by Gerald Lopez
“Of course, Son. You can count on me to take care of the kids.”
“Thank you,” William said, his body trembling. “You’ve always been a good dad to me. Always been there even though I’ve been a shit of a son.”
“I’ll look for Anna, you try to relax and get some rest.”
“There’s no rest for the wicked, Dad. But I am getting hungry. The shakes come on when I’m hungry. You’d better go, for your own safety.”
“What’s that mean?”
“You don’t wanna know, trust me.”
Rory walked out of his son’s apartment, went straight to his silver Kia Soul, started the engine, and drove away. He purposely didn’t look back. At the first red light, he studied his face in the mirror. On the exterior he looked calm. His hand seemed steady when he ran it through his straight silver hair. But inside he trembled. William had acted this way before—usually when high on something. This time was different. The clue could be found in his son’s eyes. Whenever William had gotten high in the past, his eyes gave him away. He’d be sweaty too and shaky. The shakiness had manifested itself but in a different way. Williams eyes were as clear as ever and he wasn’t sweating at all. Still, something seemed very wrong.
CELIA THOMAS LOOKED out the window of the convenience store she and her husband Monty owned. The black Mustang was still parked in front.
“Monty, they haven’t come to get the Mustang yet.”
“Don’t worry, love,” Monty said while wiping down the front counter. “Veronique said she called someone to pick up the Mustang. She also said not to go near the thing or touch it.”
“I have a bad feeling about this and I’m usually not wrong about these things.”
“What exactly are you worried about, Celia?” He walked out from behind the counter, put his arms around his wife and hugged her from behind.
“I should go on a diet,” Celia said.
“Don’t you dare,” Monty said. “I love your full, voluptuous body. The skinny sticks of today hold no appeal to me.”
“Well, they certainly appeal to our son. He’s running around way too much these days. And did you see his arm. It’s covered in tattoos.”
“That’s called a sleeve,” Monty said. “Give it some time and his body will have absorbed all the ink. You know those things don’t last with us. Besides, I remember a certain small ladybug tattoo that used to be located right about there,” he grabbed the right side of Celia’s ass and squeezed. “It was such a cute lil thing.”
“Fool,” Celia said when her husband kissed the side of her neck. “Stop! I can feel him coming.”
RORY RECOGNIZED THE address the minute William told it to him. Of all places why did Anna have to go there? He knew the home to be vacant at present and being looked after by his Australian friend Gerard, but—he jumped up in his seat. The car behind him had honked and gone around. When Rory looked at the speedometer he understood why. He’d been driving way under the limit… attempting to drag things out. A feeling of absolute dread filled his soul. Somehow he knew this search for Anna and her friends would end up as a pointless undertaking. They were all probably dead with needles sticking out of their arms. As he drove by the convenience store near his final destination, he spotted it—Anna’s black Mustang. It had been her father’s car. Maybe there’s a chance she’s still alive, he thought. Then he signaled to turn into the convenience store lot. From nowhere he thought he heard a woman’s voice.
“There is nothing to see here, Rory. Continue on your journey and forget what you’ve seen.”
The voice seemed to be in his mind. Rory shook his head from side to side then slapped the side of it with his palm.
“DID YOU GIVE him the suggestion?” Monty said to his wife.
“I did, but he fought it. He’s still turning into our lot.”
“Luckily we’re not busy right now,” Monty said. “You’ll have to make another suggestion at close range. The man must be strong to have been able to resist you. I know I’ve always been powerless to your ways.”
“This is no time for your foolish talk, Monty Thomas,” Celia said, then brushed back her sandy blonde hair and pulled it into a ponytail.
“You’re nervous,” Monty said.
“Yes. I haven’t encountered too many humans with the power to resist one of my suggestions. This is a man on a mission.”
“That makes him dangerous,” Monty said. “He’s getting out of his car. Can you handle this, Celia?”
“I’m gonna need to be close to him for this to work—very close.”
HIS LEGS WERE stiff when he got out of his car and his stomach was churning. Get a grip, old man, Rory told himself.
“Good afternoon,” Monty said, when Rory walked into the store.
“Good afternoon, Sir,” Rory said.
“Poor dear, you look like you’ve been through an ordeal,” Celia said as she walked up to Rory. “You’re sweating.” She took a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at Rory’s forehead. Hopefully they were close enough together now.
Making a long-lasting suggestion to someone could be something of a fine art. Celia noticed the man giving off heavy waves of stress and that added to the problem. Stress blocked suggestion and when combined with the man’s strong will, it could make things difficult.
“Let me get the man a drink,” Monty said. “On the house.”
“Thank you,” Rory said. “That actually does sound good right now.”
“I’ll fix you a frozen cola, that’ll do the trick,” Monty said, then walked to the drink machine to fix it.
“Let me guess,” Celia said, still dabbing Rory’s forehead. She changed her tone of voice making it softer and lower—giving it a lulling, almost hypnotic quality that would soothe the man’s troubled soul. “You have a child giving you problems, a son I would guess.”
“How did you know?”
