[Jenna's] Gang of Deadheads

by Paul Atreides

  “Did you take that necklace?” Jenna asked, astounded. “He’s accusing that poor woman of stealing it.”

  Diane stared at Jenna, as if sizing up the situation, and muttered, “Oh, I’ll put it back.”

  Jenna watched her walk through the window and drop the necklace onto the floor behind the counter. The man whirled around, snatched it into his hands, and stood; his face red in embarrassment. He approached his customer too late.

  Spinning on her heels, the woman stomped to the door and pushed it open. “You can keep your crappy bracelet. It isn’t worth ten percent of what you wanted, you schiester. And don’t think I won’t tell people what you accused me of.”

  Diane was still laughing when she exited the store. Jenna watched the woman stalk off down the sidewalk muttering and shaking her head. “That was rather mean, don’t you think?”

  “No, not really. The guy does have an unbelievable mark-up.” Diane grabbed Jenna’s arm once again. “But come on, Miss Goody Two Shoes, there’s a high-end boutique you’re gonna love.”

  Quite a bit later, as the two wandered from store to store in the mall, Diane spotted Mike, Marvin, and Tommy cutting through the mall on the way back to the bus station to head for home. “Marvin! Look who I ran into. Honey, you never told me what an absolute delight your Jenna is.”

  “Diane…” Marvin stuck out a hand in greeting and added an “Uh, oh.” under his breath to Mike. The last thing he needed was two cats, who had used up all nine lives, getting into a clawing competition. Not that there could be any contest as far as he was concerned. “You remember Mike and Tommy, don’t you?”

  Diane’s eyes brightened and she held out her hand to Mike. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure. Tommy,” she added without looking at him.

  Mike took her hand and smiled. “So, you’re the infamous Diane that Davy has talked about.”

  She laughed and waved off the remark, though she got a great deal of pleasure being referred to as infamous. “Well, he does go on about things, doesn’t he?”

  Tommy turned to Jenna. “We were just headed home to see if you might be hungry.”

  “Oh, how perfect!” Diane hooked an arm through Mike’s and pointed toward the mall exit. “I know just the place.” She directed a knowing glance in Marvin’s direction. “Have you ever gone to Mr. C’s? It’s an Italian place, but they make a really good steak. And the bar is always stocked with top-shelf.”

  Marvin’s chin dropped to his chest and sighed. With a swipe of his hand upside the back of Tommy’s head he said, “Thanks a lot.”

  “Dude, don’t blame me. I’m not the one who caused such a ruckus that the place got labeled as haunted.”

  “Haunted? What did you do, Marv?” Jenna asked, hooking her arm through his and leading the group through the mall toward the exit.

  “Nothing. I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

  “Nothing? Dude, you landed a story in the newspaper.” Tommy gave him a broad smile and a wink.

  Marvin glared at him. “No one wants to hear about it, so just clam your trap.”

  Mike grabbed the back of Tommy’s shirt. “Marvin here just got a little upset over a, uh, a steak dinner.”

  “Yeah,” Tommy laughed. “It flew across the dining room and scared the bejesus out of everyone.”

  “Now, why would you do that, Marvin?” Jenna asked. A second later she stopped so short that her arm yanked through and free of Marvin’s, and Diane and Mike lurched right through them. “Wait. I remember reading the story in the paper. It was during my date with Larry, wasn’t it? It wasn’t the waiter being clumsy and dumping the glass of water in Larry’s crotch at all. It was you.”

  A sheepish smile spread over Marvin’s face. “What can I say? I was just trying to cool him down a little bit, if you catch my drift.”

  “That’s so sweet.” Jenna smiled, hugged him, and kissed him on the cheek.

  They linked arms and continued walking. Marvin let out a sigh of relief and thought he may have failed at dodging a real bullet, but at least he managed to duck a figurative one.

