BOMAW 7-9

by Mercedes Keyes

  They started it up, and sat for a few moments, chatting with each other. John made it to his car as quickly as he could. Starting it up, he waited. Waited for them to get going; he was so angry, he contemplated getting his gun out of the glove compartment, walking up to that car, and just unload it inside on both of them. That would teach her. The only thing that stopped him was the amount of people in and out of the store. Cars pulling up and away.

  "You bitch! You fuckin' bitch! You think you're gonna pull this shit on me! I was gonna give you a chance! Give you a chance to turn it around! A chance to come back home! I was gonna forgive you for putting me through this! Got me up and down the highway like some kind of loser! Late for work—because of you! Missing days because of you! Got my supervisor in my business, wantin' to know what's happening! Now I come to this— this why you need a restraining order, huh? You're screwing around on me! I can't believe I wanted you back! Well, not now—not now! Fuckin' other men—fuckin' whore! Fuckin' cunt! I oughta slice you up!" Getting himself riled, more angry as they sat, John opened his glove compartment where his 38 special sat, loaded. He grabbed it, seeing it play out in his head, what he would do. He'd walk up, surprise them, shoot the man she was with right between the eyes, and a second time to be sure, and then unload the rest into her. "Just do it! Just get out and do it! Just step out, walk up and start shooting, just pull the trigger fast and quick, just unload it!" John Sykes threw open his car door, left it open with the engine running, took three steps with his gun in his jacket pocket. Too late, they were backing out.

  "BITCH!" He spat, and turned back, racing to his car. With his heart hammering, he jumped in, slammed the door, went to back out and found himself blocked by people walking by. He almost backed up and rammed them, and he would have, if he didn't wanna kill his ex-wife more. If he killed them, the pedestrians, they might catch him and take him to jail. That could get in the way of killing her. He couldn't let anything get in the way of that.

  Finally he backed out, cutting his wheel sharp and quick to correct his car and try to catch up with them. He saw them up ahead, pulling out of the parking lot. Pedal to the metal, he hit a drifting shopping cart, knocking it aside out of his way. Someone yelled at him, called him a name. He couldn't hear or see anything but her, riding around in that silver, Buick LaSabre, with another man. A man that she was no doubt sleeping with, cheating on him with. Her husband. That's what he was, and if he couldn't have her, no one else would.

  He followed behind them to Camp Daniels, down the I-90 from Tomah. It was easy to see them, easy to keep them in his sights. As they drove, he had fantasies of pulling up alongside them, and shooting into the car. Again, he didn't do it, he might miss. They might live. Know it was him. Get the police after him. He saw the exit to Camp Daniels coming up ahead, they turned their signal on to exit. So focused on them, he never saw the deer at the side of the road. It leaped out right in front of him. He cut his wheel and ended up clipping the rear end of it, and almost lost control of his vehicle, coming close to ramming someone else in the side when he over-corrected. He was forced to pull over. His heart was racing. They were gone. Pulled off ahead and going somewhere into Camp Daniels.

  Sitting on the side of the highway, he forced himself to calm down. With a growling expression, he looked at the deer on the highway, dragging its back legs and hips. A break in cars came; putting down his window, he grabbed his gun, stuck it out and shot the deer three times, one bullet hitting it in the head. It flopped to the road dead. If he hadn't been such a calculating, hateful person, it could be considered a mercy killing; yet his motives for shooting it were anything but. Checking his mirror, he pulled back onto the road, drove a distance to the exit and made it. Of course, they were nowhere in sight, and he hadn't a clue of where to go from there. He needed some gas, and so pulled into the gas station there. There was a Blazer sitting at the pumps. Two young black males and a white boy. John looked at the one pumping the gas and curled his lip at him. "Fuckin' niggers! Can't get away from'em!" He mumbled it loud enough for it to be subtly heard.

  DJ shook his head and then looked in at his brothers.

  "What he say?" Mundo asked, he was still in the Blazer, about to get out and pay.

  "Don't worry about it. Let's just get what we're getting and get out of here." DJ counseled.

  "But what did he say?" Marcus asked, having an idea—and was already feeling angry about it.

  "Marcus, stay in the Blazer, and don't worry about it." DJ ordered. "In fact, Mundo, you stay in there, too—I'll go in and pay. I don't want you two starting any trouble, we're not going to ruin this night." He finished pumping the gas and went inside.

  "We oughta go in there and ask that asshole what's his problem!" Marcus growled.

  "Naw, man, it's life, dude. Once DJ pays, we leave; we don't have to see that mo'fo again! I can't get in no trouble, man."

  "Why the fuck does he get to say whatever the fuck he said—"

  "Man, we don't even know what he said!" Mundo returned.

  "The word nigger cannot be mistaken, and I know he said it!"

