by A. R. Case
Instead of answering me directly, Mom evaded. “I was awake. Your father has been having trouble with his heartburn again.”
“He talk to the doctor about it?” Two could play this game.
“He wasn’t taking the last antacids he was given. I’m sure that’s what it is. Anyways, what are you doing in Vegas?”
“I had a meeting with an investor about my shoe line.”
“Oh. That’s wonderful! I hope you don’t get your hopes up though.”
“I sold my designs, Mom.”
From the brief pause, I could tell I’d stunned her. Heck, I was still stunned. The glow of that memory warmed me up, and I felt my face get that goofy smile I’d had on it almost all night.
“Sold?”
“Yes, the contract needs to be finalized, but we got a deal last night.” I was bouncing on the bed in happiness.
“We?”
“Indy and I. That’s who I was out with, and our other friends from Maryland, Tom and Vega.”
“Is she the really tall one that looks like Tyra Banks?”
Frankly, Vega doesn’t look anything like Tyra Banks, but Mom really doesn’t have a lot of reference to draw from. But Vega is definitely one of the tallest women my mom has ever met. “Yep.”
“She’s in Vegas with you?”
“She got an audition with one of the shows here.”
“Wow. Would I be able to go see it with Jim, or is it one of those other kind of shows?”
I laughed. “You’d be able to go with Dad to this one.”
“Well, that is good. And your shoes … I’m happy for you, sweetheart. You have been trying so hard to build your business.”
“Thanks, Mom. It looks to be paying off.”
“I’m not going to lose you to the big city, am I?”
“Of course not. I still live in Maryland.”
Indy walked back in just at that second. He didn’t say anything or look at me, but there was a line of tension in his shoulders which hadn’t been there earlier. He moved to the dresser and swapped out tonight’s rings with some of his plainer items.
“Oh, good.”
“You really shouldn’t let Eddie work you up, Mom.”
“He was just trying to look out for you.”
“No, Mom, he wasn’t. He was stirring the pot.”
“Sweetheart, he sounded concerned. He thought you were doing drugs. He said you were not yourself.”
“Mom, when it comes to Eddie, I am not myself. He’s a jerk.”
“Sweetheart, language.”
“Jerk? I should have said asshole.”
Indy snickered, but wisely cut it off when I glared at him.
“Eileen Darina.”
“No, Mom, you really need to hear this, Eddie is a manipulator. If things aren’t his way, he will lie, cheat and manipulate what he tells others so they believe him. He saw me with Indy and got jealous. Then he called you, pretending to care. He doesn’t care, he is just peeved that I have someone. So, he decided to mess with that, and he called you. I don’t want you drawn into this.”
“But if you’re hanging out with the wrong sort of people …”
“Mom. Eddie is the wrong sort. He’s a liar. He cheated on me. He cheats on people he does business with. No matter what he looks like, he’s not what he seems. That’s a heck of a lot more dangerous than someone who lives their life out in the open. Don’t you think so?”
“By out in the open, you mean biker.”
“Yes, leathers, tattoos, the whole works.” I looked at Indy who was staring at his socks. “They are not perfect people, but they don’t lie about that. It’s refreshing.”
“I just don’t understand why you can’t find a nice man.”
Nice men are boring. I didn’t say it. I can’t say I fully believed that either, but after being around Fin and Indy, and the rest, I didn’t look at life in nearly the same way I used to. Then again, maybe that life had been a lie. When I was little, I wanted fantasy. I wanted something that would never last under fluorescent lights and easy-care polyester blends. My life now was a lot closer to the world of my childhood. And I loved it. Dangerous, murderous men and all. I wouldn’t change what Indy was to please my mother, or fit in a fluorescent, polyester world. He fit nicely in his world. My world fit nicely with that world as well.
“I have found a nice man. He is real, and honest, and flawed, but has many, many good traits. I think I’ll keep him.” I said that as much to Indy as my mom on the phone.
