by L. B. Dunbar
The day with Lansing…
[Perkins]
I watched her walk away, and continued to follow her sway until she entered the shabby looking building that read, “Western’s Women’s Shelter.”
“You’re dating a homeless woman,” Lansing laughed.
The flat of my hand met the back of his head.
“No.”
“Is she a prostitute or something then?”
“You better stop right there before I beat the shit out of you.” My voice tried to sound teasing, but I felt the shakiness at the words I had asked her this morning. Regardless, I needed to defend her to my friend. Lansing’s glare weighed on me as I pulled into the minimal traffic of this side street in a shady looking part of town.
“Dude, how can you leave her here?”
“She won’t stay with me.”
“Why not?”
“How do you know her?” I questioned again, hoping to change the subject.
“I told you. I saw her at Elaine’s.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. When I was fourteen, maybe fifteen years old.”
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.
“What?”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“I didn’t know I was supposed to. Didn’t think it was important to mention I saw a random girl, once at the Corbin’s, before I ever met you.”
“Important? Important! It could have saved everything.” I was almost yelling as I white knuckled the steering wheel.
“What?” Lansing repeated in a sing-song voice.
“I could have had her so much sooner. She was right there, near me all the time, and I didn’t know it.” I slammed a hand on the steering wheel, and it shuddered under my strength.
“Dude, chill.”
I looked at Lansing quickly and then shook my head.
“You have her now.” He tried to sound like it was all good.
“No. No, I don’t have her yet,” I sighed deeply, as I pulled onto the boulevard to drive toward my home. My thoughts of Hollister momentary lost, as we both glanced in the direction of the merge lane that led to the fateful viaduct and the place of Arturo’s disappearance. We were silent the rest of the ride to my warehouse.
Lansing had me stop for a six-pack and we entered my darkened space. He immediately turned on the television set and connected the game console that I hardly ever used. I had the system only through the generosity of Lansing, and the fact that he was a gamer at heart, who complained that I needed to learn the art. I didn’t need to learn the art of staring at a screen and killing people. It just wasn’t in my nature. The Gentle Giant was a nickname donned by the other bandmates, as I was the oversized guy with a soft heart. If you are poor of spirit, I am there to lift you up. Need hope, I’m there to provide it. Need strength of heart, I’m ready to give it. The problem was there was no one to support me.
My mind raced with what I knew and didn’t know of Hollister SanGrael. Like finding out she was Elaine Corbin’s cousin. If she was in the manor house around the time that Lansing was fourteen and I was sixteen, it means she was within my grasp before the kidnapping. It also meant that my useless wanderings through the woods to find a home, I eventually convinced myself did not exist, actually did exist. Lansing not only knew where it was, but who lived there and had access to the inhabitants. To her. I wanted to kick something, but I loved my drum set too much for such violence.
I grabbed a game console and tried to take my energy out on mythical creatures, spilling blood and spitting fire, but I worked the stick so hard I almost broke it. The plastic cracked and Lansing reached for it.
“Okay, big guy, don’t know your own strength,” he teased. I flung the controller on the floor and slumped back against my cushions. My couch was a custom made sofa to hold the length of me at six five, and while it was comfortable, it wasn’t meant to be slept on as I had done so often over the past two weeks, until last night.
I couldn’t let my thoughts travel to the feel of Hollister against me, the taste of her mouth on mine, the touch of her hands against me. I never wanted a woman as much as I wanted her. I never wanted to throttle a woman as much either. She infuriated me with her secrets. I needed to ask my questions, find my answers, and let her go. She was going to break me, not heal me. I couldn’t believe I had forgotten, in my weakness last night, that she might be a prostitute. Her lips might have been on hundreds of men, in hundreds of places, and I was a fool for forgetting. It explained how she knew what to do to get me worked up and give into her. It didn’t explain what I felt for her, though. Something I knew Hollister was completely unaware of, and at the moment, could completely care less about.
The women’s shelter…
[Hollister]
I had the day shift again and my mood matched the way the day went. I was angry at the DCFS man, who accused us of not following procedure with the young girl who came to us weeks ago, claiming she killed a Fr. Mike. Turned out that she had only stabbed the man, although I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had done worse. It seemed as if he deserved it, and I inquired about the so-called community that this Fr. Mike directed. The gentleman from Child Social Services claimed he wasn’t at liberty to discuss where the girl had been staying, or why, as she was now a protected minor of the state of New York. I didn’t see how that was going to help her rid her mind or her body of the damage done by someone pretending to be a religious figure. I knew, all too well, about those types of men.
It was in my quandary about this mysterious Fr. Mike and his commune when I received a text message. When the phone dinged, I absentmindedly pulled it from my pocket, as I had become accustomed to the constant checking for responses from Perk. I was half hopeful that this would be a message from him. We ended on a terrible note this morning, and Lansing Lotte’s addition only added to the fire in Perk’s eyes.
Nothing could prepare me for the message I received.
I’m coming back for you, my promised one.
