The Curl Up and Dye

by Sharon Sala

  “LilyAnn! Wait!”

  She stopped, uncertain what to expect and unwilling for this to be another bad experience because she didn’t want to ruin this day.

  Mike was puffing when he finally reached her.

  “I have to take this off, and I need to talk to you. Will you come with me?”

  “Are you going to be mad at me? Because if you are, I don’t want to hear it. This has been a nearly perfect day, and I don’t want it ruined.”

  The tremor in her voice was nearly Mike’s undoing. He poked her halo just enough to make it sway, then shook his head.

  “No, I won’t be mad, and I won’t ruin your day.”

  “Then okay,” she said, and followed him into the office.

  He began peeling off the Santa suit one piece at a time.

  “Wow, it is hot and itchy under all that,” he said, scrubbing his hands against his face, then shedding the rest of the suit until he was left in gym shorts and a T-shirt.

  LilyAnn had seen him in this getup all her life, but all of a sudden she was hit with the intimacy of watching him undress and took herself to a chair on the other side of the room and sat down. He put a tracksuit on over the shorts and tee, then changed back into his tennis shoes. Once he was dressed, he pulled up a chair in front of her and sat down.

  “I have a question to ask you,” he said.

  “So ask,” Lily said.

  “Is T. J. Lachlan stalking you?”

  She sighed. “Pretty much.”

  “Since when?”

  “Well, you saw it. Since Thanksgiving Day.”

  “Did you two have a fight or something? Is that why he’s acting like that?”

  LilyAnn frowned. “A fight? We’ve never even been introduced! I’ve waited on him in the pharmacy and never even exchanged a hello. Yes, I knew who he was, and yes, we’ve all seen and heard that hot rod he drives, but I don’t know him. And what I do know, I don’t like.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Mike mumbled. “So, I owe you this huge apology because I got the idea you liked him and…”

  All of a sudden LilyAnn stood up. She didn’t want to have this conversation in the office at the local community center because she didn’t know where it was going to go. She needed the privacy of her own home if the need became necessary to cry… or if she was lucky… to get a hug and a kiss.

  “So, now the mystery is solved. Now you know I don’t like him.”

  Mike panicked. She was about to bolt and he’d barely begun.

  “Wait! Where are you going?”

  “Home. I haven’t really eaten, and I have gravy in my shoe. I’ll repeat the invitation I offered the other night. Do you want to have Christmas dinner with me?”

  Mike’s heart skipped a beat as he smiled.

  “Yes, I would like to have dinner with you.”

  LilyAnn sighed. “Good. It’s your own fault it will be scrambled eggs and toast.”

  “I like scrambled eggs and toast.”

  And just like that, her world was once again intact.

  “So, I’m going home now. See you in a few minutes?”

  He wanted to kiss her. Instead, he settled for cupping her cheek.

  “Yep. See you soon. I’m going to drop this suit off at the mayor’s house. His grandchildren are due in tonight and unfortunately for him, he has to play Santa Claus for them in the morning in a suit that smells like pee. I’ll be right there afterward. It’ll give you time to get the gravy out of your shoe.”

  LilyAnn laughed, and as she did, the halo bounced from side to side, sprinkling just the tiniest bits of glitter down into her hair.

  Mike was certain he’d never seen anything quite as beautiful, but he couldn’t say it for the lump in his throat. She waved good-bye and then went out the door, leaving him to pack up the suit.

  LilyAnn’s heart was as light as her steps as she ran across the parking lot to her car. It was just after 4:15. If she hurried, she could get biscuits in the oven before Mike arrived. And maybe fry some bacon and make a little gravy. By the time she pulled into the driveway at her house, she had a whole meal of breakfast for supper prepared in her mind. All she had to do was make it happen.

