Affliction

by Marilee Brothers

  “Can I borrow your paper?’

  I’m sweaty and breathing hard. His gaze roams up and down my body. “Hell, you can have it.” He grins and hands me the paper. “You look intense, like you’re getting ready to kick somebody’s ass. Don’t want it to be mine.”

  I force a smile. “Once was enough?”

  “You got that right.”

  I wander back through the kitchen and step outside. As I walk by Myron’s car, something catches my eye. A tiny red fragment clings to the inside rim of the left front fender. I stop to take a closer look, but a quick glance over my shoulder tells me Myron is standing at the screen door, watching me walk away. What’s up with that? Is Myron just a horny guy who enjoys looking at women’s butts, or is there another, more sinister reason?

  Back in Number Ten, I lock the door, flop down on the bed and start going through The 3 Peaks Tribune. I find what I’m looking for in the local news section under the heading, Woman’s Body Found in 3 Peaks Motel. “The body of a young woman identified as Larissa Doroshenko was discovered Sunday morning at the local Rest Inn. According to motel manager, Jeffrey Tomlison, a maid entered the room after knocking and getting no response. The cause of death has yet to be determined. However, law enforcement officials stated it appears the woman had recently given birth. Anyone with information about Ms. Doroshenko is encouraged to contact the 3 Peaks Police Department.”

  The sickness I felt earlier today returns, but this time it’s different. Today, I’ve experienced the Trifecta of worrisome events. 1. The Kruger’s and their newly adopted baby who surely belongs to Larissa. 2. The newspaper’s factual account of Larissa’s lonely death in a motel room. 3. The guy with the mirrored sunglasses following me to the lawyer’s office and skulking behind me as I jogged. Thinking back on these events ignites a blaze of fury that burns away the sickness in my belly.

  Unable to stay still, I throw the paper down and jump to my feet. Pacing back and forth across my room, I mutter enough swear words to curl my mother’s hair and wonder what to do next. Billy is unavailable. Paco is an awesome bodyguard. But unless I want him to beat someone senseless, he probably can’t help me. It’s totally up to me. Melanie Sullivan, whose name used to be Honor. Is it time to reclaim my name? It gives me something to ponder while I shower and get ready for work.

  It’s seven p.m. and Helen and I are practically running to fill orders when Kendra and her hubby arrive at Nick’s for what she tells me is “date night.” She rolls her eyes when she says it. Her husband, Craig, is sandy-haired and wears wire-rimmed glasses, as befitting a certified public accountant. Clad in tan khakis and a dark blue golf shirt, he has the slim, wiry build of a long-distance runner. He obviously adores his wife. As she introduces us and jabbers away like a jaybird, he smiles and reaches for her hand.

  I find a booth for them in my section. Kendra says, “When’s your break?”

  I glance at the clock. “When the food orders slack off. Maybe a half hour?”

  “Join us then. I’ve got something to tell you.”

  “Is it about Billy?”

  Kendra gives me an exaggerated wink. “Could be.”

  While I’m busting my buns delivering food and drink, I spot Kendra at the bar, interrogating Nick. I’m obviously the focus of their conversation. Not hard to figure out since Kendra points at me and then leans over the bar and pokes a finger in Nick’s chest, her lips moving a mile a minute.

  It’s eight o’clock before I catch a break. Before joining Kendra and Craig, I slip into the kitchen and grab the special of the day, fish and chips. Kendra slides over so I can sit next to her.

  While my mouth is full of grease, she says, “I stopped by to see you today and guess what?”

  I assume it’s a rhetorical question and keep on chewing.

  She places a hand on my arm. “Why am I the last to know about what happened in your room?”

  I swallow a bite of fish. “I’m sure you’re not the last. If the past is any indication, now that you know, other people will also know. And, I figured Billy would fill you in.”

  “Well, he didn’t.” Kendra scolds. “Why didn’t you call me this morning? I would have come right over.”

  Craig follows the conversational ball bouncing back and forth between Kendra and me. His head is cocked to one side as if he’s trying to understand a foreign language.

  I finish my last bite of fish and smile my thanks. “I appreciate it, Kendra. But my mother and stepfather were both here. They left this morning. My uncle is here too.”

