“Jonas, if you want to get to know Archie—”
“I don’t.”
His cold tone made her flinch. She nodded. “Fine. Tell my father to send a car for us tomorrow afternoon.”
Chapter Seven
Christmas Eve, 1990-something. Jonas cradled an old Walkman cassette player in his lap listening to Dean Martin croon “Jingle Bells” for the fifth time in a row. When the song ended, he hit rewind and the tape squealed as it backed up to the beginning. He sat crossed-legged on a dusty old recliner with a pair of cheap plastic headphones over his ears. Stuck inside the trailer with the chicken pox, there’s wasn’t much else to do.
His brother Jimmy had covered his spots with calamine lotion early that morning before he’d left to go fishing with Captain Tom.
“Don’t scratch ’em, Squirt, or you’ll make ’em worse. Got it?”
Jonas was still in his bunk half asleep, but he remembered it was his seventh birthday even if his brother didn’t.
“Can we go to Mickey D’s tonight?”
“Can’t. I got a date. And you’re probably still contagious.”
Jonas nodded. He hated being “tage-us,” whatever that meant. He’d look it up in his dictionary after the sun came up.
“I left you a PB&J in the fridge. Try to take it easy today.”
“Okay,” he said in a pathetic voice, because he still wasn’t feeling well.
Jonas’ old man woke him up at eight in the morning with a crash. He’d knocked over some dishes in the sink probably on purpose. “There ain’t nothing to eat in this God-dammed house. Jo-Jo? Get your lazy ass out of bed and make me some breakfast.”
Jonas sat straight up and threw off his blanket. His head felt weird, but Jimmy said he was still running a small fever.
The metallic patter of rain hit the trailer and grew louder as a storm moved in. Jonas paused to stick his trash can under the hole Kyle had shot through the roof, before he shuffled into the kitchen in his socks.
His foot kicked an empty beer can as he slid to a stop by the fridge. “Jimmy left you a shopping list on the counter, Pa.”
Kyle smelled like he’d spent the night in a puddle of vomit. He weaved and caught himself on the counter where he’d tossed the leftover crust from Jonas’ PB&J. He hadn’t shaved, and he wore the same filthy plaid button down and jeans he’d worn for the past three days.
“Shit, that kid is a good for nothing SOB. ‘He made a list’,” Kyle mimicked Jonas. “Why don’t he go shopping then?”
“He didn’t have any money.”
“Don’t you bet on it. Jimmy’s got more money than the mayor. He’s squirrelling it away so can high-tail it out of this hellhole like your brother Anders did.” Kyle slapped the note, slid it off the counter, and shoved it in his pocket. “They’re sick of your shit.” He bent over and jabbed Jonas’ puny chest. “Always in the way. Bringing disease in the house. What’s that gunk all over your face?”
Jonas winced away from his skunk breath.
Kyle staggered back a step and bumped the overstuffed trashcan. More empty beer cans and garbage scattered on the floor.
“Clean this place up.” He dug into his pocket for the keys to his truck. Held them up two-inches from his face and then stumbled out the door into the rain.
Jonas grabbed the sandwich scraps from the plate and shoved them into his mouth as he bent to pick up the trash.
After he’d tossed the bag of garbage outside the trailer door, he climbed into the recliner and turned on the cassette. Dean Martin was one of Anders’ favorite singers. Jonas missed his oldest brother. He didn’t take any shit from Kyle.
Something scratched at the door. He heard it while he rewound the tape.
Jonas pressed stop on the Walkman and climbed off the chair.
“Who is it?” he called through the door. Jimmy told him not to open it for strangers, because a “child lester” lived in the park. Jonas couldn’t find that one in the dictionary, but he knew it meant something bad.
The person on the other side of the door scratched harder when they heard Jonas’ voice. He turned the lock so the door wouldn’t open and backed away from it.
“Go away. My pa’s in the shower, and he’s got a gun.”
He jumped when a boom of thunder rocked the trailer.
