“Abigail, it’s Heather Birch.”
My attorney.
“I’ve got great news. I just talked to the judge, and he reopened your case, dismissed the charges and rescinded your community service.”
“What?” I sat up.
I couldn’t believe it. After all these months, the judge decides I’m innocent?
“Why?”
“I don’t know. But I got the call this morning. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Yeah. That’s great.”
“There’s a good chance you could get your job back, too.”
More than a good chance. Dale Potter, my former boss, called me within the hour and told me they wanted me back. Wow. I couldn’t believe how fast my luck had changed. When I went into Clavania later that day, Mr. Harvey studied me with narrowed eyes from his spot in the hall.
“Hi, Mr. Harvey.”
“Abigail, what are you doing here?”
“I think I’m working with the dance team today.”
He shook his head. “No. I mean, you’ve been excused from your duties. I didn’t expect to see you.”
“Ever again? You wound me, Mr. Harvey. Do you think I’m the kind of person to leave without saying goodbye to my friends? Or to let those girls bump and grind their way through the talent show? I can’t have that kind of nastiness happen on stage.”
“What are you saying? You’re going to keep working here?”
“Am I allowed?”
“Of course, you are. We need you.”
I smiled. I could have kissed him, except I’ve met his wife. She seemed to be the jealous type. The jealous, tough type.
Later that day, I served up a meatloaf-type substance and peas. My good friend Kaylon stood next to me doing the potatoes and rolls. The line of men came through. I had come to know many of them by name and greeted them. I chose not to believe that they wondered at my palatability. However, I was careful when I left the building and got into my car.
Serving at the homeless shelter wasn’t too different than serving at Waffle Mania. I watched my back then, too. Honestly, I hadn’t thought about looking in the sky for falling objects, but one never knows the cause of one’s demise, does one? After the threat written on Mr. Harvey’s car, I thought any harm to me would come from a gang member, not a piece of gutter from the building. Lying in cold water and my own blood and having my head sewn up demonstrated to me that I might as well have the best freakin’ day I could because it might be my last. And I started to care just a little bit less about the bullshit of a lot of my life, which is why when Dale Potter offered me my job back, I didn’t say yes right away. I told him I would have to think about it. If I went back, I wouldn’t be able to go to the community center anymore and help with the after school program.
What could I say? The hoodlums had grown on me. In two hours, Dale had called me back offering a raise. When I didn’t accept that offer, he added in an executive parking space. Something was definitely rotten in Denmark. All I could figure out was he worried I might sue the company for wrongful termination. I decided to let him sweat a few more days. After all, Waffle Mania had given me a job when I needed one, and I did owe them two weeks’ notice.
I scraped the last of the meatloaf from the stainless steel pan and placed it on Jesus’ plate. One thing interesting about the men I had met at the shelter. Jesus was quite a popular name, both the Hebrew and the Hispanic pronunciation. However, the Hispanic Jesuses didn’t claim to be the son of God. The other two Jesuses, who didn’t look Jewish to me, were glad to tell any and every one that they were The Messiah. I thought it was better to keep them separated. When I suggested this to Kaylon, he looked at me like I was nuts.
Like I was nuts.
Ironic, wasn’t it?
Jesus got the last of the meatloaf. He was almost to the end of the line. I hurried back to the kitchen to get the backup protein, pizza from Tuesday night. It never tasted great the second time, but no one complained. That no one included Eli. He did sometimes come through the food line, but always, always at the end. I recognized the vague look from some of our encounters. What had he been talking to those insurance men about? I was dying to ask him.
Eli didn’t speak to me as I placed pizza on his plate. He made no eye contact. I didn’t speak to him either. I wished I knew what held him back. Why couldn’t he have the good life I knew he was capable of?
I meditated on that thought as I washed up the dishes. Two men swept and mopped the dining room. Kaylon joked that on the nights I served, there was no shortage of volunteers to help. There had been times Eli had K.P. I had attempted to visit with him then, but he was the least approachable at the shelter. It seemed he didn’t want any of the other homeless men to know we had a—what did we have? Not a relationship really. Not a friendship either. It was more of an affiliation.
Kaylon and I walked out together. He started down the street on foot, his massive frame swaying side to side as he walked.
“Kaylon,” I yelled to his departing figure. “Come on. I’ll give you a ride.”
He turned in shifts and faced me, his ebony face breaking into a smile. His glasses caught the street light and sparkled.
“You don’t know where I’m going.”
“Home. I’m assuming.”
Snorting, he shook his head. “You think I can fit in that?” His hand flicked in the direction of my car.
“Only one way to find out.” Jingling my keys as an invitation, I twirled them in my hand and unlocked the door. After I sat on the driver’s seat, I reached over and pulled the handle thereby opening the passenger side.
He fit, but barely. I could have sworn I heard my car groan at the excess weight. He directed me to go west. About two blocks from the shelter, I saw Eli and an African American man in black denim getting into the passenger side of a black polished SUV. What?
Kaylon made a regretful sound.
“What?”
“Bad news. Don’t slow down, Abigail.”