  -9-

  After several weeks of running into Diane numerous times, and in a variety of places, Jenna caught on it was deliberate. She didn’t exactly like the woman, but for some reason Jenna couldn’t quite explain to Marvin when he asked, Diane seemed to be growing on her. Jenna promised they would spend the day browsing through stores and left Epstein’s Deli earlier than usual, leaving the guys lounging over endless cups of coffee. The plan was to run home and change into something more acceptable to the high-browed, Well, okay, Jenna admitted her bias, snooty woman.

  A small moving van stood at the curb in front of their condominium. The doors to the building were propped open and a man emerged, loaded down with boxes. Wondering who was moving out, she quickened her pace. Jenna got to the top of the stairs, saw the door to her and Marvin’s place standing open, and let out a shriek. “What the hell is going on?”

  She rushed through the entryway and followed the noise coming from their bedroom. Two men stood pulling clothes from the drawers and closet. They made no attempt to neatly fold anything. Blouses, shirts, and pants were rolled into balls, items were stripped from hangers, carelessly bundled, and tossed into open boxes.

  Stunned, Jenna stood rigid until her anger boiled over. “What do you think you’re doing? Stop! Those are my clothes. You can’t take my stuff. What am I going to wear?” The men continued on with their task. Jenna stormed over to the box and began picking things up, draping them on hangers, and putting them back where they belonged. “Who told you that you could come in here and take my things?”

  The guy cleaning out the closet froze in place. A dress he thought he had stuffed into the box at his feet was back in the closet, its hanger swaying as if a sudden breeze had cropped up. He turned to see if the window was opened and then believing he’d jostled items in his careless rush returned to the work at hand. He jumped in fright when he found two more pieces once again in the closet. “Clancy. Clancy!”

  “What’s up?”

  “Man, you tell me.”

  Clancy looked up from taping a box closed. “Is that all you managed to do so far, Ben? The closet is still full. You better put on some speed, man. We don’t have all day and I’m not —”

  “I’m not doing anything but making tracks outta here.” Ben turned on his heels and ran out the door, pushing past Dan who was returning after dumping an armload of boxes into the van.

  “Hey, knock me down, why don’t you. Jesus…” Dan walked into the master bedroom to retrieve another load and found Clancy with his back against the far wall, as pale as a glass of pasteurized milk. “What the fuck is wrong with you two?”

  Clancy pointed at the closet where a bright red skirt had popped into view, swinging. Dan followed the finger, shrugged, and yanked it out of the closet. “It’s a real purdy thing, Clancy. You fancy puttin’ it on, do ya?” He held it out for inspection. “I don’t think it’ll fit.”

  “You give that back!” Jenna tried to yank it out of his hands but, each time she tugged on it, her hand glided through the fabric and came up empty. “Let go you dumb hick. That’s a Dior for God’s sake.” Dan stood shaking the item in the air. “I said let go,” Jenna growled, and punched him through the head.

  Dan dropped the hanger with a howl and a sharp gasp, and grabbed at his temple. “Son-of-a-bitch.” The pain shooting across his forehead reminded him of the intense ice-cream headaches he got as a kid at Cedar Point. Clutching his head, he dropped to his knees.

  Clancy ran out of the building so fast he stumbled into Ben and the two of them ended up in a heap on the sidewalk alongside the panel van. They untangled themselves and stood up. Clancy retrieved the cigarette that had been knocked from his grasp and rolled into the gutter. He put it to his lips with a quaking hand, drew a large puff of smoke into his lungs, and held it as long as he could before letting it out in a slow, steady stream. The residual smoke mingled wi
th the chilled air in wafts of steam when he talked, “Holy shit, man. What the hell was that up there?”

  “I got no fuckin’ idea, bro. It’s like the place is haunted, or some shit.”

  They stood at a safe distance away, staring at the open lobby doors to the building, when Dan appeared. “What the hell are you two doing down here? Get back up there. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  “Are you crazy? I ain’t going back in there.” Clancy dropped his cigarette, ground it out and immediately pulled another Camel from the crumpled pack. He offered one to Ben and they both chased the flame of the lighter Clancy grasped in trembling hands until the ends glowed scarlet and they choked on the overheated acrid smoke.

