by A. O. Peart
“What do you like? White or red?” I asked.
“White, I think. Can I help with that?”
“Sure.” I told her where to find the wine glasses, while I pulled an unopened bottle of Chardonnay from the fridge. I kept it chilled just in case I had company that wanted a glass or two.
She chose a simple, unadorned glass on a thin stem and put it on the counter. I cut the foil on the bottle and, using a basic corkscrew, opened the wine.
“Wait, let’s try this.” I pulled a small, plastic-and-metal aerator from the drawer. “It’s supposed to make the wine taste better.” I showed it to her. I wasn’t a wine snob or even a connoisseur, but I knew a thing or two.
“I’m impressed.” She inclined her head.
“Don’t be. Again, it was my mom who gave me this. I found it in my Christmas stocking last year and couldn’t figure out what the hell it was for. I had all kinds of ideas how to use it until she enlightened me.” Those ideas were mostly kinky, but this was not a good time to have that conversation.
Willow giggled, pressing her hand onto her chest.
I gave her a funny look, but she immediately looked away. Maybe her first thought was something kinky, too. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t go there. So I just pressed that little gadget inside the neck of the bottle and slowly poured the wine. The liquid ran through the aerator and out into the glass, small bubbles of air swirling inside it.
“Now, drink this and tell me if my clever device works.”
Willow picked up the glass and inhaled the fragrance of wine.
“Do you always sniff your food? Or drink?” I snorted, playfully.
“That’s how you experience the bouquet. Not that I even understand what that really means. I’m guessing it’s supposed to smell enticing.”
I popped the cap off my beer bottle and curiously watched Willow take a small sip.
“What?” she asked, feigning annoyance and discomfort.
I knew she wasn’t annoyed or uncomfortable, because her eyes had little twinkles in them. She was actually enjoying this, which, in turn, made me absurdly happy.
“You sniffed the chocolate truffles too,” I said matter-of-factly and then lifted my hands in an appeasing gesture. “Just sayin’. That’s all.”
Willow snorted. “Yeah, right. You’re trying to pick a fight.”
“It would be easy to pick a fight with you,” I taunted. This was getting interesting, but I had to be careful. Back in high school, Willow and I could joke and throw barbs at one another, having great time doing so, but we weren’t the same people anymore.
“Yeah? Hmm.” She pretended to think about it, taking a long sip of her wine. I saw a glimpse of the Willow from the past, but it was quickly gone.
“While you think about that, I’m gonna feed Cora.” I went to the pantry and poured some dry food into Cora’s dish.
She immediately jumped off the sofa and trotted toward me, stopping by Willow to demand some scratching behind her ears.
Willow actually sat down on her heels and, after petting Cora, hugged her tightly. Cora whined a little while thumping her tail on the floor. She was thrilled to get so much attention.
“You grew so big,” Willow said tenderly to her. “I remember when you were just a little ball of fur.”
Cora licked Willow’s cheek and was greeted with a high-pitched squeal. “I forgot how affectionate dogs can be.” Willow laughed, wiping her face with her sleeve.
I loved the sound of her laugh. It made my heart swell. “She’s a sucker for attention. No doubt about it.” I brought the dish out, and Cora happily followed me to her regular feeding corner in the kitchen.
Willow stood up and picked up her wine glass. She slowly swirled its contents by rolling the stem between her slim fingers. A large, oval ring with a multi-colored stone caught some light and it brilliantly sparkled, drawing my eyes to it.
“That’s a cool ring,” I commented. Small talk was our best bet now, after that heavy conversation we’d had earlier.
She pulled her hand away to examine the ring. “I like it a lot,” she said. And that was it.
I didn’t know what to talk about really, without stepping over any fragile boundaries. So I simply asked the first thing that came to my mind, “Are you hungry? Do you want some dessert?”
Willow shook her head, sipping slowly from her glass.
