Desperate Times

by Nicholas Antinozzi

  She has to be there, Jimmy thought bitterly. He slowly dialed the number from the rolodex and prayed for it to connect.

  “Peterson residence,” answered a snobbish voice Jimmy recognized as Carl’s, the Peterson’s butler. Thank you, thought Jimmy.

  “Hey, Carl, its Jimmy, how’s it going?” Jimmy asked, swallowing hard. He couldn’t stand the arrogant little man, and he knew that the feeling was mutual.

  “Mr. Logan, what a pleasant surprise,” said Carl. “What can I do for you?”

  “Is Paula there? She left this morning and I haven’t heard from here. I’m worried about her.”

  “Is that so?” asked Carl.

  “Just tell me, Carl. Please? You don’t have to put her on the phone. Just tell me if she’s there,” Jimmy pleaded, hating himself for doing so.

  “I wouldn’t know,” said Carl, sounding pleased with himself. “I’ve been out shopping all day and just got in when you phoned.”

  “Could you please check for me?” Jimmy asked, his teeth clenched and his face flush with anger.

  “I’m quite busy at the moment. You might try back in an hour.”

  “Don’t make me drive down there, Carl. I don’t have an hour! Do you understand me? I’m not playing a game here. I just need to know if she’s there. Now set the damn telephone down and go look!”

  “Temper, temper,” replied Carl, his voice sounding amused by Jimmy’s threat.

  “Do it! Do it now!” Jimmy screamed into the phone. He’d lost all control and began to pace madly back and forth. He would drive down there, and his mind was already making the arrangements.

  Carl must’ve known heard that in his voice. “Just a moment,” he replied smugly. “I’ll see if Miss Paula is here.”

  “Thank you,” Jimmy hissed back.

  A minute passed, then another. Jimmy knew the house was large, but there were countless other telephones in countless other rooms. He growled like a mad dog. He couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t remember feeling so angry, so helpless. Another minute passed, and just as Jimmy was about to throw the phone out the window and head to Edina, Stanley Peterson picked up on the other end.

  “Yes?” he asked in his thin, reedy voice.

  “Mr. Peterson, it’s Jimmy. I’m worried about Paula. Would she happen to be there?”

  There was a long pause on the line, and Jimmy heard Stanley ask for someone, perhaps Carl, to leave the room and give him some privacy. Finally, he cleared his throat and answered. “Yes, she’s here.”

  “Thank God,” Jimmy said, feeling relief wash over him.

  “Now listen, Jimmy,” Stanley Peterson practically whispered into the telephone. “We’ve had a long chat, and she’s staying with us. She’s safe here. I hear you’re heading north? How nice. We understand completely. A trailer home is no place to stay in dangerous times such as these.”

  “Can I talk to her?”

  “I’m afraid not. She isn’t up to it. She did say that she’d call you in a couple of days. I do hope you’ll honor her wishes. This is terribly difficult for her.”

  “Of course,” Jimmy said, feeling very alone. “I understand. She’ll have to call the house number in Ely. She has it saved on her phone. There doesn’t seem to be any cell service right now.”

  “I’ll give her the message,” replied Mr. Peterson. “Thank you, Jimmy. And good luck to you. Be careful out there. Paula cares a great deal for you.”

  “Thank you,” Jimmy said quietly, but the connection had been broken and Stanley Peterson was gone. Jimmy was puzzled by Mr. Peterson’s tone of voice. He’d never talked to him with something so close to warmth. Jimmy had always thought of him as a cold, calculating man who used his inherited money as a weapon. Yet he’d been kind on the telephone, even gracious. Somehow, that made him feel a little better about the situation. Paula was back in their world which Jimmy thought would hardly miss a beat as everything around them came crashing down.

  That thought would prove to be wrong.

  Jimmy peered out the window, and his jaw dropped. There was Bill, dressed in a busy-looking button-up shirt, khaki shorts and flip-flop sandals. He wore a silly hat that made him look like a senior citizen in Florida. He jogged along carrying his fishing poles and a cooler toward the truck. Cindy sat hunched over on a patio chair, dressed from head to toe in black. Jimmy had watched her grow up—a pretty, vibrant girl, who’d found Goth the moment her parents had divorced. Jimmy knew that beneath that black studded shell was a sweet young lady who had merely lost her way.

