Mustard on Top

by Wanda Degolier

“Earlier today, you said you had a proposition for me?” Agatha said.

  “Boy do I,” Moe said darkly.

  She leaned closer. “What is it?”

  “Well… it’s… oh hell,” Moe said.

  He shocked her by standing up, scooping her out of her chair, and carrying her off to her bedroom.

  ****

  After putting the broken menu board in the trunk, Ben settled into his BMW. To hide the bulge in his jeans, he scooted his seat forward so his knees obscured Helen’s view. Upon glancing at her, he discovered the part wasn’t hidden well enough. “Helloooo,” Ben called.

  Helen’s gaze jerked up, and she covered her face with one hand. “This is seriously weird. I’m sorry.”

  Ben chuckled. “Those are some potent hot dogs. Sorry I broke your board.”

  “That’s okay.” Helen looked out the passenger side window.

  Strands of her dark hair that had been wound into a French twist had wrangled free and were dangling down her slender neck. Ben wanted to touch her wayward locks. “You’re beautiful,” he said.

  Helen bristled. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what? Give you a compliment?”

  “Don’t try to get into my pants.” Her eyes blazed. “I only need to learn that lesson once.”

  “I wasn’t—” Ben stopped. “That’s not what I was thinking. I—” He wished he’d considered how the comment would be taken before he’d spoken. “You’re a good person.” He touched the bags of food she held in her lap. “You give away food every day.”

  “Not every day, anyway it’s common decency.”

  Ben chuckled mirthlessly. “No it’s not. Because you’re decent, you think the world is full of decent people. I admire that in you.”

  “Let’s deliver these and get home. I’m worn out.”

  They took the food to Helen’s friends and drove to the house in silence. Ben, acting the protector, beat her to the front door. “I’ll go in first.”

  Helen sighed. “Fine.”

  Ben opened the door, and Jeremy’s muffled voice greeted them. “You’re keeping me here against my will.” His voice crackled as if his vocal cords had been shredded.

  “I’ll get him some food and water and hope that helps,” Helen said.

  “Give me back my fucking drugs.” Jeremy yelled from the basement.

  “I’m guessing his withdrawals have started.”

  Helen moved toward the kitchen, but Ben bound in front of her. “Let me take care of him,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “Because I want to.” When another of Jeremy’s cries tarnished the air between them, Ben dashed to the basement door and closed it.

  “That’s not taking care of him,” Helen protested.

  “I’ll get him food and water and go down there armed.” Ben forced a smile.

  Helen glanced at the door. “We can go together.”

  “I enjoy your company, but honestly I’d rather go alone. Jeremy’s extremely agitated, and I’m afraid he might try to hurt you.”

  Helen shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe you’re right, but I feel guilty. I’m the one who argued to have him stay here. Now you’re in hot water with your firm and taking care of Jeremy. That’s just wrong.”

  Ben gently squeezed her arm. The touch gave him a flare of desire. “I want to do this. I’m risking my career to do it, so let me.” Helen’s brows squeezed together and one side of her mouth pulled up. Ben slipped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her into a side hug. Her body pressed to his, Ben suppressed a groan and fought the urge to kiss her. The DerFoodle Dog only heightened the attraction that already existed. “It’s okay.”

  Before his body overpowered his brain, Ben walked into the kitchen and began gathering items to make a sandwich. “Those hot dogs…” His voice trailed off.

  “Shouldn’t be legal,” Helen finished in a shaky breath.

  Jeremy’s muted bellow wafted between them.

  “I better go take care of the miscreant,” Ben said.

  Jeremy was next to the toilet where Ben had left him. His matted, dark hair stuck to his pasty-white, sweat-covered face. The swelling in his eye had gone down and was replaced with hues of red and blue. The food Ben left earlier sat on the tray uneaten.

  Jeremy glared at Ben with hallow eyes and barked, “Give me back my stuff. I didn’t say you could take it.”

  “Why don’t you eat something.” Ben set the new tray on the floor and using the end of a broom pushed it close enough for Jeremy to reach. Jeremy threw his head back smashing it into the wall. The basement shook from the impact. Apparently liking the effect, Jeremy did it again. And again.

