Piper ran into the kitchen gasping for breath. For a second, the sight of her reminded Trenda of a sweaty, naked and insane female walrus. Aware that she had Trenda trapped, Piper gave her a maniacal grin. “I’ve got your ass now!”
Trenda frantically sought an escape route, but found none. As Piper lifted the letter opener over her head, Trenda spotted the eighteen-inch-tall peppermill on the table. Piper lunged over the table at her.
In a quick, adrenaline-fueled movement, Trenda grasped the solid walnut peppermill, leaned to her left and clubbed Piper on the side of her head. As Piper yelped with pain, she managed to drag the letter opener across Trenda’s right cheek. That bitch cut my face! Trenda bared her teeth against the pain and brained Piper twice more on the back of the head with the peppermill.
Piper’s eyes rolled up, revealing the whites, before she collapsed onto the table. Trenda held the peppermill in midair, ready to bash her again, but Piper went limp and rolled off the table, striking her head on the linoleum floor.
Trenda panted as she stared down at the fallen big woman. Piper didn’t appear to be breathing. Trenda held the peppermill high as she tapped the side of Piper’s head with her toe. She didn’t respond. Oh shit! I gotta get the fuck outta here. The imagined sound of a jail cell door slamming made Trenda move. Having already spent an unbearable six months in a Philadelphia jail for a parole violation, she had no desire to spend the next twenty-five-years-to-life in the Gray Bar Motel.
She shoved the table out of the way and sprinted to her room. Where are my goddamned sweats? She tore off her robe and dug through her dresser drawers. Failing to find a pair of sweats, she removed the damp jeans and sweatshirt she’d worn earlier from the hamper and pulled them over her naked body, before slipping her bare feet back into her soggy black boots.
No matter how fast Trenda tried to move, it felt as if she was running out of time. She snatched open her closet door and grabbed her “Travelin’ Bag”—a black-and-white Reebok gym bag, which held two sets of sweats, socks, underwear, tennis shoes, two sets of fake driver’s licenses and one thousand dollars in cash. Her hustling lifestyle taught her to be ready to run at anytime, from anywhere.
She sensed the sand in her mental hourglass running out. “Think, don’t panic, think!” Trenda said as she grabbed her cell phone charger and tossed it in her bag. Next, she picked up her New York Yankees cap and Reebok bag and ran out of the room. “Keys! Where are my fuckin’ car keys?”
Trenda spotted them on the floor next to the coffee table that Piper had kicked askew. She slapped the cap on her head and scooped up her keys. Before fleeing the apartment, she went to the kitchen and checked on Piper. It looks like she moved. Trenda cautiously got on one knee and examined her.
She then placed her hand by Piper’s nose and mouth and felt a weak, warm breath escaping. At least her crazy-ass ain’t dead, but she looks kinda fucked up. The small flow of blood from Piper’s ear was a bit disconcerting.
Trenda got to her feet and went to the wall-mounted yellow telephone. I don’t need a murder on my head. She picked up the phone and dialed 9-1-1. After hearing the dispatcher answer, she let the phone receiver fall to the floor, knowing they would send a patrol car out to investigate. Time to get the hell out! Grabbing her bag, keys and purse she fled the apartment.
Four
“C’mon now, Griff! I know you can give me more than two grand. My car ain’t but a year old,” Trenda said to the heavy, dark, thick-glasses-wearing man in front of her. He ran a junkyard in Chestertown where—for the right price—he could make unwanted vehicles disappear, no questions asked.
“How you get that cut on ya pretty face?”
She touched her wound and in the light cast by his dim yard lights, found blood on her fingertip. “I ran into Freddy Krueger. Look, I ain’t got time to socialize. How much you gonna give me for it?” A dull throbbing pain reminded her of her shoulder injury.
He ran his hand over the hood. “You gotta remember, there ain’t a big demand for Isuzu parts around here.” He looked from the cut, into her green eyes. “Now, if it was somethin’ like a Benz, I could break you off a little mo’ change.”
She checked her watch as they stood in the light rain, in front of the trailer Griff lived in, which sat in the back of his messy junkyard. Her instincts told her she had to get going. She then focused on him. “I been bringin’ you customers for years. Two grand is the best you can do?”
