Crossroads: An Anthology

by LaShaun, Elizabeth

  “I understand what you’re doing for us,” Brenda said, reaching out and putting her hand on Emily’s.

  “I doubt you really do sweetie. Hopefully, you’ll never have to find out. Children never understand the choices or decisions their parents make. They certainly never forgive us for the mistakes either,” Emily warned.

  “I’m so afraid of that. I try not to think about the day coming when I’ll have to tell my boys the truth. I don’t know if I can. This lie is eating me alive and the older they get is the worse it gets for me,” Brenda said.

  “Sooner or later, they’re going to have to know,” Nash said dryly. It was no secret what his position was on the whole situation.

  “I wish it was that easy and that simple,” Brenda snapped.

  “Maybe not for you. I’ve never wanted to lie about this,” Nash answered.

  “And what do you suppose would have come from that? What would have that accomplished?” Brenda asked. She shifted on the couch so she could look behind her and stare into his face.

  “My son would have known his real father. He could have known I loved him and he could have had the chance to see his father’s face,” Nash answered. The conviction in his voice enraged Brenda. She didn’t understand how he couldn’t see the absurdity of the course of action he was proposing.

  “You wish he could see your face? You mean visit your grave! And that’s only if he wasn’t buried in his own by then. Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve been telling you? Don’t you understand that Dirk would kill us all?” Brenda yelled.

  “I think that might be a little extreme. He may be cold-hearted but I don’t think he’d do anything that monstrous,” Emily interrupted.

  “Then you don’t know your son,” Brenda answered. “I’m starting to feel like I’m the only one in this room who knows what he’ll really do.”

  “Well, like I told you before, I’m not afraid of him,” Nash told her.

  “Good for you. I KNOW why I am! As a matter of fact, why don’t you just kill yourself before you get us all murdered?” Brenda roared. Unmoved by her outburst, Nash coldly turned his attention back to his son playing in the backyard. Emily sighed and ran her fingers through her long, mostly blonde hair. She gently patted Brenda on the knee and encouraged her to calm down.

  “His father was such a kind, gentle man. For so long, my heart hurt thinking about where he got this mean and spiteful spirit from. The only thing I can think is that he got it from me because my late husband was nothing like that,” Emily sadly stated.

  “That’s not fair. Don’t say that. Dirk is the way he is because he chooses to be that way,” Brenda consoled her.

  “That’s sweet of you to say honey but it’s also very far from the truth. I’m an aging, fading woman who’s too old to tell lies about herself anymore. My dear daughter-in-law, when I was your age, there was a selfish fire that burned inside me that could not be put out. Dirk and his father felt the pain of it when I left them. I’m sure that my son carries that same fire in his soul now. My husband was a good man. There was a time when I didn’t understand him though. I didn’t appreciate who he was. I even went as far as to call him weak and blame him for why I left. I was wrong for that. He only hand a soft hand when it came to me. He deserved for me to love him more. In my heart, I know that’s why my son is the way he is. You see how he treats me? I guess he's showing me that he’s not weak like I thought his father was,” Emily explained. Her bottom lip quivered and she seemed on the brink of tears. Brenda moved closer and wrapped her arms around the trembling woman. Emily eagerly put her head on Brenda’s shoulder. The two women shared the hollow hope that Dirk was a good person at his core but his true nature is what bound them in the same sadness.

  “Quiet! You hear that?” Nash asked suddenly. They all kept quiet and listened for what he might have heard. Before long, they all heard it again.

  “Bang! Bang! Bang!” was the sound on Emily’s heavy, metal front door.

  “You expecting anyone?” Brenda asked Emily.

  “No, no one,” Emily answered.

  “Stay here,” Brenda told Nash as she took Emily’s hand and got up off of the couch. “We’ll go and see who it is,” she said as she took her unfinished glass of lemonade with her.

  ***

  The two women were still holding hands when they got to the front room. Both of their hearts were beating furiously. “BANG! BANG! BANG!” the knocking came again, even louder than before. Emily had never heard anyone pound so hard on her door. It almost sounded like it was about to buckle and shake off of its hinges.

