Authors: Sharon Sala
Sam sighed. “Look, I know you’re right about everything. I’ll think on this some myself. Maybe we can come up with a way to work this out and keep Mama and Linny safe, too. Okay?”
Chance hunched his shoulders and stared down at his boots. “Brendan was the smart one. He left before Daddy could get his hooks into him.”
“That’s not how I saw it,” Sam said. “Didn’t you ever stop to wonder why Daddy let him go?”
“Let him?”
“Think about it,” Sam said. “Daddy’s mean, but he’s also smart. Brendan has bucked him from the time he knew how to talk back, and Daddy let it happen. He let Brendan leave home without a word because he knew if he didn’t, the day would come when Brendan would challenge him and win. Daddy isn’t afraid of anyone or anything, but he knows the only person he’s never been able to scare or control is Brendan, and in a sick way, he respects Brendan for it.”
“I don’t want his fucking respect,” Chance muttered.
“None of us do, least of all Brendan,” Sam said. “I’m just saying that Brendan is also the most like Daddy. He’s just as single-minded and hard-headed, but in a good way.”
Chance shrugged. “I know, but it doesn’t change the fact that I wish Anson Poe would drop off the face of the earth.”
“I’ll add an Amen to that and buy you a beer before you go home.”
“Done,” Chance said.
Sam smiled. “As long as we stick together, we’ll get through this. You’ll see.”
****
Brendan entered his apartment with his arms full of groceries, plus the candy Belinda had requested.
“Look at all this!” Claudette said as she began putting things away. “Are you planning a siege?”
Brendan shrugged. “I don’t like to shop much, so I usually pack in enough stuff to last a while.”
Claudette caught a tone in his voice and turned to look at him. His expression wasn’t any better.
“You are not happy.”
“It doesn’t matter. It will either work out or it won’t,” he muttered.
Claudette decided to try another subject. She brushed flour from the front of her red sundress then continued to empty the sacks.
“Did your Juliette use Mama Lou’s gift?”
“Yes, and was very grateful. She said it numbed the pain.”
“Good. She will heal much faster. Is she coming home soon?”
Brendan didn’t crack a smile. “She’s going to her parents until she’s better,” he said and slid a six-pack of beer into the refrigerator.
“Will you visit her there?” Claudette asked.
Brendan looked up. “No, and she knows it.”
“Was she angry with you?”
“Not with me.”
Claudette shrugged. “Then it is all good.”
Brendan shook his head. “No, Auntie, it’s not good. It’ll never be good between us again. Anson made an enemy out of Grayson March, and I’m the closest whipping boy. I need to call Sam. March was ranting about two people dead and said Anson was to blame and I didn’t know what he was talking about.”
“You can call your brother if you want, but I know the answers to your questions. It was on the local news at noon.”
Brendan frowned. “On the news? What the hell has he done now?”
Claudette proceeded to tell him, right down to the last detail.
Brendan was stunned. “So March’s hired guns were on LeDeux’s property and thought it was Anson who was shooting at them?”
She nodded.
“And they’re all dead?”
“Yes, both of March’s men and LeDeux. His little house burned down in the shoot-out.”
“Are they going to charge March in any way?” Brendan asked.
“They didn’t say anything about it,” Claudette said.
Brendan shoved a hand through his hair in frustration. “No wonder he was pissed. This isn’t going to look good for him.”
“This is what happens when armed men have a disagreement. Someone always gets hurt, and quite often killed.”
Brendan heard footsteps and turned around just as Linny entered the kitchen.
“I thought I heard you talking,” she said.
He shifted mental gears quickly as she sidled up beside him. “I brought candy,” he said.
“Yay! What kind did you get?”
“Those little miniature chocolate candy bars you like.” He handed her the bag. “Here you go, and don’t forget to share.”
“Thank you, Brendan, thank you!”
“You’re welcome. Now you have to do something for me.”
She was immediately curious. “Like what?”
“Bring your candy to my room and you’ll see.”
She grabbed the bag and followed him out of the kitchen. As soon as they reached his room, she crawled up onto the bed and waited, watching as he got something out of the dresser on the other side of the room. When she saw it was a phone, she squealed with delight.
“I get my own phone?”