  “Well, you either go back up and finish, or get canned and the court reconsiders your community service.”

  Ben and Clancy looked at each other, down at the sidewalk, up at Dan, and looked again at one another.

  “What’s it going to be, guys?”

  The two men took long pulls on their cigarettes. “Well, I need this,” Ben said. “I’d rather spend a few hours dealing with a haunted house than go to fuckin’ jail.” He flicked the butt of the cigarette into the street, where it got smashed by a passing car, and headed toward the building.

  By the time Ben got to the waiting Dan, Clancy had bolstered his nerve and followed. With Dan at the rear, the three trudged back up the stairs to do what they’d been hired to do: pack up all clothes and household items and drop them off at the warehouse where they’d stay until they would be needed by victims of domestic violence.

  Clancy, in the lead, crossed the threshold of the bedroom doorway and stopped short. Ben bumped into him. Dan bumped into Ben. “Come on you clowns. Get in there. Go. Move. Work.”

  The box Clancy had filled and taped shut near the dresser stood ripped open and empty. He turned around and pushed his way back to the living room.

  Jenna stood at the open drawer, laden down with as much of her jewelry — bracelets, rings, and necklaces — as she could wear so they couldn’t steal that too. With forceful, deliberate movements, she folded a shirt and slapped it down on the pile of clothes she’d already put away.

  When the drawer slammed shut, Ben bolted past Dan to the living room to stand with Clancy. “Tell me you didn’t see that,” he said.

  Dan held onto the doorframe with a white-knuckled grip. “I don’t see anything but empty boxes. And a bunch of clothes that need to get packed. Now, you two better get in there and get busy.”

  “No, you can’t do this.” Jenna let out a wail.

  Intending to investigate the commotion as Colleen requested, Patrick stuck his head through the door of their condo in time to see Jenna flying down the stairs, yelling for Marvin.

  -10-

  Each time he noticed Tina-I’ll-Be-Your-Server-Today make a fresh pot of coffee, Tommy waited for it to finish dripping, grabbed it to fill their cups, and put the near empty pot back on the warmer. The fourth time it happened, Tina stood in front of the brewer, her hands balled into fists, whirled around and fumed, “All right. Who drained the pot again? You sons-of-bitches better quit serving yourselves. I swear to God —”

  The deadheads roared with laughter.

  Tina’s arms dropped to her sides, her face screwed up in a ball, and she let out a mournful wail as the tears flowed.

  Moe, the owner of the deli, ran out from the back of the restaurant to chastise her for offending the paying clientele and stopped short. There wasn’t a customer to be seen. He went to Tina and helped her to a table. “Honey, are you okay? Maybe you better sit for a while, take it easy.”

  “I swear, Moe, that’s the tenth time this morning. I make a fresh pot, turn my back, and it’s empty again.”

  “Don’t believe her,” Dixon, one of Tommy’s Sunday morning regulars, said. “It was only four.” And the crowd of ghostly images laughed again.

  Marvin heard Jenna yelling his name before he saw her burst through the glass door in a panic and jumped from his seat. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “You have to stop them. They’re taking everything, everything.”

  “Whoa, whoa, slow down. What are you talking about?”

  “There’s a bunch of men and they’re throwing things out, putting stuff into boxes. You have to stop them, Marv.” Jenna grabbed his arm and tried to pull him along. She’d about made it to the door before realizing excessive force caused her hand to slide right through his arm. Stopping and turning back to him, she implored, “Come on, Marvin, you have to help me.” She ran back through the window adding an urgent, “Hurry.”

  Marvin stuck his head through the glass to see which route home Jenna used and dropped his cup on the table. “I better go. I’ll catch up with you guys later.”

  “Dude, we’re right behind you.” Tommy and Mike rushed out, leaving their cups on the table, the coffee sloshing over the rims.

  Moe shook his head and looked at the table where three cups appeared out of nowhere. He took in a slow breath. These guys are gonna be the death of me. And, if Tina quits, when I get there, I’m gonna give ‘em all a piece of my mind. He swiveled his chair around to keep the sight from Tina and offered in a soothing voice, “You want to go home and lie down for a while? I can handle things until the supper crowd.”