More scratching. And then a dog barked.
Jonas flew to the window above the recliner and peered outside. On the plastic stairs, a long brown tail wagged back and forth.
“Jack!” he shouted and jumped down to open the door for his neighbor’s dog. The big, brown retriever belonged to Willie Wilcox, a World War II vet who lived in an old farm house down the road.
Jonas opened the door, and the dog let himself inside. He sniffed the living room before he bounded over to Jonas and jumped up to lick his face. Soaked from the rain, Jack got Jonas’ pajamas all wet too, but he thought it was funny.
“What are you doing here?” Jonas sat on the floor with him.
Jack barked, and went to lick his face again, but stopped to sniff the calamine lotion.
“I can’t play today.” Jonas petted his head. “I got the pox.”
The dog laid down by his legs and whined.
“Did you remember it was my birthday?”
His big tongue lulled to the side and he panted heavily, staring at Jonas like he expected something.
“I don’t got any food, and I’m a little hungry, too.”
The big goofy dog turned onto his back, paws up in the air, and rolled around on the ratty carpet.
“Wanna play ball?” There wasn’t much room, but he could throw his baseball down the hall.
The dog flipped over onto his feet ready to go in an instant.
Jonas grabbed the ball out of the box under his bunk and ran back to the living room. He pulled back his arm to throw it, when Kyle’s truck turned into the driveway.
“Crap. You gotta go home, Jack.”
The dog’s tongue lulled out to the side as he stared at the ball in Jonas’ hand.
“I can’t. Kyle’s gonna be pissed.”
The car door slammed.
Jonas threw the ball into Jimmy’s room. When the dog followed it inside, Jonas closed the door.
Kyle stumbled into the trailer with a six pack of beer tucked under his arm. “Rain ain’t letting up for shit.”
Jonas stood still, trying not to tremble or look at his brother’s bedroom door.
Kyle sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?”
Jonas shrugged.
“Is that wet dog?”
Jack barked.
Jonas’ heart thumped against his chest.
Kyle’s face turned red as fire. “You better not have that damn dog in here again.”
Last time, the old man gave him a whoopin’ and locked him in the closet for three hours until Jimmy came home and let him out.
Kyle staggered toward the fridge, reached into the empty bread basket on top of it, and grabbed his gun.
“No, Pa! No!”
He shoved Jonas out of the way. He hit the wall and fell on his butt.
“Damn, dog,” Kyle muttered and shoved the door open.
Jack burst out of the room and knocked Kyle sideways. The gun flew out of his hand and slid under the kitchen table.
As the dog ran around the living room, searching for a way out, Jonas scooted past Kyle and dove for the doorknob.
Kyle picked up the gun.
Jack flew out the door.
Jonas stood on the plastic stairs watching him run. “Go, Jack. Go.”
Kyle pushed through the doorway, aimed, and fired over the top of Jonas’ head.
The dog yelped, jumped straight up in the air, and kept running.
As the acrid scent of gunpowder settled around him, Jonas spun around on his father. “You shot him, Pa! Why’d you have to go and shoot him.”
“Stop crying like a pussy. He ain’t dead.”
The calamine lotion stung Jonas’ eyes as the rain
washed it away, but his heart hurt more. Jack was a good dog and now he was hurt, and scared, and he could die.
“I hate you!” Jonas sobbed.
“Good. Maybe you’ll run away from home.” Kyle slammed the door and locked him out in the rain.
Chapter Eight
April spent the next morning packing Archie’s clothes and some of his favorite toys in a box and she threw her own clothes into a suitcase Molly lent her. She figured anything she forgot, she could just come back for or buy. A part of her wanted to go shopping for a whole new wardrobe and buy things Archie would need eventually – like clothes and shoes in the next size or two larger, a new big boy bed for the apartment, and maybe a bicycle Santa could bring for Christmas – while the other part of her wanted to burn the credit card.
She wasn’t sure Amex Black cards melted though.
