Paradise Park

by Carolina Mac

  “Bye, Mom.”

  Gary looked across the street and saw Melba waving goodbye to her son. The kid drove away in an old blue Kia with a carload of other teenagers. Mel sat down on her deck, lit up a smoke and opened the newspaper. Gary hopped off his chair, grabbed two cold ones out of the fridge and headed across the road. He gave her his best smile. “Hey, hot out today. I brought you a cold brew.”

  “Thanks, Gary. That was nice.”

  He sat in the chair closest to her, their knees almost touching. “What do you do for excitement around here?”

  “Not much,” she said, “sometimes I go to bingo in town.”

  “Bingo?” Gary screwed up his face.

  “I like bingo. Some of my friends go all the time.”

  “Anything to do besides bingo?”

  “Couple of bars in town. Sometimes they have a band on the weekend.”

  “Maybe I could take you out for a drink sometime.” Gary pulled out his smokes, flicked his Zippo twice and lit up.

  “Umm…I have a steady boyfriend, Gary. Sorry.”

  Gary shifted in his chair. “Haven’t seen anyone around.”

  “Don’s away right now. Works on the pipeline.”

  “Uh huh. The pipeline. Right. How long’s he been away? You must need some… company?”

  “He’s been gone almost a month. And no, I don’t cheat on him while he’s gone, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t. Never have and not starting now.”

  “Sure, you don’t.” Garry chuckled. “You don’t look like no nun to me.”

  Mel stood up and there was a chill in her voice. “Well I’ve got things to do. Thanks for the beer.” She turned to go into the trailer and Gary grabbed her by the arm. He jerked her down onto his lap and pressed his mouth over hers.

  “Don’t,” she hollered as she struggled to get away from him. “Let go of me.”

  “Come on, Mel. What’s a little kissing going to hurt? Your boyfriend won’t know.”

  Mel squirmed to free herself from Gary’s grasp. “Let go of me.” She clamped her teeth together and took a swing at his head.

  Gary laughed and tightened his grip on her arm. “Man, you’re a spunky one.” He shoved his hand under her tank top and grabbed her right boob.

  Arthur Lyons came scurrying over from next door. He stopped at the bottom of the steps and shouted, “Let her go, you bastard. She doesn’t want to kiss you.”

  “And, you’re going to stop me?” Gary snorted. He released Melba and she ran into the trailer, slamming the door behind her. Gary swaggered down the steps towards Arthur.

  “Don’t come near her again,” said Arthur with color rising in his face. His hand shook as he pointed a threatening finger at Gary.

  “You look like you’re gonna have a stroke, old man. You better rest for a while.” Gary wound up and gave Arthur a brutal right to the jaw. Arthur staggered backwards, collapsed into a bed of pink peonies and never moved.

  Gary chuckled as he stepped over Arthur’s motionless body and swaggered across the road to own his trailer. Before he reached the steps to the deck he had a change of heart and walked with purpose to the end of Maple Street and hung a left onto Pine.

  Gary smiled and waved as he approached Sheila’s trailer. Both girls were relaxing on the deck, drinking their usual green blender drink. “Hey, girls,” he hollered.

  “Hey, Gary,” said Sheila. She tipped a bit to one side in her chair.

  Seeing the state Sheila was in, Gary took advantage, leaned down and kissed her hard on the mouth. “I missed you, Sheila honey,” he said looking straight at Marg.

  Without missing a beat, Marg jumped off her chair, kicked Gary a good one in the groin and didn’t spill a drop of her margarita.

  “Ohh…,” Gary groaned, “fuck, that hurt. You bitch, Marg. I’ll get you for that.” He doubled over and Sheila vaulted off her chair to help him.

  “Are you okay, sweetheart?” she slurred.

  “Sweetheart? You’re calling this asshole, ‘sweetheart’. Are you nuts, Sheila? This guy is a bastard. We should put him out of his misery.” Marg was slurring worse than Sheila.

  Gary lay on the deck holding his package and whining like a wounded coyote.

  BARKLEY SCAMPERED ACROSS the road to offer his assistance. “Ladies, ladies, are you all right? I heard a commotion while toiling in my garden.” He removed his gardening gloves one finger at a time and tucked them into his back pocket.