“Well, I hope you don’t get hurt. You know I love you.”
“Love you too, Mom. We were up late; do you mind if we cut this short?”
“What time is it there again?”
I glanced at the phone in my hand, “Almost four a.m. now.”
“Oh dear. I’m sorry. Good night, I guess.”
“Night, Mom.”
I hung up the phone.
“Eddie isn’t a jerk, he’s a fucking asshole.” Indy sat on the bed with me.
“Yeah, that would have gone over really well with Mom.”
“And, I resent being called nice.”
“Get used to it.” Then I shut up any more protests he had by kissing him.
Indy
A heavy pop beat filled the house. There was no escaping it. Edie managed a decent retreat into the spare bedroom upstairs that had a balcony overlooking the non-pool end of the house. Instead of being underfoot, I was hanging at the bar that flanked the great room.
Vega conned TomTom into removing all the furniture from its center. In the group, there was a mix of dancers, some stage crew, and a handful of the Henderson chapter that I hoped I could count on to keep their hands to themselves.
Just in case, I was watching.
TomTom was almost as drunk as Vega, and for once, dancing without a care to how he looked. He wasn’t bad. All these months with his girl was rubbing off. There were three of Vega’s new friends teaching him new moves, and his boots were leaving scuff marks on the floor. Vega was on a couch, laughing and enjoying herself. She wasn’t cutting in, which meant she was really drunk.
While her man was a demon when it came to jealousy, he looked like a pussycat when Vega suspected he was being propositioned. She usually didn’t stop until there was blood. It didn’t matter if it was hers or theirs. It was just one more reason for me to stay dead ass sober tonight. Eventually one of the girls would get just a bit too handsy with TomTom. I’d be there to run interference when it happened. Hopefully he’d be smart enough to contain his girl. In the meantime, I could only watch. And worry, but not about what was going on down here. I knew this scene.
I worried about Edie. This morning was a wake-up call for me. She would forgive me in her fantasies about me, but if she truly faced with who I was, I’m dead certain she’d run. Even though she told her mother I was “nice,” I heard a slight hesitation. Maybe that’s why I pushed the issue, letting her know I wasn’t going to let her have that fantasy. And that’s probably why she did what her mother does, change the topic.
Now she was holed up away from everyone.
One of the Henderson guys, a really skinny one, just got shot down. I didn’t hear it happen, just saw how his face twisted from drunk, or stoned, and happy, to ugly. I got in-between, showing him my back, and the colors on it.
She was walking away, with one of the stage hands wrapped around her finger. The guy was smart enough to be looking over his shoulder.
“Move, Indy.”
“My house, my rules.”
“Fuck you, she’s mine tonight.”
I turned to him. “Told you to bring pussy from the clubhouse. This is a mixed party.”
“You don’t throw a banquet you can’t eat, man.”
His eyes were glassy, but dilated. His breathing was faster than normal. “You are shitting on my lawn, and that borders on insult.”
“Fuck you. You’re nothing but a fucking has-been. These colors mean we take what we want.” He pushed at me.
“Motherfucker seems to think he’s fucking God or something. Keeping me from the gash.”
This one was tweaking too, but had a bit of sense left. “Nomad, what the fuck?”
Apparently, none of these boys had served enough time as prospects. Tweaker one went down, but bounced. Tweaker two was in my sights, and backed up in a big hurry making me move after him. The first one jumped me from behind. That was something I hadn’t had happen since some of the older prison yard fights. All those years, and my reflexes are still the same. He went down hard. My boot connected with his ribs at least twice before I remembered he was a brother of the cut.
He was moaning and twitching on the floor. Tweaker two ran out the doors.
And snap, like that, TomTom was at my side.
Some of the stagehands looked a bit leery. One of the older crew from Henderson approached.
“He deserve that?” He pointed at number one, still twisted into a ball on the floor.