  He knew he had to call Ken.

  He couldn’t put it off any longer. Jimmy had to do it now. He picked up the receiver and set it down again. “Damn it,” he cursed. Why did this have to be so difficult? And suddenly it came to him. It didn’t have to be difficult. Not yet, at least. He’d tell Bill that everything was fine and that they were more than welcome to stay with them up at the lake. Bill and Cindy could follow in Bill’s Honda, and they’d be to Ken’s place in town in ten minutes. He’d tell Ken that he couldn’t leave them. If Ken called his bluff, then they’d come back here and take their chances. Friends didn’t leave their friends at times like these, thought Jimmy. That was it. He’d made his plan and was going to stick with it. Jimmy thought it was what his own father would’ve wanted him to do.

  “You guys all packed?” Jimmy shouted with a grin as he turned the key on the deadbolt lock on his front door. “We’re getting out of here!” He hoped they couldn’t see through the illusion he was trying to create.

  “Really?” asked Bill, his eyes bright with excitement.

  “Really,” lied Jimmy. “Everything’s taken care of.”

  “That’s great!” exclaimed Bill, dropping a suitcase next to the Mack and jogging toward Jimmy with his arms open wide.

  “Hold it,” Jimmy said, taking a step back and holding up his hands. “Hold it right there. No more hugs, okay? What would the neighbors think?”

  Bill stopped, looked up and down the street and then he got Jimmy’s joke. He laughed. “Come on, Cindy. Get your stuff down to the truck!”

  “How you set for gas?” Jimmy asked, eyeing the little car.

  “It’s full. I’ve got two five-gallon cans if you think I’ll need them.”

  “Couldn’t hurt,” said Jimmy. “We can strap them in the back of the truck. They’ll ride all right.”

  “How far is this place?”

  “Four hours,” said Jimmy. “Their place is just outside of Ely.”

  “Nice,” said Bill, motioning Jimmy toward the back of the truck. “Come here. I want to show you something.”

  Jimmy followed, unsure of what to expect. Bill had stacked up an impressive pile behind the truck, and Jimmy sidestepped duffel bags and cardboard boxes as he followed Bill.

  “Check this out,” whispered Bill as he quickly unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a sidearm in a shoulder holster. “I bought it last week. Glad I did, too. I wish I would’ve had it when those two guys tried stealing the truck. I would’ve air conditioned the both of them.”

  “Holy crap,” said Jimmy. “I don’t know. Have you even shot that thing? You don’t have a permit to carry one of those, do you?”

  “Permit?” spat Bill. “Give me a break. I can shoot, Jimmy. Really, I can. I used to target shoot up at the farm all the time. You should have one yourself. What do you think, huh? Isn’t she a beauty?”

  Jimmy nodded as if he thought it was. He wasn’t a hunter, and until today he’d never been in a situation that he couldn’t talk or slug his way out of. He’d never fired a gun in his life, a fact that he was secretly proud of. He didn’t believe in guns. He never had.

  Like the world around him, that belief was going to change quickly.

  “Who the hell is that?” barked Ken, his red face just inches away from Jimmy’s own.

  Thankfully, Bill and Cindy were still parked out on the gravel road behind the truck. They hadn’t been able to get into Ken’s driveway as there were at least twelve oth
er vehicles parked there. Jimmy had a sneaking suspicion what was going on, and as mad as Ken was, it was all he could do to keep the smile off his face. “That’s my neighbor, Bill.” he said. “You’ve met him.”

  “Are you kidding me?” Ken shot back, his eyes wild with fury. “That fat son of a bitch with a broken back? That’s just great, Jimmy. He’ll be a lot of help. What the hell do you think I’m running here, a soup kitchen? Apparently Patty thinks so. Look at all these damn cars. She invited her sister, her cousin, her niece, even some of the crew from work. I don’t even know half these people. She seems to have invited half the damn town! Do you see that little yellow car down there? That belongs to her hair stylist, Jon. He’s as queer as a three dollar bill! What the hell was she thinking? That he’d come in handy to cut our hair?”