  “Hey, Bark,” slurred Sheila. “Have a margarita.”

  “No thank you, darling. I was worried when I saw this gentleman over here causing trouble.” He pointed to Gary who had clamored off the floor of the deck and was now slouched silently in a deck chair. “I was wondering if I should call that lovely Detective Spangler.”

  Gary sprang to life, momentarily forgetting about the recent injury to his personal property. He bolted out of his chair and grabbed Barkley by the pressed collar of his Ralph Lauren shirt. “You stay out of my business, gay boy or you’ll wish you had.”

  “I’ll have you know, sir, I am not homosexual and I resent the implication. I am reporting you to the police as soon as I get home.”

  “Fuck off, you daisy-growing butt-bandit and go call the cops. Do it. Do it,” Gary hollered at the top of his lungs.

  Sheila stroked Gary’s wild hair and tried to calm him.

  “I haven’t done anything wrong,” he mumbled.

  “No, you haven’t, sweetheart.” Sheila sat on his knee and kissed him.

  Marg shook her head and spat on the deck. “You are one stupid bitch, Sheila.”

  “Maybe I am, but you don’t know me or what my life’s been like,” she said. “Maybe it’s time I had a man in my bed.”

  Marg shook her head as Barkley headed across the road. He locked himself in his trailer, pulled out Spangler’s card and called the number.

  ARTHUR OPENED HIS eyes and stared at a large pink flower. Ants crawled up his arms and down his neck. Pain shot through his cheek as he struggled to sit up. He touched his face and winced at the blood beginning to dry at the corner of his mouth.

  “Artie, can you hear me?”

  Arthur raised his eyes and saw Mel kneeling beside him with tears trickling down her cheeks.

  “I’m okay, dear,” he whispered.

  “You are not okay. Let me help you up.” Mel supported Arthur as he struggled to his feet. She held on to him as he shuffled to the steps of his deck. “I called the police, Artie. I’m having that asshole arrested for hitting you.”

  Arthur gripped the handrail and stumbled up the steps.

  “Let’s get you inside and lying down,” said Mel.

  Arthur’s head pounded out a rhythm as he made his way through the kitchen to the sofa. He lay down, hoping he wasn’t going to hurl. He tried to smile as Melba brought a cold cloth from the bathroom and sponged his bloody face clean. “Thank you dear. I’m fine.”

  “I want you to lie still and try to rest until the police come, Artie. When they get here, I’ll come over and tell them what happened.”

  Arthur nodded and Mel left him to rest. His brain was muddled from the blow, but one thought came shining through. That hoodlum needs to die.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  GARY WOKE IN his own bed not knowing, remembering or caring how he got there. He was hung bad and couldn’t focus but he was sure there was a woman in bed with him. The smell of her perfume was gonna make him hurl. God, please tell me I didn’t haul Marg’s miserable fat ass home.

  He pulled the covers back a little and exhaled. It was Sheila. Fuck, was he any good in bed? He must have blacked out. He stumbled to the bathroom and puked. He was on the floor embracing the cold porcelain of the toilet bowl when Sheila walked into the bathroom naked. He raised his head, took one look at her scrawny body and hurled again. She looked like a fuckin stick cartoon.

  “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

  “Fuck, no,” he growled from the floor. “Doesn’t take a genius to see tha
t. Make some coffee.”

  Sheila ruffled up his hair. “I love it when you boss me around, baby.”

  “Good. Shut the fuckin door and let me puke in peace.”

  Fuck, let this be a nightmare.

  When Gary had emptied the entire contents of his stomach, he stumbled across the hall and flopped on his bed. The room spun as he trailed one leg onto the floor hoping to stop the carousel. He closed his eyes and wished for death.

  “Cops are here,” hollered Sheila from the bedroom doorway. “They want to talk to you.”

  “Tell them to fuck off and make an appointment,” Gary roared then pulled the pillow over his head.

  Sheila returned a couple minutes later. “They have a warrant. If you don’t come out fully dressed in five minutes they’re coming in to get you. They aren’t leaving.”

