Jennifer Apodaca - Samantha Shaw 04 - Batteries Required

by Jennifer Apodaca

  “Research, ha!” I yelled out over the cubicle wall. “Don’t you do any research on Angel’s box, Grandpa!”

  Crap. I couldn’t believe I’d just given my grandpa a sample sex-toy kit, then practically dared him to open it.

  I spent the rest of the workday dodging phone calls from Linda Simpkins about volunteering for the Harvest Festival and getting ready for the Heart Mates open house in two days. Blaine was putting together a videotape presentation, while I worked with the winery and caterer we planned to use.

  I was proud of the deal I’d cut with a Temecula winery. They were giving me a deep discount on their wines for adding them in on my Temecula Wine Tasting Date Package, and for promoting them on the night of the open house.

  I was developing some real business savvy! Feeling pretty good, I locked up Heart Mates for the evening and waved good-bye to Blaine as he folded himself into his old Hyundai. Then I slid into my T-bird.

  It took me about fifteen minutes to drive across town, past the lake, and get home. By the time I turned onto the dirt road that led up to our house, my lack of sleep the night before and worry about Angel caught up to me. I was dead tired.

  Sex with Gabe might have sapped some of my energy, too.

  I got out of the car and went into the house.

  TJ was stretched out on the couch reading a book. Good Lord, he looked so big. Joel lay on his stomach playing a video game. “Hey, guys. Do you have your homework done?”

  “Mine’s done except for this reading.” TJ didn’t even look up from his paperback book.

  Joel barely glanced up at me. “I didn’t have any homework. What’s for dinner?”

  I tried to remember the last time I had gone to the grocery store. “Let me change clothes and I’ll see what we have.”

  Both boys groaned. I looked around, “Where’s Grandpa?”

  “In his room. He’s been on the phone.” This time, TJ looked up from his book. “Can we go to the skate park tonight? A bunch of us from school are going.”

  I fell back on the automatic questions from the official mom list that are designed to trip up any nefarious plots hatched by kids. “Who else from school is going?”

  TJ pulled a piece of paper out of the back of the book he was reading and held it out. “There’s going to be a skateboard pro there tonight doing tricks. Lots of kids will be there.”

  Walking over, I took the paper and read it. “That’s right, I saw this in the newspaper.” I doubted the boys had gotten the newspaper in on any plots. This was probably OK.

  Joel turned off the video game. “Can we go?”

  “All right. I’ll drop you off on my way to Angel’s house and pick you up when I’m done.” Which meant I had a half hour to get some dinner on. “Set the table and feed Ali,” I said, and hurried down the hallway to my bedroom.

  Grandpa’s door was closed. I wasn’t sure if he was on the phone or his old laptop. The computer in the dining room was newer and much better, but sometimes he used his laptop for privacy.

  In my bedroom, I opened my closet and thought about Gabe. His warning about Angel made me anxious.

  Or was it Gabe out at a motel with his new assistant that made me anxious? Annoyed at myself, I slid off my skirt and discovered a whopper of a bruise on my left thigh. Just looking at it hurt. I’d hit the edge of the counter in the bathroom at Heart Mates toward the top of my thigh. Or more specifically, just below the area of my saddlebag pouch of fat.

  I had to start exercising more! And stop hurting myself. I pulled out a pair of jeans and winced as I dragged them over my bruised thigh. For lack of time, I left the white sheer top on and slid my bare feet into a pair of white sandals.

  Heading out of my bedroom toward the kitchen, I thought about dinner. I was supposed to meet Angel at her house around seven. She had to run a few errands and pick up groceries.

  Ali met me at the fridge. As soon as I opened the door to the side by side, she stuck her nose into the shelf where I kept the beer and barked.

  Petting her head, I said, “Tell you what, Ali, I’ll split it with you. You and me, we gotta stick together. We’re the only females in the house, right?” I took the bottle of beer out, twisted off the cap, and headed for her water dish by the sliding glass door.

  Ali barked her agreement and followed me.

  Joel was already at her food dish, scooping some dry chunks out of the bag with the empty coffee can we used. When he finished, he went back to store Ali’s food in the pantry.