  “Check the window and see who it is,” Brenda told her. Emily nodded and walked over to the curtains to carefully peek at who was banging on the door. After a quick glance, she immediately backed away from the window.

  “Well?” Brenda asked.

  “I don’t know them but,” Emily started to say but then stopped mid-sentence.

  “What is it? Why do you look like that? But what?” Brenda asked while moving her frozen mother-in-law aside so that she could see for herself. After one look, Brenda’s eyes opened wide and her glass of lemonade fell out of her hand. The sound of it crashing and breaking against the old wooden floorboards made Emily nearly jump out of her skin.

  Brenda had seen the stout man in the dark red business suit that was presently banging on Emily’s door before. She remembered his dark, thinning hair, slicked back with tons of grease. He saw her as she peeked through the curtains and smiled with unusually full lips, surrounded by a dark goatee. She could almost swear that he had red pupils and quickly looked away from them. Parked at the curb in front of the house was a vintage, candy red, ’69 Chevy Impala with a white, leather interior. Leaning on the car with a cell-phone to her ear was the man’s lover and counterpart. She was considerably taller than him and her short, cropped hair was bleach-white, matching the color of her tight, short dress.

  She was stunningly gorgeous and in another life, she might have been a super-model. Brenda watched in horror as the woman’s black lipstick-covered lips moved as she spoke into the phone. She also spotted Brenda in the front window. She winked at Brenda with her green eye. Her other eye was completely cloudy as if it had no pupil at all. The woman ended her call and bent over to reach into the back seat of the Impala. As she did, her short skirt rode up and exposed the bottom half of the luscious cheeks it barely covered. Once she got what she had reached for, she turned around and pulled her dress down, trying to cover the pale, shapely legs that seemed to go on forever. Then, as if she was a limousine driver at the airport, she held up a cardboard sign with BRENDA SWAN written in black lipstick.

  “Oh my God!” Brenda exclaimed before she turned and ran back down the narrow hallway. “Don’t open the door!” she yelled back at Emily who was still rooted in place.

  ***

  Dirk had sent Grendel and Gretchen to claim his wife.

  PART 8: His Due

  A few of the customers seemed slightly curious but Fats was the only one that swallowed hard as the white limousine appeared in front of the Morning Perk. He was the only one who knew exactly who had come to visit. Only moments before, Fats had been deep in thought about how he was going to replace his establishment’s outdated television set with a fancy, new flat screen. He now knew that in a few moments, he was about to have much bigger problems on his hands.

  ***

  The two towering men that walked in the diner’s doors behind Dirk were obviously bodyguards but Dirk preferred to call them personal assistants. Immediately, anyone who laid eyes on them would find something unusual about them. Usually, men of their profession practiced and perfected their poker faces or scowls. It added to their grim persona and solidified their intimidation factor. This was not the case with Sam and Simian. They both wore subtle, permanent grins. It was slightly disturbing at a quick glance but after being in their presence for a few minutes, their creepiness multiplied exponentially. Dirk would say that he paid them to enjoy
their work and that he expected them to smile.

  Fats half-heartedly raised his hand to greet his landlord. Dirk didn’t smile or return the gesture. Instead, he tilted his head to signal Fats to join him at one of the empty tables at the rear of the diner. There weren’t many customers back there and Dirk wanted privacy for the conversation they were about to have. Fats complied with unwilling feet. All of the cheer had vanished from the jolly owner of the Morning Perk. Sam and Simian remained standing but Dirk sat down and continued reading a comic book as Fats sat down.

