The Fraud

by H. Claire Taylor

The door burst open and Brodie stumbled through, panting and holding a Ziploc bag of ice.

  “Were you being chased or something?” Melono asked, chuckling. “What’s the deal?”

  “No, I decided to try my luck with finding the ice myself before resorting to asking him for any. I found it, and it just so happens that the Ziploc bags were on top of the icemaker. What luck, huh? Anyway, I was half way through shoveling the ice into the bag when I heard Bill approaching. I had to hide behind an old stool until he left, then I made a break for it. I think he might have seen my cape whip around the corner, though, as I ran down the hall.”

  “You’re such a dork, Brodie,” Notmie said. “Now will you give me the stupid ice? This lump on my head is starting to make me look like a sideways unicorn.”

  Brodie threw the bag at him, which Notmie clearly wasn’t expecting. The bag hit him squarely in the head.

  “You realize,” Melono began, turning from the moaning Notmie to face Brodie, “that we’re going to be here for another night, so you’re eventually going to have to face Bill again.”

  “Not necessarily,” Brodie replied, acting like a man with a trick up his sleeve.

  “Oh really? Why’s that? You know Notmie and I can’t leave this room, so if we need something outside, it’s up to you to get it. So tell me, Brodie, how could you keep from seeing Bill again? We’re going to need food, aren’t we? Who’s going to be getting that food? You are. And where do you think you’re going to be getting that food from? That would be Bill. So what’s this plan of yours not to encounter him again?”

  Brodie deflated. “I don’t know, but I did it once, so can’t I do it again?”

  “Nope.”

  “Okay, fine. I’ll eventually have to encounter him again, but I don’t have to do it right now.” Brodie copped a squat on the bed, bouncing it and jolting Notmie’s head, causing him to moan even louder.

  The rest of the day drug on as Notmie iced his head, Melono perused the notebook Larry had given her (she had tucked it under her pillow for safe keeping through the night), and Brodie busied himself with getting everything the others needed. After his fifth trip to go get fresh ice for Notmie, he began getting impatient with their demands and only agreed to fetch them food after an argument ending with Notmie beginning to moan again, Melono brandishing the wine bottle threateningly, and Brodie, who kept his hands at the ready incase he needed to parry any of Melono’s blows, backing slowly out of the room.

  That night, they decided to let Notmie have the bed, since his head now displayed a large lump that would have been a nuisance to deal with throughout the night had he slept on the wood floor. The decision was made mostly because they didn’t want to hear Notmie’s whining all night long.

  Melono demanded that she get Brodie’s comforter to sleep on, owing to her “birthing hips” she claimed needed the soft cushion to keep from being sore the next day. Brodie reluctantly complied, hoping it might win him some favor—after all, they were sharing the floor, which was practically like sharing a bed—but it got him nothing. So, the three of them found themselves, after a boring day of waiting, staring restlessly through the darkness.

  Part 22

  The Name Games

  “So what? We’re five-thousand dollars short, what can we do about that?”

  Notmie cracked his eyelids as Melono’s voice split his head in two.

  Brodie and Melono were standing on opposite sides of the bed from each other, Brodie with his arms crossed, and Melono with her hands on her hips. Notmie was caught in the crossfire.

  “What’s the deal, y’all? It’s way too early in the morning to be arguing. And couldn’t you have found a better place besides across where I’m sleeping? My head is still killing me, and that’s most definitely not helping to soothe it.”

  Brodie turned his back on the others and began folding up his bed, mumbling to himself, “It’s not my fault Melono’s yelling at me.”

  Melono lifted an eyebrow at his comment, but didn’t pursue it. After all, Notmie was right; it was a bit early in the morning to be arguing.

  Notmie lugged himself out of bed, his head pounding and his sight blurry.

  “Get your stuff together, Notmie,” said Melono as she folded up her bed. “We’re heading out in the next thirty minutes. We’ve got quite a drive ahead of us.” She caught sight of Notmie and paused. “You all right there?”

  Notmie nodded. “Low blood pressure.”

  “Well, are you going to be able to make it?”

  Notmie squinted, trying to make the fuzziness in his eyes go away.

