Up the Devil's Belly

by Rhett DeVane

  He grudgingly endured the secret code password, fatigue-clad nonsense the group embraced in order to hone his reflexes on a series of pop-up life-sized dummies. A few of the members frowned on his refusal to trudge through the three-mile series of military-style obstacle courses. He overcame their grumbling reticence by quadrupling his monthly membership fee. Money opened more doors than brute force and diplomacy put together.

  Hank heard the faint click of the side door. “These got-damned black kids just think they can waltz into my house at will! I’ll be so glad when I can leave here. Just one more month…that should be plenty of time. Tameka!” he called.

  No response came from the opposite end of the house. He carefully removed the Kimber .45 from its holster, placed it in the gun case, and secured the lock. After he figured out who’d entered his house without so much as a perfunctory knock, he’d return the handgun to its rightful position.

  At the entrance to his bedroom he paused, straining to hear the muffled conversation. “What are you two kids up to back here?” he asked in a firm voice as he slipped into the room behind Tameka and Moses.

  Tameka spun around, startled. “Mr. Hank! Umm…Moses cut his hand.”

  Hank stepped forward. “Let me see.”

  “I was lookin’ for Tameka to find me a Band-Aid,” Moses said.

  Though he had a gut instinct there was more to it than they were letting on, Hank motioned the children toward his private bathroom. “C’mon in here, Moses. I have a first aid kit.”

  Hank donned the pair of rubber gloves that came with the kit. “I don’t believe in handling blood. You can’t be too safe, these days. Let’s see how bad it is…and, whether you’ll need to go around to the clinic for some stitches.”

  Moses winced and turned his head to one side as Hank removed the bloodstained rag from the wound. The two-inch superficial cut had almost stopped bleeding.

  “Well…it’s not that bad, see?” Hank attempted a comforting tone. “Just a surface scratch.”

  He washed Moses’ hand with mild soap under running water, applied a thin glaze of antibacterial ointment, and applied an oversized adhesive bandage to protect the wound. “What’d you cut this on, son?”

  Moses mind raced, casting around for a believable lie. “I was takin’ the leaf bag off the back of the mower and it stuck. I put my hand up underneath to jiggle it loose. I reckon I caught it on somethin’.”

  Hank frowned. “Good thing that mower shuts off when you let go of the handle. Otherwise, you’d have cut your fingers off on the blade. You should never stick your hands inside the working part of the mower! There’re a lot of sharp edges.”

  Moses nodded. “Yes’sir, Mr. Hank.”

  Hank sighed. Everyone was looking for a reason to file a lawsuit, nowadays. He’d best play it safe. “I suppose I’d better take you on around to the clinic for a tetanus shot. Whatever you cut yourself on could’ve been rusted.”

  Moses groaned. “Those tetanus shots hurt like the dickens! Do I have to get one?”

  “It’s a sight better than getting lock jaw and dying,” Hank said.

  “Moses had to get one of ’em last year. He stepped on a nail one time when he was goin’ barefoot last summer,” Tameka said.

  Hank’s mood brightened. “Well, then! That’s good news for you. A tetanus shot’s good for ten years. If you’re sure you had one recently, you’re protected.”

  Hank stood and peeled off the gloves, discarding them in the small metal trashcan near the sink. “Why don’t you store the lawnmower, for now. Tameka, finish up your chores, and I’ll run you both on home to your grandmother’s. We don’t want this cut to get dirty and infected, now do we?”

  “I’m not through with the back yard, Mr. Hank.”

  He forced a smile. “No matter. It doesn’t show from the road, anyway. You can finish it when you come next time. Won’t hurt a thing till then.”

  Moses nodded and left to store the yard tools. Hank returned to his study for the new .45.

  “Mr. Hank?” a soft voice called behind him.

  He turned to see Tameka, head bowed shyly. “Thank you for taking care of Moses’ hand.”

  He smiled. “Well, now. That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?”

  Fate had just provided another opportunity for him to display kindness and generosity to his next little video star.