Brendan sat down beside her, his expression grave. “It’s a special phone, and I need to show you how to use it.”
“I already know how,” Linny said. “Sam lets me play games on his.”
“This one isn’t for play,” Brendan said. “It’s for emergencies only. Do you know what an emergency is?”
When her smile slipped sideways, Brendan was overwhelmed. No child should have to live like this. She nodded. “An emergency is when you have to call an ambulance, right?”
“Yes, or when you’re in danger. Do you know what danger is?”
Her shoulders slumped, and then she leaned in against him. “Daddy is dangerous.”
Brendan frowned. “Who told you that?”
“No one. I just know.”
He was almost afraid to ask, and yet he had to. “Has he ever hurt you?”
She nodded.
Brendan pulled her onto his lap and then wrapped his arms around her. “Tell me,” he said softly.
“I can’t. He said if I told, he would hurt Mama.”
The terror Brendan was feeling was almost more than he could handle. “Then this can be just our secret. You’ll tell me and I won’t tell anybody else, not even Anson, okay?”
She leaned back against his arm, searching the expression on his face. Something she saw satisfied her concerns. Once again, she leaned into him, resting her head against his chest.
“Once, he got really mad at me and squeezed my throat too hard. I couldn’t breathe and went to sleep. When I woke up, he was throwing water in my face. He said if I told anyone, he would make sure Mama never woke up again.”
“Oh Linny... baby... I’m sorry,” he whispered and hugged her to him. “Why did he do that?”
“I used one of his coffee cups to clean my watercolor brush.”
“Are you afraid to go home?”
“Not anymore.”
“Why?”
“Cause Daddy is fixing the house all pretty and it will be better. Everything will be better. Mama said.”
Brendan was so scared he couldn’t focus. The walls were closing in around him and he was helpless to stop it.
“What would you say if I asked you to stay here with me?”
She sat up, suddenly uneasy. “No, Bren. I have to go home with Mama, okay? Don’t be mad at me. I have to go home.”
“I’m not mad, honey. I could never be mad at you. I just asked. That’s all.”
She was visibly relieved. “Okay then.”
“Right, so let’s talk about this phone. It’s only for when you feel like you and Mama are in danger, and all you have to do is just push this button. It will call my phone. You won’t have to talk. You won’t have to do anything, because I’ll know if you make that call that you need me, understand?”
“Yes, Bren. I understand.”
“Okay, let’s practice. You go down to the end of the hall, press that button and then hide it in your pocket or somewhere in your clothes. Don’t hang up. Ever. Because I can find you if the phone is still on... understand?”
“Yes, like leaving the television on even if you leave the room.”
“Exactly,” he said. “So which button are you gonna press?”
“This one,” she said and put her finger on it.
“Go hide and call me.”
She ran out, clutching the phone against her chest.
He hated this was happening—that it was even necessary—but he wasn’t stupid. If Mama Lou said do it, then this was serious business.
All of a sudden, his cell phone began to ring.
He looked down at the Caller ID. The pre-programmed message he’d put in it was working. It read 911. He got up and walked out into the hall.
Linny was hunkered down in the darkest corner with her head down on her knees and the phone held tight within her hand.
“You did good,” he said. “Do you know how to hang up?”
She punched another button and the 911 message disappeared.
“Good job,” he said, as he squatted down beside her and handed her the cord to charge it. “You’ll have to charge it every night. Do you know how?”
She took the cord, plugged it into the right spot on the phone, and then held up the end that went in the socket.
“This plugs into the wall, right?”
“That’s right. Good girl,” he said.
She stared down at the phone. “Hey, Bren?”
“What, honey?”
“What do I do after I punch the button?” she asked.
“You wait for me to come get you and Mama.”
She leaned forward, her voice just above a whisper. “Sir Brendan will come to Queen Belinda’s rescue?”
“Yes, I will,” he said.
Her voice began to shake, as if she already felt the danger. “You’ll come fast? You’ll have to come fast.”
“I’ll come so fast you won’t believe it.”
When her shoulders slumped, he pulled her closer. “Remember, Linny. This is our secret. You can’t tell anyone about this phone... not even Mama.”
“I can keep a secret.”
“Where are you going to hide it?” Brendan asked.