  TJ looked up from setting the table. “Mom, do you know what’s for dinner yet?”

  Ali sat down and waited patiently for me to pour out half my beer in her empty water dish. I thought frantically about dinner. I knew I had a bag of Tater Tots in the freezer, and some ground meat. . . . I finished pouring the beer and looked at TJ. “Sloppy Joes and Tater Tots.”

  “Table’s set. Can I have my buns toasted?”

  Buns? Crap, did I have buns? I sipped some beer and rushed over to preheat the oven, then went to the freezer. I got out the bag of Tater Tots and breathed a big sigh of relief when I saw the buns. Sure, they were hot dog buns, instead of hamburger buns, but I could make this work. “Sure, TJ.”

  “Can I do the Tater Tots?” Joel asked.

  The three of us cooked dinner while Ali drank her beer and watched from her blanket.

  At dinner, Grandpa said, “I’m having some friends over tonight for cards.”

  I looked up from my half-eaten Sloppy Joe on a toasted hot dog bun. “No cheating, Grandpa.”

  He laughed. “We’re just playing some gin rummy. How could I cheat?” He stood up. “Clear up, boys. I’ll do the dishes so your mom can take you to the skate park.”

  Taking my dish to the sink, I said, “Thanks, Grandpa.”

  “Mom!” Joel yelled as he passed by the kitchen. “We’re going to be late! We’ll wait for you outside!”

  Shaking my head, I rushed down the hall to brush my teeth and grab my purse, then I hurried back through the kitchen to kiss Grandpa. “OK if I take your Jeep? I’ll pick the boys up at nine, and we’ll be home after that.”

  “Sure, Sammy, you go have fun.”

  It wasn’t until after I dropped the boys off at the skate park that I realized I had forgotten to get the sex-toy kit. The skate park was only two minutes from home, so I whipped the Jeep back out onto Grand, then pulled onto the dirt road to the house.

  Wow! Several people had already showed up for Grandpa’s card game. I took the keys out and rushed into the house. There were six aging heads bent over the kitchen table. “Don’t mind me; I just forgot something.”

  I hurried into my bedroom, then into the small adjoining bathroom. Bending down, I grabbed the shopping bag from under the sink. As I headed back out of my bedroom, I opened up the bag.

  No velvet box. There was the wine, the strawberries—ugh, those should probably have gone in the fridge, the book. . .

  Grandpa. I knew he was up to something.

  I went storming down the hallway and took a fast right into the long kitchen, which ended in the dining room. Ali hurried over to see what was wrong.

  I marched down the length of the kitchen. There they were—six respected senior citizens. Male senior citizens, all gathered around the table, doing nothing.

  Probably because they were waiting for me to leave so they could look at the sample sex-toy kit.

  “Grandpa, where’re the cards?” I stopped next to his chair. I looked around at the men. Some had coffee, some had water. There was a big bowl of potato chips in the center of the table.

  But no cards.

  Grandpa looked up at me. “We haven’t started playing yet. Hank here was telling us about his prostate problem.”

  I glanced at Hank, who flushed a bright red over his bald head. That only made me more suspicious. Hank talked about his bowels without embarrassment. No, that wasn’t an embarrassment blush, it was guilt.

  “The game is up, Grandpa. Hand it over.” I held ou
t my hand. I could not believe it! There wasn’t a man at this table under sixty-five, and they had gathered like a bunch of teenage boys to read their dads’ Playboy magazines. Sheesh!

  “Hand what over?” Grandpa lifted his coffee cup and took a sip.

  I nearly grinned. He was cool. “Hand over the velvet box that belongs to Angel, or I am going to call her right now and tell her what you are up to. Then Angel and I are going to go to your morning coffee at Jack in the Box and tell all the ladies there how you men were acting like horny teenagers.”

  “Humph!”

  “Better give it to her.”

  “Young lady, such language!”

  I ignored the muttering of the other men and stared at Grandpa. He reached down under a stack of newspapers on the floor and brought out the velvet box. “Is this what you are looking for, Sam? Why didn’t you say so?” He handed it to me.

  I took the box and studied it. “Did you open it?”

  “No.”

