Up the Devil's Belly

by Rhett DeVane

  Signs of patriotic support had popped up everywhere, almost overnight, since the September eleventh attack. A monster 4x4 pick-up truck roared into the lane beside me. I craned my neck to study the driver, a young man with a day-old beard, his head wrapped in a faded red, white, and blue bandana. In the back of the vehicle, an oversized American flag was tethered to a wooden pole. Sensing my scrutiny, he glanced down and flashed a toothy grin before accelerating sharply with the green signal. The flag flapped in the breeze, making him a one-man parade. Two blocks farther down Tharpe Street, an elderly gentleman bumped along the narrow strip of yard bordering the pavement on his riding lawnmower, a small flag duct-taped to its bumper.

  Could good come from such a horrible act of anti-humanity? Perhaps, we’d pull together like threatened cows in a circle, unified against a common foe. By setting aside our differences for a time, we might feel gratitude for a country that had historically welcomed cultural disparity.

  Shortly after noon, I pulled into the parking lot of the Triple C Day Spa and Salon. Finding no empty spot, I negotiated the narrow delivery lane to the rear door and squeezed Betty between Elvina’s Oldsmobile and Holston’s Acura.

  Holston glanced up from his computer screen when I entered the study. “Hi, hon! How’d it go over at Dr. Thomas’s?”

  I kissed him lightly on the top of the head. “Fine.”

  “Fine as in I really don’t want to talk about it right now…or fine as in all is healthy?”

  The concern on his face caused a flood of love from deep in my soul. “Fine as in, I don’t have to undergo any more disgusting, invasive tests for a whole year.”

  His features relaxed. “Fan—tastic! Did you get anything to eat yet?”

  I rested the backside of my hand on my forehead in my best Southern lady I-feel-an-attack-of-the-vapors pose. “Forced myself to stop at Hopkins for a chicken tetrazzini salad.”

  “Poor baby. Wanda just left to pick up carryout from the Homeplace for all of us. I’ve signed on for the gut-buster special.”

  “Shame on you!” Julie’s half-pound hamburger with its thick slab of melted cheddar cheese and homemade steak fries was known locally as heart attack on a plate.

  “Good thing I’ve already had my cholesterol checked this year. I just felt the need for some good grease, you know?”

  “Uh-huh. Where’s the wild child?”

  He motioned toward the salon. “She’s hanging at the front desk with Elvina. You have any clients scheduled this afternoon?”

  “Just one, at 1:30. I’ll pick Sarah up afterwards. I’ve got to hit Steph up for some massage lotion. I’m running low.”

  “Didn’t you order last week?”

  “Yeah, but with the planes grounded for a few days, they sent the package by slow boat. Suppose it’ll be here eventually.”

  Elvina was simultaneously talking on the phone and watching the cable news network on the small color television near the reception desk. Sarah played at her feet on a quilt. The baby waved her hands in the air, and I gathered her into my arms, nodding good afternoon to Elvina.

  The hair salon was crowded with patrons in various stages of completion. All three dryers were going and several women perched on chairs waiting their turn at bat. Mandy held court around her workstation as she deftly snipped the damaged ends from Ladonna O’Donnell’s bleached and permed hair. Melody leaned intently over the hands of her nail care patron, one ear tuned in to her client, one ear trained to the ongoing discussion in the hair salon.

  “Well, hey there, Hattie. How’d it go over there in the city? Everything turn out okay?” Mandy asked.

  I sighed. There truly were no secrets in a small town. Since the community had followed my surgery and recovery, their interest was only natural. “I’m good to go.”

  Mandy smiled. “I’m sure glad to hear that. We need all the good news we can get…what with all that’s goin’ on.”

  Josephine Waters grunted. “I think we oughta just load up a bunch of bombs and go kill that hateful Osamer-ben-lauden!”

  The audience of women nodded agreement. It was a common sentiment. If the Middle East was accessible by automobile, mobs of deer-gun-toting Southern boys would be loaded up in the backs of fleets of pick-up trucks, bent on retaliation.

  Elvina stood at the arched door entrance to the hair salon. “I ordered five more gas masks from the Army surplus fella. There’s mile-long waitin’ list for them.”

