Rory. My friend.
He was fucking Rory.
Seated proudly in his executive chair as she bounced on him. Her blond hair entangled in his hands. Her breasts bobbing wildly. His eyes closed. In the moment.
But it wasn’t Rory I saw.
It was the waitress from the diner. The one with yellow hair.
And it wasn’t Tanner.
It was my father. Dad.
And my mom.
She was there too. In the room. In the bed with them.
I saw her just as I did that night.
Weeping uncontrollably. In the bed with them. Watching them.
Just as I watched them.
In both cases, I ran before they saw me.
I was good at running. Then as now.
I fled Tanner’s office, wanting to get as far away as possible. I had succeeded until I lost control on the winding road along the river.
I’d ignored the signs.
As I went over the side to a sure death, I banged my head on the steering wheel.
“Poor Bianca,” I remember her saying as she came to rescue me.
38
BIANCA
“Oh, my God!” I screamed, waking up in a panic and unable to move anything other than my head.
I was restrained and in a strange place. A small room with white walls. On a hospital bed with straps constricting my wrists and ankles. Monitoring equipment was attached to me, just like at Saint Aloysius. Except I wasn’t there.
“Help! Help me! Please!”
I was Pumpkin. I had done . . . things. I remembered. And it shook me to my core. Perhaps more frightening than my current predicament.
“Help! Help!” I yelled again at the top of my lungs.
Somebody finally answered. A middle-aged white woman peered through the door glass. Possibly a doctor, from her dress. A large male orderly unlocked my cage, granting her entry.
“Mrs. Coleman, how are you feeling?” She seemed calm, even cheerful. A chart was in her hand, something written about me probably.
“Scared,” I answered. “What am I doing here? Why am I tied up?”
“We’re not here to hurt you. You’re restrained for your own safety.”
“I’m not a threat.”
“That’s not what your husband seems to think.”
“Please. I don’t want to be here. Where am I anyway?”
“We’ll have plenty of time to talk about that. Right now we just need you to calm down. First off . . . are you Bianca Coleman?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Good.” She nodded, looking at the chart again. “I have someone concerned who wants to speak with you.”
“Who? Tanner?” I asked. Despite my recollection, I wanted desperately to see him. Habit, I suppose. “Is he here?”
She didn’t answer. Just pulled out a cell and dialed a number written on the paperwork she clutched. When someone answered, she held it to my ear.
“He’s been worried,” she assured me with a smile.
“Tanner!” I screamed as soon as he answered. “Get me out of here!”
“Calm down, Bianca. You’re there for your own good.”
“I don’t want to be here. I don’t even know where I am. Please. Come get me.”
“I can’t. Not yet, at least. I need to be focused for the mayor’s appointment, so now wouldn’t be a good time.”
“Not a good time?” I echoed. “But . . . but I’m your wife.”
“And you tried to kill me,” he retorted. “But don’t worry. I know you’re not well and will be sure you are taken care of at the clinic.”
“And then what? When can I see you?”
“Bianca . . .” He sighed. “I can’t be a part of this madness. I’ll be quietly filing for a divorce.”
39
PUMPKIN
T
he doctor flinched when I awakened. I guess she was trained to notice those differences. Still the professional, she kept the phone to my ear. Either that or my being restrained gave her some balls.
I didn’t care about her. I was too busy digesting what this motherfucker on the phone had just told Bianca.
“Divorcing her when things get hard. You’re such a man, Tanner.”
He laughed. “Playing that game again, Bianca? And you pretend to be someone else when things get rough. I think that makes us even.”
“Why don’t you bring your ass over here? I’ll show you ‘pretend.’ ”
“I refuse to be caught up in this insanity. Listen to the doctors and I’ll be in touch.”
“Tanner, you’ll pay for this sooner than you know! Do you hear me?”
The doctor took away the phone, assured that any civil conversation had ceased. I listened to her quickly wrapping up with him, wondering what he was saying about me.
“Can you hear me, you bastard?” I yelled before she hung up. “You can’t get rid of me! I’m going to get out of here!”
“Calm down, Mrs. Coleman. Please. I didn’t mean for you to become agitated.”
“Fuck you!” I spat at her, the wad landing on her lab coat. She retreated in the direction of the door. About to summon the apes, no doubt.
I tugged at the straps holding my arms at my sides. When they didn’t give, I began shaking the bed violently. To and fro, it shook so hard that she became concerned. I felt a little slack around one of my wrists and began wriggling it free.
She saw the situation quickly changing and gave up trying to calm me down. She stuck her head out the door and yelled to somebody.
