On Tour

by Christina A. Burke

  Cathy was mid-twenties and movie-star beautiful. "Why no, but I've heard a lot of good things." She stood and shook my hand.

  "Sorry to call you so late last night," she said to Carol. "He gets an idea and wants it done ten minutes ago."

  Carol waved it away. "So having a new boss is going okay for you?"

  Cathy shrugged. "It's been fine. They always have quirks." She laughed. "The stories I could tell you."

  We all laughed. Her phone rang. She answered it then looked up at us. "Okay, will do." She hung up. "You can go in now."

  We walked into a huge, dark paneled office with an over-sized couch on one side of the room and a bank of windows on the other. A giant ugly oil painting depicting a ship sinking in a storm hung over the sprawling heavy oak desk. Wow, talk about your outdated rooms. They could film an episode of Mad Men in here.

  Jeff Johnson was a tall man with graying hair and the look of a heavy smoker. "Come in ladies. Glad you could make it on short notice. Have a seat." He pointed to the chairs in front of his desk.

  "I see you still haven't gotten around to redecorating," Carol said lightly. "Maybe Cathy could help."

  He waved a finger that held an electronic cigarette. I'd never seen one up close. "Oh, hope you don't mind this. I promise I'm not infringing on your right to clean air."

  We both said it was fine.

  "Yeah, the more time that goes by the more the room grows on me. Hey, Bob Wilson was here for forty years. It worked for him."

  Bob Wilson had died of a heart attack at work. Probably in this room. I looked up at the turbulent seascape above his head and started to feel queasy.

  "Anyway, thanks for coming by on such short notice." He put the cigarette in its holder and leaned forward. "So I'm sitting in on the supervisors' meeting yesterday afternoon, and I hear all this talk about the on-site supervisor from Greene's Staffing. Most of it good." He gave me a nod. "Then, after the meeting the boys ask me if I want to join their betting pool. Guess ol' Bobby started the whole thing years ago. The boys continued the tradition after he'd passed. So, yesterday's bet was whether or not you'd be back. Guess your first day was a little rough." He paused to nod sympathetically at me again. "Now, I told the boys I'd have to do a little research before I placed my bet. Couldn't bet on someone I knew nothing about, right?"

  I nodded, worried about where this was going.

  "Low and behold you're the Diana Hudson. The hometown girl who wrote 'The Rum Song.' Made it big with the pirates!" His smile was broad, and there was a fan frenzy glow in his eyes.

  "Yep, that's me," I said. "We have a plan we'd like to show you about working out the—

  He waved his hand. "I didn't bring you here for that. From what I can tell, you've made a good start. You two will do fine with this contract." I could hear Carol let out a sigh of relief. "No, I asked you here for something selfish." He looked a little uncomfortable. "My wife is a huge fan of yours. I was hoping to get an autograph."

  "An autograph?" All this for an autograph?

  He nodded and handed me a piece of paper.

  "What's her name?" I asked and then scribbled a note.

  He took the paper back. "One more thing," he said. "Would you consider playing a few songs at the company Christmas party? I know it's a long way off, but I figure your calendar books up quickly."

  That caught me off guard. "Ah—I'll have to check my calendar, but I'd like to."

  "That would be great." He gave me a big smile. "It would go a long way if the new guy scored a rock star for the Christmas party. Bobby left some pretty big shoes to fill. This would really help me out."

  We left the meeting slightly dazed. Maybe deflated was a better word.

  "I can't believe we were so worried about getting canned." Carol shook her head. "Guess it pays to have a business partner who's a rock star."

  "Yeah, I thought this day was going to go downhill, but everything worked out." My phone started to vibrate in my purse.

  It was an unknown number. I debated whether or not to answer it.

  Might as well, I was on a roll.

  "Hello?"

  "Yo, Shorty, it's me."

  My veins turned to ice water.

  "Why are you calling me, Tyrell?"

  "Doin' some more good deeds. Staying in line with my vortex. Listen up. I ain't got but a few seconds." His voice was whispered.

  "Go ahead."

  "The Spider's still out there, girl. Got you wrapped tight up in its web."

  I sucked in my breath. "That's not true! They got him in Miami. It's over." I felt a sob rise in my throat.