  Dixon grabbed the coffee cups the guys had left behind on their table and put them into the bus tray, swiped one of Tina’s cloths from the wait station and wiped off the table.

  Tina glanced around the room and heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry Moe, it’s just that …”

  Moe patted her shoulder. “It’s okay, honey. You just sit and relax. You want something to drink?”

  Tina picked up a napkin, wiped her tears, and gave him a wan smile. “A stiff shot of something would be nice.” Her eyes grew wide as he headed to the back, saying, “Coming right up.”

  He kept a bottle of bourbon stashed in his desk, put there soon after these types of things started to happen, which had been right after Tommy got shot in a late-night robbery of the deli. Moe had found him slumped on the floor in front of the safe, sitting in a pool of coagulated blood. Several weeks later, accusing her of stealing bagels and dumping gallons of good coffee down the drain, he’d fired the waitress. But other product, like corned beef, pastrami, knishes, continued to get mysteriously low. After a couple weeks, he accused the new girl of hiding stuff in the over-sized purse she lugged around. She’d grabbed her bag, flipped him the finger, and stomped out. The next morning, with his stock somehow replenished overnight, Moe, with a sheepish expression on his face, called to apologize and begged her to come back. She didn’t, and he’d gone through countless waitresses over the years. But for some reason Tina clicked with him.

  He returned to her with the bottle in his hand, wiping imagined dust from the neck and cap, opened it and set it on the table in front of her. “Here.” After she’d taken a few swigs he asked, “Can I offer a little suggestion, honey?”

  Tina sighed. “What the hell. Why not.”

  “The best thing you can do is not react to their shenanigans; ignore them. Go on about your business as if you don’t see anything happening.”

  Tina stared at him. “You mean you’ve seen — you knew — .” Her voice softened to a tired, hurt tone. “What the hell, Moe?”

  “I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention, wasn’t thinking. I guess I’m just getting old.” In fact, at the age of seventy-six, Moe had started mulling the idea of selling. Or out-and-out shutting down. Not that business had slacked off; just the opposite was true. Complaints were rare, and the crowds (living and dead) pressed against the walls waiting for a table to open. It became so hectic at times, he wondered how he and Tina managed to keep up.

  Tina took another hit off the bourbon. “I thought I was going insane.”

  “His name is Tommy. He worked here, this was years ago.” Moe glanced around the deli and sighed. “I think he loved this place more than me. I sure as hell wouldn’t have taken a
bullet for it.”

  Tina’s back straightened, a frightened glaze swept into her eyes. “You mean he died in here?”

  “I promise you, I’ve never met a sweeter kid. I think he just likes to have fun; he gets a kick out of messing with people.”

  “Well, it’s not funny to me. It’s creepy.” Tina placed the bottle on the table with a bang, stood, and headed toward the back. “If he thinks he’s gonna have fun at my expense —”

  “Oh, God, you’re not going to make me regret telling you, are you? It mostly only happens in the morning, you know that, right?” Moe liked her better than any other waitress he’d employed in the forty-five years he’d owned Epstein’s. They meshed well and, over the two years she’d worked for him, he’d come to think of her as family, and thought if she quit, he might as well sell. “I mean, you’re not quitting on me, are you?”

  Tina stopped and turned to him, a steely glint in her eyes, lips set in determination. “Quitting? No. We’ll see who messes with who. Whom,” she corrected herself. She stomped out of the room to clean up her errant mascara.

  -11-

  The group returned to the condo to find JoAnne standing in the living room with her cell phone to her ear. Jenna’s glum face brightened and she ran to her. “Jo. Thank God. You have to stop this. Don’t let them take my things.”

  The four huddled around to listen in on JoAnne’s conversation and Mike shouldered his way through her back. A shiver ran through her and she craned her neck for a view of the sliding door to the balcony. “Either there’s a draft right here or those idiots opened a window.”