  It didn’t look like he had opened it, since the white strip of paper sealing the box shut was still attached. I stuck it into the shopping bag full of bribes that Zoë had given me.

  The phone rang.

  I glanced at my watch and figured it was Angel calling to see where I was. I answered it. “Hello.”

  “Sam! I’ve been trying to reach you all day!”

  I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against the wall. Linda Simpkins. “Hi, Linda. It’s been a killer day. One emergency after another. I haven’t had time to call you back. Can I call you tomorrow? I have to leave right now to take the boys somewhere.” Lord, I was getting to be a chronic liar.

  “Sam, we could do this really fast. I just need to know which night you can work the Harvest Festival.”

  The night after never. To create my cover, I pulled the phone away and yelled, “I’m coming, Joel!” Then I put the phone back against my head and said, “Linda, I have to run. Let me look at my calendar and I’ll get back to you. Bye.” I hung up.

  Lifting my forehead off the wall, I turned to see all the men were staring at me. Heat flushed my face and neck. “I’m late. You guys have fun.” Clutching my bag and my purse, I hurried out the door.

  Driving down Lake Street, I still couldn’t get over Grandpa and his cronies. What had tipped him off that there was something . . . interesting . . . in that box? He must not have bought my story that there were lotions in there. Or had it simply been that I told him not to open it?

  OK, it was kind of funny. Grandpa! He was in his seventies!

  I made a left turn into the hills overlooking the lake. I bumped along in Grandpa’s Jeep until I turned onto Angel’s tree-lined street. Even with no streetlights, I easily found her driveway. Years of traveling the same route made it automatic.

  I parked next to Angel’s blood red car.

  Was Gabe staking out his cheater or bending his new partner over . . .

  I turned off the ignition, grabbed my purse and my shopping bag, then got out of the Jeep. I fast-walked up the driveway to escape the direction of my thoughts. Angel and I would break open the wine and eat the chocolate-covered strawberries while we explored the sample sex-toy kit.

  And talk. Girlfriend talk. I’d tell her about Gabe and his new partner, she’d tell me what was bothering her about Hugh and whatever else was going on in her life. I’d help her solve her latest problem with Hugh, and she’d probably insist on gathering up some of her high tech spy gear and tracking down the motel Gabe was working at.

  Going through the gate into the flagstone atrium, I shifted the bag containing the wine, the strawberries, and the sex-toy kit from my right hand to my left.

  Did I want to spy on Gabe?

  A loud thud came from inside Angel’s house. I forgot about spying on Gabe and froze at her front door. The hairs on the back of my neck spiked up. What was that? Angel’s car was in the driveway. She might easily have just returned from the grocery store and dropped something.

  I didn’t believe that. Terror washed up my spine, tightening my shoulder blades and neck. Being a natural born coward, I was really starting to resent finding myself in these situations that required action.

  Brave action.

  Crap. My hand was on the cool door handle. I pressed my ear up to the wood and listened.

  Angel’s voice bled through. “What do you want? Get out!”

  Could it be Hugh in there? Or someone else? I hadn’t brought my stun gun or Ali. God. But I had my cell phone! I set down the shopping bag, then reached into my purse and pulled out my cell phone. I dialed 911, but my finger hovered over the send button.

  Vance had been really pissed off over the last false emergency. Accusing me of trying to get close to him. On the other hand, Vance didn’t answer 911. But he’d said the entire police station knew that Vance had handled the last call as a kidnapping and Angel had turned up fine. Would they believe me now?

  There was shuffling noise coming from inside the house.

  Make a decision! I shouted in my head. I looked around for a weapon and spotted the bottle of Zinfandel inside the shopping bag on the ground. I hooked my cell phone onto my jeans, then got the bottle of wine out. All I would have to do was push “send” and the phone would dial through to 911.

  I was going into the house.

  With the decision made, I refused to consider it anymore. Just move. I put my hand on the doorknob and turned it as quietly as I could. Once I’d turned it as far as it would go, I took a breath, steadied the wine bottle in my right hand, and pushed the door open.

  The first thing I saw was a man’s back as he stood over Angel, who was sprawled on the couch. He was waving a gun in her face.