  Melono took that as a “No,” and turning to Brodie, asked, “Hey, when you go pay, will you try to bring back some salt? That’ll help Notmie feel better.”

  “How on earth am I supposed to pay? All I have are the two checks made out to Sinclair Pontier. Do you have money I can use?”

  Melono frowned. “Ask if you can mail him a check.”

  Brodie began grumbling to himself as he left the room to obediently follow Melono’s instructions.

  Melono went back to cleaning up her bed while Notmie sat on the edge of his, feeling the need to say something, though he wasn’t exactly sure what it was or how to say it. He felt something welling up inside him, and before the words had been granted clearance by his mind, they’d already left his mouth.

  “Thanks, Melono.”

  She froze halfway through folding a blanket and he watched as she slowly turned toward him, a puzzled look on her face.

  “I–I don’t understand. What are you thanking me for?”

  Notmie’s brain froze, and the words came from somewhere deeper.

  “Thanks for everything, I guess. You’ve been good to me ever since the first day we met when I showed up at your front door and you let me in, giving me a bed and inviting me to the family reunion. It’s funny, but after only the short time I’ve been around you, you’ve become more like family to me than anyone else I’ve known, even my parents. Sure, you get mad at me, but it’s always been for a good reason. And you stand up for me and take care of me when I need it. I couldn’t have asked for that sort of a thing; I didn’t know it existed before. So, thank you. For all of that.”

  Melono didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t expected Notmie to open up like that, to be so articulate, or even to be able to register as complex of an emotion as gratitude, but she appreciated it just the same. She wanted to thank him for something, but she felt at a loss for words.

  “But most of all,” Notmie continued, “thanks for helping me break this curse. I know you don’t mind the curse that much, and it’s probably helped you with your career, so I’m glad you decided that you’d help me rid myself of it, even if it meant doing the same thing for you.”

  That’s where she had to stop him. “But Notmie, we’re not rid of it just yet. We don’t even know if we’re getting close. All we know at this point is to go give the money to Sinclair. Larry never told us where to go from there. For all you know, I’ve done nothing to help you break the curse. We don’t know if we’ll even be able to break it at all!”

  Notmie looked fixedly into Melono’s eyes.“We’ll break it.”

  Brodie burst into the room. “Well, I found the salt, but Bill was nowhere to be found. Maybe there’s another auction in town that we didn’t know about. Whatever the case, at least we don’t have to worry about the money situation.” He tossed the saltshaker to Melono.

  “Brodie, we can’t just leave without paying,” she said.

  “Yeah we can. It’ll be easy. Not only that, it’ll be fun. You like fun, right Mel?” Brodie walked past her and grabbed his wine bottle off of the bedside table. “Bet ya we could have a lot of fun with this puppy.” He winked at her.

  “Stop being a creep, Brodie,” she said. “Hold out your hand, Notmie.” As he did, Melono poured a small pile of salt into his palm.

  “What’s this for?” he said, staring blankly at the grains.

  “You eat it. It helps keep y
ou from being dizzy. Just follow it down with a few glasses of water and you’ll be feeling better in no time.”

  Notmie laughed. “You expect me to eat that straight?”

  “You could follow it down with some of this delicious vintage wine, if you’d like,” Brodie said, shaking the bottle at Notmie.

  “Cut it out, Brodie. And yes, I actually expect you to eat that straight. Just get it done, it’s really not that bad.”

  Notmie finally did it, and refused to put his tongue back in his mouth for several minutes afterwards as he tried to scrape off the taste with his fingernails.

  Once he was feeling slightly less lightheaded, Notmie grabbed his mirror and they got ready to go to the car.

  Of course, there was the small part about not being seen that they had to take into account. Bill appeared to have left, but they couldn’t be certain he wouldn’t come back. Brodie led the pack, checking around corners like 007. It wouldn’t have been so ridiculous if he hadn’t actually made his hand into a gun, which he held out in front of him when he lunged around walls. Both Melono and Notmie had to choke down the impulse to tell him to cut it out, since they couldn’t afford to speak and risk being heard.