  While serving one of her customers their plate of eggs and grits, Jasmine noticed her boss walk by her as if he was on his way to his own execution. She loved Fats like a father and it frightened her to see him so terrified. Also, to her, the three men whose company he now shared had an ill look about them. The two goons in black suits who stood on either side of the table grinned continuously like lunatics. There was also something sinister about the strikingly handsome man who was obviously their boss, seated directly in front of Fats. She started to walk to the back to take their orders but her real purpose was to eavesdrop. Her plans were quickly thwarted when Simian put his hand up and stopped her before she could get anywhere near their impromptu pow-wow. His unnatural smile and the way he winked at her before she turned away sickened her stomach. She hoped Fats was going to be alright. Just in case, she set an extra pot of coffee to boil. She didn’t know how much she could do against those two grinning gorillas but, she would do what she could if she had to. No one liked hot coffee thrown in their face.

  ***

  “Good morning Fats,” Dirk said without looking up from the comic book he appeared to be engrossed in. He hadn’t looked up from its pages since he sat down.

  “G’mornin’ Mr. Swan,” Fats answered. He didn’t know which was worse; Dirk’s icy indifference or the shadows that Sam and Simian cast over him.

  “Relax Fats. A grown man’s voice shouldn’t tremble, even in the face of trouble. And, it’s just Dirk today. I’m here on personal business,” said Dirk.

  “D-D-D-Dirk,” Fats stuttered.

  “Know why I’m here?” Dirk asked, slowly turning a page in his comic.

  He still had not looked up at Fats who now perspired profusely and had to wipe his forehead with his sleeve.

  “Well, about that. I’m sorry. Things have been kinda slow and,” Fats started explaining. Dirk shut him up by simply looking up at him with the most serious face Fats had ever seen on any man in his entire fifty-seven years on this earth.

  “Obviously you don’t, so stop talking. I’m here about some troubling business with my wife. Now, you know her don’t you?” Dirk asked.

  “Yeah, kind of. She eats here with her boys almost every morning but I haven’t seen her here today. I make small talk but I don’t really know her,” Fats answered.

  “I know you haven’t, and I’m sure you don’t, and stop rubbing your hands together like that. It’s annoying,” Dirk told him.

  “Ok,” Fats answered, putting his hands flat on the table. He felt like a five-year-old in public school all over again.

  “Good. Now, I have some questions. If you tell the truth, we won’t have any problems here this morning. Now, I know that there are all kinds of reasons that people tell little white lies to cover up huge, black, ugly truths. I get that. However, let me please stress to you that this morning is not a good morning for little white lies. I will not suffer them to be uttered in my presence today. I’m here sitting with you for a reason chubby guy. I’m on a mission to uncover some ugly black truths. Understand?” Dirk asked.

  “Yes,” Fats answered.

  “Good. Now, why do you think my wife comes here for breakfast when we have a chef at the house?” Dirk asked, his blue eyes seeming to grow cold and frost over like a placid lake in the winter.

  “I asked her the same thing once. She told me that she likes my hot chocolate and that the boys think my cook makes the best pancakes,” Fats answered.

  “And that’s the only reason? Are you sure there isn’t anything more to it? You’ve never noticed anything strange going on? Never noticed her speaking to any of the customers?” Dirk asked.

  “Not that I noticed. To tell you the truth, the time your wife usually comes in is the morning rush for us. I’m so busy I don’t usually get a chance to pay attention to anyone in particular. But, I’ve never seen her talk to anyone in here aside from myself of course and maybe the waitresses sometimes. She pretty much keeps to herself,” Fats answered.

  “You’re sure about that?” Dirk asked.

  “Positive,” Fats answered, looking Dirk directly in his cold blue eyes.

  Somehow, Fats knew it was a bad idea to look away. He was far from a scholar but he was certain that Dirk was studying his body language. He definitely didn’t want to be mistaken for a liar when he was telling the truth.

  “So, you see no evil?” Dirk questioned him, putting his hands up to cover his own eyes. He slowly put them down and then stared intensely at Fats.

  “I, I’m not sure what you mean but I ain’t seen anything strange,” Fats answered, disturbed by Dirk’s behavior.

  He wanted him to finish with his damn questions and be gone. Dirk was about to speak again when his cell-phone rang.

  “Excuse me,” he said before answering it.

  “Of course,” Fats answered and got up in his seat, assuming that Dirk wanted privacy.