  “Yeah, Billy told me he met your family. He says that uncle of yours is something else.”

  “He’s that all right,” I say. “Stick around. He’ll be here later with his evil old lady, Roxy.”

  Kendra gets over her mad quickly and grins at me. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  It’s then I realize I have a lot of catching up to do, Kendra-wise. “Have you read today’s newspaper?”

  “No time. Too many kids.”

  Craig says, “I did.”

  “Did you see the article about the young woman found dead at the Rest Inn?”

  Craig nods.

  I tell them about my visit with Aida and the fact Larissa is, without a doubt, dead.

  Kendra’s eyes are huge. She lowers her voice to a whisper, like she can hardly bear to utter the words. “What about her baby?”

  “I think her baby is now Michael Kruger Junior.” I then fill them in on my encounter with the Krugers. I omit all information about the man with the mirrored sunglasses. Enough is enough.

  Kendra’s eyes fill with tears. “This is awful. Just awful. Poor Larissa.” She swipes her eyes with the back of her hand, blows her nose on a napkin and drains her wine glass.

  Craig leans over the table and takes her hand. “You okay, babe?”

  Kendra kisses the back of his hand and nods. “It’s just—just so wrong. Something has to be done. Tell Mel about the Rockwells’ thing.”

  Craig releases Kendra’s hand and lowers his voice. “The Rockwells are having a party on Thursday night. Rumor has it they’re celebrating the adoption of their new baby.”

  Once again, anger sparks to life. “Their new baby?” My voice is squeaky with outrage.

  “I hear ya, girl,” Kendra murmurs.

  Craig continues, “If you want to work the party, I can arrange it.”

  Kendra snaps to attention. “Sign me up too,” she says.

  Apparently this is news to Craig whose eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Um, Kendra, do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “Yes, I do,” she says. “I think it’s a dandy idea.

  Her eyes are bright with excitement when she turns to me. “We’ll do it together.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Before my break is over, Kendra and I plan our strategy. I don’t have to worry about Nick. Kendra guilted him into giving me a night off. She told him, “You’re working that girl to death. She needs a day off. Thursday would be good.”

  On Thursday, I’ll catch a ride with Paco to Kendra’s house. We’ll put on our waiter garb—black pants and long-sleeved white tops—and then, work on our disguises.

  Kendra says. “Once I do my thing, those assholes won’t have a clue who we are.”

  I fervently hope she’s right, since I still have residual fear and trepidation when it comes to the Rockwell estate.

  Shortly after my break is over, Paco lumbers in. Roxy limps along behind him. I glance over at Kendra and Craig, point my finger at Paco and nod. Kendra’s mouth drops open in surprise. Craig smiles and nods. I follow Paco and Roxy into the Corral. Roxy winces as she perches on a chair. In the spirit of fake kindliness, I say, “What’s wrong, Roxy? You seem to be in pain.”

  She orders a double JD on the rocks and glares at me through slitted eyes. “What’s wrong? I’ll tell you what’s wrong. I slept in a sleeping bag on the goddamn ground last night. That’s what’s wrong.”

  I whisper to Paco, “You need to buy h
er an air mattress. Wal-Mart’s still open.”

  Paco shrugs off my suggestion. “Just bring the bottle and two glasses,” he says, “If I get her drunk enough, maybe she’ll stop her bitching.”

  I turn around and bump into Kendra whose wide-eyed gaze is fixed on Paco. She says, “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your uncle?”

  I make the introductions. Paco springs to his feet, knocking his chair over in the process. He takes Kendra’s hand in his and kisses it. “Any friend of Mel is a friend of mine.”

  Kendra’s face turns bright pink.

  Roxy’s upper lip curls into a sneer. I can tell she’s dying to say something nasty, but Paco gives her a look and she settles for, “Whatever.”

  After I deliver Paco’s bottle of Jack, I see Kendra and Craig heading for the door. She waves and calls, “Call you tomorrow.”

  Stalker guy comes in as Kendra and Craig are leaving. Even without the mirrored sunglasses, I know it’s him. Once inside the door, he stops and looks around. His gaze comes to rest on me. My pulse kicks up a notch. He strolls over to Helen and engages her in conversation. I see her glance over at me.

