Blackbird

by Jessica MacIntyre

  Nobody had seen her come in and slip into the office and so it was time to make her presence known. Before doing that, however, she decided to lock her purse away in the bottom drawer. Even though criminal record checks were done on all staff, one could never be too careful. Nothing was illegal if you didn’t get caught, and according to the upbringing she’d had, was told that the working poor were very good at not getting caught. They had to be to survive. All the more reason to make sure they knew they were being watched.

  To her surprise the drawer was unlocked. That wasn’t smart. Not that Robert kept anything valuable in there, but since she’d been coming to assist, she’d made sure every drawer and door had a lock. Safety first. Before she could drop her purse down inside it she noticed something curled up at the bottom, sitting there like a snake. It wasn’t a snake but it was something, in Billie’s mind, that could have a bite just as sharp. A woman’s belt. What the hell was Robert doing with a woman’s belt in his desk drawer?

  Fuming she took it out and stared at it as hard as she could, as if the gesture itself could cause the item to give up its owner and the story behind it. Billie flung the belt down on the desk with a thud, knocking an empty coffee cup over in the process and reached for her cell phone to punch in Robert’s number. Her first instinct was to confront him. If he was cheating she would demand to know. Who the hell did he think he was, cheating on her? Probably with some trashy whore. One last fling before marrying. Typical.

  At the last moment she thought better of the confrontation and restricted herself to fuming. She’d let him know that she knew, but only when the time was right. Now wasn’t that time. She needed him to stew a little longer, perhaps a confession would come easier that way. He’d spend the rest of his life making up for it, that’s for sure.

  Billie strode out into the bar area where a good size crowd had gathered. It was busy for a Tuesday and several people were trying to get Chelle’s attention to order drinks and food. Bold as brass Billie stormed up to Chelle, who was carrying a good size tray of drinks to be served already, and said, “Why are there so many people waiting to be served? These people should have at least one drink by now.”

  Chelle gave her a cold hard look that said, really? “We’re short staffed, remember? We need another waitress on nights. Two people quit in the last two weeks. I’m only one person, Billie.”

  Billie’s stomach twisted into an angry knot and she could feel the little vein on her forehead throbbing. Chelle had an attitude and Robert lacked the nerve to put this woman in her place. He was lucky she loved him enough to do it for him. “You need to go faster. I expect everyone to have at least one drink in the next two minutes.”

  Chelle locked eyes on her and very matter-of-factly said, “Without an extra pair of hands that’s not going to happen. You’re welcome to put on a tee shirt and join me.”

  Join her? To Billie the idea that she would ever put on a uniform and serve drinks was an insult. That wasn’t what she was here for. It wasn’t who she was. Her father had always told her that in life there are two kinds of people. The people in charge, and everyone else. Billie was most definitely in charge. “Office. Now.”

  Chelle’s brows drew up in surprise and she pressed forward a step, despite the tray of heavy drinks, and gave as good as she got. “I’m not a dog. If you want to speak to me in the office you can ask me with a full sentence.”

  Billie could also give as good as she got. Now they were in the female version of a pissing contest. “How’s this for a complete sentence? If you don’t put down that tray and follow me to the office you can leave right now and not come back.”

  Chelle turned on her heel and dropped the tray on the bar, drinks unserved, and stomped into the office, Billie following right behind. “Sit down,” Billie said.

  Chelle continued to stand as Billie took her stance on the authoritative side of the desk. “No thanks,” she said. “Have a feeling I won’t be here long.” She picked up the belt and began putting it through the loopholes of her tight black jeans. Suddenly Billie Winters, who was never jealous of anybody, felt a twinge of jealousy about the smooth curve of Chelle’s waist and hips. She was shorter and slightly meatier than Billie, but Robert had never complained about her body, or done anything to suggest he found such things attractive.

  “That’s your belt?”

  “It is,” she said, offering no other explanation as she buckled it up. Chelle crossed her arms, not afraid of her in the least. “Something you want to say to me?”

  “Yes, actually. You’re fired.”

  “Am I? Are you the boss now? Because I didn’t get that memo.”

  Billie crossed her arms over her chest, standing up as tall as she could in a primitive gesture, declaring herself the alpha female. “Here’s your memo, honey. You’re trash, and we don’t want your kind in here. Robert was going to let you finish out your shift tonight and let you go afterwards, but I think you can go now. You don’t belong here. Leave, and don’t come back.”

  Chelle, who had up until that moment had a look of absolute defiance on her face, seemed to crack under the weight of that last sentence for some reason. For half a second she looked like she may actually cry and Billie patted herself on the back for having struck a nerve. Whatever had come to the surface was quickly replaced by the defiance once again.

  “Fuck you, Billie. Fuck you and your fake tan and your fake hair and your fucking miserable attitude. You’re a rotten excuse for a human being. Go to hell!”

  Before Billie had a chance to respond, Chelle was out the door, slamming it with such force that it rattled all the vintage seventies photographs Robert had lovingly hung on the walls. Sitting with her head in her hands she felt, only for a fleeting moment, that she’d overstepped her boundaries here. She talked herself out of that quickly however, reminding herself that Robert was hers and nobody else’s. I did what any woman would do in my situation she told herself. I took out the trash.