  “Jeremy, stop it.” Ben worried Jeremy was on the verge of cracking his head open.

  Thud. Thud.

  “Stop!” Ben demanded stepping closer.

  Thud. Thud.

  Ben grabbed a fist full of Jeremy’s greasy hair. Jeremy’s hand shot out, clutched Ben’s throat, and squeezed. Surprised, Ben gagged before ramming his fist into the crux of Jeremy’s elbow, breaking his grip. Ben stepped out of reach.

  “Touch me again and I’ll kill you,” Jeremy’s hate-filled blue eyes bore into Ben.

  “The drug’s are speaking not you.” Ben tried to sound light, confident.

  “You think this is a fucking game? You think you can force me to stay clean. Once an addict, always an addict.”

  Glancing at the two full trays of food, Ben said, “If you become dehydrated, we’ll be forced to hospitalize you.”

  Jeremy’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he bashed his skull against the wall again. Ben didn’t know how to make him stop then Jeremy halted abruptly. “Even in rehab they give a guy shit while he’s in withdrawals. Cold turkey can kill a guy.”

  Ben swallowed. “I’ll do more research.”

  “You do that.”

  Ben retreated up the stairs. Halfway up, Jeremy slammed his head against the wall again. Throughout the encounter, Ben’s Defoodle Dog-inspired erection stayed healthy, although the desire to use it had evaporated.

  When he stepped into the living room, Helen, who sat reading a textbook, lifted her head. “Is Jeremy okay?”

  “No.” Ben raked a hand through his hair.

  “I don’t like this arrangement, but I promised Agatha.”

  “There’s got to be a limit to what you’ll do for her.”

  Helen stared at him as if he’d grown a third eye. “Why would you say that?”

  “Well…” he stammered. “You doing too much. What happening is a big deal.”

  “I don’t feel that way. If you don’t want to stay, I’ll finish the job. I’m not abandoning Agatha, she’s my friend.”

  Guilt burned inside his chest. “I don’t intend to quit, nor am I asking you to. I’m just saying…” his voice trailed off.

  “Saying what?”

  The burn in his chest flared. He was about to advise she take the easy way out. Like he’d done. “Never mind.”

  “Then don’t say stuff like ‘there’s got to be a limit.’” Helen glared.

  Ben blew out a breath. “I need to do more research to find out what we’re up against with Jeremy.”

  Helen nodded. “Good idea.” She stared absently at the text in her book.

  Ben held his breath and listened. He didn’t hear Jeremy hitting his head. He hoped the man hadn’t knocked himself unconscious. About to go to the kitchen where he’d left his laptop, he cast a glance in Helen’s direction and found her watching him. “What?”

  Her mischievous smile cut through the tension and brightened the room. “Stop that,” Helen said.

  “Stop what?”

  “You’re come hither thing.”

  Ben grinned. “You know, I think for scientific purposes, we should probably do more research on the DerFoodle.”

  Helen shook her head. “Nice try. Ugh, those hot dogs I feel like a drug pusher. At least the mystery of the embarrassed customers is solved.” She paused. “I asked you to stop
that.”

  “Am I doing the come hither thing again?”

  “Definitely.”

  “I tried to stop.”

  “Helen, maybe we’re… maybe we ought to… we have chemistry.”

  “Chemistry was never the problem.” Helen tossed her textbook aside and stood. “I’ll change Theo’s sheets. You can sleep in his room tonight. That’ll be more comfortable than the couch.”

  “Okay.”

  “Don’t be offended, but afterward I’m going to my bedroom to read.” Helen’s gaze dropped to the bulge in Ben’s pants then she squeezed her eyes shut. “I have a test I need to study for.”

  ****

  The ringing phone cut into Helen’s dream. Groggily, she slung her arm over the nightstand and knocked the phone to the floor. Helen hung off the side of the bed and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Are we awake?” Seth asked.

  Helen groaned in response.

  “Tell me my favorite hot dog auteur is ready for the big jump this morning.”

  Helen blew out a resigned breath. The man was sadistic. He’d pushed skydiving on her only because he knew the idea terrified her. “Let’s get this over with.”

