37.
I woke up late. The morning rays were already blazing into my room. I rushed about, quickly showering, gelling my hair. I rushed back into the bedroom and fumbled with my pants. I pulled over a flannel and threw on my boots. No time for coffee, which was fine for I knew I would meet Paige at the diner. I grabbed my plans off of the coffee table, catapulting myself over the side of the couch and snatching my phone off of the charger.
It was an important day indeed. It was our anniversary. Not only was it the day that we were married, but it was also the first day that we had met. The first day that Paige had walked into my dungeon and laid eyes upon my beaten soul. Eight years was a long time, but it went by so quickly.
I flew out of the house and jumped into my suburban. My 1989 Chevrolet suburban. The same suburban that my father had given me. As I turned the key and the mighty beast grumbled to life, I waited somewhat impatiently as I waited for it to warm up.
I was a punctual kind of person and I hated to be late. But the last two weeks, I had been working lots of hours of overtime at a job, and unfortunately slept in. I hated to speed, but with both Paige and I working long hours, I knew my window to see her was quite slim. I darted through traffic as I tried to make it to the diner on time.
As I drove recklessly, the phone that laid between my legs began to vibrate. As I saw who it was, I smiled as I answered it. "Good morning Joyce."
"Sweetie, are you there yet?"
"Almost. How are my boys? Did they get there yet?" I asked.
Joyce chuckled over the phone. "Well, Sean's there, but Castor called in, he's going to be about 20 minutes late." She replied in her deep Southern coated voice.
Joyce. A beautiful vibrant woman whom I would never regret meeting. Eight years ago she picked me up off the road and gave me hope. Currently, she is the receptionists for my business. She was the heart that kept us all pumping. Joyce knew who I was and what I was about. She knew me as Lillian, but embraced the new me, Jennifer Ann Drake. There was of course, Sean Archer who used to be Barrett and Clive, of course he had to be Castor Troy. I couldn't help but laugh because every day was a face-off with the both of them. Sean, Castor and I all worked together. After I was given a new name and a new life, I apprenticed for many years, and used my Switchblade Mamma money to start anew.
I was all into home-building and house remodeling. With Joyce's help, I even dabbled a bit in the recovery of lost souls. With the money that I had, I built a few shelters. In my spare time, I would seek out those who were lost to the turmoil's of hen fighting. In my eight years of searching, and rescuing, I had nearly eradicated hen fighting in the United States alone. A great achievement on my part. No matter what, injustices were done throughout the world, and my fight was only extended to the United States.
Paige, who was now known as Rachel, supported my battles 100%. She knew why I came home ragged every night, limp and weak upon the bed. My woes however, were never left unhindered, for at least I knew on a few occasions, the innocent were returned home.
No matter what, I enjoyed my new hectic life with Rachel. And as we went out into the world on a daily basis as Jennifer and Rachel, we would always come home and be Paige and Lillian, always and forever.
As I finally strolled into the diner, seeing Paige sitting in our usual booth, I smiled. I sat down quietly next to her, kissing her lightly upon the cheek. "Happy eighth anniversary." I said with great pleasure.
Despite our hectic schedule, Paige and I agreed to meet each other at the diner every morning. If we weren't able to see each other up at home, at least we could share a breakfast together. We took a moment, chatting quietly with each other, trying to stay close even though with everything we knew we had become distant.
Lorraine, the usual morning waitress greeted us both with a warm frothy cup of coffee. I took a deep breath into the cup and inhaled the warm liquid grounds. I gave Paige a cheesy smile as I dumped sugar and cream into my cup.
Paige smiled as she watched me take my first sip. "So, everyone on time and at their jobs?"
I finished my sip, and I replied, "Sean, yes. Castor, no."
Paige chuckled. "Figures."
I lifted my head from my cup. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure old Castor was up all night playing that new game that just came out."
Paige gave me a quick nip upon my ear. "And I'm sure my dear, that if you had time oozing out of your ass, you would be playing that game as well."
I leaned in closer toward Paige, and kissed her. "And you know this, babe."
It was a pleasant and beautiful morning. I could not think of any more troubles on my mind then ones that had already been set. I had a few leads on some girls in the area that could have quite possibly been drug into hen fighting. Even though it was our anniversary, I knew Paige would understand. When it came to the matter at hand, time was so very precious. In the blink of an eye, I could lose the lead, and their souls lost forever.
As our breakfast finally arrived, I ate contentedly, alongside my beloved, Paige. As my phone began to ring, I took it as I took every other, "Drake here."
On the other end was Joyce. Her thick southern accent with a strange hint of uncertainty. "Jennifer?"
Thinking nothing of it, I replied, "did Castor make it in?"
"Yes but...Jennifer, this is not about Castor." There was a brief pause on her end. "There is a woman here. A woman that says she knows you from your past life."
I swallowed the last bits of egg that I had in my mouth down my throat, hard. "What's her name, Joyce?" I asked. Without word, I left the booth. I picked up and walked outside. For some reason I knew exactly who it was. I went to my truck and opened up the passenger side door. I pulled out the pack of cigarettes that laid in the glove box. I pulled out a smoke and lit it up. I knew, but I wished I didn't. "Joyce, what's her name?"
I could hear a muffling noise on the other line. Joyce's voice soon returned. "She won't tell me. She wishes to speak with you directly."
I frowned exhaling a plume of smoke. "All right, put her on." My heart was racing and I could feel a cold sweat upon the back of my neck. The morning's beauty seemed to dissolve with the ugliness of the phone call.
"Well, hello my little warrior."
It was exactly who I thought it was. The very voice sent shivers down my spine. I swallowed hard and replied. "Hello, Michelle."
"Well, at least I get the courtesy of your remembering me. You, are a very hard woman to find these days. I do enjoy your new name. Rolls right off the tongue. Jennifer Ann Drake." She said it slow, long, and sultry.
Always Michelle with her games. I was no longer a captive, and became impatient with her. "Cut the crap lady, what do you want?"
"Is that all the sympathy that I receive, after you have made me widow?"
I shot back quickly. "Bullshit! You've got money shooting out of your ass because me."
"True. However, I currently have a problem with something that money cannot solve. I will be requiring your help."
I let out a low laugh. "Sorry lady, but you are barking up the wrong tree. I ain't doing no work for you."
Michelle slightly sighed. "You will, once I tell you what I have on the table."
I had the cigarette in my mouth, my right hand gripping the phone, and my left hand in my pocket. As I exhaled smoke again, I spoke. "Lady, you could offer me all the money in the world, and still would not work for you."
"Because the details of this job are a tad bit sensitive, I cannot explain it over the phone. However, I will tell you, that if you do this job for me, I will tell you the whereabouts of your mother."
In an instant, I almost stopped breathing. I could hear my heart pounding in my chest as my mouth slowly rolled open and the cigarette dropped to the ground. "You are lying."
"What benefit would I gain from lying? Surely if you pulled through with the job, and I did not come through, obviously you would kill me as horrifically as you killed my husband. I assure you, your mother has been alive and well f
or the past eight years. Do this job for me and I will give you her location."
I was at the point of no return. For some reason I knew I could trust her, but I couldn't think twice about it either. If my mother was alive, I had to see her. "Okay. I'll do your job."
"Good." I knew her mouth was twisting a smile. "Do you know of a quiet place where we can meet and go over the details?"
The Switchblade Mamma Page 36