One of her father’s drivers arrived promptly at noon in a black SUV with tinted windows. He carried their belongings downstairs and packed them in the car without being asked then waited patiently for April to check the apartment one last time for anything important she might have forgotten.
Confused by what was happening, Archie clung to her side as they entered the mansion and were led to their new rooms. April had expected to be given her old room back exactly how she had left it, but the friendly young maid called Elise explained the room had been renovated into Mrs. Linus’ yoga studio. When April had moved out, she’d taken only what she could carry in a suitcase and shoulder bag. She’d left behind old photographs, favorite stuffed animals, trophies, grade school projects, high school yearbooks, and the knickknacks given to her by her mother with the expectation she’d return to collect them one day. She was foolish to think her stuff would have stayed exactly where she’d left it, especially with Courtney in the house. Who knew were all those memories were now?
* * *
Elise led April to the guest wing where she was given a king room with a connecting door to Archie’s room. His room was already set up with a child’s bed shaped like a red Lamborghini and age appropriate toys intended for a boy. There was even a state-of-the-art baby monitor set up beside the bed, which the maid showed April how to use. Archie made a beeline for the Lego table and went to town building. When April opened Archie’s box to unpack his belongings, maid shooed her away.
“Your father would like to see you in his study,” Elise said. “Let me unpack for you.”
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”
The maid smiled gently. “It’s okay. It’s my job, and I want to help.”
“Thank you so much. Archie, come with me. Let’s go say hello and thank you to your grandfather.”
“Can I bring this?” He held up a small box of superhero Legos that hadn’t been opened yet.
“Sure. Let’s go, though. Your grandfather doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“I hope you’re settling in,” Philip Linus said to April when she sat in one of the high back leather chairs across from his desk.
“Yes, Elise has been very helpful.”
“She’s a good girl.” He smiled at Archie. “What have you got there, son?”
Archie’s eyes flared as he looked at April for help. He didn’t like being the center of the attention.
“It’s okay, sweetie. This man is my father. Your grandfather. He’s family. He bought that Lego for you as a welcome gift. What do you say?”
Archie stared at the ground. “Thank you.”
“He’s a bit shy, isn’t he?” Philip observed.
“Around strangers.” April removed the lid from the box and set it on the floor for Archie to play. “He’ll open up a little bit more when he gets to know you better.”
“I’m use to your sisters, Ruby and Sylvia. They yammer so much a kidnapper would pay us to take them back. Boys though, they’re different.” He stood and came around the desk to observe Archie who knelt on the floor deep in concentration as he built the Lego helicopter. “Boys are little sponges. They take in everything and contemplate it before forming a response. They also have excellent spatial awareness, which explains why they naturally excel at math and logic skills. Look at him put that helicopter together. He’s figured it out without anyone reading the directions to him. What a brilliant boy you are.”
Archie glanced at him warily.
“Yes, he is very smart for his age.” April didn’t want to be offended, but couldn’t help feel slighted by his words. Once upon a time, she’d dreamed of following in her father’s footsteps and running one of his resort hotels. He’d shot down the suggestion and told her find something more suited to her, like a career in fashion design or a reality TV show. Even though she graduated top of her class in high school, in his mind, she didn’t have the one thing it took to a successful in business, a penis.
“Courtney and the girls will be back on Friday. While you get acquainted with your sisters, I’d like to take Archie fishing on my boat.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Archie’s only four, and he can’t swim yet.”
“Well, perhaps we can do some other activity together? I can teach him to put on the green in the backyard.”
April wasn’t thrilled about Archie spending time with her father, but she couldn’t reasonably say no to this much safer request. “I suppose that would be all right. Before I forget, I’ve been invited to Greenlee’s engagement party in Miami on Saturday night. Would the girls’ nannies be able to watch Archie, if I went away overnight?”
“I don’t want you traveling alone.”
“I’m a grown woman, Daddy. I’m not asking for permission. If the nannies can’t watch him, I’ll ask Molly.”
