Conheartists

by Webster, K

  What in the h—

  Knock! Knock! Knock!

  I jerk my head toward a black gloved hand rapping on the window.

  “We don’t want any trouble,” I say to the man through the glass.

  He peers down and narrows his gaze. “Get out of the car.”

  His accent is foreign and he looks like your typical—

  “Belgian,” Frannie hisses. “I knew it! It’s him.”

  “Who?” I demand.

  “Out of the car,” the man barks out.

  She elbows me, making me groan. “Him. Him. Jean-Claude Van Damme.”

  Chandler yaps in agreement.

  “Stay here,” I grit out. “I mean it, Frannie. Please.”

  She pouts and so does the fucking dog. I don’t care. I slide out of the car and slam the door shut, keeping them safely inside.

  “Please don’t hurt her,” I whisper to him. “I’ll give you whatever you want.” Except them.

  His eyes narrow as he nods at his motherfucking RPG in his hand. Fuck. Piss this guy off and he’ll just blow you up like he did the other guys. With his other hand—the one not holding a motherfucking RPG—he dials a number on his phone. “I have them.”

  He doesn’t blink or move as the person on the other line barks stuff out at him.

  “I understand, sir.” He hangs up and nods toward a black Range Rover parked across the road. “I need you both to come with me.”

  “Sorry, man,” I grunt out. “No can do.” Before he can argue, I rush him, ramming my shoulder against his chest. We hit the ground hard and his RPG clatters to the pavement. As we grapple, I hear it.

  Yapping and screeching.

  “It is you! I knew it! Jean-Claude Van Damme, why are you trying to kill us? We’re the good guys, silly! Oh, you won’t be needing this, big fella!”

  She stumbles back, dragging away the heavy-ass RPG that was just in his grip as though she’s a fucking outlaw. “Let go of my boyfriend or I’ll shoot your stupid hand off!”

  Boyfriend?

  And his hand of all things?

  If she shoots that thing, we all die, her and the dog included.

  “I do not want trouble,” Not Really Van Damme says. “I offer escape.”

  I scramble off him and put myself between him and Frannie, making sure to pull away the massive weapon from her grip. Chandler circles my legs, his tail wagging wildly.

  “You’re helping us?” I clarify, confusion warring within me.

  “Duh,” Frannie huffs. “We’re the good guys and Van Damme knows it. Right? Do I call you Jean? Jean-Claude? Mr. Van Damme? This is awkward.”

  He rises to his feet and dusts off his suit. “I am Paul.”

  “You don’t really look like a Paul,” Frannie argues and Chandler agrees.

  “Not now,” I grumble.

  “Paul is my American name. I chose Paul because Paul sounds strong.”

  “Like Paul Bunyan?” she asks.

  Paul’s face contorts into what I think is an attempt at a smile. “This is correct.”

  She giggles. Of course she fucking does. “That’s sweet, but between us, you should just go by Jean-Claude. It suits you.”

  “I deal with the vermin,” he tells her, tossing his keys at me. He points at the black SUV across the road that sits with its door open and waiting. “You escape with the female captive. But I will need the RPG in case more come.”

  More?

  Fuck, he can have his big gun.

  I hand it over and give Frannie a small shove to get her moving away from this psycho.

  “You will find an envelope of money in the glove box. Use it wisely,” he says as though all this is normal. It’s so not fucking normal.

  He stiffly walks toward the blazing ball of fire, his RPG in his grip. Why? I have no fucking clue. I don’t have time to figure it out either. Not interested in hanging around when he blows more shit up.

  “Quick,” I bark out. “Grab your shit and let’s bail.”

  “We can’t leave Miss Russet,” Frannie cries out. “She’s a family heirloom!”

  “She’s a busted-up piece of shit car, babe. Your mom would want you to leave her if it meant keeping you safe. Material things don’t matter. You fucking matter.”

  Francis

  Getting That Lady Hole a Good Workout

  “Come on, Frannie, you can ride in front with me.”

  My doe eyes widen in surprise. “But, I thought—”

  “I know what I said, but today, you can ride up front with me. We’re just going to the market. I see no harm in it.”