He grinned and stared at her large breasts. “Well, maybe if you spend the night, we can figure out a way for you to earn a few mo’ ends.”
I wouldn’t fuck you wit’ somebody else’s pussy. She snatched the wad of cash out of his dirty hands and stuffed it in her pocket. “Fuck it, but you gotta drop me off on North Charles Street.”
He grinned. “I’ll have my man Julio take this piece of shit out back and gut it. I’ll put what’s left in the car crusher.” He pulled a half-smoked cigar out of the pocket of his greasy overalls and fired it up. He was so busy looking at Trenda he didn’t notice the tall, skinny crackhead that stood at the entrance to the junkyard watching them. “Tim, didn’t I tell you to stop hangin’ around here wit’ ya beggin’ ass?”
The filth-ridden dope addict held up one dirty hand. “C’mon, Griff. I’m just tryin’ to get enough change to get some food, or a job.” He then looked at sexy Trenda. “How ’bout you, sista? Can you help a brotha out?”
Trenda glared at him. “Hell naw…I ain’t got shit for you.” Griff took a couple steps toward the dope fiend and he quickly walked away. A moment later, Griff turned and looked at Trenda. “You ready to go?”
“Yeah…get me the fuck outta here,” she said as she removed the blonde wig from her purse and tossed it inside the Isuzu.
After arriving at Piper’s apartment, a pair of cops found a semiconscious Piper and called for an ambulance. One of the cops walked into her bedroom as he searched the apartment for clues as to what had happened. He stopped and stared at the TV screen. “Yo, Robbie, come check this out!”
After entering the bedroom, Robbie’s eyes went to the TV. “Fuck me! Joey, is that officer Kain?”
Joey broke out in a big grin. “Yup, that’s Darius. I bet Captain Kelly would love to see this arrogant asshole on film!”
Robbie returned his grin. “Oh yeah! I knew he wasn’t on the up-and-up. Ridin’ around in that new Escalade and always braggin’ ’bout all the pussy he was gettin’…he got on my fuckin’ nerves.” Robbie then unplugged the camcorder from the TV and packed it up. “Time to take his ass down.”
Five
Trenda had Griff drop her off a mile away from the train station. She then waited until he drove out of sight, then hailed a cab. “Where you goin’ tonight, lady?” the young black cab driver asked, as he gazed at her through the Plexiglas shield between them.
She pulled the door closed. “Penn Station.” The cabbie’s flirtatious stare annoyed her. “Can you turn around and get goin’? I don’t wanna miss my train.”
The cabbie sensed her hostility and turned around. “A’ight, we’ll be there in a minute.”
“Oh fuck!” she yelled as she went through the contents of her getaway bag. “I forgot the goddamn camcorder!”
The cabbie looked at her in his rearview mirror. “Somethin’ wrong?”
She sat back with her hands over her face. She slowly wiped them down her face and shook her head. Oh well, I guess I ain’t gotta worry about Darius’s punk-ass no more anyway.
Ten minutes later, at 11:48 p.m., she handed the cabbie a twenty and hurried inside the Amtrak station. She removed her wet baseball cap, beat it against her leg, then put it back on her head. She then hurried to the only open ticket window. “Helloooooo! Where are you traveling to, ma’am?” the spike-haired, thin moustache-wearing, medium-built, Asian man behind the glass asked. His frilly voice, tongue piercing and thumb rings made one question his manhood.
Confusion filled her face. Damn, I didn’t think about that; where
the hell am I goin’? She then scanned the red digital schedule board over the ticket counter. I need the next thing smokin’ outta here. Her eyes stopped on a train leaving at 12:07 a.m. “Gimme a ticket for that train goin’ to Oakland.”
The ticket agent quickly typed on his keyboard, then asked, “Round trip?”
“One way.” Trenda checked her watch as the agent continued to type. “How long is the ride?”
“About three days.”
“How much?”
“It depends on your accommodations. Would you like a coach seat or roomette?”
She heard the sound of an approaching train. “I dunno…I ain’t ever rode a train. Do they have beds?”
The agent gave her a condescending gaze. “You’ll want a roomette.” He looked at his screen, then back at Trenda. “Are you traveling alone?”