  “When I get up to Heaven, I’ll have a few questions for the feller in charge. Like, why is it good folks suffer from cancer and the like, and the bad ones just live right on and on? If it was up to me, the mean and cruel would be the ones gettin’ all the bad ailments. You rape someone, your tally-wacker just falls right off – like an overripe fig. That’d slow down meanness, I do believe. Then, we could spend all our money on buildin’ schools and parks, rather than prisons.”

  Piddie Davis Longman

  Chapter Thirteen

  Triple C Day Spa and Salon

  For the first time in a week, the waiting room at the Triple C Day Spa and Salon was barren. The sole patron, Ladonna O’Donnell, and Mandy were sequestered in the hair salon dreaming up possible new up-do’s for the imminent Miss Madhatter beauty contest, a recent addition to the Madhatter’s Festival.

  The Twin City golf tournament had come and gone, leaving an exhausted staff in its wake. The town’s citizens could now breathe easier and prepare for the upcoming football season. Delighted Seminole fans anticipated Florida State’s kick-off game against Duke University. University of Florida Gators, fans as rabidly faithful as the Seminoles, geared up for their season as well. Both teams had lost several starting players to graduation the previous year and speculation sizzled as to which Florida team, if any, stood a ghost of a chance to snag the National Championship title. Though the two factions were polarized against each other, they joined in despising the other Florida football powerhouse, the University of Miami Hurricanes.

  Jake deposited a fresh flower arrangement in front of Piddie’s station at the reception desk. She looked up from the appointment book. “What’s got you grinnin’ like a goat eatin’ briars?”

  “It’s almost here, Pid.” He picked at a stray sprig of maidenhair fern.

  “Don’t I know it! I got to get me a new roster and study up on my Seminoles. There’re so many new fellers, I don’t know all their names and where they’re supposed to play.”

  “Jon has a friend who works in the athletic department at FSU. I’ll see if he can get us one of those media guides.” Jake’s face curled into a pout. “Hattie doesn’t want to go to the first home game with me. She’s still a bit peevish about the fire. Usually, by this time, I can get her all fired up about football season. She’s just all depressed.” He propped his chin on his hands and frowned.

  “Well, now…a shock like that does take a lot outta a person. She’s been busy as a stump-tailed cow in fly season, meetin’ builders and pickin’ out the fixin’s for the redo on the kitchen. I hear it’s goin’ along pretty fast, with all of Bobby’s buddies helpin’ out.”

  “Yeah. I was out to the Hill yesterday. They already have the flooring and the burned-out wall behind the stove ripped out, and the cleaners have removed the soot from the walls in the living room. I finally talked Hattie into going ahead and replacing the carpet in the living room and putting a wood floor in there and the kitchen.” Jake rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself in for, helping her redecorate. She’s slow as Christmas when it comes to making a decision.”

  Piddie shook her finger. “It’s a woman’s pero-gitty to change her mind, after all. You let her be. She’ll figure it all out. Even a blind hog finds an acorn, ever’ now and then.”

  “I guess.” Jake pointed to the wall behind him. “I noticed you got your new artwork up. Looks fantastic.”

  Piddie grinned. “I just love havin’ it here where I can rest my eyes on it durin’ the day. All the whirling colors! I had the time of my life at my birthday party, thanks to you and all my friends and family. I nev
er laughed so hard in all my life as I did at that video Hattie and Holston put together. You never realize how funny-lookin’ you are till you see yourself on the big screen!” She pivoted to study the abstract artwork. “I was shore surprised when little Ruth gave me the paintin’. She’s somethin’, ain’t she?”

  Jake nodded. “Her mama told me that she’s gonna have a show at Lemoyne Art Gallery in Tallahassee, end of October.”

  “Is that so? She was plain precious. Told me the paintin’ was called…oh, I can’t remember that Chinese word to save my life. It was the word for heaven, her mama told me. I reckon the young’un wanted to give me a sneak peak of things to come.”

  Jake shook his head. “Hope not…I mean, I want you to ascend instead of descend…just not anytime soon.”

  “Lordy-be, Jake. I’m over 98 now. It’s bound to happen some day. I’ll be sure to come back and visit y’all if I figure out a way.”

  Jake steered the conversation away from death. “You gonna hang your plaque here too?”