  ***

  T. J. Lachlan had come to a Christmas Eve conclusion that it was time to get out of Blessings. He’d already had a conversation with Hank Richards, his Realtor, about going back to his home in Tennessee. He didn’t like being the outsider, or treated like some damn pariah. Every time he thought about LilyAnn Bronte, she brought Laverne to mind, which set his teeth on edge. They both had acted like high-falutin’ bitches who needed to be taken down a notch, and while he hadn’t been able to enact any kind of revenge on Buddy and Laverne, he could and would set a new course for the Bronte woman before he left, and he would make sure she would, by God, never forget his name.

  When Christmas morning came, he began to pack. It was nearly noon when he left a key to the house underneath a rock near the back door and loaded his bags into his truck. He wanted to go home, but had to dismantle LilyAnn and her high and mighty attitude first.

  He knew he was taking a risk, but he’d lived his whole life on the edge and gotten away with it. He had no reason to assume his luck would fail him now. The only uncertainty he still had, as he took a back road into Blessings, was if she would be home. If she was, he was going to take her off that high horse she liked to ride and take her down in a most humiliating manner, just like she’d done to him.

  He cruised by her neighborhood and smiled when he saw her car gone, as was the car in the drive next to hers. He whipped his truck into the alley, thankful for the six-foot-high privacy fences on both sides, and parked at the gate leading into her backyard.

  He went through it without caution, picked a lock on her back door, and went inside like he owned the place. He walked all through her house, looking for the perfect hiding place. Once he found it, he unscrewed the lightbulb, then went back into the living room and settled in to watch for her return.

  He’d been waiting for less than an hour when he saw her car turn a corner up the street. He waited until she was pulling into her driveway before he left the living room on the run, quickly settling into his hiding place.

  ***

  Biscuits and Mike were on Lily’s mind as she unlocked her door and went inside. The first thing she did was drop off her shoes in the utility room and hang the halo on a coat hook. She’d get some spot remover for the gravy later.

  She ran barefoot through the house, anxious to change and get to work. She didn’t know where the conversation with Mike would go, but just the fact that he was no longer mad at her was enough.

  She flipped the lights on in her bedroom and then headed for the walk-in closet, but when she opened the door, it was in darkness. Thinking that the bulb had burned out, she was already turning around when she was hit from behind in a flying tackle.

  Her heart was pounding with sudden terror, but she didn’t have the breath to scream as the weight of her attacker pressed her into the carpet.

  “What’s the matter, bitch? Cat got your tongue?”

  She recognized the voice at the same time she recognized the danger. With Mike on the other side of town, there was no one to save her but herself.

  She threw her head back as hard as she could and heard him grunt when it hit his nose, then she bucked him off and heard his head hit the footboard of her bed. With only seconds to get out, she scrambled to her feet and bolted out of the door.

  He caught her in the hallway, slamming her up against the wall and slapping her face so hard blood spurted on the inside of her mouth.

  Now she was screaming as she constantly struggled to get free, but she’d bloodied his nose with her head-butt, and in his rage he continued to overwhelm her, pinning her arms above her head and ramming his knee between her legs.

  LilyAnn was on autopilot, fighting him with every ounce of strength that she had, and yet he kept pushing harder and harder against her until she was pinned so tightl
y between him and the wall that she was all but motionless.

  He was laughing when he put his cheek against hers, then turned just enough to lick the side of her face from her jaw to the side of her nose.

  The fear in LilyAnn was crippling until she felt his wet tongue against her skin. It was like having water thrown in her face. She turned her head just enough to bite down on his ear. Blood spurted in her mouth as the flesh separated. She spit it out in his face.

  His scream was deafening, but now she had room to maneuver.

  T. J. didn’t know his earlobe was gone, but he did know the blood on her face and shirt was his and that he had seriously underestimated his prey.

  He doubled up his fist and swung, but as she ducked beneath the blow, he ran his fist through the Sheetrock instead. She came back up in front of him as he was trying to pull his hand out of the wall and stabbed her fingernails into his face, raking deep gouges into the skin and leaving raw, bloody tracks.

  The pain on T. J.’s face was crippling; he was nearly blinded by his own tears.

  “Bitch! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you,” he kept screaming.

  But she was still on the attack, which had taken him off guard.