  As soon as they were safely out of the tavern, Notmie erupted with the one word that had been on his mind for days now: “Shotgun!”

  Brodie whipped his head around, sheer disbelief across his face. Then, “Challenge!”

  There was a split second where both paused to look into the eyes of their opponent before sprinting to the car.

  Just as Brodie was about to reach the car first, Notmie caught up from behind, grabbing Brodie’s cape and shot-putting him in the opposite direction. Notmie was there, alone with the door handle, nothing to keep him from finally getting shotgun when he wanted it. He extended his hand and…

  “Ouch!” He snapped his hand back.

  Brodie walked up to Notmie, patting him on the back and laughing. “Shocked a bit, huh? That static electricity will get you every time if you’re not careful.”

  “Shut up.”

  Melono unlocked the doors and they loaded into the squad car, Notmie still nursing his tingling hand and Brodie still chuckling.

  Melono started up the car and they headed out of town. When they passed the city limits sign, Melono said, “Hey, we’re finally out of Lynchton, and good riddance to that. Onward to Paris, I suppose.”

  “How long do you think it’ll be?” Notmie asked.

  Melono shrugged. “I’d say no more than four hours.” She looked at the clock on the dashboard. “We should be there just after lunchtime, I’d guess.”

  “Can we stop for breakfast?” Notmie asked, holding his stomach. “I’m starving.”

  “Sure, sounds good. We’ll have to stop by a bank first to get some money. What do you say, Brodie?”

  Brodie was staring out the window at the outskirts of Lynchton, and didn’t take his eyes off of it as he spoke. “Will you finally quit calling me that?” he asked.

  Melono turned her head to look at him, temporarily taking her eyes off the road, which was no real threat, seeing as how it was a straight shot to the horizon. “What are you going on about?”

  Brodie explained. “We’re not in Lynchton anymore, guys. You can quit calling me Brodie.”

  Melono looked at him curiously. “So, what do you want us to call you?”

  “Well,” Brodie paused, turning his gaze away from the window and toward Melono. “I don’t exactly know. All I know is that I don’t like the name Brodie.”

  Melono turned her eyes back to the road. “Why not? I think it’s an excellent name.”

  Notmie giggled. “I can tell you why he doesn’t like it. It sounds too much like ‘booty!’”

  Melono smacked Notmie on the thigh. “Shush, Notmie. That’s not even why he doesn’t like his name, is it Brodie?”

  Brodie hesitated. “No, that’s sort of it.”

  “So, should I call you Captain Alex again?” Notmie asked.

  Captain Alex sighed, and watched as telephone poles flashed by the window.

  Notmie waited for a response, and when he received none, he took it as a “no” to his question. “Okay, so do you want to be called Quiche’awn again?”

  Quiche’awn turned his gaze from the window, but didn’t look at Notmie. Instead, he just looked down at his hands and played with his fingers. “I don’t know. I don’t really like any of those names because none of them are really me.”

  “What do you mean?” Melono asked. “All of those names are you because they were all yours.”

  “I guess so, but Quiche’awn just seems sort of silly. I may be an eighth black, but that doesn’t define who I am enough to make me change my name for it. I mean, I’m also an eighth German, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to change my name to Hans or Falk.”

  “Okay then,” Melono said. “What name is the most ‘you’?”

  He thought about it. The answer he came up with surprised even him. “Captain Alex.”

  “Whoohoo!” Notmie pumped his fist, immediately hitting the ceiling of the car and grabbing his knuckles in pain before making a quick recovery. “That was always my favorite. Do you mind if I still call you Cap’n?”

  Captain Alex shook his head.

  Melono frowned. “I don’t get it, why Captain Alex? That seems to me to be the least name-like of them all. And yes, I’m taking into consideration your ridiculous, borderline offensive, ethnic-hybrid Quiche’awn.”