I did as he suggested. “I saw Eli.”
“Yeah. He and Ford was getting into a Night’s car. Turn here.”
My head was spinning with questions.
“Who’s Ford?”
“A Night. A punk Night.”
“Why would Eli be with him? Why would Eli be getting in a Night’s car? He’s not in their gang.” At least, I wouldn’t think he was in their gang. Wasn’t it a black only gang?
“Naw. He ain’t in their gang. He’s buying drugs. Or supplying.”
Pin prickles flew all over my skin. It couldn’t be. Not Eli. “I don’t think so.”
Kaylon huffed. “What other bid-ness would he have? They have two dealings with crackers, muggin’ ‘em and druggin’ ‘em. There’s my house, three blocks up. It’s the yard with the fence.”
My chest ached. How could he? This man who had saved my life twice now. I knew it wasn’t a personal offense against me, but it felt like it. No. He was one of the good guys. But how could he be when he’s dealing drugs, or at the very least buying them from one of the most notorious gangs in this part of the state?
Eli was into drugs. I swallowed the lump in my throat. It explained a lot.
I pulled up in front of a small brick house surrounded by a chain link fence. Kaylon opened the door and stepped out, allowing my car to rise about five inches. He locked the door.
“Don’t turn around. Go up here, turn left on Gary Street until it ends, then go left on Fitzgerald. It’ll take you to the Interstate.”
“Thanks, Kaylon.”
“You ain’t going to turn around, are you? You don’t want to mess with the Nights even if your boyfriend is in the car with them.”
“Boyfriend.” I sighed. “I wouldn’t call him that.”
“Good. Don’t call him nothing. Those drugs are bad news.”
“Yes, Kaylon. I agree.”
“See you Thursday?”
“Yeah, I’ll see you.”
Crap.
****
Walking in the door to my apartment, my phone played the notes to Dancing Queen. Someone was calling me. Opening the phone, I looked at the screen. A number, but no name. Hmm. I answered anyway.
“I thought I told you to go straight home after you leave the shelter.”
Eli. Just the person I wanted to talk to. I wasn’t surprised Mr. Drug-Dealer-Google-Surfer had my phone number.
“Are you using or selling?” I had to know.
“Stay out of the neighborhood.”
“Make me.”
Click.
The jerk hung up on me.
****
For the next several days I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. Maybe it was because Eli had demonstrated with his knowledge of my address, cell phone number, and age that he had somehow delved into my private life. Could I file a complaint against him for stalking me even though I didn’t have physical proof that he was doing so? I wasn’t sure. I could call my lawyer, but she charged me every time she talked to me.
Maybe I was concerned because the Nights had yet to make serious on their threat to kill me. And even though I had a head injury from being at the center, it had just been from a loose rain gutter. One day, I caught sight of a blue Ford Taurus in my rear view mirror. I wouldn’t have thought about it too much, except I had seen it parked at the dollar store when I had gone to get some more empty boxes they were donating for the talent show. Just for kicks, I took an unexpected right and whipped into the parking lot of a dry cleaners. And wouldn’t you know it, the Ford Taurus followed.
I admit it. I was scared. I never expected that the Nights would come after me outside of their turf. Stupid me. I thought I was relatively safe until I crossed the bridge into the city.
I waited for them to turn in the parking lot, but they didn’t. They glided by and pulled over a block up. Digging into my purse, I found my cell phone.
“911. What’s your emergency?”
“I’m in my car, and there’s somebody following me. I wouldn’t think anything about it, except a gang in inner city Clavania wrote a death threat against me.”
I gave the operator my name and number. Exiting the parking lot, I headed toward the police station. Let them come after me there. On my way, I told my location and described my car and the Taurus behind me. I parked on the street one block from the station. The car hung back about a hundred feet and turned into a bank parking lot. They idled close to the street still keeping me in view.
Within two minutes the police car arrived and turned on its lights as it pulled in front of the car. A policeman jumped out with his hand on his gun and stalked to the vehicle. I couldn’t keep a satisfied grin from my mouth.
****
Eli didn’t show his sorry face at the community center for a week. The next time I did see him, I was going to have a talk with him. How dare that druggie loiter around the community center trying to sell the children drugs, or at the very least set a bad example for them.
When I drove into the parking lot the following Monday afternoon, he was leaning on his broom. I marched over to him.
“What are you doing here?”
“Sweeping.”
“You take your broom, and you get off this property.”
Eli stared at some distant point and said nothing.
“And why don’t you look at a person when she’s talking to you?”
He turned his eyes to me then. “How’s this?”
“You will not bring drugs to this community center or expose these children in any way.”
“Do I look like I sell drugs, Abigail?”
“I saw you getting into a gang member’s car, and the only business you could have with them is drugs.”
“So I’m guilty by association. Is that right? Is that fair?”
I flinched. I couldn’t help it. I wouldn’t have been standing there if the police and the judge hadn’t judged me as being guilty by my association with John.
“What were you doing with the Nights?”
“None of your business.”
“It is my business if you’re bringing drugs on this property or trying to lure these kids into a gang. If Mr. Harvey knew, he wouldn’t have you here.”