  On impulse, I dig my cell phone from my apron pocket and dial Billy’s number. It goes to voice mail. I say, “Hi, um, just called to say hi. No big deal. Whatever. Gotta get back to work. See ya soon.”

  At nine, the serious drinkers arrive, including Dani’s husband Eddie and my old friend, Darrell. A third man, unfamiliar to me, trails behind. His blond hair is long and swept back from his face, spilling down onto to his shoulders. His eyes are pale blue and wary as he glances around the restaurant. He’s clad in faded jeans and a short-sleeved navy T-shirt hugs his impressive biceps and well-developed pectorals. Doesn’t hurt to look, right?

  Darrell and his buds head for his usual table. I take a deep breath and step up to take their orders. The new guy looks me over. His eyes linger on my chest for a while before moving south. I don’t roll my eyes. I guess he enjoys looking too.

  “The usual?” I ask Darrell.

  He nods.

  The new guy clears his throat and says, “You have wodka?’

  Darrell and Eddie crack up at his accent.

  Darrell says, “Hee, hee, by all means, bring the boy some wodka. It’s on me.”

  I ignore the laughing hyenas and tell the new guy, “Yes, we have vodka. How would you like it?”

  “Oh, yes,” he says. “How I like it?”

  This gets the boys going again.

  When they settle down, I turn to Eddie. “Who’s your new friend?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Eddie says. “Sorry, Mel. This is Mikhail. We call him Mick. Mick, this is Mel. She is, um, I mean, she was a friend of my wife.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mick.”

  “Mel. Nice to meet you too,” Mick says. He pronounces my name, Meal, exactly like Aida does.

  “So, I’m guessing you’re from somewhere in Russia?”

  “You guess right,” Mick says. He smiles, revealing a set of perfect white teeth. “And,” he says, “I like my wodka with water.”

  Darrell says, “Don’t you mean wodka with vater?”

  I wait until the hilarity dies down before asking Eddie. “How’s the baby?”

  “Destiny’s fine.”

  I wait for more info but he’s all done talking.

  “I’d like to see her.”

  He shifts in his chair. “Sure. Anytime.”

  Oh, really?

  “How about Thursday?”

  “Sorry, Mel. Thursday won’t work.”

  Probably because her new parents are getting ready to throw a big party. Are you invited, Eddie? After all, you are the birth father.

  When I deliver their drinks, I take a good, long look into Mick’s eyes, expecting to see something grubby and faintly disgusting, like the souls of his drinking buddies. I’m surprised to see his soul is predominately blue. Not ice blue bordered with black like Nina Rockwell’s chilly soul, but a soft sky-blue streaked with wisps of white. In my limited experience as a novice soul-reader—I wonder if there are professionals—I’ve found people with souls the color of Mick’s are calm, intelligent and trustworthy. What on earth is he doing with these guys?

  The crowd thins out a little after eleven. I spot Billy sitting at the bar, shooting the breeze with Nick. He sees me looking and raises his beer in greeting.

  Paco and Roxy head for the door. Paco gives me a hug and shows me the key to Number 22. “Gotta get Roxy on a soft mattress or there will be hell to pay tomorrow. So, remember, I’m close by if you need me.”

  I wonder if his decision has anything to do with the voluptuous Connie. Not your problem, Mel. You have enough on your plate.

  Like Sunglasses Guy. I’ve been keeping an eye on him and notice he’s taking care not to look my way. When he rises and walks to the men’s bathroom, I know what I have to do. It probably defies logic. It most certainly defies common sense. Chalk it up to the fact I’m sleep-deprived, cranky, paranoid and suffering from PMS. And, I’m tired of being victimized. And, I need answers. And, I have the element of surprise.

  I scurry over to the bar and get Nick’s attention. “There might be a slight commotion in the hall. Pay no attention. Okay?’

  Nick’s brows draw together. “Say, what?”

  Billy stands and frowns down at me. “What’s going on, Minnie?”

  “Nothing I can’t handle it.” I turn and take off at a trot.

