Heels of Love (G Street Chronicles Presents From Love to Loathe Series) (2 page)

As the psycho walked away, I noticed he didn’t have his hatchet anymore or his malice. I must have imagined them both, but they seemed so real. My eyes followed him, and I saw exactly what house he went into. As soon as he walked in, I slammed on the gas again and heard nothing but grinding noises. I tried it repeatedly and still nothing.

A thought came to me then, maybe I wasn’t that stuck, he could have been lying. Maybe he was going to get other people to help him kill me or maybe he was going to get a garbage bag to put my body parts in after he was done with me. I gave up; I swallowed my fears and just opened the car door to take a look for myself. I could barely see the wheels now; they were really stuck in some deep mud. I looked around and there was nothing I could do, there was nothing around to try to wedge the wheels out of the mud. I heard voices coming from across the street, I yanked my head back up, and there stood the psycho and three more psychos with him. I slammed the door back shut, locking it. They would have to bust the windows open and yank me from the steering wheel. I started saying the Bible verses of the 23rd Psalm; I cursed myself for not remembering all the verses.

The psycho and the other three psychos made it back to the car. Still not making eye contact with any of them, I looked straight ahead. I noticed one of the psychos had a bright red Mohawk and several tattoos. They mumbled something to each other, and then I heard one of them say, “I told her,” and I thought they were probably talking about me. Psycho #1 told me not to move, and I am sure he could tell I tried getting out the mud again.

Just then, Psycho #1 shouted at me to gun it; I didn’t see any of the psychos anymore. I froze for a minute. “Go!!!” someone yelled out. I gunned it and nothing. “Stop!” I heard someone yell now. So I froze again not saying or doing anything. “Go!” someone yelled again. I gunned it again, and then I could feel some moving under the car. “Stop!” someone yelled again, and I stopped, and then all of sudden I felt a burst of relief. The psychos were not psychos at all; they were really trying to help me get out of the mud. I felt terrible; I had called the man on the boulder a psycho to his face. Well, from the side of my face that is.

“Okay, again! This tone was more pleasant. I did as he commanded, and then the car eased up onto the street. I threw my head back onto the seat, trying to catch my breath. I had done absolutely nothing, but I felt the warm relief from not being a victim of a vicious attack.

The three men walked away from the car. Mud covered them from head to toe. When I woke from my shock of relief, I pushed two of the window buttons accidentally pushing the one behind the wipers, the forbidden one. Both windows rolled down plus the top again. I yelled, “THANK YOU!!!” One of them threw their hand up and the others just kept walking towards the house.

“Do you think you can find your way out now?” he asked. I turned slowly and there stood a bare-chested mud god. Now that his shirt was off, I noticed just how ripped his body was. His jeans were covered in grit and grime, but he was a sexy being.

“Now you need to leave, you people act as though you can’t read the sign that says, ‘Private Property.’ You do not belong here and you’re not welcome.” My mud god spoke again, but these words were harsh; he talked down to me as if I was a peasant. I frowned at him, and then the anger welled up in me. He said “Your kind.”

“My kind!” Now I knew from my college classes on American History that a lot of Native Americans didn’t care for Christopher Columbus; I mean, he did take their land; but God, I didn’t take it and why was he being all rude to me now. Doesn’t he understand how “You people” sounds to an African-American person? It’s like a slap in the face; he might as well have called me a colored girl. I was slowly realizing now he only helped me so I could get out of here because “My kind” didn’t belong. How racist was this? He treated me like an old whore on the streets, and that pissed me the fuck off.

“Wait, that came out wrong,” he begged, and that was all it took for the hurricane in my body to start. I screamed at him from the top of my lungs. I told him about the stupid vampire books and then about the beach and then the mailbox. I told him I just moved to the PNW and that I hated it and I hated him. I called him a racist, and then I told him I needed to let the people know I would pay for their mailbox. He was grinning at me now and that just pissed me off even more. I screamed at him, asking if he knew the people in the little house, and then he laughed and said yes.

I watched his face and then the fury in me rose. He looked like he was about to bolt away from the car. “Well, if you’re done laughing at me, Jackass, why don’t you tell me who the family is so I can contact them about the mailbox so that “My kind!” can leave this warped world.

“Hey, there is no need to—”

I interrupted him. “No need? Did you really just say, ‘No need?’ You racist son of a bitch…kiss my fat ass. I’m a minority just like you. Our skin is the same color almost and…you know what? Screw this and screw you! Where is the closest police station?”

“Ma’am, I’m real sorry if I offended you, but I really didn’t mean it like that. I was only-”

I interrupted again, “POLICE STATION!” I demanded him, looking straight ahead now. There was nothing but silence for a long moment.

He bent down, and then he rested his arms on the window seal. “There is a ranger station three miles up to the left.”

I slammed on the gas and bolted out of there. I made it down the hill and saw the guard station was well secured with two guards now. They tried to flag me down, and I just flipped them the bird and gunned it some more. I dove about two miles up the road and saw the sign for the ranger station. I turned into the well-lit parking lot. As soon as I parked in the parking lot, my phone started buzzing and chiming like crazy. I guess I was back in signal range now.

I yanked my purse and phone out of the passenger’s seat. I walked up to the door of the ranger station and pulled it open. There was a woman sitting behind the desk painting her nails and two guys in brown matching uniforms, playing chess. When they heard the bell ring, they all shifted as a kid would in school when the principal was coming. They all watched me.

I walked straight to the woman and said, “Excuse me, Ms.,” trying to hold back my anger as much as possible and fighting back tears with every word.