“I have a son myself,” Celia said. “He’s busy getting tattoos and chasing after a woman at present.”
“You do know then,” Rory said, feeling his body growing relaxed. “My son caught the woman he was chasing, unfortunately.”
“That bad, huh,” Celia said.
“Drugs,” Rory said. “She gave me three wonderful grandchildren, though. Somehow she managed to stay off drugs during her pregnancies. God only knows how she did it.”
“The Lord works in mysterious ways,” Celia said. “Those children were meant to be in the world, so God protected them.”
Monty walked up to Rory and put the straw from the cool drink up to Rory’s lips while he held the cup.
“Thank you,” Rory said. “That’s good stuff.” He took the cup from Monty and held it himself.
Monty went back behind the counter.
“What brings you here, love,” Celia said.
“The car—the black Mustang belongs to my son’s wife Anna.” The words had slipped out of his mouth before he even realized it. “I shouldn’t have said that. Will, my son, told me not to say anything.”
“That’s OK, it’s just me and Monty here. You can trust us. I’m Celia, what’s your name?”
“Rory, Rory Baker.”
Monty’s cell phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and looked down to see the caller’s name. Turning to Celia he mouthed the name “Veronique” then left the room to take the call.
“Rory, love, your mind is playing tricks on you,” Celia said, as she softly ran her hand down the side of his face. “What beautiful green eyes you have, Rory. They’ve seen so much… so much suffering.” Her heart began to ache for the man and his sad history, which she could somehow pick up on instinctively. She held him close as he began to weep. “Oh my poor, poor boy. You’ve had so much to deal with in your life. And all alone too.” She rocked him.
A customer entered, but Monty reappeared and quietly dealt with him. Rory lifted his head from Celia’s shoulder and wiped his eyes with his hands.
“I’m sorry, Celia. I don’t usually break down in front of
strangers.”
“Hush, hush now, Rory.” She combed her fingers through his hair. “You’re so distraught over everything with your son that you were seeing things. There’s no black Mustang here. Only a black SUV.”
“An SUV?” Rory said.
“Yes, love,” Celia said. “Our minds can fool us all at times.”
“Of course it’s an SUV,” Rory said, now convinced he’d made a mistake. He looked out the window of the store and spotted only a black SUV where he thought the Mustang had been. “Stupid me, to get the two confused.”
“You’re not stupid,” Celia said. “Things like that happens to all of us.”
“Get Rory a candy bar,” Monty said. “The sugar will do him some good.”
“Let’s find you something sweet to go with your drink,” Celia said. She turned to Monty who nodded.
When they returned to the front counter, Celia still had a comforting arm around Rory.
“Does Rory look well enough to drive, Monty?” Celia said.
“Right as rain,” Monty said and smiled. “That’s my favorite candy bar, Rory. You’re welcome to rest a while longer with us if you want.”
“I feel like I’ve already intruded on you both,” Rory said.
“Nonsense,” Monty said. “You’re welcome here any time.” He looked at Celia. “My wife here has a healing touch, she can help even the most stressed out person relax. They de-stress and then are able to continue on their journey, whatever it might be. No need for us to know what it’s about. We’re just here to serve.”
Rory thought the couple who looked to be in their early sixties were unusual, but genuine. Something about them soothed him. He felt Celia hold his hand and whisper in his ear. What she told him reached deep into his being and he felt forced to obey.
Celia rubbed his hand as she spoke gently. “Relax, Rory. The problems of the day will fall off you as if they were never there. You can remember everything, including the black SUV. But nothing of the day will effect you or make you feel stressed.”
“Are you feeling better, Rory?” Monty said.
“I am actually,” Rory said and smiled. “I still can’t believe I confused that black SUV with a Mustang.”
After hugging Monty and Celia, Rory left the store and got back in his car.
“What kind of trouble is heading our way, Monty?” Celia said, once Rory had driven away. “And will our new friend survive it?”
Chapter 5
The Way It Is
“SO, WHAT ELSE did Veronique have to say,” Celia said.
“Just what I hinted at earlier,” Monty said. “She said not to harm Rory Baker. Instead you need to try your best to help him relax, forget about the Mustang, and go on his way.”
“He’s going to see Gerard,” Celia said.
“Sure he is. They’re old friends. Gerard has told me a little about him. They exchange books. Mysteries, thrillers—those sort of things. You know I’ve never been much of a reader, so I didn’t act nosy about wanting to find out more about Rory.”
“Your hints were more than a little obvious, don’t you think?” Celia said. “If Rory hadn’t been so distraught he might’ve caught on to things.”
“I’m not an old fool. I knew the stress he felt over his son had him too messed up to catch on. Besides, I had to make sure you didn’t suggest that he go play in a busy street or drive off a short bridge—however that saying goes.”
“You know me better than that, Monty Thomas. I’m not that reckless with my suggestions. I felt sorry for poor Rory. He has his hands full.”
“With what?”
“With life in general. That’s the way it is.”
“Hey,” Monty said.
“Hey, what,” Celia said. “Hay is for horses.”
“I know your suggestions were supposed to make Rory relax.”