“Okay.” I shrugged. Shit, this was getting really hard. Taking my beer with me, I walked to the family room, adjacent to the kitchen, and pressed the “Power” button on a large remote control. The TV screen lit up. Anne Fisher, one of the KOTS News reporters, stood in front of the camera, a big microphone with the station’s logo on it clutched in her hand. When I turned the sound up, her melodic voice laced with sadness announced a drive-by shooting downtown.
Behind the reporter was a flurry of activity—police and the paramedics moving within the yellow barricade tape, and civilians huddled on the other side with a few police officers making sure nobody snuck under the tape.
Willow came up beside me and stood, watching the scene on the screen. “It seems like there is more crime in Portland lately,” she observed.
I made an agreeable noise and pointed to the screen with my beer bottle, “That reporter, Anne, had a fling with my cousin Ethan not too long ago.”
“She’s pretty,” Willow observed and then bent down to pet Cora who once again demanded her attention.
My hand holding the beer bottle froze on its way to my mouth and I took a step closer to the TV, leaning in.
“What is it?” Willow asked.
“Do you see that?”
“What?” A note of panic entered her voice. She looked from me to the TV.
“That’s next door to Black Pelican.” I pointed, my eyes never leaving the screen.
Willow gasped, and I knew her thoughts mirrored mine—Rita was working at the Black Pelican tonight. “Oh, my God.” Willow covered her mouth with her hand and quickly turned her head to look at me. “I need to call her.” She put her wine glass down and searched her pockets for her cell phone.
I swore under my breath. The prospect of Rita in such close proximity to the drive-by was unnerving. I kept my eyes on the TV, but also paid close attention to Willow.
“Come on, come on, please pick up.” Willow held the phone to her ear, waiting.
The call went to a voicemail. After the beep, she left a short message, pleading with Rita to return her call. She hung up and huffed in frustration.
Without taking her eyes off the television, where Anne Fisher was about to interview a college-aged couple who witnessed the shooting, Willow said, “We have to go there. She’s not picking up.”
“Try her home number, just in case,” I advised.
She did but with no luck. “Please, Jack, let’s just go.”
“We might not be able to get anywhere close, but okay, come on.” I motioned to her. I would check which fire house responded to the incident and see if I could get any details.
Leaving my beer bottle on the kitchen counter, I went to my bedroom to put on a t-shirt. I remembered to get my wallet and my phone. That took only a few short moments. While I was pulling a shirt on, Willow raced up the stairs to grab her jacket. A few seconds later, she ran downstairs and met me in the garage.
“Get in and buckle up,” I told her, holding the passenger’s door open for her.
“Thanks.” She nodded curtly.
I caught a glimpse of her face. The bruising wasn’t very visible and the swelling was gone. I realized she must’ve put a dab of makeup on to cover the discoloring. She did a fabulous job with it, and I decided to tell her that. “If you’re wearing makeup, it covers the bruises pretty damn good.” I raised my eye brows.
She smiled at me and fastened her seatbelt. “Thanks. I hate parading around looking like a victim and getting pitying looks from strangers.”
“I hear you.” I put the truck in reverse and backed out of the garage.
&nb
sp; We sped through the neighborhood and onto the freeway. Willow took out her cell phone and dialed again. Again, the call went to Rita’s voicemail. Willow chewed on her lip, pressing one hand against her chin. She looked very worried, and I couldn’t blame her. I was worried, too. What if Rita was somewhere close to the windows when bullets were flying?
I shot Willow a quick glance, and she immediately looked back at me. Her eyes reflected my thoughts. I reached out and took her hand. She didn’t pull hers away, but squeezed mine and held it for a few heartbeats. I felt a crushing sense of loss when she let go.
“What if something horrible happened to Rita?” she asked in a small voice. The muscles in her face tightened, and her eyes opened wide. She looked very scared.
“We’ll be there soon, and I’ll ask around. This is downtown, and so there is a good chance my own firehouse was called because of our close proximity to that location. I’ll know soon.”
I took my phone out from my pocket and dialed Ethan’s number. Willow’s eyes were on me, her expression pensive.