“I can’t tell you,” she whispered. “I’m the only one who’ll know.”
“Good girl,” he said, then kissed the top of her head. “Go hide your phone and then come to the kitchen. We’re gonna make cookies.”
“Can I tell Mama that?”
“Yeah, you can tell Mama about the cookies.”
He stood up as she left, then followed to see what she was doing. His mother was still asleep and Linny was on the pallet with Rabbit in her lap. He remembered seeing a small rip in the seam at the rabbit’s back and realized she was putting the phone inside it.
“Fucking brilliant,” he muttered, then headed for the kitchen.
Chapter Sixteen
Anson Poe’s naked body was slick with sweat, as was the whore going down on him. The paper-thin sheet on the motel mattress was bunched up beneath him like a handful of used tissues, but he didn’t care. He liked the discomfort of being too hot almost as much as the brain-freeze of holding onto a climax until it hurt.
When he finally turned loose to ride the blood rush, he had both hands in her hair, her face mashed up against his groin, completely oblivious of the fact that she was choking. She finally landed a blow to his balls to get his attention.
“What the hell?” he yelled as he pushed her back and sat up.
She fell backward off the bed and made a grab for her clothes and shoes as she bolted for the bathroom.
He leaped up from the bed to follow her and got the door slammed in his face for the effort. He could hear her inside, slamming doors, and crying and cursing. The toilet flushed. He stepped back, ready to grab her for round two, then heard the sound of a window opening.
“What the fuck?”
He began looking around for his clothes to chase her down, and he was putting on his jeans when he heard her yell.
“You owe me one hundred dollars, you crazy bastard, and I’m sending T-Boy to collect.”
He cursed. Now her pimp would be bugging the shit out of him for the money.
“I’m not paying for something you didn’t earn!” he yelled back.
“You wanted a blow job. You got a blow job. The end.”
“Then open the door and I’ll give you your money!” Anson shouted.
“Shove it under the door or wait for T-Boy. And just so you know, he charges interest.”
“Bitch!” he said softly, then pulled out a handful of twenties and shoved them under the door.
He saw one red-tipped fingernail snake out from under the door and watched the money disappear.
There was more shuffling and then silence. The whore was gone.
What pissed him off was that she’d bested him. That never happened. He thought about enacting a little payback of his own, then reminded himself she wasn’t worth the trouble it would take to break her nasty neck. Only now, he needed the bathroom and the door was locked, but it gave easily when he threw his weight against it, and the problem was solved.
He strode in, slammed the window shut and locked it, then kicked off the blue jeans hanging down his butt and turned on the water. He wasn’t leaving until he’d washed every aspect of the bitch from his skin.
****
Julie’s life had been out of control ever since Chub Walton dragged her out of The Black Garter, but not anymore. She’d made the decision to take it back during the early morning hours, and she was sitting on the side of the bed, waiting for the doctor to make his morning rounds.
When Doctor Ames finally came in, he was unprepared for her attitude and appearance. In the last twenty-four hours, she’d gone from manic and being hobbled by pain to sanity and a decent mobility. He examined the lash marks and was pleased her temperature was almost normal.
“These are healing quite well,” he said. “They are no longer suppurating. Some of them are even beginning to granulize. I’m quite pleased by—”
“I want to leave now.”
Doctor Ames was a bit taken aback, but not firmly opposed to her request.
“I suppose you could continue bed rest at your parents’ home. I can recommend a private duty—”
“I’m not going there. I don’t need a nurse either. I can take myself to the bathroom. I can apply the necessary medicine.”
He frowned, convinced she was missing the bigger picture. “You do know that we’ve been keeping the media away, but you’re setting yourself up for a deluge of reporters once they know you’re free.”
She shrugged. “I know what’s going on and I know what happened to me is news. But once they’ve seen me, it will be old news, and unlike my parents, I have nothing to be ashamed of. I didn’t commit a crime. I was a victim and I’m a survivor.” Her voice started shaking. “Maybe the people of New Orleans would like to know what a survivor looks like. Maybe I’ll wind up on Oprah.” She slapped her hands against the side of the bed as her vision began to blur. “Maybe they’ll make a fucking movie about me. Who knows?”