Poison Me (8 page)

“Sorry,” Ellie said, and for once she actually looked apologetic. “I thought if I cracked a joke it would take the strain off the abortion issue.” She whistled and shook her head. “I love that girl, but she’s got to learn to stand up for herself. She’s been too pampered. If your son would cut off the funds and give her a taste of a real single mom’s life, maybe she’d have to take some accountability for her sexuality and tell these jerks where to go, if you know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t know what you mean, and I’m grateful,” Ruby replied. “At least she doesn’t have to worry about supporting herself and trying to be a single mom. You know she’s just trying to find love any way she can get it. It’s not like David and Don were great male role models. You act nice before you make my sweet girl cry and she never comes to see us again.”

Jake re-entered the open area, thankfully without the beautiful nurse. After hugging his sister, he took up pursuit of his nephew. The voices around Chanel faded as she watched him pretend to run as fast as he could. Trevor giggled and screamed, “Don’t catch me, Unca Jake. Don’t do it!”

A shrill voice interrupted the game. “What on earth is a child doing in the facility? Those despicable little things should be outlawed.”

Jake swooped Trevor into his arms, shielding him from the glowering Jennalou. “He isn’t hurting anything,” he said.

“He’s giving me hearing damage.”

Trevor jerked farther away from Jennalou, burying his cheek into his uncle’s shirt. “What a wench bucket,” the child said.

“Oh,” Jennalou gasped. “You little brat! I swear children these days have no manners.” The angular woman glared at the group, then stomped past, muttering about putting an end to the screaming and swiping at the air with an antibacterial wipe. “Of course he would be related to that creepy Ruby Merrill.” She shuddered. “Children. I swear those monsters put viruses into the air just by living.”

Chanel heaved a sigh of relief as Jennalou disappeared down the hall. Jake walked over to the group of women, with Brinley trailing him and Trevor giggling in his arms.

“My little Trevor, a brat?” Ruby tossed her head. “Creepy Ruby Merrill?”

“I wouldn’t worry about anything the psycho says,” Marissa comforted her.

“Trevor’s right—that woman is a wench,” Brinley said.

“I not in troubles?” Trevor asked.

“No, sir.” Brinley tweaked his nose. “Not when someone is that nasty.”

“Nice parenting, Sis,” Jake said.

Brinley chuckled, then focused on her child, “Okay, Trevor, we shouldn’t call names, but you aren’t in trouble this time. Just don’t do it again. Okay?”

“’Kay.” Trevor clutched his uncle.

“Is Jennalou a bigger wench than me?” Ellie arched her neck to look at Brinley.

Brinley sat down and let Ellie pull her into a hug. “Just a bit,” Brinley said.

Ellie’s eyes widened. “But you love me?” she asked in a whining voice.

Brinley chuckled. “I always love you, and most of the time I even like you, Aunt Ellie.”

“Good thing somebody does,” Ruby muttered.

Marissa laughed. Ellie glowered, then squeezed Brinley tighter. “You know I only bug you because I want you to be happy,” Ellie said.

Brinley nodded. “I know.”

“Unca Jake.” Trevor tugged on Jake’s sleeve. “I show Gramma Rue my ball.”

Jake’s eyebrows rose. “Your ball?”

“What you teached me.” He struggled from his uncle’s arms and ran to Ruby. “Unca Jake teached me this show, for when we go on his boat with the
ladies
.” Grinning, he drew out the last word.

A burning jealousy filled Chanel’s chest. She barely knew Jake, and already she wanted to be the only lady he took on his boat.

“Show us what Uncle Jake taught you,” Ruby said.

The little boy ripped his shirt over his head and dropped it in a pile on the flowered rug.

“Trevor, put your shirt on,” Brinley said.

“Gimme a sec. I gotta show my beach ball.” He paused to make sure he had everyone’s attention, then lifted his hands above his head, attempting to flex his muscles. “You seen my beach ball?” He lowered his hands, gritted his teeth, and struck a pose. “It about this big. It go that way.” He shifted his arms to the right, still trying to show them off. “Or that way.” To the left. “If you sees it.” He bent forward and lowered his clasped hands, flexing to his full advantage. “Bring it back right here.” He motioned to his chest and grinned. His cheeks dimpled irresistibly.