Ethan picked up, “Hey bro. What’s up?”
“There was a drive-by shooting downtown. Did you get called in?” I asked him.
“Yep, we’re here,” he confirmed.
“Any victims?” I asked.
There was a brief silence and then he said, “A female, Caucasian, mid-to-late twenties.”
My heart stopped and my whole body froze in terror. I managed to keep my voice steady for Willow’s sake. “Do you know who she is?”
Ethan knew Rita from the Black Pelican, our regular hangout. Besides, they’d gone on a couple of dates. If it was her, he would’ve known right away.
“Hold on,” I heard Ethan say into the phone, and then his voice became muffled as if he'd covered the phone with his hand and talked with someone next to him.
I swore under my breath.
“Jack, what’s going on?” Willow’s panicked voice was shaky. I could tell she was trying hard to keep from screaming.
“Don’t know yet. I’m waiting.”
Willow was dialing her phone again, and quietly repeating, “Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no.”
“Fuck, Ethan! Talk to me, bro,” I demanded. My mind was in turmoil.
But he must’ve held the phone away from his ear while talking with someone—our Chief or the police—and didn’t hear me.
Willow was crying silently. She swiped at her tears with her knuckles, shaking her head. “Oh, God. Please don’t let it be her. Please, God.”
My heart was breaking—for Willow, for Rita, and for whoever got hurt there. “Wait,” I said to Willow, and she promptly looked at me. “Listen, Ethan didn’t say the victim was dead. Maybe she’s alive, just hurt. Besides, we don’t know it’s Rita.”
“You’re right,” she sounded relieved. There was so much hope in her voice, I wanted to pull over and hold her and tell her that everything was going to be okay.
“Jack!” I heard Ethan shouting to the phone over the ambulance siren. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Listen, you asked what? Something about the victim?”
“Yeah! Do you know her? The victim. Do you know her?”
The next second before I heard the answer felt like a full minute. Or, more like a fucking eternity.
“No, I don’t. But we are right next to Black Pelican, and I went in to check if everyone there was okay,” he said.
I exhaled, feeling so incredibly relieved that I almost passed out. I squeezed my eyes shut for a brief moment and rapidly shook my head to clear it. We were off freeway, driving into downtown and getting very close to the incident site. I quickly glanced at Willow and mouthed to her, “No, it’s not Rita.”
“Thank God!” she shouted, opening her mouth and eyes wide and pressing her hands to her chest, fingers splayed.
I grinned at her. This was awesome news. Just damned awesome. I never truly realized how much I really liked and cared for Rita.
Chapter Twenty Three
I almost died tonight. For the last twenty minutes or however long it took from the moment we saw the news on TV until Ethan’s answer about the incident’s victim, my whole world spiraled down. Rita was my best friend. We were like sisters. I couldn’t even begin to imagine not having her in my life.
Now I sat with the back of my head pressed into the headrest, breathing deeply and feeling spent. All that adrenaline wreaked havoc in my body. I simply wanted to curl up and fall asleep, but that had to wait. I still didn’t know where Rita was. Why wasn’t she answering her phone? I hoped it was something simple, like the battery was dead and she didn’t have a charger with her. But I also knew Rita always carried a portable charger in her purse. Well, maybe she dropped the phone in the sink by accident, or something equally silly.
Miraculously, Jack found a parking spot two short blocks away from the crime scene. We got out of the truck and rushed toward the emergency lights in the distance. There was a huge crowd of people, multiple TV and radio stations, the police, and the Fire Department.
Jack touched my elbow and said, “Stay close to me.”
I nodded in agreement, and his fingers wrapped around my arm. He didn’t let go, and I realized I liked it. He drew out his wallet and showed his Portland Fire Department ID to the first police officer we saw. We were allowed to pass under the barricade tape and go straight to Engine 8.
Jack found Ethan, and I smiled, recognizing him from school. He was older, of course, and much broader than before—just like Jack; although Jack seemed to be a couple of inches taller and maybe a bit wider through the shoulders.
