The paramedic turned and raised his eyebrows as he looked at his partner. “Let’s get her transported,” he said.
After they left, Homer went into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. As he removed a scoop of coffee grounds from the container, he heard Franny’s words from their last conversation echo in his head: “It might be the death of me,” she’d said. “But I’m going to try if it’s the last thing I do.”
A lump began to form in his throat. How dare she die before he had a chance to tell her how he felt? He dropped the scoop and the coffee grounds scattered across the counter. It wasn’t enough that she had abandoned him as a child; now, she’d gone and did it again, only this time, it was permanent!
He threw the open can of coffee against the wall, then balanced himself against the kitchen counter. After a few minutes, his heavy breathing began to subside but the rage inside of him had not.
The contempt he’d felt for his mother returned. He brushed the coffee grounds off the counter and snatched a broom out of the kitchen closet. After he’d swept the crumbs into a neat pile, he carefully scooped them into the dustpan and dumped them into the wastebasket.
He stood thinking about what kind of funeral his mother would have. He realized he had no idea who her friends were, or if she even had any, for that matter. He stared at the dark mass of coffee grounds huddled together at the bottom of the white plastic bag. He inhaled deeply and decided he would just have her cremated.
Homer rotated his shoulders and turned his neck from side to side, then he walked out of the kitchen. He went into his bedroom and turned on his laptop. There was no time to feel sad about her death, and he didn’t have any tears to shed. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t shed any tears in a long time—not since he’d been a little boy.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The beginning of March arrived unnoticed and uncelebrated by most people. It might just as well have been the month of February because of the unrelenting cold temperatures. The only reason Serenity took note of the month was because it was the first Sunday in March—and audition day had finally arrived.
As she walked into the Brookridge Mall with Tia, Serenity was convinced that she was the perfect candidate for the audition. They rode the elevator to the basement level, and after being checked in, Serenity entered the small auditorium. She stood in line with the other candidates, listening to the coordinator as she told everyone what rules to follow for the audition that was to begin in a few minutes.
There would be a three-minute practice walk down the makeshift runway situated in the middle of the room, and everyone should smile, not be nervous, and just have fun.
Fun? Serenity wasn’t there to have fun! She was there to prove everyone wrong about her. And if—no—when, she was chosen, it meant that she was going to be a part of the first fashion show that the Brookridge Mall had ever had! It also meant no more jokes from Cookie.
This could just be the beginning, Serenity thought. Once she was chosen and whisked away to New York, or Paris even—where the real models lived—maybe that look on her parents’ face would go away for good!
The large industrial fan circulated the stagnant air around the small room, which contained several empty metal chairs pushed against the bare walls, the makeshift runway, a full-length mirror, and a rectangular table for the judges.
Serenity listened to the racket of voices all talking at once. There were at least a hundred people waiting to audition, and her five foot ten inch frame towered over almost everyone else, including several boys who had come out to audition as well.
She was next in line to audition. She felt her shoulders beginning to hunch and her spine beginning to curve. She arched her back and straightened up. The sharp ache that followed reminded her to stand up straight like Tia was always telling her to do.
She looked over toward her mother who sat stoically in one of the metal folding chairs. The young girl sitting next to Tia watched the events unfold. She smiled at the girl standing behind Serenity and gave her a thumbs-up sign. Serenity thought about Cookie and wished she could have come along to be her support, but her parents would not alter their church schedule.
Finally, it was Serenity’s turn. She walked up the three wooden stairs that led to the stage. She pushed her shoulders back and thrust her hips forward. She had studied the way the models walked on America’s Top Model, and she had been practicing. She placed her left foot in front of her right one and inhaled deeply. She was ready to take the first step.
“Crazy In Love” by Beyoncé started to play, and Serenity hit the runway stomping, one long beautiful stride after the other. Left, right, left, right. She kept her steps steady and in unison with the music, strutting up and down the aisle.
The only problem was the heels on her shoes. They were too high, and they made her feet hurt, but these were the kind of shoes she’d seen on the feet of the models on television. After a considerable amount of pleading and begging for the shoes, her mother had relented and had purchased them for her. Serenity tried to maintain some sort of elegance within her stride. She let her long legs lead her in a smooth and flowing motion. Nice and easy. Yes. Now she had it!
When she got to the end of the runway, she stopped and looked each judge directly in the eye just like she’d seen the models do on TV. She released the judges’ gaze seconds before her jaws released the flawless smile she had attached to her face.
She made her pivot, and it was then that the ridiculously oversized heel on her left shoe decided it could not handle such an elaborate turn. The shoe, along with her ankle, leaned inward and she stumbled sideways off the elevated platform. Some of the contestants rushed to her aid, and in a haze Serenity saw her mother shaking her head. The girl sitting next to her covered her mouth.
As she scrambled to her feet, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The pretty white lace had been ripped away from the hem of her black chiffon dress, the red velvet bow in her hair now swung back and forth in front of her face, and the heel that had caused all the trouble to begin with was now completely broken off.