  "Listen! The dude was takin' a fall. Left hook, baby. Anyway, he just an itsy, bitsy spider."

  "But how can you know that? The authorities haven't been able to get anything out of him since he confessed."

  "That dude was just a wannabe Spider. He didn't make the cut."

  I was completely bewildered. "What cut? What are you talking about?"

  He sighed. "Look, that dude was part of the Five Families, right? He wasn't The Spider. He was just in the trainin' program, tryin' to climb his way up the spout." Tyrell laughed. "But you just kept turnin' on the water."

  "This isn't helping. I need details, Tyrell."

  "There's some gray-beards in here that get to talkin' too much. Got the Old-Timers disease, ya know. They say you earn your way into this group of hitters. The top one is The Spider. There was a changing of the guard a few years back like a coup or something. Tell your G-man to start there. Mean time, you get outta sight now."

  "I can't." I looked around wildly. We were at my cubicle. Carol was looking at me with concern.

  "Then you dead girl."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  After telling Carol about Tyrell's call, I called Mark. I sat across from Carol in my office, tears welling in my eyes.

  There was silence from Mark after I told him what had happened. Then he said quietly, "I need to go to Miami. I'll call Andre and Marsha. Maybe we could find a hotel somewhere—"

  "No, I don't want to be alone. I'll go somewhere safe, but I don't want to be alone." I was adamant.

  "You can come stay with me," Carol offered.

  Mark dismissed that idea as too close to home and not a good way to protect me.

  "I could go back to Ashley's." Much as I hated the idea, it was better than being alone.

  "You need to go somewhere that has a controlled entrance. Then we can beef it up with our own people. What about your parent's place? It's gated."

  "Sure, but my parents' houses are on the golf course. It's not very secure. Really, the only secure place at The Meadows is at The Grands' apartments. It's designed to ensure the old folks don't wander off."

  "That's perfect!" Mark said. "You stay with The Grands until this thing blows over. I'll go to Miami as soon as I can get Andre and Marsha back. Go there now," he ordered.

  "I guess I can tell everyone my place is being fumigated." My head was reeling. "But what about my clothes and Max?"

  "Great idea!" Mark said. "I'll bring your stuff and Max over this evening on my way to the airport."

  I hung up with Mark and looked up at Carol. Her face was pale. "Oh, Diana, I'm so worried about you."

  I dropped my head to my hands. "I'm so tired of this cat-and-mouse game. I can't take much more. Oh," I said, suddenly remembering where I was, "and I'm going to leave you in the lurch right when things are starting to turn around."

  Carol shook her head. "No, I'll fill in for you here, and Tabitha will run the office. I'll hire someone else to help her if I have to. I'll tell everybody here that we're switching off so I'm cross-trained. You go and be safe." Her kind face made me feel even worse. "Anything I should know? Anything pending?"

  I thought about the hair in the hopper problem. Oh, boy. I hated to spring that on her and then leave. "Mary Lou has a temp she's accused of washing her hair in the toilet," I blurted out.

  Carol stared at me a second and then waved it away. "She's probab
ly not washing her hair in the toilet. I've had this happen a couple of times before."

  "Really?"

  Carol nodded. "You know the guy who takes a bath in our sink at the office on Tuesdays and Thursdays?"

  I nodded.

  "Well, before I offered him the use of our bathroom, I had the same thing happen with him at Harris Manufacturing. Turns out he was filling up a big cup of water from the sink and going into the toilet stall to wash in private. He rinsed off over the toilet. Flushed the dirty water away."

  "Then why doesn't she just use her cup over the sink?" I wondered, temporarily distracted from my impending assassination by the hair in the hopper incident.

  "She's embarrassed. Poor girl doesn't want everyone knowing she has no place to wash her hair."

  She'd be really embarrassed if she knew people thought she was "warshin" her hair in the hopper. "So, you think you can smooth this over?" I asked.

  "I'll talk to Mary Lou and the temp. Maybe there's a place she could shower in the plant. I remember seeing showers when I was on the tour. Maybe over in QC? If not, I'll offer her a time slot in our bathroom. We really need a shower in the new building," she said distractedly.

  I nodded. My mind was starting to turn to mush. I felt The Spider closing in on me.