  Jimmy had never seen Ken so angry. From over Ken’s shoulder Jimmy could see someone’s shadow next to the garage. It was obvious that whoever it was listened to everything Ken was saying. Jimmy thought he knew who lurked there. He hoped he was right.

  “So, I’ve got to draw the line. No. He can’t come along. Sorry. You head on out there and tell him that there’s no more room at the inn,” Ken said, his tone a little lighter.

  “If he goes, so do I,” said Jimmy.

  “Well, good luck to you then,” answered Ken, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Kid.”

  “He’s not going anywhere, and neither are his friends!” shouted a woman’s voice. It had been Patty Dahlgren standing next to the garage. Her voice was so full of anger and contempt that Jimmy had hardly recognized it.

  Ken seemed to shrink six inches as turned to face his wife. He even backed up a few steps when he caught sight of her. Jimmy did the same. Patty’s face was every bit as red and twice as frightening as her husband’s had ever been. Patty Dahlgren was a solid woman, approaching sixty. Her once blond hair was now starting to gray, and the corners of her blue eyes were deeply lined. She wore an apron over a cotton shirt and blue jeans. She was tall for a woman, and she moved in like a freight train. She wasn’t merely walking toward Ken—she was charging him, her meaty arms swinging at her side. For a moment Jimmy thought that she was going to attack the poor man.

  “That’s enough, Kenneth!” she said in a blistering voice. “God may forgive you, but I don’t think I ever will. Look at you, turning good people away with no place to go! I’m ashamed of you! Do you hear me?”

  Jimmy was quite sure that he had, that everyone had. Ken’s face was the color of snow.

  She continued on, not waiting for an answer. “We’ve got plenty of room up there,” she said, pointing a finger into the distance. “There’s enough room for everyone. By God, Kenneth, and if there isn’t enough room, we’ll make room! And if I ever hear you talk about Jon that way again, I’ll wash your mouth out with soap. He’s one of the nicest men I’ve ever met, and a God fearing Christian. He’s just different and you’d better get used to that fact. Does he threaten you, Kenneth? Does he? Wake up; this is the twenty first century! And what have you got against my family? I’m ashamed of you, Kenneth. I just can’t believe you said those awful things.”

  Ken opened his mouth and closed it quickly. He bowed his head, rubbing his face with his hands. This is awkward, thought Jimmy. They stood there in absolute silence for nearly a minute, Patty Dahlgren waiting to pounce on her husband if he showed anything but complete capitulation.

  “Are we clear on that?” she asked in a quiet, yet stern voice.

  “Yes, dear,” replied Ken wisely.

  “Good,” she said. “Now, here come the Bauers. Walk down to the end of the driveway with me to greet them.”

  “Who?” asked Ken, looking thunderstruck.

  “Sharon and Tom Bauer; you should know them. I think Tom’s only worked for us for ten years. And by God, they’re good people. You’d better treat them nicely. Got that, buster?”

  Ken nodded, a defeated man. “Is that everyone?” he asked weakly.

  “As a matter of fact, it is,” replied Patty. She then turned to Jimmy who hadn’t moved an inch. Her face had returned to its usual sweetness, her eyes were now glowing. “Paula’s not coming along? That’s a shame. I’m sorry, Jimmy. Now go get your friends and bring them round back. I just pulled burgers off the grill, so eat up. We’ll be pulling out soon. Just make sure to use the bathroom before we leave.”

  Jimmy smiled and nodded his head gratefully. “Thank you, Patty,” he said. He caught Ken’s eye, and Ken grinned sheepishly.

  “Tom, Sharon!” hollered Patty in a welcoming voice, grabbing Ken’s hand and walking down the driveway. “Thank the Lord you made it!”