I dropped the phone and the clatter on the floor did nothing to shake me from my shock. I shook as I tried to bend, reaching for the phone, and then pulling back as if it might strike me. As if it might burn me to touch it. Without recognizing the number, I knew who sent the words. There could only be one person. Jordan Waters.
I looked over my shoulder as if I expected him to be standing there, waiting to take me from my new home. In this inconspicuous place, I’d hoped to do good for others and hide. Somehow, some way, Jordan had found me, as he promised: as he threatened.
I almost jumped out of my skin when I saw Martha behind me.
“Martha, you scared the bejeezus out of me,” I tried to laugh, falsely.
“Ms. SanGrael, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Martha began to look around as if she expected to find one lurking in the open room.
“No, no ghost,” I forced a smile as my hand covered my heart; I felt it beating through my shirt. I stood on trembling legs after I attempted to pick up the phone a second time, and my hand visibly shook with the instrument. I clicked the phone to off and returned it to my back pocket.
“Are you sure, you’re okay?” Martha asked me, concern showing on her face and in her voice.
“I’m fine,” I lied. Emotions came over me as I panicked inside. I couldn’t imagine why Jordan would still want me. It was obvious I wasn’t The Promised One after all, for a certain Fr. Mike had proven that after Jordan took everything from me.
When I exited the building, I was glancing down at my phone. I was hoping to hear from Perk after our fight. I felt like I needed to explain myself, and after receiving the text with words that could only be said by Jordan, I was shaky. I wasn’t paying attention as I walked to the end of the block with my oversized bag and started my rounds down the street. I needed to reach twenty to meet my nightly quota, and with the earlier darkness of October it would be harder to find candidates.
I continued down the next block, finding a man perched
against the open doorway. He obviously didn’t make the male shelter by closing time tonight, and he was going to need something to keep him warm. As I sauntered up to him, I felt as if I was being watched. I shrugged it off, thinking it was only the man eyeing me as I approached him. He was a thin looking guy, possibly on something. He wasn’t a safe bet, but I walked toward him, nonetheless. He shook his head with disinterest, and I continued on. Relief washed over me as he looked a bit strung out, and reaching for him would be risky.
As I walked forward, I thought I heard footsteps behind me. Heavy footsteps. I subtly glanced behind me. The sound stopped. I noticed someone step into the open doorway, where the homeless man still rested on the stoop of the currently closed business. Hidden from my view, I continued walking, ignoring the clomp of feet that suddenly seemed closer and louder to me. Another doorway was up ahead, and if I kept my pace, I thought I might be able to sneak into the opening without being seen. The entryway was almost at the corner of the block, so I hoped it would appear I rounded the corner when I actually slipped into the darkened space.
I pressed into the corner as best I could. I waited, holding my breath as if the slightest movement would attract my predator. My heart raced as images of Jordan finding me clouded my brain. One snapshot after another flashed through my mind. I suddenly felt so dirty, I couldn’t imagine water warm enough to clean me or scrub away the memories. The sound of boots came closer quickly. I pressed back even farther, as if the entryway could swallow me. The night sky was dark and the only light was the glow of the street lamp on the opposite side of the empty road. I pulled my bag in front of me like a shield, when a large body blocked the doorway, and I screamed.
The street…
[Perkins]
Hollister screamed in my face as I crowded her into the darkened space. I used my body to block her, as I knew I was being followed. I covered her mouth with my large hand. Her eyes opened wide in fright until I whispered to shush her. She mumbled something into my open palm, and then her hand came up in an attempt to remove mine. My ears were still intent on listening to the footfalls growing louder and closer to our little hideout. I slipped my hand slowly down her mouth when she burst out.
“Perk?”
I covered her mouth again and leaned closer.
“Shhh,” I whispered toward her ear. The footsteps seemed to slow, but they were still coming toward us with a click-click-click on the cement. The rhythm was masculine, though, some type of hard soled shoe.
“Play along,” I whispered. I covered her body with mine, slipping an arm over her head. I leaned in close, pressing the remainder of my body against her as best I could with the big bag between us. I couldn’t confront her yet. I needed whoever was following us to retreat or pass.
Our faces were only millimeters away from one another, and I felt her ragged breathing against my lips. I swallowed the growing desire to kiss her, despite my sense of danger. We were in a dark, secluded doorway. Our bodies were close, but our mouths were closer.
“What’s…” she began in a hushed voice, but I covered her lips with my own in an attempt to keep her quiet. She struggled against me for the briefest of seconds before giving in and matching my lips on hers. In a way, I felt she took the lead, which was fine by me. I’d only done this a handful of times. I would normally have ended it by now, knowing the girl I was with wasn’t the right girl, but not now.
Now, everything about her felt right, and in addition, another truth about her was revealed to me. We continued to kiss in the dark. Our mouths discovered each other while lips sucked and tugged, until the hint of her tongue on the curve of my lips opened me wide. I devoured her. I lost sense of the approaching noise and took over the space as I pressed into her. I slid the bag from between us without releasing her mouth. Pushing it aside, I pressed into her, still framing her in with my arm over her and the other sliding around to her lower back, gently nudging her toward me. I spread my legs to match her height better and connect us in our most vital areas. She sighed into my mouth as her hands finally released the bag she continued to clutch to her and eventually wrapped them around my neck. Her hand skimmed up over my shorn hair, and I moaned into her mouth. I loved to have my head rubbed.