“Bro!” Jack called out. “You okay? What happened, exactly?”
They clapped each other on the back, exchanging a one-arm ‘man hug’. Before Ethan was able to answer Jack’s questions, Jack turned to me and said, “Oh, sorry. Willow, do you remember my cousin, Ethan? Ethan, this is Willow. Remember her from high school?” He grinned, his blue eyes shining.
“Willow?” Ethan was genuinely surprised to see me. He looked me over and opened his arms, pulling me in for a hug. “Geez, girl, what are you doing here?”
“We saw this on the news. My best friend works at the Black Pelican, and I got scared that something happened to her,” I explained.
“Small world then, right? What’s your friend’s name?” He smiled widely at me and, when he did, he looked so much like Jack. The family resemblance was undeniable.
“Rita Dakar. She’s one of the bartenders there.” I pointed in the direction of the Black Pelican.
Ethan’s smile faltered a little, and I remembered what Rita said about dating him—that it wasn’t meant to be.
I quickly said, “I need to go and find her to make sure she’s okay.”
“There isn’t anyone left in there. The police secured the premises, since the shooting happened so close to it. Nobody was hurt, so the police only talked to a few employees and customers, then everyone was sent home.”
“Oh.” I wondered where to look for Rita then. “Did you see her at all? Was she there? I know she was working tonight.” I felt my forehead pucker in a frown.
“No actually, I didn’t see Rita. But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t here. I was just busy with the whole mess. It was intense here for a while.”
“Ethan!” a female paramedic called out, waving at him to come closer. Her blond hair was almost completely shaved, but the look suited her. A substantial tattoo of a snake coiled over her arm and wrist. She must’ve liked snakes a lot, because there was another snake tattoo that ran from the top of her head, around her neck, and to the front toward her chest. That was a lot of ink, but she pulled it off very well.
“Excuse me,” Ethan said and walked to the paramedic.
I looked at Jack and smiled broadly, “You two look so much alike. More like brothers than cousins.”
“Yeah, we get that a lot. All of us, McCoys look similar. I have no idea how people can keep track of who’s who in our family.”
“I only remember three of y
ou from school: you, Ethan, and Nash.”
“The rest of them are either a lot older or younger, that’s why.”
I tilted my head back to look at him. Jack towered over me. I’d wore flats today, which was rare for me, since I preferred high heels. I’d never thought about how much taller he was than me. We must’ve looked really funny together, standing like this. That random thought made me smile a little.
“What?” Jack asked.
“Nah. Nothing. I’m gonna try Rita’s cell again. It’s strange she didn’t call me. She always does when there is something weird going on. I just don’t understand …” I pulled my phone out.
“What happened to your screen?” Jack asked.
“Oh, I dropped it yesterday when … you know … when Seth scared me.” I didn’t want to talk about Seth, but it seemed as if he was always somehow present in my life, no matter how much I tried to forget him.
A muscle jumped in Jack’s jaw and his nostrils flared a little. I looked in his eyes—they were narrowed and dark. “If I ever see that asshole again, I’m gonna rip his fucking head off,” Jack said slowly through gritted teeth. I felt a shiver run through my body, and I knew that was not an empty threat.
Without saying anything in return, I dialed Rita’s cell phone and waited. She didn’t pick up. I left another voice message and called her home number. This time, when the voicemail kicked in, I didn’t leave a message.
I grabbed Jack’s arm. “This isn’t normal, Jack. She always answers her cell phone or her landline. I’ve tried several times, every ten, or fifteen minutes, and nothing. Besides, she would be the first to call me if she witnessed a drive-by shooting. I’m getting really worried.”
He faced me and bent his head to get closer to me. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I know my best friend and this is out of character for her. Something must’ve happened. I’m not exaggerating, Jack.” A cold finger of fear slid over my skin. It made me shiver deep inside, and I knew then, that Rita was in trouble.