“It’s alright now. Don’t make a fuss,” she said while getting up and coming around the counter. She pulled two tissues out the box on the counter and wrapped her arms around me. “Lil Samson up from the reservation already called and filled us in. He’s a really nice boy, and he was just all torn up about what had happened.” Her words really made me break down now. She pulled me over to a chair and patted me on my shoulder. “There now, it’s okay. J.P., go and get her some water,” she told one of the men at the little table.

I told her my full name, but then I said, “Everybody calls me Cricket.”

“We will, too, Cricket. I am Charlotte, and this is Kenny and J.P.”

The guy named J.P. handed me a cup of water, and I drank it all. Charlotte had me write my information down. She asked me where I was from, and I told her and they all opened their mouths wide.

“Well, how in the world did you get way up here?”

I told her I had just moved.

“You are far from home. Welcome to our state.”

My cell phone started ringing at that very moment, and it was Chelle. I asked Charlotte to excuse me for a moment.

“Hello” I answered. “What the hell, Cricket? I thought something had happened to you. I called the police station and everything.”

“I’m sorry it’s a super long story. I’m at a ranger station now, and I will call you back when I get back on the road,” I pleaded.

“You better Missy,” she snapped back. Then the line disconnected.

The office phone started ringing then; Charlotte jogged over and answered it at once. “Ranger station,” she sang. “Oh, Lil Samson, yes, she’s here. Would you like to speak with her? Okay, then,” she said into the receiver. “Honey, he would like to speak with you.”

“I gotta go now. Thank you again so much for all your help.” I turned around and walked toward the front door. I didn’t have anything to say to that racist asshole.

“Oh, she’s still a little upset.” I heard Charlotte whisper into the phone as I walked out. When I got back in the car, I called Chelle immediately. I gave her the two-hour version of the story, going into full dramatization mode.

“You went all the way up there by yourself? Cricket that was too far,” she yelled through the phone.

I told her I was coming straight home and that I needed a serious hot shower. When I pulled into the garage, Chelle hung up the phone, and the garage door opened wide. She ran over to me and hugged me as tight as I could stand it. She had a hot bath waiting for me, and she said she would make us some hot chocolate. When I got out of the tub, she had a pair of my softest pajamas on the sink.

I walked into the living room, and she brought in a tray with two huge mugs, one filled with about a thousand mini marshmallows and the other plain.

“Awhhhh, thanks, Chelle,” I crooned. She smiled at me, and we both sat down on her big oversized couch. I sipped on my hot chocolate, and a marshmallow stuck to my nose. We both fell out laughing.

Chelle made me tell her the story again, and then she gave out a big sigh.

“What?” I asked. “Nothing. Keep going.” she grinned.

I started back up, and then she rolled her eyes at me.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I asked with a laugh.

“Okay, so you’ve called him uncouth, rude, prejudice, and a hunky ass,” she answered.

“Yea, so what?” I snapped back.

“Soooo…just how cute was he?” She asked with a grin.

“Wait a minute. I NEVER said he was cute!” I shouted out.

“You didn’t have to…Okay, so you are safe, clean, and dry now. I am going to bed.” she answered.

I sat there stumped for a long moment, and then went upstairs to bed. I woke up with extremely puffy eyes and a silent house. I knew Chelle was gone to work now, and her two boys were at school. I got ready for the day. I wanted to go to the job and check out how long it took to get there.

I got there in forty-five minutes with no traffic, so I would need to give myself an hour and a half drive time on Monday. I stopped at a gas station and grabbed an apartment guide for the city. I searched and searched, never going further than a twenty miles radius from the job. After looking at fifteen apartments and getting almost thirty applications, I was completely exhausted. I got back to Chelle’s house a little after eight, and she told me my plate was in the oven. We talked and laughed for almost an hour. We reminisced about the old days and how things used to be. Chelle made me listen to her read back my encrypted text that I had sent her, and then she wanted to analyze it. She then told me I watched way too much CSI.

While I was getting ready for bed, my cell phone rang. I knew it was my mother, but then I thought about it. I was three hours behind her; she wouldn’t be calling me at this hour. None of my friends from back home are speaking to me right now, so I knew it was not any of them. Everybody was mad at me for moving across country and canceling the wedding. I didn’t want to hear any of their sighs right now anyway. I picked up the phone and realized I didn’t recognize the number. I had only had this number for three days, and I didn’t have a lot of Washington State numbers in it. I answered it and waited for the caller to ask for the person who previously owned this number.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Cricket?” he asked.

“Yes, this is she; may I ask whom I’m speaking with?”

“This is Jyme.” The unfamiliar voice said.

“Uhh, okay”…I waited for more information besides his name.

He laughed and said, “I’m the guy who helped you get out of the mud last night.”

I sat straight up now, giving him all of my attention.

“Hello,” he called out.

I hung the phone up immediately. It rang again, and I pushed ignore and lay down quickly.

The next morning I woke early. And the house was silent. I stumbled around for a few minutes, and then my cell phone rang again. I recognized the unknown number at once. He was calling me again, “Hello,” I answered.

“Look, I talked to Sal. That’s the man’s mailbox you knocked down. I told him I would come down and fix it, and he was cool with that. So the mailbox is back in the land of the living.”

I didn’t respond.

“Are you still there?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m here,” I said. “You really didn’t have to do that, and I will pay you for your services,” I said in a rude voice.

“Listen, I wanted to do this, and I feel horrible about what I said. Charlotte told me you were from the South and that you took total offense to what I said.”

“Wait a sec. Did she give you my number?” I snapped.

“Yea,” he said it like, “What’s it to you?”

“Unfuckingbelievable! the rangers are now giving out people’s private numbers. I mean, that’s my own private information,” I trailed.

“It’s not like that around here,” he said.

“Okay, I’m done with this conversation. Thank you, and have a pleasant day.” I hung up the phone and threw it to the foot of the bed.