Three Deadly Twins

by David Thyfault

  This particular day she would have liked to disregard all the newfound complications and devote herself entirely to Don like he deserved, but there were other more pressing priorities. She sighed as she pulled into the prison parking lot. For now, she still wanted to get that money for Mickey, but there were fifty thousand reasons the con could be dead.

  After Officer Jackson locked them in cabin three, they wrapped their arms around each other for an initial hug, but Don quickly patted her on the shoulder, just like she used to do with her grandmother when she wanted the hug to be over. She wanted desperately to hold him, to love him to prove to herself she was determined to control her stupid lustful heart. He pulled away. “Is the doctor on board?” he asked without any idea how tormented she was.

  What could she expect? He had one stinking hour per week, while everybody else had 168 hours. “I’m sorry, Donnie. He’s willing to help us,” she said, bypassing the temptation to complain about all she had done and the money she lost trying to get a midwife’s office up and running, “but I think I lost him.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “He’s sick and has financial troubles. He needs money as badly as we do.”

  “Great, so what’s wrong?”

  “I had to tell him everything. It was the only way to get him to trust me.” She released a deep sigh. “He wants fifty thousand dollars, Donnie—to prove we’re real. I told him we don’t have any money. But he insisted.”

  Don shook his head. “Wrong answer. You should have told him about your line of credit.”

  “But I don’t like to use that money. It’s all I’ve got and I’m already slipping cash to Mac so it looks like he’s really got a job and money of his own. What would happen to Mickey if I lost the rest of it before we get Rachel’s money?”

  Don lifted her chin. “Look. We all got to do whatever we can, or it’s not going to work. Then Mickey’s out of luck anyway.”

  She bit her lip. “But it’s still not enough. I can only get about thirty-five thousand. Mac doesn’t have money either.”

  Don sat next to her. “You’ve got to do whatever it takes to bring that doctor on board.”

  Her head shot his way. “You don’t expect me to screw him too, like you made me do with Mac, do you? He’s old enough to be my father.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. He sees so much pussy it wouldn’t mean anything to him.”

  “Including mine, during our first appointment. Why the hell did I do that?”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You had to. That’s all. Get over it.” Don rested his hand on her thigh. “That guy is desperate. He has no other options or he wouldn’t have called you back. You’ve got to get the thirty K—in cash. Tell him it’s all you have. He’ll be forced to take it.”

  She smirked. “But what if I lose it all?”

  “That’s my whole point, Baby. This is the only way Mickey has a chance. If we don’t do this he’s toast.”

  For the next twenty minutes Don asked her question after question and listened intently to her answers, guiding and coaching her as they went. Just as importantly, they held hands like the old days. When was she going to learn?

  Every time the chips were down, Donnie was the one who came through. He may not have been the lover that Mac was but he was like a hidden foundation beneath a home with Christmas lights on the roof. Those lights wouldn’t even be there to shine without the foundation holding everything up. Same went for Mickey’s future. Don was the one who made that happen, nobody else, not even her. Most importantly, he’d proved that he would never turn his back on her like she almost did to him. And the kicker was he did all of that in one hour a week. It would be pure idiocy to let love lust cancel all of that out.

  Then, near the end of their hour he said, “Ultimately this is about you and me and Mickey. We can’t let anybody else get in the way of that. If we have to deviate from any of our plans along the way, then that’s what we do. Adapt to the new situation. Go with the flow. However you want to say it. But we gotta stay true to each other.”

  It was as if she’d just gotten a well-deserved mind-spanking. Her eyes darted to the clock. If only she had the time to show him how much she appreciated him after all, but Officer Jackson would be back in minutes.

  Then, as if Don read her mind, he drew her to him and kissed her, then nudged her backwards. “Relax, Baby. I got Jackson to give us an extra half-hour.”

  She hadn’t seen that gleam in his eye for months.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “Well?” Stump cornered his mother in the kitchen.