  I can’t hide my excitement. Momma’s car, or Miss Russet as she’s been named since it’s as red as a fire engine, is the size of a boat. I have to sit in the way back because it’s safer and Momma always worries I’ll get hurt. Lately she’s been super sad and I feel so far away from her. I itch to escape from my seat belt and wrap my little arms around her, but I know that’s not safe. It would make Momma more upset.

  “Well, come on now. The day is getting away from us.”

  I don’t wait another second and run into the open driver side door, jumping into the front seat. It’s just like the back, one long seat. A whole family could sit up here if they wanted to. I open my mouth to tell Momma, but her sad smile has me shutting my eager lips. We don’t have a big family. It’s just us two. I want to be enough for her, but I can tell she misses my daddy. I’m only five, but I try every day to be strong when she’s not. But she’s sad a lot. Miss Mabel tells me it’s not for me to worry, but I do. I don’t want Momma to be sad. I heard her crying in her room last night. I fell asleep with my favorite pillow and blankie outside her door, just in case she called me. She always says my hugs fix everything.

  I hurry and buckle myself in and wait patiently for her to climb in. Shutting her door, she turns her smile on me and places the key in the ignition. The car purrs to life and I watch her fade off into one of her memories.

  “Watcha thinkin’ about, Momma?”

  She blinks away her memory, swiping at a tear. “Oh, nothin’, baby girl. Just… just how time is going by so fast. On this day, eight years ago, your daddy bought me Miss Russet from a used car dealership. He wanted something new or flashy, but I insisted we didn’t need somethin’ so fancy or big. But your daddy, he was a bossy one.” She pauses, falling back into her memory. “Said we would need the space for the dozen babies we were gonna have. That if I wouldn’t let him splurge on me, at least he’d get the size we needed.” She wipes at another tear. “Said with the wide-open seat, he’d always be able to drive with one arm around me.”

  “I can sit next to you, Momma. And you can wrap your arm around me.”

  Her smile hurts my belly. It’s sad and I’m afraid I’m going to not be strong for her and cry. I want to cry.

  “Just like this?” she says and places her arm around my tiny shoulders. I want to ask more questions about Daddy. She barely mentions him, and when she does it’s in times like this, when she loses herself to memories and her words slip. I wish he were still here so I could love him just as much as she does.

  “Maybe one day when you start driving, we’ll get a smaller car. This thing sure seems silly now, doesn’t it?”

  I can’t imagine not riding in Miss Russet. I’ve always felt closer to him when we’re in it. I know she does too. “No, Momma. I want to drive Miss Russet when I grow up. I want Daddy to look down on me from heaven and see. Maybe one day I’ll have tons of babies to fill it. Or doggies. Miss Mabel’s neighbor had puppies and they’re for sale. If no one buys them, maybe I can use my money from my piggy bank to give them a good home.”

  It’s felt like forever since I’ve heard the sweet sound of her laugh. She tilts her head back and laughs, patting me on the shoulder, before releasing me and putting the car into reverse.

  “Sure, baby. One day. But how about we focus on those fresh blueberry muffins Judith from the bakery promised.”

  I nod, my pigtails bouncing up and
down. She’s right. I should probably have a full belly before becoming a momma.

  I wake with a start.

  Confusion surrounds me as I focus on my surroundings. Missing is the smell of Miss Russet’s old leather, or the purring of her engine.

  “Hey.”

  I turn to Luca, memories bringing me back to the present. The car chase. The explosion. Leaving Momma’s car.

  “Hey,” I whisper, trying to adjust myself in the large, yet still compact seat of the SUV. “Where are we?” I question, pushing back the emotions that I left her behind. She’s gone. Momma’s car Daddy bought her—

  “Since we’re now past Kansas City, we’re set to stop soon. Are you hungry?”

  I’m sad. Regretful. On the verge of begging for us to turn back and save her. “No, I’m okay.” Chandler jumps up from the back seat and begins barking. “But I think someone has to go piddle.” I smile, rubbing at his favorite spot behind his ears.

  “All right. It’s getting dark anyhow. Perfect time to scope out a place to stay for the night.” I nod and stare out the window, admiring the scenery. I always pictured Kansas looking just like it did in The Wizard of Oz, which it does. Lots of corn fields, but now with lots of buildings and houses. Dorothy would have loved it.