  “I’ll kill every last one of the pricks and feed their hearts to the pigs,” Gary hollered as he groped for his jeans on the floor. He grabbed his smokes and headed out the door. “Bring me a coffee, bitch.”

  Sheila grinned and taunted him. “Talk dirty to me baby. I love it.”

  Gary shook his head and slammed the screen door.

  “Ah, Mr. Eastman, hard night?” asked Detective McMurtry.

  “None of your fuckin business what my nights are like.”

  “Put your hands on the railing, sir. You’re under arrest for assault.” McMurtry patted Gary down and pulled out his cuffs. “Hands behind your back.”

  “I never touched that fudge fucker,” Gary hollered as his face twisted into a look of disgust.

  A hint of a smile played at the corner of Spangler’s lips. “Says here on the warrant that you punched Arthur Lyons in the face and knocked him unconscious.”

  “Barely touched him,” mumbled Gary. “Wimpy old man should mind his own business.” Gary stood motionless while McMurtry cuffed him and read him his rights. “Sheila,” he hollered, “get your skinny, raggedy ass up to the police station and get me some bail.”

  “I’m right behind you, sweetheart.” Sheila came out of the trailer with her purse and car keys.

  “He probably won’t be arraigned until tomorrow morning at the earliest,” said Detective Spangler. “You can call later today and see what time his bail hearing is scheduled.”

  “Thank you,” said Sheila as she watched McMurtry push Gary into the back of the black sedan. The detective shoved Gary’s head down with adequate force and slammed the car door. The car pulled away and a distraught Sheila headed for her own trailer.

  MARG WAS STILL sleeping off multiple margaritas from the night before when Sheila barged into the tiny space she had given her for a bedroom. “The cops just arrested Gary for slugging the handyman.”

  Marg tried to focus on what her friend was saying. “Who’s the handyman?”

  “You know, old Arthur Lyons.”

  “Oh shit. I like that old guy.” Marg sat up on the side of her narrow bed.

  “Well for some reason, Gary hit Arthur in the face and knocked him unconscious.”

  “Gary is such an asshole. I’m going over to see if Arthur’s okay.”

  “Why are you upset over Arthur Lyons?” Sheila screwed up her face.

  “He was nice to me when I first moved in. I’ll go over after a while.” Marg grabbed her smokes from the nightstand and stood up.

  “Wonder why Gary would be hitting an old guy like Arthur?” asked Sheila.

  “Maybe Arthur will tell me the whole story when I see him,” said Marg, “Want to come with?”

  “Nah, I have to make phone calls and see about getting bail for Gary.”

  “Damn it all, Sheila, you’re not going to put up bail for that piece of shit, are you? If he’s back in jail, that’s exactly where he belongs.”

  “He told me to get bail for him.”

  “You’ll get in trouble doing everything that lowlife tells you to do,” said Marg.

  “Maybe, but he’s the only man who’s given me the time of day in years. I can’t ignore him.”

  “No maybe about it,” mumbled Marg as she dragged herself to the kitchen for a coffee. “This won’t turn out the way you want it to, Sheila. Just say’n.”

  ARTHUR SAT ON the deck holding an icepack against his face. A black and blue bruise edged its way from his jaw line, north to his right eye. His thinning hair was uncombed and his clothes were rumpled.

  Marg climbed the four steps onto the deck and sat down in the other plastic chair. “Arthur, are you okay? I heard they arrested Gary for hitting you.”

  “He’s a menace,” whispered Arthur.

  “Why did he hit you?”

  “I don’t wish to discuss it.”

  “Okay. That’s okay with me.” Marg nodded. “I don’t want to talk about Gary either. He’s been a pain in my ass for way too long and I’m trying to get rid of him.”

  “I saw Sheila at his place this morning,” said Arthur, “Is she his new girlfriend?”

  “She wants to be. I told her she was out of her mind.”

  “Gary’s obnoxious and mean. Why would she want him for a boyfriend?”

  “Beats me,” said Marg with a little chuckle. “I told her what kind of a no-account he was and she went for it anyway. Nothing more I can do.” Marg pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket. “Mind if I smoke?”

  Arthur wrinkled his nose. “I don’t mind if you smoke out here on the deck.” He turned his head and a smile spread across his face. He watched as Mel cut through the flower bed between their trailers with a pan in her hand. “Hey, Mel.”