  “You’ll be thanking me,” he sang.

  Helen squeezed the bridge of her nose, arguing was moot.

  “I’ll be at your place in thirty minutes,” Seth said.

  “Oh man. Okay. Let me get dressed.”

  “Don’t get dressed on my account.”

  “Will I be back in time for the lunch rush?” Helen asked.

  “No worries. It only takes forty seconds to hit the ground.” Seth guffawed, and Helen gripped the phone tighter. Rather than be rude, she didn’t respond.

  “Lighten up,” Seth said.

  Helen tried to think of something to say that wasn’t spiteful or sarcastic and came up with, “See in thirty.”

  “Yes you will.”

  After taking a quick shower, Helen intended to check on Jeremy. She found Ben in the kitchen typing on his computer.

  “Good morning. You’re up early,” Ben said.

  “You’re up earlier. Don’t you ever sleep?” she asked.

  “What’s the point?” Ben quirked a half grin.

  “I have that darn skydiving thing this morning.” Her tone was out of tune. She poured herself a cup of coffee.

  “Ah yes. With Seth, the actor.”

  Helen detected something in Ben’s voice, but was too sleepy to decipher it. “Have you checked on our detainee?”

  Ben’s humor dissipated. “Yes.”

  “I should go check on him.” Helen turned in the direction of the stairwell.

  “I wouldn’t,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “It’ll give you nightmares. Seriously.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  “He’s angry and in a lot of pain.” Ben tapped the tabletop. “He’s got the shakes and has been vomiting.”

  “He should be in a hospital.”

  Ben nodded. “I’d be happy to take him to one if he’d go, but he won’t.”

  “Even now?”

  “He wants heroin not a hospital.”

  Helen brows drew together. “Could he die?”

  “Anything’s possible. We don’t know what injuries he might have sustained, and he’s probably got a half dozen diseases.”

  “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “But death isn’t likely. Not only from the heroin withdrawals anyway. Tonight and tomorrow should be the worst of it. After that, his cravings and withdrawal symptoms should subside.” Ben’s eyes were glossed over and bloodshot.

  “I need to check on him Ben. This isn’t fair to you. Did you get any sleep?”

  “I’ll be fine, and Jeremy’s taken care of don’t worry about him.” Ben glanced at his computer then blinked a few times.

  “You’re buried with work. I’ll tell Seth I can’t go.”

  Ben smiled meekly. “There’s no need. I got Jeremy under control, and it’s only for a few days anyway. I wasn’t there all the times Theo was sick.” Ben rubbed a hand over his scraggly chin. “But I’m here now.”

  “This isn’t the same.”

  “It can’t be the same, that time is gone.” The corners of his mouth drooped. “This is what I can do now.”

  Helen emotions were mixed. “What a mess. I’m sorry I got us into this. I thought I was helping Agatha and Jeremy. I was naive.”

  “Things might still work out the way you and Agatha imagined. I’m going to buy a few supplies this morning once the drug store opens to help him through.”

  Ben eased Helen’s burdens, and she appreciated having someone to rely on. “Thank you for your help.”

  Ben nodded.

  Helen gazed at the stairwell, she didn’t want to visit Jeremy. “He’s quiet right now, maybe I should let him be.”

  “Good choice.”

  “After I get back, I’ll talk to Agatha and find out how close she is to contacting the police,” Helen said. The doorbell buzzed. “I guess Seth’s here.” A new wave of dread came over her. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “You should grab something to eat. Have you taken your insulin?” Ben asked.

  “I’ll take it when I get back.”

  “Seth can wait a few minutes.”

  “Ben, I’ve handled this for many years without your help,” Helen said as she fished a bagel out of a bag on the counter. Helen opened the front door to Seth, standing on her porch. His wide smile made him look like a blond Dennis Quaid. With shark’s teeth.

  “Morning,” Seth said.

  “Hey Seth,” Helen replied dully. Seth’s gaze traveled over her shoulder and his smile faltered. “I didn’t know you two had a thing going.”

