3 A Brewski for the Old Man (4 page)

“If I do, I know who’s going with me,” she said, wagging a finger at me. “I heard you and Miguel going at it last week.”

“He can’t fire a supplier, that’s my job. He just takes on too much.”

“You two have been friends for a long time, haven’t you?”

said Lacey. “Does it show?”

“Yes.” The frown was back. “I’ve never had that kind of friend.”

“Lucky you,” Marley told her. “Who needs a friend who tells you you’re bossy?”

“Well, you are. She is!” I said to Lacey. “But if Marley was running for president I’d go out and vote for the first time in my life. She’s right more times than she’s wrong and her heart encompasses the whole world. Oh, don’t let it go to your head, Hemming, you’re still the bossiest person on the planet.”

The phone rang and I reached over and picked it up, saying, “Girls Just Want to Have Fun Boarding House.” I sat up. “Hi, Rena.” The laughter drained from Lacey’s face.

I got to my feet and left the room, closing the door behind me.

Rena was saying, “Ray John just called. I’m sorry but he doesn’t want Lacey staying with you. It’s nothing against you, Sherri; it’s just that she needs her routine. He’s afraid her schoolwork will suffer and…” She searched for words. I could guess just how upset Ray John would be at having his plaything removed, and from what Lacey had told me whatever he wanted, he pretty well got. Rena was desperately in love with him and would do anything to keep him.

“It’s all right with me,” Rena told me, “but he really wants us to be together. As a family.”

“Look, it’s late, leave Lacey here for tonight and we’ll talk about it tomorrow when she’s in school. One night can’t hurt, can it?”

“No,” she hesitated and then said, “no,” again, sounding relieved. “I’m sure he won’t mind that. He won’t be home until after seven tomorrow morning and Lacey leaves for school at seven-thirty. He’d hardly see her. That will be fine.”

Her words gave me a sick feeling. Just how far was she willing to go to keep this man? How much was she willing to give up for love?

Clay called at six-thirty in the morning. I groaned hello. “You okay?” Clay asked.

“Sure. You?”

“Almost. I never knew how much Kevin drank. Now I know why there were ten bottles of vodka in his locker. Was he always this way or is it because Ann left him? Last night he didn’t come back to the boat. Graham went looking for him about one and dragged him back. He was on one of the other boats, dead drunk and in the bed of a Scandinavian blonde.” I grunted in response, not caring a whole lot about Kevin’s sex life.

“We finally got permission to sail and he’s in the bag. Anyway, we’ve already sailed.”

“Rah, rah,” I said and dropped the phone onto the cradle, sympathizing with Kevin and wishing I hadn’t finished the second bottle of wine Marley had opened.

Mornings are definitely not my time of day but I was a responsible adult now so I stumbled through a shower and out to the kitchen. I opened the polished aluminum sliding doors hiding the toaster and knocked over the orange juice. Then I poured water all over the counter trying to fill the water reserve on the coffee maker. When I picked up a serrated knife and the bag of bagels I’d taken out of the freezer the night before, Marley stepped in. “I’ll drive Lace to school. You go back to bed before you hurt yourself,” she said, taking the knife from my hand.

“What, you don’t like my sweet morning face?”

“It’ll sour the milk. Go.”

I leaned against the counter, one bare foot resting on the other. “Thanks, Marley.”

“Thank you. I’m more than happy to eat your bagels.” She turned to look at me, then dropped the knife on the counter and whispered, “What’s going on?” She jerked her head in the direction of the den, leaving no doubt what she was talking about. “What’s up?”

My voice was as soft as I could make it. “Ray John Leenders is back in town.” Her eyes got round.

“He lives with Rena and Lacey.”

“Shit.”

I grinned at her fall from grace. Any crack in her Mother Superior act always pleased me.

“Sorry to dump on you last night when you’ve got this,” Marley whispered. While Lacey did homework I’d heard all about the rocky road to sainthood and her split from David as I finished the wine.

“It’s all right. Your hurt is new, mine’s old.”