  In Billie’s mind Chelle was no better than an old beer bottle. None of the staff were, really. Once someone had served their purpose you had to cut them loose, especially in a place like this. And so what if Robert had fucked her? Every man was curious about bedding trash. Now, with her out of the way they would be better for it. He would thank her, she was sure of it.

  Chapter Ten

  On his way home from work, Robert decided to swing by the nursing home and check on his mother. It had been a long few days and he was still tired, but shoved it down, promising himself he’d go to bed early tonight. As he pulled into the parking lot of the nursing home, passing the sign that said: Angel Manor, he felt the guilt that had been eating him alive rear its head once again. He’d been able to push it out all day with work, but now that he was here there was no way to avoid it.

  Couple that with the fact that he’d tried to get in touch with Billie several times today. They were obviously on the outs, and he needed to remedy that as quickly as possible. After a day of thinking about it he decided perhaps he’d been too harsh. They did have to find a way to run things together or they may as well just call it off. He’d hoped to see her after work and talk. He was sure she’d see reason. Then after being ignored all day he decided against that plan and would instead, simply spend some time here, before heading back to the bar to see Chelle.

  Chelle…

  Just as he parked and was about to shut the engine off his phone sounded. It was Paul. Leaving the car running he allowed the call to come in through the speakers as he lay his head back on the seat, closing his eyes in anticipation of what he knew was coming next. He needed to know what was going on with Chelle, but was frightened to actually hear it.

  “Hey, Paul,” he said, greeting his brother.

  Paul dispensed with any sort of preliminaries. “Robert. Sorry I couldn’t get hold of you sooner but there was a three car pile-up and I was in trauma all afternoon. Just got out now.”

  “Was it bad?”

  “Well, pretty bloody t
o say the least. Listen, I have your results.” Paul didn’t pause or wait for Robert to inquire. He pressed on, an urgency in his voice that Robert had not expected to hear. “Chelle’s drug test came back negative, but you need to get her in here tonight. I’m going to stay until you get here. She needs to be admitted. I’ve already started on the paperwork.”

  “Admitted? Why?” Robert heard a spec of fear in his brother’s voice which frightened him all the more. It was something he wasn’t used to hearing.

  “Her blood and urine are contaminated with lead, mercury, nickel. It’s insane.”

  “What does that mean?” Robert had spent his whole life in the bar business and was having trouble wrapping his head around what Paul was saying. He didn’t know what it meant, he only knew that it was bad.

  “She’s full of heavy metals. I’m impressed that she’s still standing upright. Her organs are going to shut down if we don’t get her admitted soon. Honestly, I’m not sure what we can do for her even if she does get treatment.”

  “It’s that bad? Paul it can’t be. It has to be a mistake. Are you sure it’s that much?”

  “Robert, if this woman had any more metal in her blood we could trade her on the New York Stock Exchange. Do you know where she is right now?”

  He was already in drive and pulling back out onto the street. “Yeah, she’s at work.”

  “Robert, as fast as you can now. Come straight to the emergency department and give them her name.”

  “I’m coming,” was all he said before hanging up.

  ***

  Robert parked his car right in front of the entrance, blocking the fire lane which was a no-no. It didn’t matter now. He had broken every traffic law ever written in the last five minutes anyway. The bar was full and people looked angry. A sour rumble was vibrating through the crowd and Rick looked like he was about to pull his hair out. None of this registered.

  He ran up to the bar, elbowing a woman who was demanding a drink out of the way. “Chelle?” he said to Rick.

  “Chelle? Where is Chelle? I have no idea. She went into the office with Billie twenty minutes ago. When you see her send her back out. I’m dying here.”

  Billie? What was Billie doing here? And why the hell would she have Chelle in the office? Robert didn’t have time to think about that too much because he needed to get to Chelle. Needed to get to her now before something awful happened. He burst through his office door expecting to see her, but instead only saw Billie, who was sitting behind the desk, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, smiling to herself.

  “Billie, where’s Chelle? Rick said she was back here with you.”

  Billie gave him a look of disgust. If she was still upset over last night whatever she had to say to him about that would have to wait. “She left. Just walked out.”

  “Left? Why?” Confusion aligned itself with his panic now and he rubbed his forehead in astonishment. She didn’t want to work for him anymore? Last night they’d been so friendly. Perhaps he’d done something to make her uncomfortable. He’d have to figure out what it was and kick himself mentally later because right now she could be somewhere, her organs shutting down like Paul said. Perhaps that’s why she walked out. Maybe she’d gotten sick.

  “I have to go find her,” was all he could get out before turning and running out the door once again. He heard Billie call after him but ignored it, running through the bar as everyone eyed him with confusion. He was back behind the wheel of his car in moments and heading for the house on Oceanview Drive. The one that didn’t belong to her. Hoping that if she was sick it would be where she’d choose to go.

  Please be there, Chelle he thought. For god sake, please! Because I just have no idea where else to look if you’re not.

