pumping. She stared for a moment as he slowly turned and looked up at her. When she saw his face, she exhaled a pent-up breath, and moved her gaze away quickly.

  Greg saw her looking at him. “That’s the new janitor,” he whispered. “His name is Monroe.” He smiled, happy because his idiot name fit his ignorant looking face.

  Blaze’s eyes flashed. “T-Tell him to stay away from me!”

  Greg watched her as she rushed away from the door, and walked quickly toward the man with the broom.

  The new janitor saw her coming and looked at her with a big smile on his face. “Hello, Ms. Alexander. I’ve been wanting…”

  Ignoring him, she rushed past, almost knocking him down. He looked up at Greg. “What…did I say something?”

  “No. It only means that Blaze Alexander is back. Her, and all of her bitterness.”

  * * * *

  That morning when Blaze walked into her apartment after her show, she did what she had been doing now for several days. She went directly into her bathroom and took a small canister of sleeping pills from her medicine cabinet. She grimaced while she pried the top off like an addict. Finally, she turned it over, pouring several into her palm. When Dr. Stone wouldn’t prescribe any for her, she went to another doctor, telling him she couldn’t sleep.

  “Sorry, Doc,” she whispered before she leaned her head back, allowing the pills to drop into her mouth.

  After managing to get them all down with a single sip of water, she looked at herself in the mirror. She knew she looked awful, but she didn’t care. She had lost weight because she didn’t eat, but she had no desire to do anything but sleep and work. She went into her bedroom, began to get ready for bed, when she saw the calendar picture of Erik still hanging on the wall over her bed. She reached up and grabbed it, broke the glass in anger, and began ripping it up. Before she had completed the last rip, the pills began doing their job and she rolled over on the fragmented calendar, and slept.

  This routine went on for days. Terrified of another visit by her uncle Ralph, Blaze fell into the dangerous habit of sinking into a blank, dreamless oblivion that knocked her out for hours. Hour upon hour, her body lay motionless, not even making the slightest twitch until late afternoon. When she did manage to pull herself up, she was so heavy-headed she could hardly drag herself around. Spending several minutes with her head in her hands, she listened to the words that never failed to haunt her. They were the crisp, professional words of Dr. Stone telling her about the importance of a nice, normal, restful sleep. But she dealt with it, deciding she’d rather be haunted by the well-meaning doctor than struggling under the ugly, leering face of her dead uncle.

  Picturing the perfect doctor in her mind, she figured that the nice, clean, orderly wife and mother had probably had a wonderful childhood. No grabbing uncle, no suicidal aunt, and no Satan’s Breath eerily thrashing through the Georgian pines. That must be why she didn’t believe in sleeping the sleep of the dead. “Sorry, Doc. I guess I’m a bad girl. So what else is new?”

  * * * *

  Day after day, while Blaze slept, she was unaware that her fate had been snatched up by Savannah’s city manager, Calvin Little. Set on revenge, he took her future in his fat, little fist and began painfully pulling at it, stretching it and molding it into what he wanted it to be.

  With a wide, stupid smile on his face, he almost skipped happily up the front walk of a nice, little house where he noticed several children playing in the yard. While ringing the doorbell, he cast a gleeful look down at the list of names he had already compiled on the petition. For this kind of action, he needed at least a thousand, and with all the lady’s luncheons he had gone to, he already had about eight hundred.

  He turned quickly when the door opened. “Hello, ma’am,” he bowed slightly. “My name is Calvin Little and I’m Savannah’s City Manager.” Lifting the legal sized document in his hand, he looked at her and smiled. “I’m here with a petition I’d like you to sign if you would.” He handed it to her, watching her reaction as she read it.

  With a frown creasing her forehead, the woman looked up at him. “You’re trying to get Blaze Alexander thrown out of Savannah?”

  “I know it sounds a little drastic, but when you think of what that show of hers is doing to the precious children of Savannah, well, there’s just no price too steep to pay for the safety of their well-being.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I’ve taken a census, and I’ve found that children of puberty age are listenin’ to her show nightly, and it seems to be affectin’ their normal development, both physically and mentally. Why, the show is downright scandalous.” He cut his insidious gaze up at her with pretended shock. Then he sputtered, “Have you ever heard it?”

  “Well, yes, but I…”

  “What do you think of it?”

  “I like it,” the woman replied, looking at him innocently.

  “But do you think it’s for children?”

  “Of course not, but the children are asleep by that time.”

  “Are you sure? My census report shows that the children that do listen are doin’ it behind their parents’ back. I think if we’re to be assured of their normal development, we must get rid of all the rubbish in Savannah. It is my opinion, as your city manager, that Blaze Alexander and her show fit into that category very nicely.”