“No,” she shook her head in disagreement. “I just don’t think that’s true.” Her face wrinkled in thought. “Your hurt never stopped.”

In a way it was true. Ray John’s abuse was like a scar on my soul and on my memory. I turned away from Marley. “I’ve been working out just how I’m going to handle the meeting I intend to have with Ray John.”

Marley said, “Leave it until tonight and I’ll go with you. I can’t get away this morning. I’m booked solid.” Marley is a dental hygienist in a busy dental practice, often working long hours and a half-day on Saturdays to keep up. “I’ll be done about six, I’ll go with you.”

“Nope. I’m going to see him this morning. Alone.”

“Don’t be silly. You can’t go alone.”

But I wouldn’t be alone. I was taking an old friend, but not one I could tell Marley about. “I want to do this my way,” I said. Marley started to argue but Lacey came out of the den, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved tee-shirt and carrying her backpack, ready for school.

I waited until I knew Rena had opened the store and then I put on a fanny pack, wearing the pouch at the front where it would be nice and handy and where the replacement for my daddy’s sixteenth birthday present, my special friend, a nice little Beretta, resided. Just to be sure Ray John would be alone, I swung by the store and saw Rena’s beige sedan in the parking lot. Then I went to the neat little ranch house on Blossom Avenue.

Florida in September is pretty much like living in a sauna. At ten-thirty in the morning the day was already blistering hot. The humidity was way up there but I had the air conditioning cranked up so the sweat trickling down my side was from fear, not the weather. With each block my anger and conviction was seeping away like a spilled drink, to be replaced by gut-wrenching dread. I didn’t want to do this. Should I wait for Marley? But I was afraid by six-thirty, even with Marley holding my hand, I’d probably find it impossible. Besides, I didn’t want witnesses. Marley was way over on the sensible side of the upright-citizen path and what I had in mind wasn’t even in the same county. Ray John needed to be spoken to in a language he understood.

The lift bridge was up, waiting for a yacht to clear. A line of cars piled up behind me, boxing me in so I couldn’t change my mind and turn around and run back to the Sunset. Panic was squeezing the air out of me. I took deep breaths and waited. The idea of facing this man again set my heart pounding in my chest until I was afraid I would have a heart attack.

Could you die from anxiety? I had no idea. The bridge slowly went down. I could go.

The big ass SUV, with the oversized tires, was in the driveway. I pulled in behind it, trying to regulate my breathing to slow my racing heart and trying to find my courage. I left the keys in the ignition and the door open so I could leave fast. My right hand went to the comforting bulk at my waist as I climbed the steps like a snail. I wiped my sweaty palms on the ass of my jeans and then pressed the doorbell. While I waited I unzipped the pouch.

Nothing happened, at least not fast enough to suit me. I wanted him to get his ass out there so I could get it over with and be gone. I started kicking the black door, taking pleasure in the marks I was leaving on the fresh paint. Between the bell and my shoe, the racket got his attention. The door exploded open. I jumped away from his body towering over me, the iron railing biting into my butt as I stared up at Ray John. Leaning over me, inches from my nose, he shouted down into my face, “What? What the hell do you want?”

At five-foot-seven I was dwarfed by Ray John who stood a good seven inches above me. Barefoot and naked except for boxers, he must have been sleeping but the close-cropped fair hair was never going to give it away by being rumpled. When I’d known him he’d been big and fit, but now he was something else, almost grotesque with muscle definition. His neck had all but disappeared into ridges of muscle sloping down to his shoulders, making his head look undersized for his body. His arms, blown up with muscle, angled out from his body rather than hanging down as they would on a normal-sized man. It wasn’t natural…but then nothing about this animal had ever been natural.

His iron-grey eyes drilled into me and his square jaw was clenched in anger; I had a strong sense it was taking a huge effort of will on his part not to pound me into the concrete.

“Do you know who I am?” I asked.

“You’re the woman who’s about to get her ass kicked back to the curb.”