  The Captain shrugged. “I don’t exactly know. I mean, while I’ve been Captain Alex, I’ve sort of become who I need to be. When I was just Brodie I was weak and always picked on. That’s not who I want to be, and that’s not who I am. While I was Quiche’awn, I was way too… I don’t know, nice, I guess. That may have been who I wanted to be, but that isn’t who I am. I’m not a pacifist. I don’t think it’s even possible for someone like me who people take after so often to remain passive for very long without killing myself. The only time I’ve ever been who I need to be is when I’m Captain Alex. I mean, sure, I have issues that are just begging to be dealt with, but that’s who I am. Those issues are going to be there regardless of my name and persona, but I can only deal with them properly when I’m The Captain.”

  Melono nodded. “Wow, Alex, that was deep and insightful. You don’t mind if I call you Alex, do you?”

  “Not at all,” he replied, looking up from his hands. “I almost like that better. The only thing is…” His voice trailed off and his eyes reverted back to his hands.

  “The only thing is what?” Melono gently prompted.

  “Well, that’s what my parents used to call me.”

  Notmie didn’t get that this was one of those sensitive moments. “What’s so great about that?”

  Melono took her hand off the steering wheel and smacked Notmie hard again on the thigh. Notmie whimpered, but stopped talking.

  Melono looked at Captain Alex in her rear view mirror. “Do you miss them?” she asked.

  Without lifting his head, Alex replied, “Every day.”

  “So would you rather be called Alex?”

  “Not necessarily. I’ve been Captain Alex almost all my life. You’re really the only person who’s called me Alex since my parents were killed. To everyone else, I’m Captain Alex.”

  “But do you like it? I mean, wasn’t it a name you made up for yourself out of necessity? There aren’t any mean kids around to call you Cap Tan Brodie anymore; you don’t have to be Captain Alex now if you don’t want to be,” Melono said.

  “I guess that’s true.”

  “Wait! Hold up!” Notmie erupted. “He’s Captain Alex! That’s who he is! He can’t change his name just because it brings memories of being teased along with it. Hell, when I was younger and the little girls had such major crushes on me that they didn’t know what to do with themselves, they would make fun of my name, but do you see me changing it to my middle name just because of that?”

  “What is your middle name
, Notmie?” Melono asked.

  “Reel.”

  “Yeah,” she said, “what’s your real middle name?”

  “No, that is my middle name.”

  “So your full name is Notmie Reel Job?” Melono snickered.

  “Yeah, so what?”

  “Ha! That’s ridiculous!”

  Notmie rolled his eyes. “ Anyway, people used to make fun of my name too, but that’s no reason for me to change it.”

  “What’d they call you?” asked Captain Alex.

  “Snotmie.”

  The other two erupted in laughter, and they didn’t stop for a long time.

  Wiping a tear from his eye, Captain Alex sighed. “That’s pretty good.”

  “Hey! Stop laughing! It’s not me who made that up!”

  “What did you say?” Captain Alex forced out through his giggles. “‘It’s Snotmie who made it up?’”

  Melono began laughing all over again.

  Notmie had to silence her. “With a name like Melono, I’m sure people made fun of you too.”

  “Actually, one person did,” Melono said, thinking back to the occasion.

  “What’d they call you?” Notmie asked.

  “Well, there’s basically only one thing you could call me: Melanoma.”

  Notmie didn’t react. Captain Alex just sort of sat, dumbfounded.

  “Mela-what-now?” Notmie asked.

  “That’s a stupid thing to be called,” said Captain Alex. “What sort of freakish kid teases someone by calling them Melanoma? What kind of kid knows what Melanoma is?”

  “That kid grew up to be Dr. Stangle,” Melono replied.

  “No way!” Captain Alex’s eyes bulged.

  “Wait, who’s Dr. Stangle?” Notmie asked. “What’s Melanoma?”

  Captain Alex looked at Notmie as if he’d just asked what the color purple was.

  “You don’t know who Dr. Stangle is? He’s like, the most world-renowned dermatologist!”

  Melono jerked her head around toward Captain Alex, shocked that he’d actually heard of the man before. “That’s right. How’d you know that?”

  “Well, they were worried about a few moles on my bald spot when I was younger. That’s half of the reason I wore a hat all the time and had the cap tan. It got too much sun. So, I’ve basically spent more time in a dermatologist’s office than most people spend in all their doctors visits combined. I’ve just heard a lot about him recently.”