  “Not now,” Jean said, brushing him off and stepping around him.

  “But you promised.” She grabbed a paper towel, walked briskly into the living room, but Stump wasn’t going to let her get away again. He followed in line like a baby duck follows its mother. She wiped a bunch of artful Dogg saliva off the window above the coach. “I’ve only been home a few days. I’m way behind on everything and still trying to get acclimated to a life without a driver’s license. This isn’t a good time.”

  “But whenever I bring up the topic, you make excuses.”

  “I’m sorry it seems like that, but I’ve got more important things to do right now.” Her hair danced from side to side as she shook her head. “I don’t even have enough time to wash the windows properly.” She returned to the kitchen. Stump followed and watched her discard the paper towel. What was so hard about that?

  Outside, Dogg made an ugly hacking sound. His mom pointed out the window. “For instance, Dogg still has that damn kennel cough and I’ve got to get somebody to take me to get new meds – which I can’t afford. You don’t want him to suffer, do you?”

  “Aw, come on, Mom. You’re just using that as an excuse to change the subject.”

  “I’m glad you think that’s all it is,” she said as she removed some dishes from the sink, mostly his, and added them to a stack of others on the counter, also mostly his, before rinsing it out. She grabbed some dish soap from down below and poured some into the sink, turned on the water and began yet another chore. “Regardless, I don’t want to dredge up painful memories.”

  He frowned. “Painful? You never said that before. Did my dad hurt you or something?”

  “Stop saying that,” she insisted as she scrubbed glass after glass and dish after dish. “You had a biological father, but no dad.” She dunked several pots in the water, swished a dishrag around each one.

  Stump grabbed a drying towel. “How can a person be a dad if you won’t let him try?”

  She glanced at his towel and nodded her approval. She let out the water and wiped off the counter while he finished drying one of the small glasses he had left in the sink with milk in the bottom. “I realize this is important to you,” she said hurriedly, “but I’ve got so much else on my mind, like right now I get to go vacuum the entire house. Then, it’s change the sheets, do the laundry and mop the kitchen.”

  “But that’s what you always say. It can’t be that traumatic, can it?”

  “It is to me, especially now that I can’t drive and Aunt Gerry and Uncle Dirk are talking about divorce.”

  Divorce? She might as well have crashed a tank into his head. “What are you talking about? Nobody ever said anything about a divorce.”

  She finally slowed down for a moment and faced him. “That’s because it’s painful, just like this dad-thing of yours is to me. I wasn’t supposed to say anything until they know more, but Uncle Dirk’s company has been laying people off. They’ve already warned him to look for something else. Stress like that spills into personal lives. That’s all I’m going to tell you about it. You have to promise me that you’ll keep this quiet. Nobody wants to hurt Willie.” She buzzed into the living room again.

  Stump followed and half-heartedly plucked some dog hairs off the couch. He was beginning to get it. His own problems seemed rather petty compared to everything his mom had to do, and compared to what could happen to his cousin. �
��But they shouldn’t be having problems. They have lots of money.”

  “Not any more. If they lose their income all they get is unemployment money. That’s not enough. If Uncle Dirk doesn’t take some other job they’ll be in the same boat we’re in. Barely getting by.”

  “Will they have to move?”

  “I don’t know, son. That’s among the things they have to work out. But when people have stress like that it affects everything they do. People worry and argue with each other. You just can’t turn problems like that on and off when you don’t like them.”

  “Like your drinking?”

  “God knows that’s been tough too,” she said, nodding. “It affects the whole family and it’s difficult to reverse. Now do you understand what I mean when I say I have too much on my plate right now?”

  Wow. He kinda did. Being an adult wasn’t as easy as it usually looked.

  She walked across the room, picked up some mail that needed discarded. “All I want to do right now is finish some housework and get ready for the office party tonight.”