“Then maybe you should tell him.”
“Maybe I will. I’m watching you. I better not see you within ten feet of any of these kids. I mean it.”
“I think you do, Abigail. I think you do.”
****
It was finally here. The talent show. Not only did we have the mayor and her husband coming, but we had two city commissioners. The room filled up with families and friends. Laughter and hugs demonstrated the celebratory atmosphere. The kids didn’t seem nervous at all. I was another story. Two of my fingernails had been bitten to the quick. I’d run to my car to get some safety pins to fix one of the girl’s costumes when I’d had a run in with Ford, a mean-eyed gang member who towered over me by at least a foot. Feeling a little like David gazing at Goliath, I imagined pelting him right between the eyes with a rock. However, I wasn’t near as brave as little David.
“You coming to the talent show?”
He didn’t say a word, just glared at me.
I placed my hand on my hip and thought I’d try the Paula head move. “Here are your choices. You either come inside, sit with me, and have an enjoyable evening. Or get off this property, and go back where you came from.”
I held my breath as he pulled his hand out of his jacket and shot me the bird with the longest finger I’d ever seen. I guess I had my answer.
With my own finger, I pointed him off the property. To my surprise, he began walking toward the street. I turned and hurried back into the building.
I saved Katrina’s dress and was taking my seat when the overhead lights blinked signaling the beginning of the show. Mr. Harvey welcomed everyone and took his seat alongside the dignitaries on the front row. The Master of Ceremonies was a likable fourteen year old named Gypsy. His clownish disposition lent to the job. When the dance troupe was about to come on stage, Erica pulled my arm.
I resisted. “What are you doing?”
“You’re doing it with us,” she informed me. When I didn’t move from my seat, she continued. “Come on, Miss Abigail. Otherwise, we might have to do some improvising. I know you don’t want that.”
I glared at the girl. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Her eyes sparkled, and she nodded.
They would dare, the little hoodlums.
They lined up, and I made sure I was in the back. We had practiced the changed routine for weeks. When the bass tone began, we moved in perfect sync. I loved it. I loved them for wanting me to be a part of it.
Panting from exertion, I came back out to the audience and sat on the aisle seat on the second row. Lola patted my arm and nodded to me.
“You looked good up there, chica.”
“Thanks.”
With each act, my chest swelled. You’d think I had given birth to these children with the parental pride I felt. When the finale was announced, I sat up in my chair. The children had been secretive about the final act, absolutely refusing to give me any information about it or letting me approve the content. When I complained to Mr. Harvey about it, he assured me he had seen the act, and it was fine. How come he got to see it beforehand, and I didn’t?
Several kids came out with various percussion instruments. Particularly intriguing were the various sizes of sheet metal hanging from metal clothes racks. All of the children and teens came out positioning themselves on stage and along the outer aisles in the audience. The percussionists’ arms moved quickly and thunder echoed throughout the room. Chill bumps rose on my skin. A familiar tune sounded from the speakers. Enya’s Storms in Africa.
Oh, my precious babies.
The drums kept beat with the tune while the dancers performed a close approximation to my senior dance exam. I say a close approximation because the routine was similar, but it was better to the nth degree. Whereas I had
done a back bend at one point, four of the girls somersaulted across the stage. Whereas I had stepped and kicked, they added synchronized head and hand motions. The performers had a specific movement such as clapping, snapping, and patting which resulted in a cacophony of sound mimicking quite realistically a rain storm. This transformed into the dancers linking together and doing the wave all around the room. In the closing seconds, the wave collapsed like dominoes. Before the last drum beats died away, the audience erupted in a standing ovation. It was one of the sweetest moments of my life.
A slight acrid odor wafted around me. When the applause subsided, a staccato of popping and a siren from somewhere in the building reached my ears.
What was that? Was something wrong with the sound system? And that smell, was someone smoking?
“The doors are jammed.” a man’s voice yelled over the noise of conversation and movement.
Mr. Harvey moved to the rear of the room. I began to follow him, but stopped. It wasn’t cigarette smoke I was smelling. And it wasn’t the sound system I was hearing.
The building was burning. And the smoke detectors were sounding their alarms.
“Fire!” someone shouted.
Way to panic a room, I thought as people screamed and ran toward the exits. Mr. Harvey commanded everyone to calm down.
A throng of people pressed toward the rear doors.
Someone beat on the door from the outside. It was no use. We couldn’t open it. What was blocking the door?
People scattered trying to find another way out. Several of the teenagers smashed a window. Angel pushed the rest of broken glass out of the frame with his shoe, jumped off the chair he was standing on, and started handing people through the window.
Remind me to kiss that boy.
Black smoke poured in from the south side of the building. That meant we couldn’t go out through there. Could we get out through the side exit?
I turned to go that way and caught a glimpse of three of the girls holding tightly to each other and running into the hall. No!
“Dancing Queen” played on my cell phone, I opened it as I ran after the girls and held it to my ear prepared to tell the caller to call 911.
Unforgettable Heroes Boxed Set Page 65