Skin Puppet

by Jeffery Craig

  “Of course he does,” Melba answered in a perfectly reasonable tone before easing back into her chair and breaking out into giggles. “Do you have anything else up your sleeve tonight, Madame Zhou?”

  The tiny lady took a final sip of her tea before answering. “Well, there is one other small thing.”

  “Which is?”

  “I just…well, earlier today, I happened to drop by to visit Moon at Passed Around.”

  Moon was a local fixture on Capital Street and ran a very upscale resale shop a few doors down. Melba was a frequent shopper and, thanks to Moon’s fashion acumen, was now much better dressed than ever before. Over the last few months, she and Moon had actually become friends—much to Melba’s surprise. Melba waited patiently for Zhou Li to come clean.

  “I…ah…happened to notice several very nice things which Moon assured me were in your size. A couple of them would be quite appropriate for the open house, so I…well, I asked her to put them back for you.”

  “What time?” Melba asked.

  “Excuse me, I don’t understand.”

  “What time are we—you and I, that is—supposed to meet with Moon tomorrow?”

  Zhou Li took a minute to answer, and Melba suspected she was trying to figure out her protégé’s angle —given she hadn’t received any pushback.

  “Two o’clock,” she finally answered. When Melba nodded her acceptance, she brightened visibly and turned to Toby. “Would you hand me the tissues off of your desk, please?”

  Toby handed over the box, and Zhou Li withdrew one and carefully wiped out the interior of her mug, then removed several more tissues and wrapped it meticulously before hauling her bag up onto her lap. She carefully placed the dragon mug down into its depths and snapped it closed.

  “You’re taking your mug with you, Madame Zhou?”

  “Well, of course I am, Toby. It is my new favorite.” She gave Melba a small wave of farewell and headed to the door. “Toby, would you mind walking me across the street? It is getting somewhat dim outside.”

  “Sure, I’m happy to, Madame Zhou. Why don’t you take my arm? The first step out of the door is a little uneven, and I wouldn’t want you to fall.”

  Melba watched as they headed out the office, then opened her desk drawer. Shewithdrew a couple of brand new ink pens—rollerballs—and smoothed the first page of addresses out on her desk. After carefully completing the first invitation, she held it up to see how it looked. Satisfied, she placed one of the small embossed cards inside, licked and sealed the envelope, then removed the sticky backing from one of the labels and affixed it to the back. When Toby returned several minutes later, she had quite a respectable little stack piled up. Noticing what she was doing, Toby retrieved a small stack of labels and went around to his own desk.

  “Hey, Melba? You using black or blue ink?”

  “Black.”

  “Okay. I thought I’d check, so they’ll all look the same.”

  They worked in comfortable silence for an hour or two, until Toby stretched out the tension from his neck and shoulders. “I think I’m done for tonight, Melba.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  They each tidied their desks, and headed to the door. Toby flipped off the lights, and they made their way down the hall, checking the conference room, and the breakroom. Melba dug the keys out of her heavy bag before hoisting it onto her shoulders while Toby turned off the lights in the reception area. He held the door for her and then locked up. As they stepped out onto the sidewalk, light from the streetlamps illuminated his face.

  “Hey, Toby? What’s that on your face?”

  He checked his reflection in the glass of the front door and then laughed sheepishly. “I thought I’d grow a beard and a moustache. It might make me look a little older. What do you think?”

  She tilted her head to the side, giving the matter due consideration. “It looks ridiculous,” she thought, but caught herself before she could say anything. He looked so hopeful while he waited for her response. “Looks good, Toby.”

  He gave the fuzz a stroke or two before matching her stride until they reached her car. “She liked the mug, Melba. You know that, right?”

  “Yep,” she replied as she unlocked her car door. “I think she did. I caught her running her fingers across the shiny scales a few times when she thought I wasn’t looking.”

  “You did?”

  “Umhmmm.”

  “You’re almost as sneaky as she is.”