Serenity looked at her mother, who was still shaking her head, that familiar look of disgust plastered all over her face. She felt like crying, but there wasn’t time. She removed the other shoe from her foot and got back on the runway, walking barefoot all the way to the end.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Serenity was not chosen to be one of the models. Now she had time to cry as she and Tia drove home in silence.
Tia sighed. “Don’t feel bad,” she said as she pulled up to the curb in front of their house. “You’ll be picked next time.”
“No, I won’t,” she said between sniffles.
Tia got out of the car quickly and rushed up the walkway. “I’ve got to change clothes and get to work,” she said.
“Ma . . . ,” Serenity followed after her.
“It’s almost two o’clock,” Tia said hurrying past a sleeping Lorenzo on the couch. “Messing around with you and that audition’s gonna make me late.”
Serenity stood in the middle of the foyer watching her father sleep.
A few minutes later, Tia came skipping back down the stairs and whizzed past her. “I left twenty dollars on the counter,” she said. “You can order a pizza for dinner if your daddy don’t cook nothing.”
Before Serenity could reply, Tia had shut the door.
Serenity went over to the couch and shook Lorenzo’s shoulder. “Daddy,” she said. “Daddy, wake up!”
Lorenzo raised his hand to his face and opened his eyes briefly. “What?”
“Daddy, I didn’t . . .”
He rubbed his nose, and turned to his other side.
“. . . make it,” Serenity said to his back.
She stood over him listening to him snore. Today had been the worst day ever, she thought. The one thing she’d hoped wouldn’t happen during her audition had happened. She tiptoed into the den and turned on the computer. She immediately went to the chat r
oom and signed in. Moments later a message from Saucer appeared.
iluvhotgurlz13: wat happened?
Serenity2cute_13: wen?
iluvhotgurlz13: last time we talked
Serenity2cute_13: my dad came in
iluvhotgurlz13: oh snap
Serenity2cute_13: i kno
iluvhotgurlz13: where u at?
Serenity2cute_13: home
iluvhotgurlz13: where ur pops at?
Serenity tilted her head to the side and listened intently until she heard the reassuring sound of Lorenzo snorting as he inhaled.
Serenity2cute_13: sleep
iluvhotgurlz13: still wanna meet?
Serenity2cute_13: where?
iluvhotgurlz13: in front of that restaurant i told u about
Serenity2cute_13: which one?
iluvhotgurlz13: neds
Serenity looked over her shoulder.
Serenity2cute_13: neds?
iluvhotgurlz13: yup
Serenity2cute_13: when?
iluvhotgurlz13: 2:30
Serenity2cute_13: ok, g2g
iluvhotgurlz13: don’t be late
Serenity2cute_13: i won’t
Serenity signed out of the chat room and shut down the computer.
She went into the kitchen and called Cookie.
“Hey,” Cookie said with enthusiasm, “did you make it?”
“No, I didn’t,” Serenity said solemnly.
“Aww, I’m sorry. But maybe next year, huh?”
“Yeah, maybe,” Serenity said. “But guess what I’m about to do.”
“What?”
“I’m going to meet Saucer.”
Cookie gasped. “For real?” she whispered.
“For real,” Serenity said.
“Where? At the mall?”
“No, at that old restaurant.”
“Neds?”
“Yep,” she said defiantly.
“Ooh,” Cookie squealed. “Are you scared?”
“Umm, not really,” Serenity lied. Her heart was beating fast, and she tried to control the nervousness in her voice. “You wanna come with me?”
“I can’t. We’re going back to church.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what happens.”
“You better.”
“I will,” Serenity said.
She hung up the phone, disappointed that Cookie could not come with her. She began to have second thoughts about going downtown alone to meet Saucer. What if he wasn’t who he said he was?
She went upstairs and grabbed her favorite Hello Kitty hat, stopping to look at herself in her bedroom mirror. What if Saucer didn’t like the way she looked? She stood still, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her dream of becoming a model had just been crushed. Nothing could be worse than that.
She went back downstairs and picked up the twenty-dollar bill her mother had left on the counter. Then she left to meet the boy she’d met online.
Chapter Thirty
Tony turned on his daughter’s computer to check her browser history. He was dismayed when he discovered how many times she’d visited the same chat site over the course of several weeks.
“Shari,” he called, “can you come up here, please? And bring Cookie with you,” he added.
Shari came upstairs with Cookie following behind her. They entered Cookie’s bedroom where Tony stood continuing to browse through the history. He turned when they entered the room.
“What is this?” he asked pointing to the computer screen.
“What is what?” Shari asked.
“I’m actually talking to Cookie,” Tony said. He stared at her. “Well?”
Cookie stood with her mouth open.
Shari moved closer to the computer and frowned. “Are all of these chat rooms?”
“Yeah.” Tony said angrily. “Is this what you’ve been doing on the computer?”
“Daddy, no,” Cookie whimpered. “I mean, we only got on there once.”