  "Get going, Diana," Carol said, standing up to give me a hug. "I'll hold down the fort. You be safe. Call me when you can."

  I held her tight for a moment and then grabbed my briefcase and headed for my car.

  On the ride to Delaware I called Aunt Pearl and Mammaw's apartment at The Meadows.

  Aunt Pearl answered on the third ring. "Hold your horses! Hello? Hello?" she bellowed into the receiver.

  "Hi, Aunt Pearl, it's Diana."

  "Oh, Diana! How's my Queenie Baby?"

  Her gruff old voice made me tear up. "I'm okay, Aunt Pearl. But I need a place to stay for a few day—"

  "Did that boy throw you over? Why that no good varmint! I'll put a loada rock salt in his keister."

  "No, Mark's fine. My house is being fumigated. Terrible spider problem." Oh, how I wished it was that easy to get rid of my real pest. "Can Max and I stay for a few days?"

  "Sure shootin' you can. But wouldn't you have more room over at your ma's? Not that we don't want company. In fact, Mammaw's been cleaning like a fiend for the last two days sayin' someone was comin' for a visit."

  Mammaw always knew things before anyone else. She also talked to herself a lot. The doctors said it was the beginnings of dementia, but the family was pretty sure she talked to ghosts.

  "I was really hoping to spend some time with you and Mammaw and be close to Granddaddy and Uncle Grover. It's been so long since I've seen you all."

  "Hmph! Granddaddy and Uncle Grover are in L-O-V-E. Can't get the fools to do much else but moon after those old ladies of theirs. You know your neighbor's here for a tour today? Grover's about got her talked into moving into an apartment here."

  Great. Stuck with Mrs. Kester again. "That's nice. So is it okay with you? I'm actually heading your way now."

  "Well, come on with yourself, then. We got bingo tonight, and there's fish sticks on the menu for dinner. You picked the right day."

  I hung up and felt a wave of relief. I couldn't think of a safer place to be than with The Grands.

  * * *

  The Meadows wasn't Fort Knox, but I did have to register my car at the front gate and get a visitor pass. Better than nothing, I guessed. To the left was the road that led to the meticulously manicured duplexes on the golf course where The Parents lived. To the right, around a tree-lined drive, was the large apartment building that housed The Grands.

  I parked in a visitor space. All the other spaces were numbered, one for each apartment. Despite there being few actual drivers in the complex, the residents closely guarded their assigned spaces, chasing away trespassers with the tenacity of a gold miner protecting his claim.

  The building was four stories high with small patios attached to each apartment.

  "Yoo-hoo! Diana!" I looked up. Aunt Pearl and Mammaw waved frantically from their patio on the second floor. "The code is 6148!" Aunt Pearl called, pointing to the door.

  Yeah, definitely not Fort Knox. I waved to them and headed for the entrance. I walked up the flight of stairs to the second floor. I was always amazed at the door decorating competition that produced displays like the intricate crocheted wreaths and the smiling wooden bunny plaques I passed on the way to their apartment. Aunt Pearl and Mammaw's door was festooned with small American flags. "There she is!" Aunt Pearl announced as she enveloped me in her strong arms, the smell of Youth Dew and baby powder nearly overpowering me.

  Mammaw clapped her hands happily together. "Oh, we've missed you so much. But I've heard it through the grapevine you've had some wonderful adventures." Her voice was soft, her cheek smooth and cool as she leaned over to give me a hug.

  "Where's your things and that rascal pup of yours?" Aunt Pearl asked, peering down the hallway.

  "Mark's bringing everything this evening." I didn't meet her eyes.

  "Hmph! Sounds a little fishy to me. Must be some infestation you got there."

  "Yep," I said looking around the room. It was odd to see so many of the pieces of furniture and trinkets I remembered from childhood scattered about the plain apartment.

  "So where are Granddaddy and Uncle Grover?"

  Mammaw appeared to be listening to something. "Oh, they'll be along directly." She smiled serenely.

  "Those two idjits!" Aunt Pearl sniffed. "There's no livin' with them since they got girlfriends. That Mrs. Kester's been here all day lookin' down her nose at everything. Fine by me if the old bitty doesn't want to live here."

  "Oh, that would be so sad for Grover." Mammaw tsked.

  And me. "Yeah, that would be a shame."