  She tossed her bag onto the passenger seat. “Nope. She has me beat by a mile. But I’m working on it.” She gave him a smile. “Thanks for walking me to my car, Toby. You better head on upstairs, though, before you freeze yourself solid. I’d hate to have to thaw you out before Jon Chiang can beat on you tomorrow.”

  “Maybe you could just send Jon upstairs to thaw me out instead.”

  “You wish!”

  The wink he gave her was his only reply.

  He watched her drive away and then raced to the stairwell to escape the wind. As he passed in front of the martial arts studio, he didn’t even glance inside. Well, except for once. And he’d never admit his fingers trailed gently across the name of the studio’s owner, painted in dull, burnished gold on the glass.

  ***

  A few miles away at the Majestic Multi-Plex Cinema, Jennifer Andrews waited impatiently for her ten-year-old daughter. She should have never agreed to let Tori join her friends at the movie on a school night, but things had been stressful around the house lately, and they both needed a break. The newest teen romance had just opened, and after a lot of drama-laden pleading, she’d finally given in.

  She’d dropped her daughter off for the seven o’clock show and then treated herself to a glass of wine and a slice of decadent flourless chocolate cake at a nearby bistro. A pleasant hour was passed window-shopping at the shuttered boutiques near the movie theatre. Now, she was waiting. After glancing at her watch and scrolling through her cell phone messages to see if Tori had left her a message, she dialed her daughter’s number and left a curt message when there wasn’t an answer. Tori obviously didn’t need a phone if she couldn’t be bothered to pick up when her mother called. Maybe a few days of going without it would teach her a lesson.

  After waiting a few minutes longer and ignoring the angry horn of a driver behind her, she pulled away from the entrance and navigated the parking lot until she found an empty space. She pulled her tight jacket closer and tied the belt against the unseasonably cold wind and then marched up to the ticket both. Once she’d explained the situation, the ticket attendant grudgingly allowed her through the velvet rope barricade. After describing her daughter—twice—they scanned the lobby and the concession area. She finally convinced the assistant manager to escort her to the now-empty theatre. Tori was nowhere to be found. An hour later, a tired and frantic Jennifer Andrews left her contact information with the theatre staff, who promised to call if they spotted the girl.

  Convinced it was all a silly misunderstanding, Mrs. Andrews drove herself home, anticipating Tori would be waiting and wondering where her mother was. Jennifer found solace in the imagined pre-teen eye roll she’d get for being another ditzy mom. She pulled into the attached garage and quickly unlocked the back door. Tossing her coat over one of the kitchen bar stools, she flipped on the lights and made her way down the long hall to the bedrooms at the back of the house.

  “Tori? Honey, are you here? Sorry, but I must have forgotten you were getting another ride.”

  There was no answer. She knocked on the door to her daughter’s room and then opened it and flipped on the light. The bed was still neatly made, undisturbed except for her daughter’s backpack on the light blue comforter. She checked the other rooms and even the back and front yards until finally accepting the fact her daughter wasn’t home.

  She poured herself a glass of water from the fridge while she tried to think what to do next. Without the cell phone numbers of the other girls who attended the movie with Tori, she was at a
loss, and she didn’t have any way to reach their parents. Hell, she wasn’t even sure of their last names. After downing the water, she spent a minute trying to convince herself she wasn’t a terrible mother. Her mind turned to the unopened bottle of white wine she’d placed in the refrigerator earlier that day, and she was tempted, but knew there were other things that needed doing first. There’d be time for wine later, when her daughter was home.

  Once her wallet and cell phone were retrieved from her coat, she pulled out the bar stool and took a seat and then dialed the police. The dispatch officer informed her she couldn’t officially report her daughter as missing until twenty-four hours had passed, and she was reassured it was all probably either childhood high-spirits or a misunderstanding of some sort.

  Jennifer Andrews ended the call and tossed the phone on the granite bar top. She eased off her stool and retrieved a wine glass and made her way back to the fridge. After a small struggle with the cork which she chalked up to nerves, she poured herself a glass of chardonnay and drank it quickly. She poured another and then picked up the phone to call her soon-to-be-ex-husband to explain how she’d somehow lost their daughter. By time she was done, she’d finished off the bottle.