  He took a step back in an effort to get out of her reach, but not soon enough, as she jammed her knee into his groin and, when he shrieked from the pain, drew up her foot and kicked what was hanging between his legs with such impact that she heard a pop.

  He staggered backward, bent double from the pain and gagging from a sudden wave of nausea.

  Lily ran and didn’t look back—out of the hall and into the living room, heading for the front door. She couldn’t believe it when she heard his footsteps again! He was still mobile.

  Then she happened to glance out her front window, and like an answer to a prayer, she caught a glimpse of Mike’s car in her driveway, then Mike himself, walking toward the house.

  She screamed his name at the top of her lungs, her fingers curling around the knob.

  The adrenaline urge to kill was so strong that Lachlan was oblivious to body pain. He caught her just as the door came open, slammed it in her face, and choked off her scream. Then he grabbed her arm and threw her against the wall, knocking the breath out of her body and rendering her momentarily senseless.

  Lily moaned and was struggling with her equilibrium when she saw him coming at her with a knife.

  ***

  When Mike heard the scream, it was so shocking that he froze, trying to locate the source. Then he saw the front door to LilyAnn’s house begin to open, caught a glimpse of the blood and terror on her face just before the door slammed shut, and then he bolted.

  LilyAnn had a brief glimpse of the door flying inward and then a man in motion sailing past her, hitting Lachlan chest high. They went down in a tangle of arms and legs, fighting for control of the knife.

  LilyAnn kept screaming for help, hoping her neighbors would hear as she dived for the phone and dialed 911.

  “911. What is your emergency?”

  She could hardly breathe because of her welling panic and spit out the information in short, chopping sentences. “LilyAnn Bronte. 1704 Willow Drive. Man in my house. Trying to kill me. My neighbor is fighting. Send help. We need help.”

  “Is he armed?” the dispatcher asked.

  “Knife. He has a knife! Hurry!” she screamed, as Lachlan swung the knife at Mike, barely missing his face.

  “Ma’am, wait on the phone with me,” the dispatcher said, but Lily couldn’t.

  One moment Mike had the upper hand, and then Lachlan rolled and pinned Mike to the floor.

  “No!” LilyAnn screamed, and even as the dispatcher was telling her to stay on the phone, she grabbed her grandma’s lead crystal vase and swung it against T. J.’s head like a ball bat.

  The ensuing crack sounded like a gunshot as T. J. went limp. Mike pushed out from under him, crawling to his knees to check Lachlan’s pulse.

  “He’s still breathing,” he gasped, trying to catch his breath.

  “Well, damn. Then I didn’t hit him hard enough,” LilyAnn said, and then broke into sobs.

  As Mike looked up at her from the floor, he got his first clear view of her condition, and his heart nearly stopped.

  She was covered in blood.

  “Oh my God, oh my God.”

  He crawled to his feet and grabbed her shoulders, frantically running his hands up and down her body, checking for wounds. “Where are you hurt? Where did he cut you? Talk to me, sweetheart! What the hell did he do?”

  Chapter 15

  LilyAnn pushed his hands away and threw her arms around Mike’s neck.

  “You saved me! You saved me!” she sobbed. “I thought I was dead.”

  Mike was shaking. In the distance, he could hear sirens, and he caught a glimpse of their neighbor through the open door, running across the street toward Lily’s house.

  “LilyAnn, look at me,” Mike shouted.

  She felt like she was going into free fall. Everything was beginning to echo, and Mike’s face kept going in and out of focus.

  “There’s blood all over you. Where are you hurt?” he asked.

  She swayed on her feet. “It’s all his,” she mumbled, and passed out in his arms.

  He caught her as she fell and was laying her down on the sofa as Thomas Thane ran into the house.

  “Dear God! What happened?”

  “The man was trying to kill her. I heard her screaming as I drove up.”

  Thomas toed T. J. with his shoe. “Is he dead?”

  Mike took a breath. “No, but she damn sure tried to make that happen.”