  Office party? A loud warning siren went off in Stump’s head.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Mac released the button on his jacket, yanked his helmet over his ears and jiggled Annie’s kickstand into place. He glimpsed at the tired man looking back at him in his left mirror. He needed a lift. “You up for a fast trip to the drugstore, Annie?” he asked after starting her up.

  “Sure am.”

  He grinned and revved her engine a little more than necessary. It was equivalent to telling a world-class track star to, “Get on your mark.”

  His left hand clamped the clutch handle and his left foot jammed the shifter into low gear. He might as well have held up a starter’s pistol and said, “Get set.”

  His anxious right hand cranked the throttle while his left hand simultaneously popped the clutch. “GO!!!”

  Annie’s front wheel jumped into the air, like the hooves of a bucking bronco as she bolted forward with all of her might. They leaned ever so slightly to the left, so they could blow through a small pile of leaves. God, how Mac loved that bike!

  After calming down, Annie began a conversation. “There’s still time to bail out, you know.”

  “I was thinking about that, Annie. Rachel might feel a little depressed for getting dumped but she’d probably get over it fairly quickly.”

  “But, what about Miranda? Would she handle it?”

  “That’s the real issue, Annie. I like her a lot—maybe even love her and she needs me.”

  They quickly zigzagged through a half-mile of light traffic. “And I can’t let Mickey down.”

  “The fringe benefits don’t hurt either, do they?”

  Mac smirked. “That’s for sure. It’s almost like we’re of one body and one mind.”

  “Seems to me you’ve got to shit or get off the pot. Either get in with both feet or get out.”

  “I think that’s a mixed metaphor, Annie, but I get your drift. Only trouble is, I’m not sure how much longer I can keep this up.” They dipped hard to the right and pulled into the parking lot of a drug store, where three boys, about fourteen, were hanging around outside. One of them, presumably the leader, was smoking something.

  Annie glided into a spot in front of the ice machine where Mac engaged the clutch and goosed the throttle. She roared, causing the boys to turn their heads. Annie was cool.

  Without making eye contact Mac removed his helmet and dismounted. He jiggled the kickstand and helped his pal stand up before he unbuttoned his jacket and strutted a few steps to the entrance.

  Once inside he glanced furtively at the overhead signs. He would have liked to abandon his objective, but Miranda had given him an assignment. He headed down the aisle where the feminine products were kept. He was the only one there, but it was embarrassing nevertheless. His confidence had evaporated. In spite of his apprehension, he studied the shelves before he quickly grabbed a box of pregnancy tests, the ones in the orange-colored box. Dr. Gravely said it should be the kind with the cup and litmus strips as opposed to the applicator type.

  Like a fullback with a single objective, Mac lowered his head and rushed to the checkout lane. He paid the bill, hurried out the door and breathed a sigh of relief. Outside, the youngsters had predictably gathered around Annie.

  * * *

  A few more days had passed before Stump’s life returned to something resembling normal. He was proud of his mom and hadn’t mentioned his dad for a while. On Saturday, he and Richard and Willie took a run/walk trip to the drugstore. Once there, Richard lit a cigarette-size cigar that he got from his grandpa. Then a biker and a cool-colored bike pulled in. When the biker disappeared into the store Richard wanted to check out the bike.

  Shortly thereafter the dude returned and wiggled in between them. He opened one of the black-leather saddlebags and quickly tucked away a paper bag. “Hey fellas, how’s it going?” he said.

  Richard pointed at the gas tank. “Hey mister. Who’s Annie?”

  The guy patted the gas tank as if it was a baby’s head. “A very old friend.”

  Richard blew a smoke ring and nodded, as if he understood, but Stump was stumped.

  The biker pulled a helmet over his head. “I’m Mac. Who are you guys?”

  Stump began to speak but, “I’m Richard. This is Stump and Willie. They’re cousins.”

  “It’s nice to meet you fellas,” Mac said as he pointed with a knuckle-scarred hand at Stump. “Don’t you smoke?”