The sound of the train’s air brakes announced its arrival. Anxiety filled her voice. “Yeah, yeah, just me.”
The agent rolled his eyes from the scratch on her face to his screen. “That fare is $299 plus an additional $286 for the bedroom. Do you still want it?”
She spotted an Amtrak security guard in a transparent, rain-covered poncho talking into his two-way radio as he entered the ticket area from outside. She dug into the pocket of her jeans and removed her bankroll as she stared at the blond-haired guard.
“Yeah…I want it.”
After purchasing her ticket, she pulled the bill of her cap down low on her forehead and went to board the train. She peeked back over her shoulder and noticed the guard walking toward the ticket agent window. She checked her watch while standing in line to board the train; midnight straight up. C’mon, y’all…let’s go!
After boarding the train and receiving directions to her roomette, she checked the time and breathed a little easier. Cool, the train should be leavin’ any minute now. She entered her small roomette, closed and locked the door. She then tossed her bags on one of the reclining seats and collapsed into the other one. She checked her watch. “Damn, it’s ten after twelve. Why ain’t we movin’?”
A specter of panic paid her a visit. Ignoring her instincts, she went to her window, eased the curtain back a few inches and peeked out. “Oh hell no!”
Outside, about twenty yards from the train, she saw the original security guard along with two additional guards talking to the conductor who had taken her ticket. Trenda quickly pulled her curtains closed. She sat back and tried to slow her breathing and racing pulse.
The plans of the just are legitimate; the designs of the wicked are deceitful.—PROVERBS 12:5
Shut up, Daddy!
Many people in her position may have said a prayer, but after growing up in her household, she refused to seek comfort from the Higher Power. She preferred to get her comfort from cash or good sex.
A sudden jerk of the train shook her out of her sense of impending doom. Yes! It’s about damn time we got goin’! As the train picked up speed, she worked up the nerve to peek out the window again. To her horror, the security guard looked directly into her eyes as the train pulled past him.
Frozen with fear, she couldn’t retreat. Her eyes locked on the guard’s blue eyes briefly before the train banked to the left, ending the moment.
Six
Damn, I gotta pee, Trenda thought, an hour later, as she waited for the train to leave the D.C. train station. Her fear of running into a security guard kept her locked in her room with a full bladder.
Once the train left the station, she slowly opened her door and looked down the corridor. Cool, ain’t no guards out here. She then eased her door closed and walked to the restroom, at the end of the car.
After draining herself, she looked into the mirror as she washed her hands. Shit, I hope this cut don’t leave a scar. She then gently lowered the shoulder of her sweatshirt and inspected her other wound. She winced as she wet a paper towel and cleaned up her cut. Fortunately, it had stopped bleeding, but it looked deep. She nearly lost her balance as the train wobbled over an old bridge. I sure hope this muthafucka don’t hop off the tracks!
Outside the bathroom, her stomach growled. I wonder if they got food on this train. She worked up her nerve, opened the sliding doors between the cars and stepped through. The car was nearly vacant. A few reclined seats held sleeping passengers. In the dimly lit car, a sign on the wall of a dinner plate and utensils pointed toward the next car. She held on to the vacant seats as she tried to get used to the motion of the train.
I didn’t know trains had two levels. She followed the signs that pointed to the dining car. After ascending the stairs, she spotted an abandoned counter. Behind the counter was a grill. Damn! I wish the cook was on duty. I could use a big-ass hamburger right now.
Her stomach rumbled. Before leaving the car, she noticed a pair of vending machines on the far side of the grill, next to the dining tables. She reached into her pocket for some cash as she walked over to the machines. “Hey, don’t put any money into the soda machine. It took my dollar and didn’t give me a soda.”
She nearly jumped out the window. She failed to see the bald headed, chunky, brown-skinned, smiling, brown-eyed man sitting at one of the dining tables. A laptop computer and open bag of corn chips sat on the table in front of him. “Oh…thanks…” she managed to say as she composed herself.
“I didn’t mean to scare you, sorry.” He then worked himself out of his seat, adjusting his glasses as he walked over to the vending machines. “Let me treat you to dinner.”