  We take the exit and the first town we hit, Luca pulls into a gas station. “Sit tight, okay? I’m going to try and finagle some food. It won’t be anything fancy, but I think we need to lay low from now on. Probably have to ditch the car for another soon as well. Be right back.” And he’s hopping out and heading into the small convenience store.

  I search for Chandler’s leash. “Well, we certainly can’t have you doing your business in this fancy car now.” Clipping his collar, I coddle him under my arm and jump out. We make our way to a small patch of grass and I give Chandler some privacy as I search out my surroundings.

  “Oh shoot…” I scrunch my nose as I take in the payphone. My eyes scan the convenience store. “Hmmm… maybe just a quick call.” Chandler growls. “I know, but what’s one little call?” More growling. “Oh, you just focus on number two. We know how grumpy you get when you don’t do poopoo every few hours.”

  I tell myself if Luca comes out before it takes me the long trek to get to the payphone—“Oh look, we’re here!” I pick up the receiver and dial in my little trick and before too long it’s ringing. The phone line connects, followed by giggling.

  “Yello?” More giggling.

  “Beatrice?”

  “Who wants to—Frannie? Is that you?” I hear rustling in the background.

  “Yeah, it’s me. What are you doing?”

  More rustling. The sound of a man’s grumble. Is that— “Girl, where have you been? I know I said adventure, but I didn’t mean disappear!” Chuckling. Did someone just get slapped?

  “Bea, what are you doing?” I can tell she covers the phone because I hear muted whispering. “Are you alone?”

  “Hell, mind your business. Now, where the hell are ya?” That’s when I hear the faint sound of Henry’s voice. “Shhh! She’ll hear ya!”

  “Um, I already have. Are you and Henry…” I’m not even sure if I can say it!

  “Knockin’ boots? Well, ya kept pushin’ it! And boy can he read Jane Austen.” More rustling.

  “Hey, sweetie.” Hearing Henry’s voice brings a rush of joy. Boy, do I miss home.

  “Hey there, Henry. I take it Bea enjoyed your meatloaf?”

  “Oh, she sure did, and the food was good too!”

  I gasp, covering my eyes, as if I’m about to see something I shouldn’t be. “Henry!” I yell. No need to tell me the details.

  More scuffling. “Give me that phone, old man—Listen. You need to come home. Mabel’s on the hunt for ya. What kind of area code is seven-eight-five? That doesn’t sound close. Is it close? Henry, where is seven-eight-five?”

  “How the hell should I know?”

  “You were in the Navy, ya geezer! Don’t they teach you that code system?”

  “You mean Morse code?”

  More slapping. “Hell, where ya at, child?”

  I look around for a sign. “Wamego, Kansas.”

  I think she drops the phone. Scuffling. “What the hell you doing in Kansas? Please tell me you’re getting that lady hole a good workout—Dammit! You wretched old hag! Get out of my room! Henry and I are nak—”

  Mabel cuts off the end of that terrifying statement. “Francis, you better have a good explanation for this. This is completely out of character for you.” My heart sinks at Mabel’s angry tone. I forget in all of this, I left them to fend for the shop, with no instruction.

  “I know, and I’m sorry. I can’t really explain right now, but…but…” I have no idea how to explain the last few days of my life. I was kidnapped by a con artist who needs me for collateral for a mobster who wants me. No idea why. And in the process, he’s showed me more adventure than I’ve seen in the whole twenty-two years of my life. Not to mention passion. Real life passion. And how do I tell them that I think I’m falling for him? I hear a bell in the distance and see Luca pop out of the convenience store. Shoot. “Gotta make this quick. Bullet points only. I was kidnapped by a man whose family was kidnapped and he needs to take me to someone who wants me, but I have no idea who he is, but he’s a mobster and may be Andy Garcia and I’m his captive but kinda like not his captive and we’ve become partners. Kinda like Bonnie and Clyde, hopefully minus the shootout part, which we’ve kinda already been in, and I think I may have Stockholm syndrome because I really like him even though he’s a con and handsome and he kisses—”

  Luca rips the phone out of my hand. I wait for him to slam it on the receiver and start yelling. Instead, he stares me down, those eyes eating away at my soul, and brings the receiver to his ear. “Who is this?”

  Then he pulls it away. Even Chandler starts to bark at Mabel’s yelling.