  There was a knock at the door, followed by some rustling noises.

  I opened it to find Granddaddy and Uncle Grover in a full blown shoving match.

  "Tarnations, Grover!" Granddaddy yelled. "She's my granddaughter, ain't she? 'Sides you knocked first last time. Now give me some sugar, Queenie Baby." He leaned over to give me a hug and a kiss, but Uncle Grover elbowed him out of the way.

  "Wrong again, Hacker!" Uncle Grover's bow tie had been knocked to one side in the scuffle, and Granddaddy's hat was on the floor. "If you'll recall, you—"

  "Hey, guys," I waved my hand at them to get their attention. The argument ended as they both came forward to hug me. It took a couple of minutes to sort out the hugging order.

  "If your girlfriends could see you two fools, they'd hightail it outta here," Aunt Pearl said.

  This brought sober expressions to both men's faces. "Now, Pearlie," Granddaddy began.

  "Don't Pearlie me." Aunt Pearl shook a finger at him. The lose skin on her upper arm flapped about like a bat wing or one of those flying squirrels. "I've got half a mind to tell them about you two old coots."

  "Don't lump me in with the likes of him," Uncle Grover cried indigently. "I've shown Edna a lovely time. I won't have it spoiled by him." He pointed a finger at Granddaddy.

  "Who you pointin' at? I already got me a woman. I didn't have to sip tea with her and play paper dolls to get her neither!"

  "We weren't playing paper dolls," Uncle Grover insisted. "I took her to the Arts and Crafts shop, you nut."

  "Rather be a nut than a fruit!" Granddaddy hollered.

  Another argument ensued about who was nuttier. Mammaw slipped off to her room and came back with a giant white pleather purse over one arm.

  "Where're you going, Mammaw?" I called over the noise.

  "Time for dinner," she replied softly.

  As if on cue, Granddaddy and Uncle Grover stopped arguing and made a beeline for the door.

  I glanced at the clock. "But it's only 4:30."

  "Dagnabit! We're late," Aunt Pearl said, jumping out in front of the two men and racing down the hallway as fast as her walker would allow.

  "Gotta get th
e women-folk," Granddaddy explained with a wave. "Fish sticks! Whoppee!" he yelled and flung open the door. Uncle Grover followed decorously behind him.

  I shook my head. I wasn't a bit hungry, but I guessed this was all part of The Meadows experience.

  After twenty minutes of shuffling our way to the opposite side of the building, I was starting to understand Aunt Pearl's fear of being late for dinner. The dining room was connected to the back of the building, two hallways and an elevator away from the apartment.

  "This is how we work up an appetite 'round here," Aunt Pearl cackled, pushing her walker an inch at a time. "That an' checkin' out the fellas." She nodded towards two gentlemen with canes several paces in front of us.

  "How's that for a package?" she said loudly.

  "Oh, Pearlie," Mammaw murmured.

  One of the men turned around and gave us a wink. Oh, brother.

  "Speakin' of packages," Aunt Pearl said slyly, "did you happen to bring your laptop with you, Diana?"

  I rolled my eyes. No way was she getting hold of my laptop again. It had taken me weeks to get the porn sites to stop popping up every time I logged on. "Not gonna happen, Aunt Pearl."

  "Well, can't blame a girl for tryin'." We turned a corner, and the walker traffic picked up and converged at two double doors. The smell of frozen fish and French fries wafted through the doorway.

  Aunt Pearl rammed her walker into a lady in a wheel chair next to us. "Outta my way! Wheelchairs to the back of the line."

  The woman in the wheel chair gunned it and cut Aunt Pearl off at the door. "Eat my dust, Pearl!"

  "Hussy!" Aunt Pearl bellowed.

  "Now, now," soothed Mammaw. "We don't need to rush, Pearlie. I'm sure they saved us seats."

  Sure enough. I spied Granddaddy waving his hat madly at us. Next to him was an attractive, silver-haired woman. Uncle Grover and Mrs. Kester sat on the opposite side.

  I nodded at Mrs. Kester. She sniffed at me.

  "Are you enjoying your visit?" I asked.

  "I was," she said, staring at me pointedly.

  Oh, so that's how we were going to play it, huh? I turned towards Granddaddy. "And this must be Margaret."