Philip stared at her for a hard moment. “The nannies are at your disposal.”
“I appreciate it.”
“I have a conference call. I appreciate you brining my grandson by my office for a visit.”
“Sure.” April bent to help Archie collect his left-over Legos. The helicopter was pretty much together. She rested it carefully in the box. “You missed a few. You were sitting on them.”
“Oops.” Archie grabbed the pieces and tossed them in the box.
Philip returned to his seat.
April hesitated. “Daddy, now that we’re all moved in, when can I expect the money for my friends.”
He held the phone receiver against his ear as he dialed into the meeting. “I’ll need a few days to free up the cash. Be patient, Kitten.”
Kitten. The endearment never failed to make her feel all warm and squishy inside. She slid her arm around Archie’s shoulders and pulled him a little closer. “Thanks, Daddy.”
Two days later, April’s cell phone woke her from a sound sleep. She reached across her nightstand and fumbled with it before swiping the screen to stop the shrill ring. A beam of mid-morning sun poked through a split in the curtains aiming for her face. She squinted against the light and turned away. She couldn’t recall the last time she got to sleep late two mornings in a row thanks to the nanny. Miss Vera not only managed to bewitch Archie in a single conversation, but she was smart, efficient, and crazy good at her job.
April flopped back on the pillow and pressed her ear to the device. “Hello?”
“They killed Bruce!” Juan shrieked in her ear.
April jumped out of bed and paced to the window and back. “What? Who’s been killed? What are you talking about?”
“Bruce… Bruster. They chopped his head off and left it by the back door of the club. The monsters! How could someone do that to another living being?” Juan paused to sob into the phone. “Brucey didn’t have a snooze alarm, but he never hurt anyone.”
“You mean Bruster the rooster?”
“Yes! I wondered why I didn’t get my morning wakeup call. Carly always says that bird keeps time better than a Rolex. I was in a hurry to get to my hair appointment, so I went out the front door and didn’t think to check on him.”
A tear tickled April’s cheek and she brushed it away. “I don
’t understand. Who would do such a horrible thing?”
“Who do you think? Haven’t you ever seen the Godfather? They’re sending us a message.”
“No.” April squeezed her eyes closed and shook her head. Bruce used to beg for treats by the back door of the club. He was so gentle, he’d eat grapes right out of their hands. Archie got such a kick out of him.
“That has to be it. They’re warning us if we don’t pay up, we’re gonna wind up in a bucket of KFC. I’ve been told I’m finger lickin’ good, but this is ridiculous.”
“They aren’t going to kill you. They’ll never get their money back that way.” April sat on the edge of the bed. “Besides, my father says he’ll have the cash for you in a few days. Just give him until Monday.”
“The payment is due tomorrow.”
“Then lay low for the weekend. Close up the club and go hang out at a hotel in Marathon or something.” She reached over to turn on the table lamp and found a note from the nanny.
“I’ll suggest it to Carly, but I don’t know if she’ll go for it. Thank you, Mama. I miss your face.”
“I miss yours, too.”
“Love you.”
April dropped the note on the table to read later and smiled into the phone. “I love you more.”
“I’ll love you until I’m old and gay.”
“You mean gray.”
“Honey, this gay ain’t never gonna be gray.”
Chuckling, April went to the window to open the curtains. She squinted against the blast of sunshine as it cast the bedroom in a bright golden haze. A woodpecker perched on the tree outside her bedroom window. It peered at her through the glass. “Say something nice for me when you bury Bruce, okay?”
“I will. And, hey, don’t tell Archie about him. If he ever asks, we’ll just say he went to visit his rooster family.”
“That’s sweet. I won’t say a word.”
“How is my little hugabug?”
“Archie’s good. He really likes his new nanny, and he’s taking golf lessons from his grandpa this morning.” She bent down hoping to spy them from her window, but the pool house blocked her view of the green. “I’m going to go check on him after I get dressed.”
Passion Punch Page 7