  A glance back confirmed Ben was in the living room. The two men seemed locked in a staring contest. Helen didn’t have the patience for a testosterone battle. “Let’s go.” She stepped passed Seth.

  “Good luck,” Ben called.

  Helen waved then climbed in Seth’s jeep. Seth followed. His demeanor was tense, and the drive to the airfield quiet, broken only by Helen’s questions about the upcoming jump. Seth explained they’d be jumping in tandem, fused together through a series of straps and harnesses.

  As the primary jumper, Helen would have the honors of pulling the tab that opened the parachute for them both. In the event something went wrong, they had a second parachute Seth could access.

  After arriving at the airfield, Helen scrawled her signature across a dozen waivers. The message was clear: skydiving is dangerous. Cursing her integrity and her stupidity for ending up skydiving to begin with, Helen worked to keep her fear under control. At least Seth’s mood had picked up when he saw his jumping buddies.

  A two-hour crash course followed the waiver signing. Helen learned how to maintain a stable body position while in free fall, proper landing, how to activate her parachute, and more. The course, with its worst-case scenarios, only terrified her more, and sweat pooled in her armpits as she fitted into a jumpsuit.

  With her stomach fluttering, Helen boarded the eight-person aircraft. She, along with four other jumpers, sat cross-legged on the floor of the small plane. The blue sky shone through the round, foot-wide windows.

  The plane vibrated as the engine rumbled to life. Helen had never been in a plane so small and was surprised by its thunderous roar and how it shook in the wind. They lifted off the ground and her stomach tumbled like an unbalanced washing machine.

  She looked up and found Seth smiling at her. Unable to fathom why anyone would willingly jump from a plane, Helen raised her eyebrows. His grin broadened. As they continued their assent, Helen grew more anxious.

  “We’re approaching twelve-thousand feet. I’ll start circling in a few minutes,” the pilot’s voice blasted through speakers.

  Helen’s pulse thrummed in her temples. Angry with herself for making the bet, she vowed to be more careful in the future. Inches away, Seth yelled over the no
ise of the engines, “Relax. Remember what I told you.”

  Helen nodded. She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly and deeply. She envisioned a sandy beach, sun, and palm trees swaying in a gentle breeze. Something touched her knee, and she opened her eyes.

  Seth mouthed, “It’s time.”

  Helen nodded, got to her knees, and turned her back to Seth. He scooted closer so his chest was pressed against her spine. A harness was fitted around her and Seth’s torsos leaving their heads, arms, and legs free. The belts were cinched so tight Helen could feel Seth’s every breath.

  “Ready?” Seth spoke in her ear.

  She nodded. Thirty-five seconds of free fall, followed by six minutes of floating with the parachute, they’d land, and the jump would be over. Seth gave the thumbs-up to another jumper, who wrenched up the door.

  Wind barreled in on them. Bile rose in her throat, and Helen sucked in great gulps of air to keep from vomiting. Seth spun them toward the gaping hole, propelling them forward. Breathe in. Out. In. Out. Her view became more sky and less plane’s interior.

  Instinct dictated she resist falling from thirteen thousand feet and when her foot came into contact with the doorframe, she pushed back. Seth scooted back, dislodged her foot with his own then, twisting their torsos, forced her legs over the side.

  She dangled off him. Helen wanted to grab the doorframe and pull them back in, but during the training she’d been warned that failure to drop from the plane in proper position could send them into a deadly, downward spiral. She clamped her mouth shut and crossed her arms in front of her as she’d been taught.

  The roar of air and engine was deafening.

  Seth wrapped his arms around her, and leaned forward. They curled into a forward summersault, spinning once in the air, before straightening out. Helen was suspended between heaven and earth. The air they sliced through pushed back as if trying to hold them up. With no chance of turning back, Helen’s nerves eased, and she delighted in her unobstructed views. Dark-green forests mingled with farms, green-and-brown crops were planted in giant, geometric shapes. To the left, the blue-black ocean tossed its marine-craft confetti on peaks of white.

  Helen imagined they sliced through the air like fish through the water. She checked her altimeter. They were at 12,500 feet. She fingered the parachute pull before stretching her arms wide.