Two of the same monsters that had pulled me off Tanner rushed in as if just outside the door. The no-nonsense brutes pounced on both sides of the bed, quickly forcing me down on it. With her backup on hand, the doctor tightened the wrist strap, then administered a sedative into the IV at my side.
“No, no, no!” I screamed, feeling as helpless as Bianca for a change.
As I faded to black, I truly realized both of us were fucked.
Tanner may have won.
The only solace I had was that my final card hadn’t yet been played.
That fleeting thought left me with a smile.
40
HENRY
I
braved the cold this morning as well as the snow beginning to fall on Towne Square. Winter asserting itself. Its frosty bite being felt by all during this gathering at City Hall.
I flipped up my jacket’s collar in response to the latest gust. The Starbucks across the street held a steaming chai tea reprieve just for me. I imagined its sweet, warm taste going down, but the reality would have to wait awhile longer.
This was what brought me out.
This was the show.
And I wouldn’t miss it for anything.
I’d spent yesterday catching up on the world. I still needed a job, but with no one threatening life and limb, I felt at ease. Between the classifieds and searching
Monster.com
, I’d learned Tanner Coleman would be here.
Some kind of press conference about inner-city development. It appeared that in addition to being a dick, he also was Mayor Kurtz’s “boy.” That wasn’t my concern.
I was here, blending in with the crowd, in hopes of seeing the man’s wife. In spite of her warning.
Bianca Coleman.
I’d learned her true name.
Even spoken it aloud.
But in doing so, I didn’t free myself of the demon’s spell.
Yes, I’d done a lot of reading. Learned more about Tanner Coleman than I cared to know. Read up on the couple in the society pages. Saw the pictures of the two of them. So beautiful and adoring of each other.
All this made me wonder what pushed her over the edge; what would make a woman with seemingly everything go “Rice Krispies”?
Snap. Crackle. Pop.
My wit paused, Mayor Kurtz stepped to the podium before the assemblage—reporters, politicos, and representatives of the neighborhood Coleman was about to stick his foot in. The latter didn’t seem overly thrilled. Perhaps things would quickly be warming up. Might be more fun than I expected.
I tuned out the standard introduction and formalities. Just focused on Coleman and wondered where she was. Maybe it was pointless to be here.
“. . . the man who will head the revitalization of one of our failed promises. Because this entire city is marching forward together, not just the fortunate and affluent. And without further ado, I present you Mr. Tanner Coleman.”
The applause was cordial. I decided to linger. Based on my studies, she usually was at his side at these sorts of things. Maybe he’d mention her in his speech.
“I just want to thank all of you for braving the weather today, as well as Mr. Mayor for appointing me to this very . . . very important task. For nothing is more important than taking care of our fellow citizens.”
“What do you know about that, fat cat!” a heckler yelled. From the laughter, others agreed.
“You’re entitled to feel that way now,” he spoke humbly into the microphone. “But I just ask that you give me a chance. I came from humble beginnings too. Don’t let my appearance fool you. Let my actions speak louder than mere words. Together . . . all of us can turn Hunter’s Green around.”
I bristled at the mention of the neighborhood. I didn’t know how I’d missed that in the paper.
The response was half applause, half groans and mumbles. A lot of the concerned citizens weren’t buying his act. Good for them.
Time for Starbucks for me.
I began moving toward the rear of the gathering.
A face I recognized raised her hand to pose a question. The same reporter from channel six who had been nosing around outside Kash’s that night. Damn, she got around.
“Yes, Suzette,” he acknowledged, as if she were an old friend. Probably shared tea and crumpets with him and Bianca, no doubt. I kept moving, shuffling along.
“Mr. Coleman, where is your wife?”
I stopped.
“Excuse me?”
“Where is Mrs. Coleman today?”
“Odd question,” he huffed. His reaction was even odder. I turned around to see if his facial expression matched his tone. “If you must know,
Suzette
, my wife is a little under the weather. She wanted to be here, but I insisted she get some rest. Now, do you have any questions about why we’re gathered here today? I’ll be more than happy to answer those as well.”
The mayor chuckled at how smoothly Tanner had dispatched Suzette. Definitely the right man for this post, as far as he was concerned.
“Actually I do have some more questions, Mr. Coleman.” She pulled out a notepad. One could tell she didn’t need it. “Are you familiar with the area you’re appointed to revitalize?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“And its residents?”
“Well . . . some of them. But I can’t be expected to know everyone in Hunter’s Green. I leave that to politicians such as the mayor.”
He got a few laughs.
“And I understand that, Mr. Coleman. What I’m wondering about specifically is your connection to certain criminal figures in the area, particularly a man who was known as Kash?”