  A bag of groceries had spilled out eggs, Diet Coke, and a few other items onto the hardwood floor. Somewhere in my brain, facts were being catalogued: Angel had gone shopping, maybe surprised the intruder. And it didn’t appear that the intruder had heard me come in.

  Angel must have realized though, because her gaze shifted past the man toward me.

  The man screamed at Angel, “Where is it?”

  Angel looked back at the man as I hit the send button on my cell phone hooked to my jeans.

  The man added, “I want my—”

  I lunged forward, swinging the wine bottle toward his head.

  The man whirled around and brought his right arm up. The wine bottle missed his head, but slammed into his right arm, knocking the gun from his hand and then breaking. He yelped and brought his arm into his body.

  Angel saw her chance, stood up, and launched her body into the intruder, slamming him into the hardwood floor. “Sam! Get the gun!”

  I wrenched my cell phone off my jeans and got it to my ear while rushing to get the gun, which had dropped to the floor. It was only a few feet from the man’s reach. In my ear, a seriously annoyed phone operator said, “Hello? Anybody there? 911, do you have an emergency? What’s the address?”

  “Yes! A man with a gun!” I rattled off the address, dropped the phone and reached down to get the gun.

  The man’s large, strong hand clamped around my wrist. He yanked hard and I fell over him and Angel into a big dog pile.

  “Let go of my hair, you prick!” Angel bellowed.

  I scrambled off the mound and got to my knees. The gun was on the other side of Angel and the intruder. He had a handful of Angel’s long red hair.

  Blood ran down his arm. The wine bottle must have broken the skin.

  I grabbed the first weapon I could find, a six-pack of cans of Diet Coke. The man hung on to Angel’s hair while getting to his knees. I swung the six-pack into the back of his head.

  “Ooof!” He flew forward, letting go of Angel’s hair to land on top of the gun. He didn’t move.

  Dead?

  Angel leaped up and ran toward her bedroom. I stood there holding a single can of Diet Coke. It had slipped the plastic ring, so that the remaining cans hit the man in the head and fell to the ground. One can had exploded, spraying us with
cola. The man appeared stunned but he was stirring.

  Not dead.

  I heard the distant sound of sirens.

  The sound snapped me out of my fog. My heart thudded against my chest. Shit! The man started getting to his knees. He shook his head once, and then he was on his knees and reaching for his gun. I had to do something! But before I could figure out what, he grabbed his gun and stood up, pointing the gun right at my face.

  I held up the can of Diet Coke, like some kind of shield. My brain registered the sirens, which were growing louder. “The police are here!”

  “Freeze! I have a gun!” Angel’s voice boomed.

  “I’ll blow off her face!” The man retorted without looking Angel’s way. To me, he said, “Start backing up, toward the kitchen.”

  My vision tunneled and all I saw was the little hole at the end of the gun. Fear turned my stomach to a rancid, burning liquid. My skin heated and terror roared in my ears. I backed up, carefully, once step at a time.

  I didn’t want my face blown off!

  But the gun was getting closer, that tiny hole growing bigger. With every step I took backward, the intruder with the gun took two steps forward, bringing him closer and closer to me. By the time I got to the swinging doors that led to the kitchen, the gun was pressed up to the center of my forehead.

  TJ and Joel swam up behind my eyes. Who would pick them up from the skate park if I were dead? Memory snapshots of TJ and Joel riding their skateboards surfaced, then other pictures: TJ and Grandpa with their heads bent together over the computer. Joel and Ali playing on the trampoline. Mother’s Day, when they cooked breakfast for me.

  The memories vanished when the intruder moved the gun and shoved me hard. I went over sideways, dropping the can of soda and landing on the hardwood floor. The can exploded more soda all over me.

  The intruder ran through the kitchen and out the back door.

  Angel dashed past me, screaming that she would shoot.

  “Angel, no!” I yelled as I scrambled to my feet, stumbling once when my thigh screamed a painful reminder of my bruise. I ignored the pain and hurried after Angel. I didn’t want her to get shot! I raced through the swinging doors into the kitchen, but she had stopped at the back door, her gun hanging in her hand at her side. “He’s gone.”