  Piddie shook her head. The mass of sprayed curls trembled. “I had Joe hang it in my bedroom at Evelyn’s. That tickled me pink, too. I reckon if I don’t make it all the way to a hundret to get my letter from the Prez-e-dent, that plaque from the Chairman of the Chattahoochee Downtown Merchant’s Association will do me just fine!”

  Jake leaned over the desk and whispered, “I got an idea.”

  “It ain’t gonna end one of us up in jail, is it?”

  Jake shook his head. “Why don’t you plan on going with me to the first FSU home game?”

  Piddie clutched her chest. “Me? What about Jon?”

  Jake smirked and swatted the air with one thin hand. “He’d rather watch paint dry than sit through a football game. C’mon Pid, you’d love it! We could stop by and pick up a bucket of chicken. I’ll pack a cooler with drinks, make some potato salad. I can get a parking pass for the handicapped section right up close to the stadium, and there’re elevators to help us get up to the top.”

  “I ’preciate you thinkin’ of me, sugar, but, I promised Elvina I’d watch the games with her this year. She done went out and bought a big screen TV, special for football season. The best part — she’s got her some new hearin’ aids. I used to couldn’t talk to her on the phone without yellin’ like I was in the next county. Law, it got to where I couldn’t stand to watch TV with her. The sound was turned up so loud, my eardrums almost caught a’fire!”

  Jake laughed. “I oughta just come watch the game with y’all.”

  “That’d be a hoot. Elvina’s decided she’s gonna root for the dang Florida Gators when our Seminoles play them this year. She’s crossin’ over to the other side just to peeve me. It might be good to have you there to tip the balance.” Piddie leaned over and whispered in a low tone. “Elvina’s discovered them hard lemonade drinks. After a few, you forget who you’re rootin’ for, anyway…but, don’t you dare tell her I told you so. She’d pitch a fit and fall in it!”

  “Lips sealed, throw away the key.” Jake pressed his lips together between his index finger and thumb, then flung his hand into the air.

  She pointed to the flower arrangement on the corner of her desk. “Jolene sure did a good job with this LadyHat arrangement. I think she was rightly cleaver to come up with the idea of usin’ hats as flower pots.” Piddie patted the daisies and baby’s breath bouquet.

  “She said you gave her a bunch of your old hats.”

  Piddie nodded. “I’m gettin’ rid of stuff I don’t use. I gave a passel of ’em away when I moved in with Evelyn. I don’t wear my hats much anymore, not since Mandy got the hang of gettin’ my hair piled up just right. I’d hate to press it down and spoil the fruits of her labor.”

  “It’s a shame, really, that women don’t wear hats much anymore. I think they look so sexy and sophisticated…ah, well.” He tilted his head. “You know, Piddie, you don’t look like you feel too good.”

  Piddie let out a big sigh. “I ain’t felt worth a plug nickel this mornin’. I went to bed with the chickens, and I reckon I slept okay. I feel a mite sick to my stomach, off and on…even though I can’t imagine why, with Joe doin’ the cookin’ now. Here lately, my get up and go has got up and went.”

  He turned toward the elevator door. “Jon’s still upstairs. He hasn’t left to see patients yet. Let’s get him to check your blood pressure and just make sure you’re okay.”

  “I don’t want to be a bothermint.”

  Jake shrugged. “It’s no bother, Piddie. I’ll ask him to check in with you on his way out.”

  Holston appeared at the door leading to the kitchen, holding Sarah in his arms. “Piddie, would one of you mind watching Sarah for a few minutes? I’m on a conference call, and she’s talking up a storm.”

  Piddie held her pudgy arms up and waved her hands. “Come here, little chinaberry. Goo-gah will take you.”

  Sarah nestled happily into Piddie’s soft lap.

  “I won’t be much longer,” Holston said as he turned to leave.

  Piddie patted Jake on the hand. “Go on about your business, now. Don’t you worry ’bout me. Sarah and I got some book work to do.”

  “Okay. I’ll get Shug to check on you. Toodles!” He shuffled toward the elevator.

  Settled in the stylist chair, Ladonna O’Donnell tugged at a wispy sausage-shaped curl trailing down her left cheek. “I don’t know that I like all this scruffy little stray stuff, Mandy. Can’t you up-sweep my whole head of hair?”