  ***

  Only a few miles away by modern standards, but an entire world apart from the upper-middle-class neighborhood where the Andrews made their home, another young girl was having a difficult night. Four years older than Tori, this young lady focused on blocking out the hateful rhetoric spewing forth from her grandmother’s self-righteous, wrinkled, lipstick-smeared mouth. She could tell by her grandmother’s slurred speech that she’d been drinking again, and had probably smoked some weed—or something stronger. Nothing new there. Same ol’ story, no matter how many promises were made.

  The young woman crammed a few more things into the old, lurid, purple roller-board suitcase and looked around the room for anything else she wanted to take with her on her escape from her grandmother’s house. She quickly grabbed a pair of flashy dangle earrings and a book of mid-century poetry that had been a gift from her aunt. At least she’d have something to read while she waited at the bus station. After checking her purse to make sure she had the money she’d hoarded, hid, and saved for the last two years, she zipped the suitcase and wrestled it upright. Brushing past the wasted old woman, she made her way through the front room and the haze of smoke hanging in the air. She held her breath as she made her way to the front door. She didn’t need to be stoned while waiting on the Greyhound to take her to the big city. No, sir, she didn’t need that at all. Without a single look back, she wheeled the suitcase down the cracked sidewalk and on to the street.

  As she marched her way across the asphalt to the whirl/click, whirl/click, whirl/click of the wobbly wheels, she kept telling herself that Diane Jefferson Jones was getting away from all of this right now. And she was never, ever coming back.

  ***

  Lucy Escabar shuddered at the sound of footsteps coming down the rickety stairs, but didn’t make a sound. The last few days has taught her it didn’t do any good and only resulted in a lot of pain. The thin blanket pulled up over her head helped her concentrate. She listened carefully and finally decided the sound was coming from the cage next to hers, where Andrea was kept. Heavy footsteps echoed on the concrete floor of the basement and it sounded like someone was dragging something heavy. There were a few muffled noises which sounded like choked-off sobs, but Lucy couldn’t be sure. There was a rattle of keys and then the squeal of metal on metal as a cage door opened.

  “What…!” she heard. She wasn’t sure who it was, since they weren’t allowed to speak very often.

  “Shut your mouth, missy!” a harsh voice instructed. The voice belonged to the red-faced, overweight man who helped out around here. “We just brung you some company, that’s all. You can introduce yourself properly in the morning when she wakes up. Be sure to tell her all the rules. You got that?”

  Andrea whispered, “Yes. I got it.”

  “Good deal then,” the man answered as he shut and locked the door. He made his way back to the stairs and started up. Lucy heard him stop.

  “This little princess goes by the name Tori,” he told the dark room. “She put up quite a fuss and had to be knocked around a bit. Untie her, and make sure she understands the rules, or she might not last too long. Those princess types never do. Leave the gag in until tomorrow. I’ll know if you take it out before then.” He whistled as he walked up the last few stairs, then stopped. “Goodnight, my sweet Lucy,” he whispered. “Sleep tight. Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

  Lucy was shaking too hard to hear the door shut and forced herself to ignore the terrified, muffled sobs coming from the cage next door. There was nothing she could do to help. Nothing at all.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  By noon on Thursday, Melba decided that if she never addressed another invitation in her entire life, she would die a happy woman. They’d started early that morning, but the still to be completed pile was daunting. “How many have we done so far?”

  Toby looked up from his own stack and rolled his eyes. “About twenty more than the last time you asked.”

  Melba decided his lip must be healing nicely, since there wasn’t a hit of a lisp today. She eyed the stack and decided to stretch a bit. After taking making another cup of tea, she headed to the reception area and met SarahJune coming down the hall carrying a couple of take-out bags from Earth Fruits, trailed by Jon Chiang and, surprisingly, Lindsi.