  She looked at him indecisively. “Well…I…”

  Calvin turned around as if looking at the children, and while his back was turned, he took out a tiny bottle of Murine and squirted it, misting his eyes.

  Turning back to her, a lone tear was barely creeping onto his cheek, and caught a glint of light as he sniffed emotionally. “My, what lovely children, surely you don’t want them to grow up as sex perverts, ax murderers, or,�
� he looked around as if he thought someone might be listening, “nasty old queers, do you?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “Well then,” Calvin handed her a pen. “If you’ll just sign here, I think you can rest assured that your children will grow up to be healthy, well-adjusted citizens, uh,” stroking his mustache with an egotistical gleam in his eye, he gave her a lamb-like smile, “not unlike myself, actually.”

  She held the document for a moment, the pen hovering hesitantly. Finally, not being sure she was doing the right thing, but certainly wanting to protect her children, she signed it.

  “Thank you, madam, for being a good citizen, and a good mother.” Calvin turned, putting a tissue to his nose and sniffing dramatically.

  After spending the rest of the day getting signatures by coercing, cajoling, persuading, and downright lying, Calvin walked into his office, his feet tired and hurting. He smiled as he looked down at the document, knowing it was well worth the effort. He thought of how easy it was to get the names. All he had to do was appeal to the mothers concerning the bad influence Blaze Alexander was having on their children, and bang—another signature. He hadn’t seen a woman yet who would refuse when he used her precious child as a bargaining chip.

  He laughed to himself. The idea about the Murine bottle was pure genius, and he’d used it often. But then, he wasn’t surprised. He was wasted in this job. He was ambitious, and with his brains, he knew he could go to the top. He remembered the way he’d wheedled himself into the job of city manager. Smooth as silk, it was. A few connections here and there, a few favors, a few palms crossed, and he had made it. He snickered when he thought of that pussy, Simon Parker. The man was always trying to do things upright and honest.

  Looking down at the petition, he smiled at the way all those gullible ladies put themselves in his hands, believing that he had their best interests at heart.

  Well, why not? After all, who wouldn’t trust the next Mayor of Savannah!

  After spending a few minutes singing his own praises, he picked up the petition and made his way down the hall to the mayor’s office. Once inside, he dropped it on his desk, right in front of his big brown, honest eyes.

  “What is this?”

  “It’s a petition to see that Blaze Alexander leaves town and never sets foot in Savannah again.”

  The mayor looked up and frowned. “Cal, why would you do such a thing?”

  Cal paced around the office, rolling the smoking cigar between his thumb and forefinger. “I told you, Mayor, she’s a bad influence, and if you won’t do anything about it,” he nodded toward the document, “the people of Savannah will.”

  He took a draw off his cigar, and blew the smoke out slowly. “Surely, you wouldn’t turn a deaf ear to a worried mother.” Looking down at his cigar again, he spoke softly with a slight dig. “I believe election time is comin’ up soon, isn’t it?” He cut his gaze over at the mayor. “I don’t think you’d want the good people of Savannah to think you condone such goings on, would you?”

  “I told you, Cal, you’re making too much out of this.”

  Calvin walked toward the document, stood beside the sitting mayor, and traced his finger down the row of signatures. “Does Winnifred Thorn think I’m making too much out of this? And how about Cecily Williams?” Calvin moved his finger along the swirl of signatures. “And I’m certain that Maggie Runnels…”

  “That’s enough, Calvin.”

  “No, sir, I don’t think it is. If you will just look at one more signature.” Calvin’s finger continued to trace down, and then suddenly stopped.

  The mayor looked down and his eyes widened. “Rayanne?” He looked up at Calvin. “My wife signed this thing?”

  “There it is, big as life. Mrs. Rayanne Parker. Look at it, Mayor, would you say that was her handwriting?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid it is.” The mayor sounded defeated.

  “Why are you so surprised? She’s got three beautiful children to look out for. Why, what kind of mother would she be if she didn’t sign it? He cast a smug look down at the mayor’s dismal face. “Do I have to go on?”

  The mayor rose from his chair, waving the petition toward Calvin. “You and I both know this is bureaucratic blackmail, Calvin. Why you want to run that woman out of this city is beyond me. What in hell did she ever do to you?”

  “Why…nothin’. I just get upset when some stranger—” He looked over at the mayor. “—make that a Yankee stranger, comes into our—”

  The mayor snickered. “A Yankee stranger?” he said, and then continued. “Calvin, are you aware that Blaze Alexander is a southerner?”

  Calvin almost dropped his cigar. “What?”

  “It’s true. She was born right here in Georgia.”

  “You mean Savannah?”

  “No, I understand it’s a little town just east of Piney Grove. Copus, I think. Never knew who her father was, and her mother died when she was very young. Had to go and live with her aunt and uncle in Piney Grove.”