  “Excuse me? I—I—Yes, ma’am. No, ma’am. Her what? Lady—Christ.” He looks at me, one confused brow shooting to the sky. “I have kissed her. Many times. Yes. No, I did not know she’d never been kissed before me. I did enjoy it.” His mischievous smile has me losing my balance. I grab for the payphone. “Oh… I didn’t know that either.” Gone is the smile, in its place seriousness. “Yes, ma’am. No, ma’am. Promise. Complete gentleman. At this point, I think we’re each other’s captive.” He guns it for me, those eyes. Shoot. “It’s been a pleasure, but time’s up. Have a good day.”

  He hangs up the phone. I’m in shock. I don’t know what to say. I want to know what Mabel asked or what she said. Luca doesn’t say anything either. He grabs my hand and takes the leash from my grip.

  “Let’s go. I have a surprise for both of you.” And with a grin from ear to ear, he starts escorting Chandler and me back to the car.

  The ten-minute car ride is silent. Luca hasn’t lost his smile, and I haven’t lost my worried expression. At least it wasn’t Beatrice he spoke to. Mabel is levelheaded. She wouldn’t say anything bad. Would she? My eyes are trained straight ahead, so I don’t sneak a glance at the driver’s side. We’re riding through a small town, a row of quaint little shops and—

  “Oh my, stop! Look!” I point at a huge sign reading, Oz Museum. Luca doesn’t obey and continues to drive. “Luca! Stop! Did you see it! It does exist!” He stops at a stop sign, but instead of turning around, he makes a left-hand turn and continues. “Stop right now, or I’m jumping out of this vehicle.” Which will hurt since we are so high from the ground. These big cars are nonsense. He takes another left turn into a back alley. “If you just turn around in here, I saw a parking spot right up front.” Instead, he pulls into a spot in the back. “What are you…” I trail off when he puts the car in park and looks ahead.

  “The museum’s closed,” he says.

  My expression falls. “Oh.”

  “Or in con artist language, it’s closed for a private viewing.” He pats my thigh. “Let’s go. Bring the snacks.” He climbs out of the car. It takes me a m
oment to gather myself, then scoop up Chandler.

  By the time I’m even to the back entrance of the museum, Luca’s managed to cut the wire to the camera and jimmy the lock. “After you, my lady.”

  A jolt of excitement shoots all the way down to my toes. Even Chandler can’t handle it and wiggles out of my arms and races inside. While entering, Luca presses a huge lever and the place comes to life. Lights blast through the large room, accentuating each display.

  My eyes can’t take it all in fast enough. Life-sized statues. Dorothy, the Cowardly Lion, the Tin Man, and Scarecrow. Chandler starts yapping when he finds Toto. “Look, Luca, it’s a replica of her tiny home in Kansas.” I hurry up to it and gasp in delight when I see the ruby red slippers sticking out from under the house. “Oh my! They even have the shoes!” One after another I take in each display, my heart rate at an all-time high, my excitement on overdrive. “Oh look, Chandler, the haunted forest. Better turn back.” I giggle, knowing he always hides under the blankets during that scene. When we arrive at the glass cases, I sigh heavily, my hand lifting to cover my heart.

  “What’s that big sigh for?” Luca asks, nudging me with his shoulder.

  “It’s a replica of the costume Dorothy wore. Well, Judy Garland wore. It’s…beautiful.”

  Luca chuckles and I slap him in the chest, probably hurting my hand more than it hurt his solid stomach. “Okay, okay, it’s beautiful.”

  “It is,” I whisper, my mind starting to turn. My foot starts to tap.

  Tap, Tap. Tap.

  “Okay, what’s going on in that squirrel brain of yours now?” he asks.

  Round and round, the thought that if I just…

  “Spit it out, babe, before you hurt yourself.”

  “I just think… We’re in here. Private viewing and all. No one would mind if I maybe… tried it on.”

  I watch his eyes widen through the reflection of the glass. His lips spread into a humorous grin, but he refrains. Maybe it was a silly suggestion.

  “In this adventure, there are zero restrictions. If my girl wants to wear Dorothy’s dress, she’s wearing her dress,” he says with laughter in his tone, but he does something so romantic, my heart does a triple flip inside my chest. He goes to the side of the glass case and jimmies open the lock.