  “Gas masks?” I asked.

  Elvina nodded. “Heck, yeah. There’re rumors that them crazy terrorists will use germ warfare on us! I, for one, am gonna stand ready!”

  Mandy smiled. “Elvina, I hardly think a town the size of Chattahoochee will be a target.”

  Elvina propped her hands on her hips. “We’re only forty-five miles shy of where the President’s brother lives, I might remind you…and, by the way, Hattie Davis Lewis, I can’t hardly believe you’d support the notion of Holston flyin’ off to New York next week!”

  I shrugged. “Some of his friends died in the attack, Elvina. Besides, it’s probably safer to fly right now than it ever has been. And, I wouldn’t begin to tell him what to do, anyway.”

  “Well…” Elvina scowled. “I’m sure not settin’ foot on a plane, I’ll tell you!”

  Mandy dropped the section of Ladonna’s hair she was studying. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Elvina. But…have you ever flown?”

  The women turned to watch for Elvina’s reaction.

  “Well no…but I ain’t about to start now!” Elvina’s stare of death squelched the titter of laughter.

  Evelyn floated into the room draped in a knee-length quilted cape of red, white, and blue. A small embroidered God Bless America logo embellished the upper right chest. She swept in a circle. “Well? What do y’all think?”

  Josephine Waters clasped her hands together as if she felt a prayer coming on.

  “That is the most beautiful cape I’ve ever laid eyes on!”

  “This some kind of new design line, Evelyn?” Mandy asked. “If it is, it’ll be right on target with all that’s goin’ on.”

  “No…well, maybe later on I can develop some gowns and casual outfits. This cape’s gonna be my contribution to the war on terrorism!”

  Mandy smiled mischievously. “What’cha gonna do, air drop one over Bin Lauden’s head?”

  Evelyn smirked. “For your information, smarty-pants, this idea came to me in a dream. You know I can’t abide the idea of a needle, so givin’ blood’s out for me. But, I can sew! I’m gonna be takin’ orders for capes like this one. Then, I’m gonna send the proceeds after expenses to the Red Cross folks.”

  “You can put me down for three, two large and one small,” Josephine said.

  “I want one, and I know Wanda and Steph will, too.” Mandy said.

  “Lordy! Don’t leave me out!” Melody called out from behind the nail treatment partition.

  Evelyn threw her hands into the air. “Heaven help! I’ll never remember all this.”

  “I’ll start a sign-up and prepayment order sheet at the front desk,” Elvina said. “That way, folks won’t fail to pick them up once you finish with them.”

  “Thanks, Elvina. I praise the Lord every single day that Mama sent you to us to keep things in order. I never was much good at it. Well, I gotta get back to my sewin’. These capes ain’t gonna make themselves! Call me to the kitchen when Wanda gets back with lunch. Mama always said, an engine can’t run on thin air, you gotta give it some fuel!” Evelyn twirled around and scurried off toward her workroom, a whirling blur of patriotism.

  “Y’all stop by the desk on the way out if you want to order one of them capes. I gotta go confirm Stephanie’s massage clients for tomorrow.” Elvina called over her shoulder as she left the hair salon.

  “That woman’s amazing,” Mandy said after Elvina left the room. “Since she put all her meddlesome energy toward runnin’ the Triple C, she’s got us so organized; I’d swear to you, the supply room is in alphabe
tical order!”

  The ladies chuckled and nodded in agreement.

  “Gotta love her,” Ladonna said. “You think I oughta start partin’ my hair in the middle, Mandy?”

  Mandy eyed Ladonna’s bleached locks. “No, honey. I don’t. Your roots would be more noticeable that-a-way.”

  Stephanie poked her head around the corner. “Hattie! I thought I heard your voice. Let me get you that lotion you asked for.” She reappeared in a moment with a gallon of massage lotion.

  “I appreciate this. I suppose I could use plain oil, but I just hate to work with it. My order should be in soon, and I’ll replace this. The commercial flights are moving now, so I imagine things will start to arrive soon.”