We continued to kiss for several minutes when I heard a voice behind us. I stopped but kept my body framed to block all view of Hollister.
“Hey man, sorry to interrupt. I’m looking for a girl.”
“Get your own,” I muttered to the man, while I held the widened eyes of Hollister with mine.
“I noticed you following her.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about?” I responded, hoping my voice didn’t give away my growing concern as Hollister’s eyes narrowed on me.
“A girl. She had a large bag. Was passing out sandwich baggies. Weren’t you following her?”
“I’m a bit busy here, man. Don’t know what you’re talking about?”
I shifted my body to make it appear as if Hollister and I were getting something on, but the movement was to force her bag behind her disguising it further. I doubted the man could see into the darkness or around my size, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I held firm over Hollister, aware that she could feel my physical excitement, despite my slight fear. I wasn’t a fighter by nature, but I would protect Hollister at all cost.
“Sorry to interrupt,” the man responded with a grunt, and I listened while steps continued around the corner. Hollister’s eyes held mine, and I wasn’t sure she could open them wider. The shaking of her body was evident, but she distracted me.
“What was…,” I covered her mouth with my hand and shook my head. After a minute, she licked my palm and I felt her smile behind it. I removed my hand.
“Hey,” I said meekly.
She didn’t respond at first. She just continued to stare at me with a weak smile before she questioned me.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered.
“I came to see you. To see how you’re day was.”
She stared at me with disbelief on her face.
“Did you really drive over here to ask how my day was?”
“Yes,” I replied honestly and she laughed softly.
“What?” I asked misunderstanding her laughter. Something in my face must have made her change her mind and she stopped laughing abruptly.
“That was really sweet of you,” she said softly.
“So, how are you?”
“Besides being chased down the street by you and hiding in this doorway, I’m okay.”
“Really?” I said a bit disappointed, because my day had been hell. I didn’t want to fight with her, and after what I just learned about her, I felt even more guilt over this morning.
She watched me for a moment.
“What is it, Perk?”
“I wanted to apologize for this morning. I shouldn’t question what you do. I just want to protect you and let you know I’m willing to help you out of any situation,” I sighed deeply.
“Perkins, I’m not a prostitute.”
My shoulders shrank in relief and my lips slowly turned up in a lopsided smile.
“I know that now.” The tension had left my tone and I was almost giddy.
“You do? How?”
“Well, as you said I was following you.” She wasn’t paying attention as she exited the shelter and read her phone, so I began to follow her. I didn’t think it was safe to walk alone on the deserted streets, and her oversized bag made her a target. She looked like all she owned might be in that bag. I worried that she had been kicked out of the shelter, or worse, that she was about to walk the street for tricks. I was ready to intervene with the first guy she approached, but as I drew near and she walked away from the man in the open entry, I decided to ask him what transpired between them. I was relieved, and a bit in awe, when the man said she was nicknamed Blanche fleur and she offered him a brown bag dinner.
She was walking so quickly. I didn’t want to call to her, afraid she would run
if she didn’t see me, not to mention that I suddenly knew someone was following me. When I stopped to approach the man on the business stoop, I noticed the slightest of movement to my right and saw another man not too gracefully attempt to slip into a wide entry. He leaned against the wall as if he was waiting for someone or something before I moved on. I was able to continue walking, but I knew he was behind me. I noticed he stopped to speak with the homeless man like I did, but by then I saw Hollister slip into the darkened opening at the end of the block.
“Do you also live at the shelter?” I questioned, as I now understood she worked there.
“I do. I majored in social justice with an emphasis in women’s studies. I work the shelter, sort-of like a social worker, but with more legal knowledge and less psychoanalysis. My room is part of my service.”
I reached for her cheeks with both hands, smoothing over her soft skin.
“Why didn’t you tell me that?”
“You didn’t ask. You just accused me. I’m not saying I agree with prostitution, but you were so against the oldest profession known to mankind, it made me want to defend it especially considering who you are.”
“Now who’s judging who?” I stared at her for a long time, caressing her cheeks, soothing her tense mouth as she argued back with me. I wasn’t sure she understood what I was saying. “I didn’t mean to put you down. Put women down, if that’s their chosen profession. But I just didn’t want you to think you had to do it…if it was your profession. I was offering to take care of you.”
“Like a sugar daddy? You’d give me a home, food, and clothes. For what in return?”
I was thoughtful again, careful to respond, and then my expression changed. It hardened a bit compared to my relief a moment ago.
“I would have asked for nothing in return. I would have done it because…because I care about you,” I said and swallowed hard, removing my hands from her face to cross my arms over my chest. I stood like I was trying to hold my hands still, but I couldn’t help the clenching and unclenching of my fists. Her body language told me she was ready to fight again, but then she spoke.