I glared at him. Currently words were a little difficult. I was ready to kill just about anyone, except TomTom, unless I had to.
“Never jump a brother from behind.” TomTom said, then tacked on, “He’s just lucky he ain’t dead.”
The brother from Henderson kicked the guy that was down. “Fucking moron. You don’t shit where you live.” He held out a hand. “No worries, right brother?”
This man was an ass, too. Fucking asses in costume, playing at brotherhood. “Your man use the profits up his nose often?”
He glanced at the skinny, moaning asshole at his feet. “It’s all good.”
I pulled him up by the vest and shirt. “No. It is not good. You go short, or get caught, or this numbnuts narcs you out, and the entire group gets a bigger fucking target on their back. And doing shit in here …” I let go with one hand and motioned around the house, not caring that it was suddenly quiet, and a lot emptier than it had been. “Is the last of the disrespects I’ll fucking let go.”
I got a lot quieter, and right in his face. “You know me. You know where I served. And if you don’t, here’s a fucking reminder.” I whispered more shit in his ear that no one, not even TomTom needed to hear.
Movement on the stairs snagged my attention. It forced me to end this peacefully rather than how I really wanted to. I dug into my pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. “Take this week, and that,” I pointed at the guy on the floor, “And leave. Party is dead now anyways.”
The guy pocketed my cash and dragged his brother out.
TomTom waited until they were gone before he spoke. “Should I follow or…”
“You drunk?”
“Yeah, pretty drunk.”
“Is this your house?”
“Uh …”
I glared at him. “It fucking is. Don’t forget that. Fucking stay.”
“Okay, Indy.” He was swaying on his feet.
Edie, however, wasn’t.
The whole scene pissed me off. “Still think I’m a nice guy?” I sidestepped around her to check the pool for stragglers. Then I circled the house. Smart guys, those stagehands, they packed the girls up, and were getting out of my driveway. One of them was obliged to say goodbye.
He hesitated long enough to understand I wasn’t going to say a god-damned word back. There was a nod, and wisely enough, a half shuffle that kept his back from being fully exposed to me. A rigger, one of the few chicks wearing black, took over watch as she pulled him into the SUV.
I picked up a glass someone had left on my front step.
TomTom carried Vega to their room. She was giggling, and totally out of it. Edie was picking up glasses.
I joined her in the kitchen. She was quiet.
“The maid will get the rest tomorrow.” I stopped her from filling the sink.
“The whole house will smell.”
I shrugged. “Had to get rid of that new house smell sometime.”
“Indy.”
“You going to light into me?”
She bit her lip.
That pissed me right off. “You should. Yell, scream at me, tell me I was an ass just now.”
“Don’t tell me how to feel.” It came out soft. Edie was always soft.
“Then what the fuck am I to do? You obviously need to get something out on me.”
“Not everything is about you, Indy.”
There it was. “Welcome to reality, Edie. If I don’t deserve it now, there’s something I’ve done somewhere that deserves it.”
“Indy. That was pretty crazy how the party ended.”
“No, Edie. Get those rose-colored glasses good and off. This party was mild. No one bled.”
“That’s your criteria? Blood?”
I laughed in her face. “Swear to God, Edie, if there isn’t a good head cracking, it’s a fucking country club soiree.”
“Good to see you’re amused. You yelled at TomTom.”
I had. “He’s drunk as fuck. Maybe he deserves it.”
She shut up. The look she was giving me, however said a hell of a lot. It made me defensive.
“He let his guard down.”
“Because of that, you yelled at him? He’s young. He’s new to the area. His girlfriend is making new friends, and they have to fit in this place. And you, yelled at him.”
I blinked. She’d nailed it, but also didn’t understand shit. “Edie, his first mistake was letting the guys from the club stay while his girl was getting drunk. Second was getting drunk himself. That was practically inviting trouble. Me dropping that guy needed to happen, because it stopped the trouble. That’s why he needed a good check.”