  All of a sudden, he was too shaky to stand. He sat down on the floor beside the sofa and laid his head against her arm. His belly was hurting, and he was going to be pissed beyond words if the sorry bastard busted anything loose.

  The first police car slid to a stop at the curb, with an ambulance a half a block behind it. Mike saw Lonnie Pittman running toward the house with his gun drawn and then saw two other cruisers pull up, as well.

  Lonnie came through the door with his gun aimed and saw T. J. Lachlan out on the floor and LilyAnn unconscious and bloody on the sofa. He was almost afraid to ask.

  “Is she alive?”

  Mike nodded. “She fainted.”

  Lonnie knelt to check Lachlan’s pulse. “He’s still alive.”

  Mike sighed. “She has already apologized for that oversight.”

  Lonnie managed a sideways grin. “She’s damn sure bloody. Are you sure she’s not wounded?”

  “She said it was all his, and I am inclined to believe her.”

  At that point, two other officers came in, followed by the first wave of EMTs. One stopped by Lachlan, and the other went to LilyAnn.

  Mike watched him checking her vitals, checking for wounds, feeling for obvious broken bones, but after a thorough check of her body and blood pressure, he rocked back on his heels.

  “How is she?” Mike asked.

  “She has a good pulse and no visible wounds other than bruising. Blood pressure is 140/85, which is a little high, but under the circumstances, I think she’s good.”

  The other EMT’s comments were vastly different.

  “This one is not. His blood pressure is low, and his breathing is labored. There’s a deep gash in the back of his head and I suspect concussion, possibly a skull fracture.”

  “That would be from where LilyAnn took him out with her grandma’s vase.” Mike pointed to the shards of broken glass.

  Lonnie was counting off the obvious wounds that he could see as the EMT turned Lachlan over.

  “He’s missing part of an ear, and the gashes on his face look like they went into some of the facial muscles.”

  The EMT beside LilyAnn picked up her hand.

  “Part of his face is under her fingernails,” he said. The other one was still checking out Lachlan’s condition. “I’ve got teeth marks here… and lipstick on his ear?”

  All of a sudden they all
turned and stared at LilyAnn.

  “Well, shit,” Lonnie muttered. “She bit off his ear.”

  Mike tried to laugh, but it made his belly hurt. He grabbed it and doubled over.

  Seconds later they had him on his back.

  “You have a new surgery scar,” the EMT said.

  “Yeah, I had an accident about six weeks ago. They took out my spleen.”

  The EMT picked up his radio as Mike pushed himself up to a sitting position.

  “This is Beau. We need a third bus at the address. I’ve got three down.”

  He popped smelling salts beneath LilyAnn’s nose. She came to with a gasp, reaching for Mike.

  “I’m here, honey,” he said, and grabbed her hand.

  She was shaking as she pushed herself up, then saw Lachlan facedown on her floor.

  “Is he still breathing?”

  Lonnie grinned. “Yes, ma’am, he is. Can you tell me how he got in?”

  “I don’t know. I went to my room to change clothes. The light was out in the closet, and when I turned around to go get a bulb, he tackled me facedown to the floor.”

  Mike was shaking. He couldn’t wrap his head around how close he’d come to losing her.

  Lonnie continued to take notes as the second set of EMTs came in the house.

  “How did you get away?” he asked.

  “I threw my head back and busted his nose, then bucked him off my back and ran. He caught me again in the hall. He took a swing at my head and missed. You can see where he rammed his hand through the Sheetrock. I scratched his face, kneed him in the dangly bits, and ran again.”

  Lonnie grinned. He’d never heard a man’s balls referred to in quite such a manner.

  LilyAnn felt light-headed as she looked down at the red blood on her white pants and the Christmas tree on her sweatshirt. After all that had happened, the lights were still flashing. She shoved her hands through her hair and thought it was a good thing she’d taken off her halo before this happened, because she’d been anything but an angel tonight.

  Lonnie was still writing. “Then what happened, LilyAnn?”

  “I was almost out the door when he caught me again, and that time he had pulled a knife. If it wasn’t for Mike, I would be dead.”