Trenda read the sincerity in his face. His smile and precisely trimmed full beard was warm and inviting. “Don’t worry ’bout it; I’ll take a rain check.”
He stepped in front of her and slid a dollar into the machine. “No way. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I didn’t make it up to you.”
Trenda tried not to smile, but his was contagious. “I don’t usually go to dinner wit’ strangers.”
He stepped back and offered her his large hand. “Okay, let’s fix that. My name’s Eli Bockman; but everyone calls me ‘Box.’”
Trenda inserted a second dollar into the machine, then shook his hand. I better use one of my aliases. “My name’s Mya…Mya Collins.”
He reminded her of a professor in his round, gold-rimmed glasses, baby-blue dress shirt and tan khaki pants. “Ahhhh, Mya…it fits you. That’s a very pretty name.”
She turned back to the machine and selected a bag of pretzels and a small package of beef jerky. He is kinda cute, but I’m way too tired to fight “Big Boy” off right now. When she turned around to give him one of her patented excuses to stop his advances, she was surprised to see that he’d gone back to his seat.
He picked up a pair of headphones that were plugged into his laptop and placed them on his head. She then opened her pretzels and nibbled on one as she walked over to his table. “Thanks again.”
He removed his headphones. “What did you say?”
“I said thanks for dinner.”
Like many men before him, he was drawn to her emerald eyes. “You are very welcome, Mya.” He went back to his laptop screen.
Something about his gentleness intrigued her. “Why are you workin’ on that computer so late?”
He clicked his wireless mouse a few times, then spun the laptop around for her to see. “I’m playing chess.”
She covered her mouth and yawned. “Well, have fun; I’ll catch you later.”
He glanced at her breasts before turning his laptop around. He then gave her a smile. “Meet me here for breakfast. They start serving at six.”
She walked away, giving him a perfect look at her nice behind. Without looking back at him she said, “I’ll think about it.”
Minutes later, she entered her room and locked the door. She placed her snacks on the table and stripped naked. She then inspected her aching body. “Oh shit! Look at this damn bruise on my shin.” The scratch on her face was no longer bleeding, but a nagging itch took its place as the wound tried to heal. “I swear I’m gonna go back and k
ill that bitch if I get a scar from this cut.”
She converted both reclining seats into her bed, then sat down and thought about her situation. Too tired to finish her food, she lay back on the bed. The rocking motion of the train and clicketyclack of the wheels on the tracks caused her eyelids to slowly close.
Seven
Trenda awoke at 1:30 p.m. to the residual aches and pains from her injuries. I need a long hot bath and a massage. She then slowly sat up and swung her legs over the edge of her bed. I’m sure glad they got showers on this train.
As she sat naked on her bed, she heard a buzzing sound on the floor. “I wonder who the hell is lookin’ for me.” She picked up her purse and removed her vibrating cell phone. “Goooooddamn! I got sixteen missed calls.”
After seeing that half of her missed calls were from Piper’s parents, Trenda’s thoughts went back to the security guards back at the train station. The rest of the calls were from various underworld figures in need of her services. “Fuck, I’m missin’ all kinds of money.”
She removed her phone charger and plugged in her cell phone. Once she saw the power light indicate it was charging, she removed her pink velour sweatsuit and matching pink thong and satin bra. She donned her black outfit once again, picked up her clean clothes, towels and complimentary soap and headed for the showers.
She showered, dressed and made her way to the dining car. She didn’t realize how hungry she was until she watched a woman bite into a grilled chicken sandwich. The sound and smell of hamburger patties cooking on the grill nearly made her drool.
“What can I get you?” the middle-aged Spanish cook asked as she flipped a burger pattie.
Trenda scanned the laminated menu. “Let me have the cheeseburger meal and a Sprite.”
Trenda paid for her meal, then took a window seat in a booth and waited for her food. The sun felt good on her face. As the scenery sped by, she daydreamed. It feels damn good knowin’ I ain’t gotta deal wit’ Darius no more. She went into her purse and removed her compact mirror. She then studied the cut on her cheek. Fuckin’ Piper. The more I look at this cut, the more I hope that bitch is dead.
Sins of a Siren Page 2