Maybe I should have left her to her illusions. Or maybe it was me hitting a self-destruct button.
“I am a Destroyer. TomTom is one now, too. He left all that half-assed bullshit behind when he left Maryland. You don’t wear these colors and hope for the fucking best. You drop shit when it needs dropping. You do it, and it’s done. Having feelings about it? That’s fucking pussy shit.”
Her mouth opened then closed.
“No half shit, Edie. That goes on everything. Your mom needs to block Eddie’s number. You block that asshole’s number.”
“Indy, that would just cause more trouble.”
“No, it wouldn’t. He won’t exist if he causes more trouble.”
“That is not an option.”
“In my world it is.”
“Indy.”
“No babe. He causes trouble, he’s dead.”
She swallowed. “You are scaring me.”
“Good.” I was hammering hard on that button now.
“I’m scared because while I like what you are doing to help my career, you also are telling me how to run my life. Case in point, how to deal with Eddie and my mother. Then you threaten to kill Eddie. Don’t you understand that will just cause more problems? Not everything gets fixed by violence.”
Since she had an excellent point, I let the rest of it slide. “I’m not running your life. You want out, go.”
“The deal?”
“Yours. Go for it.”
Her eyes searched mine for something. Whatever they looked for went missing. She went up the stairs. A few minutes later, she came back down with her suitcase.
“I called a cab.”
I answered with a lifted glass. It was the good bourbon. I emptied it as the door closed.
Chapter 10: Talk
Edie
The flight was horrible. There were drunks in the line ahead of me. They slowed down the checkpoint. Of course, they were on my flight. My seat would not recline. The person in the seat next to me had a cough. Not just one cough, a persistent hacking that was just light enough to let them sleep, but of course, right as I would begin to drift off, their breathing would catch. My consciousness would perk up, in curiosity to bear witness as to whether they’d expire, then phlegm and hack hack hack, clear throat, swallow noisily, shift their ass closer to my armrest,
and peacefully, pathetically, snore twice.
By that point, someone would flip on a reading light, or turn it off, and I’d adjust to the different light level, or a stewardess would walk the aisle, talking softly to someone who, like me, could not sleep.
Don’t even get me started on what is considered a pillow. Three a.m. passed somewhere between time zones. That’s one way to avoid nightmares, I guess.
Landing was in darkness. The long wait at the carousel, lonely. I can’t even remember if the long-term parking bus had a driver. The drive home was an exercise in sleep deprivation torture.
Then, I fumbled the security code.
One small heart attack later, I’d managed to rekey it properly.
January. Indy.
A date I didn’t think I’d celebrate if this trip was any indication.
My sketchbook landed on my drafting table. I don’t remember why I thought it was a good idea to put my suitcase under the kitchen table. Then I stumbled into my bedroom and died for at least three or four hours.
Fin woke me. It was sometime in the early noon hours, but it felt like a different country. He was checking on me, he said. “You weren’t expected back until Friday.” He tacked on. “Had to see what triggered the alarm.”
I blinked at him.
“You fly in last night?” Fin was making small talk.
Blink, blink. Oh yeah, answering would help. “Red eye from Vegas.”
“Ah well, bet you’re tired.”
That got him a stare. It bounced off him. The coffee pot looked interesting, and lonely. I rinsed it out and filled it up to start a pot. Just the smell of coffee grounds helped wake me up a bit.
“Had some bad wind with the storm that went through. While I’m here, I’ll check the roof. Looks like you lost a few shingles up there.”
“Okay. Sorry I’m not more talkative.”
He waved it off. Things were righting themselves in the universe, and Fin had stopped talking, and I was being more cordial. The pot finished. I poked my head out, “Did you want any coffee?”
Fin was on the roof. “Naw, no caffeine.” He skimmed back down the ladder, still spry despite the gray hair and beard, grabbed a tool box from the truck, and climbed the ladder again.