  Sam’s grip forcing him to sit back down assured Fats that his presence was still required. After what he was about to hear, Fats wished that they had let him leave.

  “You saw her at the house?” he paused. “Bring them to me and kill her,” Dirk spoke into the phone.

  As he ended the call and put it back into his pocket, Fats struggled not to throw up as his stomach churned at the thought of the order Dirk has just given so nonchalantly in front of him.

  “You probably shouldn’t have heard that,” Dirk said.

  “I didn’t,” Fats answered.

  “I didn’t think you did,” Dirk said with a smile. Then he covered his ears with his own hands in the same manner that he had covered his eyes before. “I see you hear no evil as well?”

  “Never,” Fats answered. He was no fool.

  “That’s good,” Dirk said as he got up out of chair. “I’m glad I can trust you to speak no evil as well,” he continued. This time, he reached across the table and covered Fats’ mouth with his hand. Fats flinched in surprise but dared not move.

  “My old pappy always told me that a man must know how to mind his own business in this life,” Fats answered after Dirk moved his hand away.

  “Well, your old pappy was a wise man. It’s the safest way for him to hold onto that life. And speaking of business, start paying your rent. This ain’t a charity you know. Give the comic to your son. It’s a rare copy. It’ll be worth something one day,” Dirk said, leaving the mint condition, vintage comic on the table.

  He flashed a grin that gave no hint that he was the ruthless person that, only moments before, almost caused Fats to pee in his pants.

  PART 9 – The Fallen

  “They’re not going to open the door,” Grendel called out to Gretchen as he walked back down the stairs. His voice was deep and seemed to come from somewhere else besides his body. Two teenage boys who were passing by, bouncing a basketball on their way to the park were spooked when they heard it. They picked up their dribble and hurried along.

  “I just spoke to him. He says to kill her and bring them to him,” Gretchen answered.

  The sound of her voice was soft and feminine but slipped from her lips with a sinister hiss. Grendel gripped her by the back of her neck and kissed her passionately. His hand found its way up her skirt and the smooth lips covered by her lace thong. She gripped him by the crotch and felt him grow from her touch.

  “A little bit of kidnapping and a little bit of wet work it is then,” said Grendel. His voice always made her shiver deep inside.

  �
�Yes,” Gretchen answered, eager and excited. “This kind of work always makes me wet.”

  “I can tell,” he said as he removed his hand from under her skirt. “Let’s get to work.”

  The lovers walked to the rear of the Impala and popped the trunk. They both picked out their weapons of choice from the arsenal inside. Grendel armed himself with two desert eagle handguns, equipped with silencers but Gretchen lifted an assault rifle that looked like it could take down a helicopter. Grendel smiled as he lit a cigarette and watched as she loaded ammunition in the fearsome weapon.

  “I think a little discretion is called for with this one,” he told her.

  “Fine,” she sighed and put the monstrosity back in the trunk.

  “You know I love your enthusiasm though,” he told her, trying to ease her disappointment. She rolled her eyes as she wielded a grisly, razor-sharp machete instead. There was still gore on it from the last time it had been used.

  “Yes, yes but I’m going to ruin my dress now and it’s my favorite,” she said, running her hand smoothly across her hip, caressing the thin material.

  “You have a closet full of white dresses,” Grendel laughed. “Come on, time to clock in.”

  ***

  “What’s wrong?” Nash asked as Brenda came bursting frantically into the living room.

  “We have to leave, NOW!” Brenda yelled.

  “Why? What’s going on?” Nash asked. The way Brenda was acting, he expected the whole house to blow up any second.

  “Go through the back door and get the boys inside quickly,” she ordered him.

  Nash didn’t hesitate. As he turned his back to go over to the door that led to the backyard, Brenda smashed Emily’s lamp over his head. The entire room started swimming until blackness took him.

  “Why’d you do that?” a shocked and horrified Emily asked. She covered her mouth in horror as she watched blood leak from the gash in the back of Nash’s head.