Everyone clapped and laughed. Jake folded his arms across his chest, looking chagrined but proud. Chanel would like to see
him
do the beach-ball routine with his shirt off. She glanced at the long-sleeved button-down shirt he wore, realizing she’d never seen him in short-sleeves, even though it was mid-summer and he was obviously fit.

“Did you like my muscles? Do you want to see me flex them again?” Trevor asked.

Jake shook his head. “I think they’ve seen enough, buddy. You keep it up and your mom won’t let me babysit anymore.” He grabbed Trevor’s shirt from the floor, swooped the boy off the floor, and turned him upside down. “I’m taking this guy outside where he can run without the wench complaining.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Jennalou would complain if somebody gave her a free bikini wax.”

Chanel laughed. “I could’ve gone all year without imagining Jennalou in a bikini.”

“Amen to that,” Jake said, lifting a squirming, giggling Trevor above his head. “I need to replace that mental picture.” He looked at Chanel.

Ellie winked at him. “So Chanel, what color is your bikini?”

Marissa and Brinley chortled. Chanel turned bright red.

“Shush.” Ruby snapped her fingers at Ellie and glared at Jake. “You get out of here.”

“Sorry, Grandma, but Chanel in a bikini could keep my imagination busy for a year.” He smiled at her and carried Trevor out the front door.

***

Jake debated between Skittles and M&M’s. He needed some treats for his weekly night out with his nephew. They usually spent the evening on Glendale Reservoir or drove to Logan for the latest animated movie. Jake wondered if he dared ask Chanel to come along. Which candy would she prefer? He smiled to himself. As good as Chanel looked, she probably didn’t eat treats.

Bam.
A shopping cart slammed into his heel.

“Ouch.” Jake reached down and rubbed at his leg. That was going to leave a bruise.

“Oh, I apologize,” the shopping cart owner’s began, then paused. “Jake?”

Jake looked up but continued massaging the wound. “Hey, Mr. Trapper, I didn’t see you coming.”

“I didn’t see you either.” The older man frowned. “Please call me Michael.”

“Okay, Michael,” Jake said, though it seemed disrespectful to refer to an older gentleman by his first name.

“How bad did I get you?” Michael asked.

“It’s just a flesh wound.” Jake straightened and stuck out his hand. “How are you, sir?”

Michael shook the extended hand. “I’m okay. And you?”

“I was doing better a few minutes ago.”

Michael flinched. “Oh, Jake. I am truly sorry.”

He laughed. “I shouldn’t tease you, sir. I’m fine. What are you doing grocery shopping? Doesn’t the Palace feed you all your meals?”

Michael nodded. “Yes, but I like to have treats for the grandkids and food for the days… well, I like my own food for the days the menu sounds disgusting.”

Jake started pushing his cart slowly down the aisle. Michael kept pace with him. “Some of those meals don’t sound too appetizing,” Jake said. “So how’s the Palace treating you?”

“They usually feed me well.”

“The women all seem to enjoy you.”

“One man for every twenty women.” Michael shrugged. “Good odds.”

“And my grandma?” Jake knew he shouldn’t ask, but he couldn’t help himself.

Michael turned from him, studying a display of Kit-Kats. “You know how it is with your grandmother and me.”

“No, I don’t.” Jake halted, gripping the shopping cart handle. “You can tell me to stay out of it, but I sense Grandma has something against you. She’s nice to everyone, even Jennalou, most of the time. You’re such a great guy. I can’t figure out why she’s short with you.”

Michael bypassed the Kit-Kats and retrieved a bag of peanut M&M’s. Jake waited for an answer.

“Ruby’s told you nothing about me?” Michael asked, finally turning to face him.

Jake shook his head quickly.

Michael’s shoulders drooped. “Then I can’t tell you anything either. I’ve known your Grandma a long time, Jake, and I’ve always…” He paused. “I’ve always thought highly of her. If you want to know why she has a hard time with me, you’d better ask her.”

Jake nodded. “Okay.” He softly slapped Michael on the shoulder. “Gotta respect a man who won’t bus-roll my grandma.”

“You’re a good boy, Jake.” Michael smiled. “I’m proud of you, son.”

Jake’s eyebrows rose, but he said, “Thank you, sir.”

Michael rushed on. “I’m sure Ruby’s proud of you, too. Thanks for taking such good care of her.”

He pushed his cart away before Jake could respond. Jake stood watching the tall man and wondering about the mystery with Grandma Ruby that Michael was obviously hiding. It might be time to talk to Ellie.