  “Won’t work, hon,” Mandy said, talking around the two hairpins she held in her pressed lips. “The new growth around your face’s too short. Besides, it’d make you look too severe if I pulled it all back. The fringe softens your facial features.”

  “All right. I suppose you know what you’re doin’. I’ll hush. You’re the boss.”

  Mandy smiled. “I love it when someone says that to me!”

  The sound of crying emanated from the direction of the reception room.

  “That sounds like Sarah,” Mandy said. “She must be teethin’. She’s been a little peevish here lately.”

  When the wailing failed to stop, Mandy glanced toward the salon door. “I better go check on her. Piddie’s probably on the phone and got her hands full. Be right back.”

  Ladonna studied her reflection in a hand mirror, trying on seductive smiles. “Sure, take your time. I ain’t got nowheres else to be, this mornin’.”

  “Piddie?” Mandy called as she walked to the front desk. The sound of crying grew louder and more urgent. When she reached the antique reception desk, she saw Sarah sitting on Piddie’s lap, fat tears rolling down her reddened cheeks. From Piddie’s slumped posture, Mandy knew immediately. Something was terribly wrong.

  Mandy took Sarah into her arms and gently shook Piddie by the shoulder. “Miz Piddie? Miz Piddie?”

  Piddie’s head lolled to one side. Her face was ghostly pale with a faint blue tinge.

  “Oh, my God! Evelyn?! Holston?! Ladonna?! Somebody!”

  Ladonna, still wearing her plastic drape, was the first to arrive. “What’sa matter?”

  “Dial 911!” Mandy ordered as she loosened the top buttons of Piddie’s dress. “Somethin’s bad wrong with her!”

  Evelyn and Holston rushed into the room. Jon and Jake heard the commotion from the balcony of the second floor. Jon took the steps on the winding staircase in two’s while Jake shuffled to the elevators.

  Jon felt for a pulse, leaning over Piddie to listen for breath sounds. “She’s not breathing and there’s no pulse! Holston, help me get her onto the floor.”

  The two men eased Piddie as quickly as they could manage onto the Oriental rug. Jon tilted her head to open her airway and, once again, checked for any sign that she was breathing on her own. “Anyone besides me know CPR?” he asked.

  Mandy handed the baby off to Evelyn and crouched beside him. “I do. Where you want me?”

  “I’ll do the compressions. Go ahead and give her two breaths.”


  Mandy pinched Piddie’s nose together, pressed her mouth to the older woman’s, and gave two even breaths. Jon positioned his palms and began chest compressions. Evelyn, Ladonna, and Holston watched helplessly from a short distance.

  “I’m going outside to wave down the ambulance,” Jake said.

  For what seemed like an eternity, Jon and Mandy administered CPR, switching places after a couple of minutes. Jon checked again for any signs of life, then switched positions with Mandy. Finally, the wail of sirens echoed from the street. Jake motioned the paramedics into the room.

  Jon and Mandy continued CPR until the paramedics signaled them to stop. Marney Sullivan, EMT, opened Piddie’s housedress and positioned the two adhesive pads of the defibrillator on her upper right chest and lower left abdomen. Once activated, the machine assessed her condition, charged, and delivered an electrical jolt.

  Piddie’s eyes fluttered slightly, and she took a few shallow breaths. Terence Odom, the second paramedic, administered oxygen as Marney relayed information on pulse and blood pressure. The paramedics inserted an IV and continued to work until they felt they had Piddie stabilized. Her friends and family trailed the gurney to the front entrance and watched wordlessly as Piddie was loaded into the gaping maw of the ambulance.

  Jake turned to Evelyn. “You going with her to the hospital?”

  “I’ll get my keys. Will someone call Joe?” she asked as she handed Sarah to Holston.

  “Certainly. You go on over to Tallahassee. We’ll take care of calling anyone who needs to know. You sure you’re okay to drive?”

  Evelyn nodded and rushed from the room.

  “My God,” Mandy whispered. She leaned over and picked up a small silk daisy that had fallen from Piddie’s hair. “What’ll we do?”

  “Hold down the fort.” Jake smiled weakly. “That’s what Piddie would have us do…and pray.”