  “Hey, Melba. I come bearing food and reinforcements. These guys were just hanging out over at the café, and I drafted them to help.”

  “Thank goodness. I’ll never say no to some extra hands, but don’t you two have other things to do this afternoon?” Melba asked the new recruits.

  “I don’t have classes until much later,” Jon assured her. “And Auntie was very clear on the need for the invitations to be put in the mail this evening. She suggested it would be a good idea to volunteer my services in order to spare her any possible disappointment.” They exchanged a glance and a hint of a shudder at that possible outcome.

  “I was supposed to be working in the shop with her this afternoon,” Lindsi added in a bored monotone. “But Madame Zhou says she and you have some kind of appointment this afternoon. She said my handwriting is perfectly fine for what needs to be done and sent me over here.” Lindsi thought it over a minute. “I’m happy to help out.”

  “Okay. Come on back then, and I’ll get you started. Toby and I can wolf down lunch and, with all of us working, we might just be able to make Madame Zhou’s deadline.”

  Lindsi started off surly, but brightened a bit as they entered the back office and were assaulted by the techno-beat bouncing off the walls. Apparently, Toby had decided to bumped up the volume in her absence and was oblivious to their entrance. He was engaged in some pretty serious booty shaking as he arranged what she hoped were completed envelopes into one of the stationery boxes.

  “Hey, Toby!” she shouted over the noise. “Turn that racket down! We’ve got company, so get that hip action under control before you scare them away. SarahJune brought lunch and fresh troops.”

  He gave them all a sheepish grin and turned down the volume. “My hips have never scared anyone away—just so you know. As a matter of fact—”

  “Nope! Don’t want to hear it!” Melba quickly covered her ears in mock horror. “I don’t need to know and neither does anyone else. Right guys?”

  Lindsi and SarahJune rushed to give their laughing agreement. Interestingly, Jon didn’t comment one way or the other. “Well, well, well…”Melba filed that reaction—or lack thereof—away for later evaluation as she snatched the white paper bags from SarahJune and checked the contents. “You want turkey or ham?”

  “Ham,” Toby decided, after one final hip rotation.

  “Dang it! I was hoping you’d say turkey.” She thrust the requested bag in her partner’s direction. “Come on, disco boy. Simmer those babies down and gi
ve us all a break.”

  Melba updated the expanded team on the current status and the amount of work still ahead of them. Once Lindsi and Jon pulled up extra chairs and were settled in with a stack of envelopes of their very own, she turned the crew over to SarahJune’s supervision and practically devoured her sandwich. Then, she went back to writing.

  At ten minutes before two, Melba added her newly finished stack to the completed pile, checked her fingers for any new stains, grabbed her purse, and headed toward the office door to meet Zhou Li at Passed Around.

  Toby looked up from his pile of envelopes. “You leaving already?”

  “Yep. I don’t want to be late. After all…”

  “Punctuality is the highest form of courtesy,” four separate voices answered as one.

  ***

  Zhou Li was sensibly bundled against the brisk wind and was just about to step up onto the curb as Melba exited the front door. She hurried to help, but before she could lend a hand, the elderly lady placed a hand on a parking meter for balance and made it to the sidewalk without incident.

  Melba breathed a small sigh of relief and made a mental note to talk to Jon Chiang about ways to convince his Auntie to use a cane or at least take the crosswalk at the corner. It was bad enough Zhou Li felt she was perfectly entitled to jaywalk. After all, she did own all the real estate on the block and a good portion of the rest of downtown.

  She was amazingly spry and sharp as a tack, but Zhou was now eighty-seven years old, and her balance was becoming increasingly questionable. At least she had decided on her own that she was past the point of driving and there were plenty of people who were glad to chauffeur her around to her various appointments.

  “Good afternoon, dear. This wind is quite unpleasant, isn’t it? I had hoped there would be a break in the unseasonable weather. I am afraid I will be terribly behind in getting the spring flowers planted on my terrace. How are you doing today?”