Chapter Nine

Everything hurt. Richard took slow, shallow breaths, but it didn’t help. Would anything ease this pain? He pressed a hand to the tenderness in his abdomen and bit back a cry. Would he survive the night? He exhaled and the ache increased. Did he
want
to survive?

“Richard?” A high-pitched voice floated through the darkness, the result of eyesight gradually fading into a constant haze. How he longed for the penetration of light and clarity into his brain.

“Who’s there?” he asked, reaching out to the voice with a gnarled hand. It wasn’t his cousin, Ruby, the only woman who ever visited him. Ruby always smelled like lavender and vanilla. This woman smelled like a variety of fresh-cut flowers, but he couldn’t tell if she’d actually brought him flowers or if it was just her perfume. “What do you want?”

“It’s okay. It’s just me. I’m here to help.”

He didn’t know who “me” was, but if someone had come to help, he’d praise her name. The voice sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“I don’t know if anyone can help me.” Richard’s hand dropped to the fleece blanket covering his lower body. He rubbed at the never-ending ache in his bony knuckles. “I’m past help.”

“Oh, Richard,” the voice was sweet, almost too sweet to be real. He pictured her as a breathtaking blonde. A natural blonde. It had been years since he’d seen one of those. It’d been years since he’d seen
any
woman.

“Nobody is past help,” she said. “I’m here to take away your pain and make you into a new man.”

He grunted. “Right. How are you going to make this” —he gestured to himself, unable to straighten his fingers completely— “into a new man?”

“Drink this quickly and I promise you’ll feel better.”

A cool glass materialized next to his quivering lips. He sniffed. The potion reeked like some kind of nasty medicine. Nudging the glass away from his mouth, he said, “How is that crap going to help me?”

The voice came soft and soothing this time. “This miracle drink is going to take away all your pain.” There was a pause and then a tinkling laugh. “I promise.”

Richard yearned to see past the cloud that encircled him, but there was no hope for that—life had been cloudy for too many years. He bit back a curse, wishing he knew who belonged to the voice and the small hand holding the glass. “Who are you? I recognize your voice.”

“I’m just a friend,” she said.

The cup tipped and Richard forced his mouth to open. The woman promised it would help. Anything was worth a try. Lukewarm, foul-tasting liquid gushed down his throat. He choked. The potion kept coming. It tasted like regurgitated vomit. He tried to spit, but the stream of fluid choked him.

He couldn’t get enough air. He tried to cry out, but no sound escaped. The woman pressed his head into the chair and squeezed his nostrils with an iron grip. He had to swallow the disgusting liquid or suffocate. She murmured comforting words with her sugary voice the entire time she attempted to drown him.

Richard pushed his head forward to try to dislodge her hand. A large stone on her ring finger dug into his forehead. A few ounces of the drink spilled down his chin. Sticky and warm, it gnawed at the skin of his face, searing his flesh almost as deeply as his throat.

The woman cursed and shoved him back into the chair with her forearm. She dumped the remaining contents of the cup into his mouth. He felt the acidic fluid burning his esophagus.

Finally, the liquid stopped flowing. The woman tucked his fleece blanket around him. His vision darkened until the cloud was a thunderstorm. His throat was coated with the aftertaste of the bitter liquid. His eyes bulged as he gasped for breath.

“W–what?” he sputtered. “What was that crap?” He coughed and spit.

The woman wiped his face with a cool cloth. “Don’t worry. I know it tastes bad, but it will help, I promise. Drink some water to clear your mouth.”

He swallowed several gulps of water, but the pain didn’t lesson. He hacked and doubled over. He couldn’t catch a full breath, couldn’t stop coughing. “This is supposed to make me feel better?” He managed to say between gulps of air.

“Try and rest,” the soothing voice said. “In the morning everything will be better.”

“More water,” he sputtered.

The woman lifted his water glass to his chin. He choked on the cool liquid and pushed her away. She set the glass on the table and disappeared like a wraith. Richard’s throat grew more parched. He reached for the glass again, but grasped a letter from today’s mail. Swallowing against the pain, he prayed for relief. The room grew blacker by the second. Now everything hurt. He called out. Nobody answered.

He fumbled for the call button, but couldn’t locate it in the darkness. The glass of water knocked over onto his lap, soaking him. He cursed. Another coughing fit struck him. This time he tasted blood.