“I’m Ruth Ann Jenkins’ daughter, Sherri, the woman who regrets not blowing your brains out when I had the chance.” My right hand was wrapped around the cool metal in the pouch, giving me courage. “I’m the woman who’s still tempted to rid the earth of your sorry ass.”

Something registered in his eyes. He stood straighter, pulling himself away from me. “Who are you?”

“My name is Sherri Travis now. I’m the one Lacey is staying with. I know about you, know what you did to her and if you touch her again I’ll have the police on you.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“Am I? Just try coming near her again and I’ll lay charges against you for what you did to me when I was a kid.”

“Whose going to pay any attention to you?” he sneered, looking me up and down. “A slut like your mother.”

“Stay away from Lacey or I’ll see you in jail. I bet there’s lots of others who’d come forward if this hits the papers.” There was a darkening of his eyes, a wariness that told me it was true. I hadn’t been the first one or the last one he’d abused. This knowledge weakened my legs and had me sagging down against the railing with the horror of it.

Wariness took over but the violence didn’t leave him. He was still angry, still wanting to use his fists on me but he was more cautious now, another confirmation of his crimes.

I pressed my advantage. “Can you afford to get your name in the papers?” Another weird memory about Ray John came back, his overwhelming desire for respect. “And I’ll make sure every one of your neighbors knows about it, make sure they all know what a pervert you are.” His eyes flicked sideways.

“I’ll make sure they put Lacey somewhere safe where you’ll never see her again.” I slid sideways along the rail, slipping past him. “So you tell Rena you think Lacey should stay with me for now.” I ran down the concrete steps.

I didn’t look back, didn’t even look in the rearview as I drove away. Trembling, every muscle in my body overloaded with adrenalin and fear, I could barely hold it together enough to drive — to get away from him. Two blocks down Blossom Avenue, I pulled over to the curb, opened the door and threw up.

I pulled a handful of tissues from the box under the dash and was still wiping my mouth when he hit me from behind.

The impact threw me forward against the wheel and then jerked me back. No seatbelt, I’d just wanted to get away. I scrambled for it now.

Another hit but not as hard this time. In the rearview, I saw him getting out of his truck. I grabbed the door and slammed it shut, hitting the lock.

The pickup squealed forward as Ray John’s hand reached for the door handle. “Oh god, oh god,” I wailed, hanging on to the wheel and watching in the mirror as Ray John ran back to his SUV.

That’s why I didn’t see the guy backing out on the street in front of me. The old fool was just there, taking up two-thirds of the road, but then who expects a madwoman to be doing fifty in a subdivision. I only missed the Nissan by jolting over the curb, churning up someone’s lawn and then rocketing back onto the road.

Ray John followed my path.

There was a stop sign ahead, one I had to obey at a four-lane street full of traffic. “Oh god, oh god,” I wailed again. If I stopped for traffic would Ray John smash out a window and drag me out of the truck? But I had to stop. There was no way I could shoot into the traffic without stopping and waiting for a break in traffic. Both moves seemed equally dangerous.

I stopped. Watching to my left and watching for danger behind me in equal measure.

Ray John got out of the SUV. I slipped out the Beretta, clutching it in both hands like my daddy taught me and turned to the back window, holding the gun up nice and high so Ray John could see it.

Ray John saw my friend. He raised his head like a bull that scents something strange. Big but not stupid, his forward charge stopped. This wasn’t supposed to happen to him. He was supposed to be in charge. I smiled in triumph before I turned away and slipped out into traffic, cutting off a van and pissing off yet another person.

I felt victorious for about a nanosecond. A normal guy would’ve backed off right there but Ray John wasn’t done yet. He zigged and zagged through traffic and was on my tail again within a block. He stayed there all the way down Tamiami Trail, dangerously close, changing lanes when I did, running a red light to shadow me while horns blared and curses were shouted out windows.

Surely someone would call the cops.

Then I made a near fatal mistake. I headed over the south bridge and back onto Cypress Island and home…to safety. But not this time. There was no safe harbor for me.