  Jimmy walked down the other end of the horseshoe driveway, a stupid grin pasted to his face. There was no question who ruled the roost around here, and Jimmy was glad for it. He walked past the Mack and waved Bill and Cindy out of the Honda. “Come on. Let’s grab a bite to eat,” he said.

  The doors opened in unison. “Thanks, man. It was hot in there,” said Bill, fanning his face with his hand. “So, everything’s good?”

  “You know it,” answered Jimmy, turning back in the direction he’d come.

  “What was all the screaming about?” asked Cindy.

  “That?” asked Jimmy. “That was just a little disagreement between the Dahlgrens. Nothing to worry about. Everything’s fine now.”

  “It sounded like she was ripping him a new one,” said Bill, a smile on his round face.

  Jimmy laughed. “Bill, that’s the understatement of the year.”

  They made their way around back, and Jimmy immediately saw the cause for Ken’s concern. There were at least twenty-five people in the back yard of Ken’s house. Some he recognized, others he didn’t. A few of the men from the Plant waved at Jimmy as they approached the line at the long picnic table that Patty had prepared for them. Jimmy waved back. The smell of smoking charcoal hung thick in the warm air. Jimmy spotted Pete Donnelly and Glen Putnam; both men had their wives at their sides and looked at the growing crowd with disgust. They both leered at him, and he was quite certain that it wasn’t his imagination. He found that he really didn’t care; he wasn’t working for them now and perhaps never would again. He returned his attention to the food. He hadn’t felt hungry, but suddenly his stomach growled at the sight of the feast Patty had prepared. He stopped at the end of the line, feeling Bill’s stomach bump into his back.

  “Hey, Jimmy,” came a woman’s familiar voice from behind him. He turned and looked into the smiling face of Julie Hartman, and Jimmy felt as if his heart had suddenly skipped a beat.

  “Julie, how are you?”

  “I’m okay, now,” she said. “Small world, huh? Where’s Paula? That’s your girlfriend’s name, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” said Jimmy, suddenly remembering how Julie always got directly to her point. “She went down to stay with her folks. She’s not coming along.”

  Julie raised her eyebrows and nodded. “That’s too bad,” she said. “I’m alone, too. Mike, you remember Mike Miller, don’t you? Well, he was dead-set on going out to his brother’s place down in Rochester. When I told him that I wasn’t going along, he packed up and left this morning.”

  Jimmy nodded, seeing the hurt in her eyes. He understood how she felt all too well. He and Julie had a storied past. They’d nearly married, and Jimmy still wondered what had gone wrong. They crossed paths from time to time, although not as often as they used to. Julie looked as if she hadn’t aged a day; her brown hair was still long and was pulled back into a simple ponytail. She had retained her figure, and Jimmy could see more than one pair of eyes on her as she stood there studying him. Jimmy swallowed hard, feeling that old familiar attraction. Julie Hartman was still an incredibly beautiful woman.

  “I’m Bill Huggins,” blurted Bill, sticking his hand out to Julie. “Jimmy’s neighbor. Have you eaten yet? You can cut in if you want.”

  “Why, thank you,” Julie said with a grin. She held her hand out to Bill’s and shook it. “Ju
lie Hartman. Jimmy and I are old friends. Isn’t that right, Jimmy?”

  “Yep,” replied Jimmy. “We went to school together.”

  “Oh, come on, Jimmy. Tell him the truth. We dated for years after high school. Jimmy was my first love. I can say that, can’t I?” she asked, her brown eyes boring into Jimmy’s.

  Jimmy continued moving in line. They were at the table now, and he picked up a paper plate and a plastic fork. “That was a long time ago,” he said, catching Cindy’s disapproving eyes as he said it. She knew what was going on, and she obviously didn’t approve.

  “So, what brings you here?” asked Bill, who was looking at Julie as if he’d already fallen in love.

  “Oh, it’s a long story. I’m with Brenda. Do you remember her? She used to work for the Dahlgrens. Patty called and invited her, and I just tagged along. Jimmy and I used to go up to the lake all the time. I love it there. Remember those days, Jimmy? We had a lot of fun. So—you’re all alone, huh?” she asked, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.