  Billy catches up with me as I step into the hall. He grabs my arm, spins me around and grips my arms. “You’re not going anywhere. Not until you fill me in.”

  Breathing hard, I push at his chest. “I need to kick somebody’s butt when he steps out of the bathroom. Let me go or I’ll lose the element of surprise.”

  Billy doesn’t budge. “Who and why?”

  “Dammit, Billy, let me handle it. This guy’s been following me. I need to find out why.”

  Billy’s grip tightens. Before he can question me further, Mr. Sunglasses steps through bathroom door into the dimly lit hallway. I inhale sharply.

  “That guy?” Billy asks.

  I nod. Billy bristles up, releases me and takes a step toward my stalker. I dart around him. No way will I let Billy steal my thunder. Since the element of surprise is now a non-issue, I opt for a full frontal attack. With a shriek of fury, I launch myself at the guy, ramming my shoulder into his midsection. The air whooshes from his lungs. He grunts with pain and folds in half, gripping his belly with both hands.

  Billy is not to be denied. He pushes me to one side, grabs the man’s shoulders and slams him against the wall. I slide in close and whisper in his ear, “You’ve been following me all day. I want to know why.”

  When he doesn’t respond, Billy shakes him. Hard. The man’s head bangs against the wall and he moans in pain. His eyelids flutter and he pants, “Please…please, release me so I can explain.”

  A couple of guys peer into the dim hallway. Somebody yells, “Hey, Nick. Your barmaid and the Kid are kicking somebody’s ass.”

  Nick shows up and announces, “The excitement’s over, folks. Just a little misunderstanding.” He grins and adds, “Just remember. Don’t mess with Melanie.”

  After the onlookers drift back to their tables, Nick gives me a look. “I don’t know what this is about but, whatever it is, you need to work it out. Right here. Right now. My office. Go.”

  He walks us down the hall to his office and points at the chairs. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.” He closes the door behind him and the three of us take a seat, Billy taking care to sit between the stranger and myself.

  The guy’s face has lost its color. He lifts a trembling hand to smooth his hair and winces as he touches the knot on the back of his head. I bite back the urge to apologize. “Who are you? Why are you following me? Is this about what happened last night?”

  His eyes widen in surprise. “Last night? I know nothing about last night.”

  I look in his eyes and search his sou
l for clues. For the truth. His soul is clear and shimmers like sunlight reflecting on a mountain stream. No ugly brownish streaks. No telltale sign of duplicity. Now what, Mel?

  “Okay,” I say. “What do you want?”

  “You don’t know who I am, do you, Honor Melanie Sullivan?”

  An eerie feeling creeps through my body and I stiffen. How does he know my full name?

  “No. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

  He takes a deep breath. Lets it out. “I am Estefan Delgado. Your father.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  For a few seconds, it feels like the world stopped spinning. I stare, speechless, into blue eyes, so like my own. I’ve been totally clueless. Remember my permanent tan? My blue eyes? They are the genetic gifts bestowed on me by the man Sandra always refers to as that damn Spaniard who knocked me up and split? Now, here he sits with a big goose egg on his head, compliments of his daughter and her over zealous boyfriend. Not that I regret it for a minute.

  I have a bajillion questions and start with, “How did you find me?” I would save what do you want for later.

  “I hired a private detective agency. First, they found your mother. I knew she would not speak to me, not after I abandoned her. Somehow, the detective found out you lived in 3 Peaks. Don’t ask me how he did it. Perhaps it wasn’t even legal.”

  I sigh. “And here you are. Why the sneaking around? Why not just come up and introduce yourself? Would have saved you a world of hurt.”

  His hand is still shaking as he rakes it through his dark hair. I notice a few threads of silver among the black. “I had to make sure it was really you. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

  I glance at Billy who is looking as shell-shocked as I feel. I place a hand on his arm. “Maybe I should talk to, um, Mr. Delgado by myself. You okay with that?”

  Billy stands. “I’ll be in the hall. Leave the door open.”

  I look into my father’s eyes again. He’d impregnated my mother with twin girls and never looked back. How can his soul look so pure when he’d done something so utterly without scruples?

  I blurt, “Did you know there were two of us?”