  Stump wrinkled his nose. “Tried it, but-“

  “He’s a wimp,” Richard said. “Do you smoke, Mac?”

  “Me? Nah? My mom told me that most of the girls don’t like it. Besides, it’s too expensive.”

  Stump nodded as Richard gently eased his cigar hand behind his back.

  “You fellas go to the high school?”

  “Stump and I do,” Richard said, “but Willie’s too young.”

  “You know Ms. Johnson?”

  “The tall assistant principal?” Stump asked.

  “That’s her. She’s a good friend of mine. She wants me to have a talk with some of the guys about motorcycles and life on the highways. There’ll be pictures and refreshments. You should come.”

  All three nodded. “When is it?” Stump asked.

  “Not sure yet. When we know more, she’ll put it in a newsletter or on a bulletin board or something.” He threw a leg over his bike’s seat, twisted his key and cut a tight circle. “Catch you guys later,” he said just before he and the purplish motorcycle danced over a small pile of whirling leaves.

  “I’m going to get a bike like that someday,” Richard said.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The early-morning fog misted Mac’s face. “It’s chilly today,” he said to Annie.

  “How was that party last night?”

  Mac grinned. “You would have been proud of me, Annie. I turned on the old Mac charm, and before the evening was over Granny and her friends were eating out of my hands.”

  “That must’ve made Rachel happy.”

  “No shit. She raved about how Granny practically adopted me.” Mac paused. “On the way home she kept saying she loved me and expecting me to say it back.”

  “Did you?”

  “I pretty much had to. When we got home she took it up another notch, wanted to make love. She really got into it this time. Sorta fun for a change. Sometimes she can be alright.” He arched his back. “Want to go to Malibu Beach?”

  “It’s Thursday. What about the bowling alley?”

  “I like those kids, but they’ve got plenty of volunteers. They can get by without me. I was thinking of doing something more peaceful.”

  They slowed down for a couple seconds. “We could check in on Miranda first, to see if she really spends her Thursday mornings doing what she says she does.”

  “Believe me. I’ve thought about that, but if she suspected that I don’t trust her it would probably ru
in everything. I just need to roll with it.”

  “Then we’re going to the beach.”

  “Let’s do it.” Mac throttled her hard and speed-shifted into the next gear. They blew through a yellow light and merged onto the Sierra Highway. “Granny and her husband owned a big ranch in Silicon Valley,” he said, repeating something he had heard at the party. “Then when all the high-tech companies showed up, they sold out.”

  “That’s primo land. It must be where the inheritance comes from.”

  ”That’s what I was thinking too, Annie. I didn’t hear how much they got, but it had to be a pretty penny as my old man used to say. A few years later Pappy died from a heart attack and Rachel’s parents died in a boating accident. Granny and Rachel were the only heirs to all that money.”

  “And you and Miranda and Mickey.”

  “Miranda and I might move to the Dominican Republic or someplace like that after all this is over.” Mac checked Annie’s left mirror and slipped over into the fast lane.

  Later, when they got to the coast they went north for a long drive, grabbed lunch and eventually pulled onto a ridge that overlooked the ocean and a colorful hillside. He found a well-placed bench and enjoyed the soothing mumble of waves crashing beneath them. He dozed.

  When he awoke, the clouds had darkened and moved closer. He peeked at his watch. Nearly three. He quickly scooted toward Annie. “We’re late. Rachel’s gonna be pissed. I’ve gotta call Miranda, too. I won’t be able to see her this afternoon either.”

  Back on the highway, he and Annie took their place on the white lines, in between lanes. They moved better than the bumper-to-bumper slowpokes but it still took until five-thirty before they coasted into Annie’s favorite corner of Rachel’s garage—the one to the right, away from the bright light of the window.

  Mac glanced at his watch. Rachel wouldn’t be impressed by how quickly they made it back. He hustled into the kitchen where she jumped in his face, saying, “Well, it’s about time. You’re almost an hour late.”