  “No problem, glad to help out. I ordered five gallons before the attack, so I have plenty to spare.” She smiled. “Sorry I can’t stay and visit with all of you. My client’s settling in.” Stephanie looked thoughtful. “You know what’s strange? I figured folks would cancel out on massage after the attacks. They did, for the first couple of days. I guess we all just stopped dead for a while. But now…I’ve had people call me who haven’t been in since forever, begging for a spot!”

  “Beats drugs and alcohol as a way to calm your nerves,” Mandy said.

  “I suppose. Call me soon, Hattie. We’ll plan to swap an hour with each other. If your shoulders get as tired as mine, you need it as much as I do.”

  “I can’t argue with that.” The semi-permanent stiffness in the left side of my neck twanged to remind me of my lack of self-care.

  “See you all!” Stephanie called.

  “You and Holston goin’ to the candlelight service down by the river tonight?” Mandy asked. “We’re all gonna go.”

  The planned interfaith service was reflective of memorials across the nation.

  “We’ll be there,” I said.

  Mandy’s scissors snipped as she talked. “All the preachers are goin’ to talk. I heard Miz Lucille’s ladies choir’s gonna do a special set of songs, too. And, Jake’s invited an Islamic religious leader from Tallahassee, since we have a family of them here.”

  Josephine Waters spoke up. “I think it’s just deplorable about Ram Patel’s store. He and his family have been here for a few years, and they’re just the nicest folks you’d ever want to know. He’s from Saudi Arabia, you know.” She shook her head. “Whoever threw the bricks through his plate glass window uptown ought to be put under the jail.”

  Elvina appeared at the door and rejoined the conversation without missing a beat. “Jake and the rest of the uptown business association members have taken up money to help him replace the glass,” she said. “I thought I’d stop by later on…maybe take a casserole.”

  I smiled at the traditional Southern fix-all: comfort food in a casserole container.

  “It’s been fun shootin’ the breeze with y’all. I have to run.” I handed Sarah to Elvina. “Don’t hesitate to give her to Holston if she starts being a pill.”

  “Don’t you worry over the chinaberry,” Elvina said. “She’s part of the staff here.” She crooned to Sarah. “Aren’t you, sweetums?”

  As I turned onto Washington Street, I couldn’t help wondering how the grip of fear would affect the town. The antique shops and B&B’s depended on the influx of northern tourists who migrated south for the winter months. Could Chattahoochee survive?

  “Hey, Sister-girl! How’re your privates?” Jake called from behind the counter when I entered the delivery door to the shop.

  “Perfectly peachy, thanks for asking.”

  Jake grinned. His blue eyes twinkled. “You had lunch yet? I’m gettin’ ready to send Jolene down to the Homeplace for French Dips.”

  “Thanks, but no. I ate in Tallahassee.”

  He picked a dead leaf from the potted philodendron on the table in front of him. “You will be at the river tonight, right? It should be beautiful and inspiring. We’re doing the entire service by candlelight.”

  I walked toward the massage treatment room. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

  Hank Henderson’s Office

  Maxie glanced up from the computer screen when her boss tossed an unmarked envelope on her desk.

  “Your paycheck,” Hank Henderson mouthed slowly, as if he was addressing an impaired toddler.

  “Thank you, sir. But, it’s not officially payday yet.”

  Hank checked the time on his Rolex, 3:30 PM. “I’m leaving now for a meeting in Tallahassee. Actually, why don’t you take the rest of the day off, after you finish what you’re working on right now, of course.”

  “Wow!” Maxie’s blue eyes sparkled. “That’d be great! I’ll be able to make supper before the memorial down by the river. You gonna be back in time to go?”

  “Huh? Oh…yeah, of course. Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Hank smiled with all the trumped-up sincerity he could muster.

  What the hell, he might as well leave her thinking he was the most incredible boss, ever. “Maxie, why don’t you go ahead and take those couple of days off next month for your cousin’s wedding. It’s slowing down here a bit, and I can wing it a couple of days without you.”

  Maxie leapt from her chair and flung her arms around Hank’s neck. “Thank you! Thank you! You’re the best boss in the history of the world!”

  Hank disentangled himself from Maxie’s embrace. “That’s just the sort of guy I am.”

  The final act of generosity would paint a lovely picture after his disappearance.