  Calvin looked a little sick.

  The mayor smiled at Calvin’s apparent surprise. “Next time you want to throw someone out of Savannah, I’d do a little research into their background. That name callin’ can get a little rough.”

  * * * *

  Enjoying Calvin’s discomfort, the mayor cut his accusing gaze over to him. “I’m surprised you didn’t do that, Calvin. Makes you look a little…inept, I’d say.” The mayor knew that was a mild word regarding his opinion of the sleazy city manager.

  Finally managing to get his composure back, he said, “The fact remains, Mayor, she’s still corruptin’ the minds of our youth.”

  “That’s it? That’s the whole thing? If it is, then why the hell aren’t you going after the cable company, or Playboy, or any number of other mind pollutants of our youth. What about drugs, alcohol, and even tobacco? Calvin, that nighttime program is for grownups, not children. If the children of Savannah are listen’ to it, it’s the responsibility of their parents, not ours. My God, if we threw out everybody that had a bad thought, we’d have to vacate the entire city.”

  “Mayor, you can rant and rave all you want, but the fact remains that I’ve got the voice of the people down here in black and white.”

  “Calvin, I don’t know how you got all these signatures, but knowin’ what I do about you, I’m sure it couldn’t have been altogether honest.”

  “All I did was point out a few disgustin’ facts about this Alexander woman, Mayor, but I assure you, everything I said was all too true.” Taking the document out of the mayor’s hand, he pointed at the signatures. “Each and every one of these people made up their own minds, Mayor. I didn’t hold a gun to their heads.”

  “How many signatures do you have here?”

  “One thousand and six.”

  “Well, I suppose I’ll have to consider it.”

  Calvin indicated toward the petition the mayor held in his hand. “If I was you, Mayor, I’d do more than just consider it. Through this document, the good people of Savannah have spoken, and that’s all there is to it.” Calvin turned and arrogantly walked around the office with his chin lifted, and his hand grasping his lapel.

  With his other hand poking the air with his cigar, he called out as if he were in front of a crowd. “You can’t refuse the multitude, Mayor. They’re knocking on your door, sir. They’re shoutin’ in your ear, and their rattlin’ the gates of your courtyard. Why these good people are—”

  “Calvin, please. You’re not preachin’ a sermon here, you’re just giving southern hospitality,” the mayor sighed, “a new meaning.”

  Chapter 19

  The moment Blaze walked into her apartment, she saw the light on her answering machine blinking up at her. While kicking her shoes off, she pressed the button, and then went into the bedroom to undress.

  “Ms. Alexander, my name is Thelma Whittington. I’m the Executive Secretary of Mayor Simon Parker, and I’ve been instructed to call you—”

  Blaz
e quickly stuck her head around the doorframe and looked at the little machine with a curious frown. “What? Who the hell is that?”

  “—and set up a meeting between you, Mayor Simon Parker, and the city council members. Please call me back at 555-2781 as soon as possible. Thank you.”

  Dropping everything, Blaze quickly ran into the living room. “The Mayor?” she said to the little square box as if she expected it to answer. “What the hell kind of joke is this?”

  She reached over and picked up the phone. While dialing the number, she glanced at the time and noticed the late hour. Just about then an answering machine came on at the other end with the same voice that left the message on her machine.

  “You’ve reached the office of Mayor Simon Parker. I am Thelma Whittington, Mayor Parker’s personal secretary. I’m sorry no one is here to receive your call, but we’ve gone for the day. The office is open from 8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m., Monday through Friday. If you will leave your name and number, I’ll be in contact with you first thing in the morning. Thank you. Oh…uh…have a nice day.”

  She slammed the phone down immediately. “My God, what could the Mayor of Savannah want with me?” She pondered the question nervously while she made herself a sandwich she couldn’t eat.

  Later on that evening, Blaze walked into Dr. Stone’s office, the strange phone call still on her mind. The minute she saw the doctor, she began by saying, “Doc, the strangest thing—”

  “Blaze,” the doctor interrupted, “do you mind if we get down to work right away. It’s late, and—”

  “Oh, sorry. I really do appreciate you taking me at such a late hour. I just had so much to do today—”

  “That’s all right. I understand that things can come up now and then. Here take a seat and we’ll get started.”

  “So,” Blaze began as she sat down, “what kind of torture…” Blaze snickered when she noticed the look in the doctor’s eyes. “Easy, doc, I was just teasing.”

  “Yes, I know you are, but when I tell you…” the doctor hesitated, “what I’m trying to say is, if you feel you’re up to it, I’d like to use hypnotism on you during this session. You know, take you back to those difficult years when you were living with your aunt and uncle.”