“Yeah, what of it?”
“Well, hearing your voice low like that just got me all riled up. I’m tempted to put up the closed sign and take you—my sexy mistress, round the corner to our nice, cozy house.”
Celia laughed. “You really are a foolish old man. Calling me your sexy mistress instead of your old, faithful wife.” She laughed again. “But hold on to that thought. A comment like that deserves a reward. After work of course.”
“If I have to wait, then I have to wait. It’ll be even more satisfying when the time comes.”
“Monty, you crazy man. You’d better get yourself a cold drink and pour it down your pants.”
They both laughed loudly.
RORY FELT ODDLY relaxed as he made his way to the Brennan property. He’d always thought it odd that the road leading down to the cottage had never been paved. But he chalked it up to the owners wanting the privacy. Not many drivers would hazard such a rough road. After driving to the gate, Rory turned and followed the wood fence for a while. He’d lowered his windows so he could take in the intoxicating scent of the confederate jasmine growing on the fence. Heaven might smell like jasmine, he thought. Since he didn’t spot anyone, Rory turned his car around and headed toward the small house located at the beginning of the road, just off the main street.
Gerard Kimble sat on the porch of his block home as he usually did at this time of day. He smoked a pipe while he sat in his rocking chair and read a book. Rory parked his car in the driveway behind Gerard’s truck. After stopping the engine and putting the emergency break on, he got out of the car.
“Hello up there, Gerard,” Rory said facing the porch. “You busy?”
“Nope come on up, Rory,” Gerard said, with just a hint of an Australian accent.
Rory walked up the concrete steps leading to Gerard’s porch, then sat in the rocking chair next to the one Gerard was in.
“You’ve looked better, Rory.”
Before replying, Rory glanced at Gerard. The man looked good for fifty-eight. His ash blond hair hung down to his shoulders, in a nice and neat way. Gerard worked out and it showed. The loose tank top he wore nicely accentuated his wide shoulders and toned arms. His baggy shorts showed off tan, muscular legs and a better than average endowment.
“I hope I look as good as you when I’m your age, Ger.”
“Let me guess. Your boy William has been giving you trouble again.”
“That’s not such a wild guess. Actually though he sent me here or rather to the grounds to look for his wife Anna.”
“God, it never ends with that girl does it.”
“No, doesn’t look like it. Gerard, if she came here doing drugs and brought others with her—”
Gerard interrupted his friend when he saw a pained expression come over his face. “Anna and Will are both adults. You’re not responsible for what they do.”
“Why this place?” Rory said. “They probably know the owner’s gone and—it’s my fault. I used to bring William here when he was a kid. Before the new owner came. Will like to play under the trees.”
“I’m sure he did. At that time I lived in North Carolina and watched over the Brennan family grounds there. Man, I loved my porch there that overlooked a noisy stream.”
“That does sound nice,” Rory said. “It’s kind of funny how all the owners of this property were named Samuel Brennan.”
“Aw that’s not such a funny thing,” Gerard said. “In the Brennan family it’s tradition for the oldest son to be given the name Samuel. After the original owner, Samuel Brennan the first.”
“I figured it had to be something like that. Oh God… families. Are they all as big a mess as mine?”
“A lot of them are, I’m sure.”
“Ger, that silly girl didn’t come here with her brother and friends, did she? I hate the idea of them sitting on the porch of the cottage shooting up and doing Lord knows what else.”
“When would she and her friends have come by?”
“Sometime last night.”
“I sat out on the porch till one this morning reading the latest book by Etienne that you lent me. Those Forever stories he wr
ites about immortals fascinate me.”
“I’m glad you like them.”
“And I didn’t see anyone come onto the property. It’s my job to keep a look out you know.”
“I know. And it’s a relief to hear they didn’t desecrate this place.”
“You really like it here, don’t you?” Gerard said.
“It’s tranquil and… well the important thing is that Anna and her crew didn’t come over.”
“How are the grandkids?”
“I didn’t see them today,” Rory said. “Will told me they were with the babysitter Becky.”
“You told me about her—she seems alright. Beats that alley cat mother of theirs Anna any day.”
“That’s for sure. To this day I don’t know how Anna managed to keep straight all during her two pregnancies.”
Gerard had his suspicions about that, none of which he could share with his friend. “Those kids are three pint-sized miracles.”
“I still remember how much fun Aileen had visiting Santa Claus,” Rory said.
Gerard laughed. “That’s when I had my beard. She’s a real sweetheart, that granddaughter of yours. And you’re welcome to bring her and her brothers back any time.”
“Thanks. You’re usually such a busy guy.”
“What’re you talking about?” Gerard said. “I’m always here.”
“True, but you’re not always alone. In fact, you’re rarely alone.”
“I am a bit insatiable in some areas of my life,” Gerard said and smiled.
“God, I just want to forget about everything, just for a little while,” Rory said.
“You don’t have to go back and see the kid right away, do you?”
“No. In fact it’s better if I don’t rush back. I don’t want him to have any reason to doubt I came here and looked for Anna.”