  “I baked you a pan of tarts, Artie. Do you want me to make you a pot of coffee?”

  Arthur had brightened considerably since Mel appeared and Marg noticed the change. “Yes, please, dear. Will you stay and have a cup with me?”

  “Of course, I will. Not everyday somebody gets knocked out on my behalf. You’re my hero, Artie.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead.

  Arthur beamed at her then pointed to Marg. “This is Marg. She used to be the hoodlum’s girlfriend but Gary kicked her out after they moved in across the road.”

  Mel frowned. “I don’t know what your story is, Marg, but from what I’ve seen of Gary, you’re far better off without that guy.”

  Marg nodded. “Amen to that.” She took a long drag on her smoke.

  AT LUNCHTIME, I made a sandwich and took it out on the deck with a glass of iced tea. All morning I had worked diligently completing the final edit of my book. The day was heating up like July days did, and I sat on the shady side of the deck while I took my break. With everything that had happened since I moved to Paradise Park, I watched the comings and goings of the other residents with renewed interest and a keen eye. I had begun taking notes of unusual situations (that’s what I was calling them) for use in future books. Lonnie had gone on a short haul to Sudbury and would be back by nightfall. He wasn’t happy about leaving me on my own, but Ted was on guard and Lonnie had insisted on leaving me his Smith and Wesson loaded and at the ready.

  A blue Ford Taurus pulled into Paradise, turned right and drove slowly down Hickory Lane. I sucked in a breath as the car came towards my trailer, thinking another reporter was on my tail, and then I exhaled as it turned into April’s driveway. Two women got out of the car. One was April and the other was quite probably her mother. They disappeared inside the trailer for quite a long while and another vehicle arrived, parking behind the first.

  The driver of the second car, I recognized right away. It was the real estate agent who had sold me my trailer. She went inside with the other two women and came out minutes later, opened her trunk and erected a ‘For Sale’ sign on the lawn. April and her mother came out with suitcases, loaded them into April’s truck and all three vehicles left the park. April’s trailer was for sale and she was gone.

  April is scared to live here now. That’s sad.

  I picked up my plate to go inside when my phone signaled a text from Lonnie. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Fine. Missi
ng you.’

  ‘Me too.’

  Lonnie’s texting always made me smile, although he had improved considerably. He always typed the bare minimum and I loved to mess with him.

  ‘Haul me home a big load of timber.’

  ‘Fuck.’

  ‘I want to.’

  ‘I can’t drive with… you know.’

  ‘Love you, cowboy.’

  All afternoon I worked on the book, editing line by line to make sure there were no errors before the final draft went to the publisher. At six I had had enough. I rubbed my tired eyes and turned off my laptop. “I’m tired, Ted. Want to go out on the deck for a beer?”

  Ted wagged his tail when he recognized the word ‘out’ and lazily stretched his legs. I uncapped a cold one, poured it into a glass and sauntered outside. The heat of the afternoon had dissipated and the evening was shaping up to be the perfect summer temperature. I kicked off my shoes.

  Relaxing in one of the patio chairs with my bare feet resting on another, I sipped my beer. The blue jays scolded noisily above my head in the tall pines surrounding the trailer. Other than angry birds, Ted was my only company. He had flopped under the table and gone to sleep. I longed for Lonnie to come home, but it was too early. He said he’d be back by dark, but in July that could be nine or later. I heaved a sigh, knew I had a long wait and went inside to fix myself a sandwich. After eating the first half, I wasn’t hungry and I offered the rest to Ted.

  “Good boy, Ted. Guess I wasn’t starving after all. Want to go for a walk?” Ted perked up his ears and indicated that indeed he was interested. Red Bone hounds weren’t known for their energy. I clipped on his leash, shoved my feet into my runners and locked the door behind us. We sauntered down Hickory Lane with Ted sniffing everything on the right side of the road. He was a hunter and didn’t get to excel at it too often when he was on the road with Lonnie. We turned the corner onto Pine and saw two ladies drinking on the deck of their trailer. They were waving at me to come over.

  “Join us for a margarita,” called Sheila.