“Once?” He started counting the URL locations in the history box. “One, two, three . . .”
“It’s the same one, Daddy.”
“I don’t care if it is,” he said. “We specifically told you what the rules were for having a computer in your room, didn’t we?”
“Yes,” Cookie said looking at the floor.
“What are the rules, Cookie?” Shari asked as she stood next to Tony with her arms folded.
“No chat rooms,” Cookie said softly.
“And why?” Shari asked, tapping her foot.
“Because they’re not safe.”
“What kind of people visit chat rooms, Cookie?”
Cookie looked confused.
“What kind?” Shari repeated.
Cookie shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Exactly,” Tony intervened as he began to exit out of the browsing history window. “You don’t know. You don’t know who you’re talking to, and too many times we hear about grown men pretending to be boys luring young girls away from home.”
“And who is we?” Shari asked.
“Huh?”
Shari was losing patience. “Cookie, stop standing there acting like you don’t understand English! You said, ‘we only got on there once’ so I’m asking you, who is we?”
“Me and Serenity,” she said.
Tony shut down the computer and began disconnecting the mouse and keyboard from the monitor. Then he disassembled the rest of the computer. “Since you’ve shown us that you can’t follow the rules, you won’t be using this computer anymore,” he said as he unplugged it from the wall.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“You should be,” Shari said, still standing in front of Cookie with her arms crossed. “Trust is a very important part of a person’s character, and you’ve just shown us that we can’t trust you.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again tearfully.
“Stop being sorry,” Shari said. “Be more responsible. You know better!”
“But I wasn’t talking to nobody on there. Serenity was.”
“What do you mean, Serenity was? Who was she talking to?” Shari asked.
“A boy she met.”
“What was this boy’s name?”
“Saucer.”
The frown on Shari’s face deepened. “What?”
“We called him Saucer.”
“Was that his real name?”
“I don’t know. That’s what we called him.”
“Lord, have mercy,” Shari said.
“And what did this boy and Serenity talk about?” Tony asked sternly.
“He wanted to meet her.”
Shari looked at Tony.
“Meet her where?” Tony asked.
“At the mall but she said she couldn’t.”
“Thank God,” Shari said.
“But she said she was gonna meet him in front of the restaurant today,” Cookie added.
Tony looked at her in amazement. “What restaurant?”
“He just said some parking lot where a pizza restaurant used to be across the street from the mall.”
“I’m going to call Tia,” Shari said. She pulled out her phone and waited while the phone rang on the other end. “She’s not answering,” she said to Tony and disconnected the call. She gave the phone to Cookie. “Call Serenity and see if she’s home,” she said.
Cookie called Serenity’s house number and listened to it ring several times before going to voice mail. “She’s not answering.”
Shari looked at Tony. “What should we do?”
“Let’s go,” he said. “Maybe we can find her.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Homer smiled as he parked his tan two-door Cavalier across the street from the empty parking lot and waited for his little fish to show up. His car glistened under the February sun as he kept the engine running.
He marveled at how easy it had been to get her to meet him. The younger girls were so gullible, and that’s what Homer liked best. But he liked them a little ol
der too—they were just as gullible. Most of them required little to no coercing if a man knew what he was doing.
He smiled at his own cunningness. He was smart enough not to park his car directly on the deserted parking lot, but he’d chosen this particular area because it sat adjacent to a heavily trafficked street. He hadn’t wanted to scare her off by suggesting they meet in a secluded location. This way, she would think she was safe. She wouldn’t even realize that she was a fish out of water, already caught.
But then they never realized what they had gotten themselves into until it was too late . . . at least on their end. Sometimes, the teen girls—expecting to see a teenage boy—would be frightened when they saw him . . . a grown man. Many would try to run away, but they were never successful. They were no match for his strong grip, and he’d pull them into the car, and then drive them to a secluded location.
It was during these times that almost all of them would suddenly remember some vague responsibility they had to attend to at home. Homer thought it was funny how none of them ever came up with a different excuse to get away from him, and each time he ignored their pleas.
It was a game of bartering that Homer engaged in with the girls, and he never became violent with any of them. He might have been somewhat firm and aggressive getting them into his car but never violent. Not even with the girls who were unwilling to cooperate. With them, he offered a deal, a trade-off of sorts. “You do this for me,” he’d say, “and I’ll take you home.”
Well, he hadn’t meant their actual home. Once they stopped crying and did what he wanted them to do, he’d take them back to the pickup location and drop them off. He didn’t know how they got home, and he didn’t care. That was not part of the bargain.
The occasional women he’d met through online chat rooms were different. Most of them had been quite agreeable to meeting him at various motels, and there had been no need for him to barter and trade for favors.
Once he’d gotten married to Sandra, Homer had slowed down—no, he’d practically stopped—his search for women and young girls on the Internet. But then Sandra began to reveal her dissatisfaction with him, and he’d had no idea of how to become the man she said she needed him to be.
A Sad Soul Can Kill You Page 13