  ***

  It was a short bus ride from Cole’s Bar and Grill to Oceanview Drive, thank god. She’d fumed all the way there, keeping her emotions at bay somewhat by putting her iPod in her ears and cranking it. She’d received a few dirty looks from other passengers, but she did what she had to do. It was better than letting her freak flag fly all over public transit. She had managed to keep her dirty little secret all to herself for ten years and she planned to keep it that way. Bitch Billie wasn’t worth spilling the beans over, not by a long shot.

  What she’d said, the words she’d used, it was as if she’d plucked them right from her mind, harvesting them from her past as if by decisive choice. It had unnerved her. She dropped her backpack in the living room and began to pace. The memory of her mother, looking at her with such fear and revulsion, cut her to the quick and all at once she was overwhelmed by anger.

  How does a woman throw her own child out into the street? In the middle of winter at fifteen years old? How? Why?

  These were questions she’d asked herself over and over again, telling herself she was confused. The truth was there was no confusion at the answer. Chelle knew exactly why she’d been put out of her house. She was a freak. She was no good and deserved nothing. Somewhere deep inside him, even before that night, her father had known. That’s why he beat her. Not because he was a wretched drunk, but because some primal instinct told him she was nothing more than some kind of beast that needed to be put in her place. He knew. And Chelle was sure everyone around her knew. Everyone knew there was something they didn’t like about her, even if they couldn’t quite put their finger on what it was.

  All these thoughts that Chelle worked so hard to repress, day after day, month after month and year after year flooded into her consciousness before she knew it. The anger was there. Not the low level kind, but the raging flood of emotion that always caused the chain reaction.

  Knowing what was about to happen, Chelle fumbled with her belt, trying to get it off. Her hands shook. It was happening fast. Much faster than it had ever happened before and her fingers became useless as they trembled with fear. She needed to get to the basement. She managed two steps forward before the pain began.

  The horrid things tore their way free, ripping her open, slicing her like razor blades as the blood, once again, began to run down her back. In moments her shirt was left in shreds and she fell to her knees, hearing things crash and bang around her as the wings asserted themselves, knocking over possessions that she had no right to even look at in the process. They had emerged in record time, and as they did, she was screaming.

  She bit down on her lip for a brief moment, hoping that it would help quiet her, but the pain was too much and she continued to scream involuntarily as the massive things spread out, digging into her like shards of glass. Spots formed in front of Chelle’s eyes. Pools of liquid black wavered and danced in front of her and there was a ringing in her ears so loud that it drowned out the sound of her screams.

  Falling face first onto the floor she heard something. A voice. Someone was there with her and calling her name.

  No she thought as the darkness swooped in to take her against her will. No! Nobody can see.

  With a final heave, her will to stay conscious gave way and she was thrust into blackness.

  ***

  Robert weaved in and out of traffic, almost causing two accidents by blowing through a couple of red lights. Even when he’d gotten the call that his father was dying and he needed to get to him he couldn’t remember having felt this much panic. Chelle wasn’t an old, terminally ill man. She was a young woman, one who was perhaps sick and didn’t even know it.

  Robert rehashed stories he’d heard over the years of supposedly healthy young people collapsing and dying with no notice at all. He’d never paid such stories too much attention, always assuming there had to be some underlying cause. Someone would have had to see it coming. He wasn’t so sure now. Chelle seemed so vibrant. Even in the mornings when she’d obviously not had much sleep she was simply radiant. There was no sign of sickness whatsoever. Perhaps if he got her to the hospital and they ran the tests again Paul would tell him it was all a big mistake. Her test results had gotten mixed up with someone else’s, or he’d
actually read it wrong. Paul was a competent doctor so logically he knew that wasn’t going to happen, but fear has a way of planting a kind of irrational hope.

  His car screeched to a halt as he finally arrived in front of the little house. Robert ran to the door and knocked without hesitation, calling out her name as he did. After a moment of silence he heard a crash, followed by a scream. Chelle was inside and in pain. What if it was too late? Desperate he knocked louder calling out once again, then decided he needed to go in. If she was as bad off as Paul said she was, perhaps she couldn’t get to the door.

  She screamed again and Robert’s hand immediately fled on its own to the top of the doorframe where he’d seen her reach for the key twice before. Once he had it he pressed it into the lock, his fingers fumbling and shaking clumsily. Chelle screamed again, and then all at once things inside the house grew silent.

  The kind of silence that preceded something horrible, he could sense it. He opened the door afraid of what he was about to find, but nothing could have prepared him for what he saw next.

  Chelle was on the floor, passed out, her shirt in rags. For a moment his mind blocked out everything but the blood and the shirt and he reasoned that she’d been attacked, that someone had hurt her. And indeed she was hurt, but not in the way his confused mind was trying to convince him she was. He dropped to his knees on the floor across the room, pressing his back against the now closed front door, his mind reeling.

  Wings…

  Sprouting from the back of his employee were a set of massive black wings with feathers so thick and dark they filled an enormous amount of the space she was in. There was something else too. Not the feathers, but the space between the feathers themselves. A small amount of light coming in from the street hit them and they glinted in the darkness. They shone like polished steel.