  “I won’t have my cell phone on during my meeting, Maxie. You’ll have to leave a voicemail message if anything of importance comes up.”

  “Aye, aye, sir!” Maxie military-saluted him before plopping down in front of the computer, her red-glossed lips stretched into a satisfied smile.

  Hank shook his head as he left the law office. Women were so got-damned easy.

  After placing a call to Alfonso, he loaded the trunk of the Mercedes with two packed suitcases and a sealed box containing the twelve master video tapes he had sold to the highest bidder in Miami. Tameka’s debut as a child pornography star would make it thirteen, but since he believed in neither superstition nor magic, that fact eluded him. The tapes and their incriminating contents would be out of his life forever. The perverts of the world would have to find another lackey film director.

  Hank pitched the wilted remains of three daisy blooms over his shoulder with a muttered curse. The closer he inched toward Tameka’s seduction, the more the daisy incidents increased. He found them so often now, he had stopped keeping count. They were only a figment of his stressed creative mind, he had told himself.

  For a few days, he had collected the blooms in a wicker basket near the bed. By morning, the basket would be mysteriously empty, and the floral infestation would start anew. He’d found no evidence of forced entry at the house or office. No perpetrator appeared on his video surveillance tapes. Doubling the dosage on the prescription anti-anxiety medication served to squelch his mounting fear of mental illness. The episodes would cease as soon as he vacated town. He felt certain of it.

  As a result of seeing a cheerful daisy bloom in every nook and cranny, Hank had developed an aversion to the color yellow. In a wild-eyed fit of temper, he’d thrown every piece of clothing boasting even a hint of the foul shade into a yard trash bag.

  The incidents of September 11th had thrown a kink into his well-laid escape plans. Since airport security had been dramatically increased, Hank shunned the notion of booking a commercial flight to Miami. Though it took some finagling and a few extra hundred dollars, he’d arranged to deliver the Mercedes to Miami himself. Screw the airlines. He couldn’t take the risk of any unplanned hold-ups this trip.

  Hank felt the excitement build as he thought of the immediate future. Miami was his kind of town, where everything had a price. Hank’s lips morphed into a greasy smile. A hot Latino woman would solve the minor sexual glitch he’d experienced of late. Maybe he would rent an extra, just in case the first one lacked the required talen
t. Too bad he couldn’t stay in south Florida for a few days. Miami was an immense, depraved theme park, difficult to soak it all in, given a single night.

  Tarrying long was just too risky. He’d inspect the new Mercedes sedan, procure its safe passage to Costa Rica, kick up his heals on the strip for a few hours, then leave via charted jet under his newly-assumed identity.

  Alfonso’s voice from behind shattered his reverie. “You goin’ somewheres?”

  Hank slammed the trunk. “No where you’d want to know about.”

  Alfonso rolled his eyes. “I got your page.”

  Hank glanced around nervously. “Come on inside.” He led the way through the darkened house with the teenager shuffling behind him. When they reached the study, Hank motioned Alfonso toward the couch and closed the door.

  “What you actin’ all spooked ’bout?”

  Hank frowned. “Cautious. I’m cautious, not spooked.”

  Alfonso crossed one long leg over the opposite knee. “You got me here. What you want?”

  The insolence in the boy’s voice made Hank’s teeth clench involuntarily. “We’re making the tape this evening.”

  “I done told you, I ain’t doin’ Tameka Clark. I don’t go for none o’that.”

  “Oh, you’ll go for it, once I sweeten the offer.”

  Alfonso smirked. “What you gone give me, your car?”

  The idea made Hank laugh aloud. “Fat chance. How does…all the video equipment and the computer strike you?”

  Alfonso frowned, studying the older man. “What’s up with this?”

  “I’m turning the business over to you, as of tonight. After Tameka.” The lie developed nicely as he went along. “It’s time for me to upgrade the computer, anyway.”

  “You want Tameka Clark pretty bad, huh? You a sick motha-fu—”

  Hank lunged toward the teenager and pressed his face close to his. “Don’t you even think about calling me that, you hear?” The icy menace in his voice was unmistakable.

  Alfonso drew back slightly. “Yeah. Whatever.”