  "Well—let it drop."

  "I'd like to drop my foot off in his ass!" Marcus steamed.

  "Look, DJ comin'—we gone go…and have some fun—an' skip the bullshit! Save it for another day—'cause I guarantee it—another day, it's gone come." Mundo reasoned, just as DJ opened the Blazer door and stepped in.

  "He say anything else to you?" Marcus asked.

  "Not a word. He doesn't look like he's from around here. He wasn't buying anything, just waiting to talk to the person behind the counter. Let's go—we can't stay out too late."

  Mundo started the Blazer and pulled out of the gas station.

  Inside the convenience store, John Sykes asked the teller, "How well do you know the people around here?"

  The teller was in her fifties and lived in New Lisbon—she knew no one in the area. "I don't live around here. I just started working here a few weeks ago."

  "Dammit! So, you wouldn't know anything about a woman, so tall..." He held up a hand to indicate her height. "...long auburn, reddish hair, pretty face—slender—name Shanna? Green-like eyes?"

  "Like I said, I just started working here, and then only a few days out the week—part-time."

  Exasperated, John walked out of the convenience store, and then walked back in. He was starving. There was a convenience store, in the middle, where one could pay for their gas. To the right of the counter, a small town restaurant where the locals and truck drivers stopped for breakfast and lunch. They closed up after lunch. The other side of it in the front corner was a Subway sandwich shop, and towards the back were aisles for quick buys. He walked over to the Subway and ordered himself a meal, trying to figure out what to do. There was a Super 8 right down the lot. He'd already paid for four nights at another hotel. He couldn't keep doing this. He couldn't afford the trips there. Bills were piling up. He'd gotten two verbal warnings from work about being late, and one about missing days. He lied saying there was a family emergency a few weeks ago, and had driven up and had yet to find her. Spying on her parent's home. He'd been able to stay for only two nights that time. Now, he was off for a four day weekend. It was back to work on Tuesday. If he was to find her, he had to find her before returning to Ohio. He had tonight, tomorrow, which was Sunday, and Monday. He had to head back home by Monday night. He was almost tempted not to go back. He was late on the rent—real late—behind in fact. Shanna had always kept up with the bills. Paid their rent. Now that she was gone, he was in trouble with it. In the last four months, he'd only paid three hundred and fifty of the six hundred fifty due each month. And not all at once, he'd told the landlord he was facing hard times, would get caught up as soon as he could; and so sent him seventy-five here—fifty there and a couple of times a hundred. He was under pressure, feeling hemmed in. It was all her fault. He sat in the convenience store/restaurant/Subway brewing. The food tasteless in his mouth. Face red. He kept seeing them in Wal
-Mart. That smile on her face.

  "You looked like you been fucked! Fucked by that man you with! Yeah...well, last time you'll get fucked, it's gone be by me! Then, goodnight Irene." He stewed in his insanity, seeing the look on her face when she would see him again. When he got a hold of her. He would take her back to his hotel. Do it to her hard, until she cried out and begged for mercy. He saw himself, sweating, both of them naked, her hair gripped in his hands as he rammed into her, and then he'd shove that gun right into her mouth—right into her mouth—right into her mouth. The scene, the picture, the deed, played over and over in his head. Visualizing it. Nodding his head, as he chewed, he'd find her—and then—the hell of his life with her, would be over. He sat there for an hour, taking his time to mull over his plan. Nowhere in all of his reasoning, did he see where he might have caused what problems they had. It was going to be a long night, one that he could not waste. He finished eating, and then went out and filled up his car. Paid for his gas and left the shop and tossed a coin into the air as to where he would start in combing Camp Daniels, in search of her Jeep. Tails side up, meant he would cover all the blocks within the small town, and once he'd gone through them all, he'd hit the rural roads.

  * * *

  "Aaah, man, a kitten? Shanna—you know I don't like cats!" Jake grumbled, brought from his room after Shanna came in with Royce behind her, carrying all the stuff they brought from Wal-Mart for it. Putting on some shorts, Vivian had come out to see it as well. "Ohhh, I think it's cute. I love them when they're that color." Vivian added, cooing, "I want one."

  "Forget it!" Jake announced.

  "Wh-y-y-y? I've always wanted a kitten, just never had the time." Vivian informed him.

  "Still don't have the time...and I don't like cats. So, forget it." He returned, his tone saying it was non-negotiable.

  "You sure? There's six left? One the same color, with white and torti-color mixed in. Cute as can be." Royce dangled the carrot, smiling. Jake crossed his arms over his naked chest, leaning back against the kitchen counter, "No, thank you, if it's that cute, someone else can have it. You know how dangerous they can be? They scratch the hell out of you - no - they're better off wild and on their own."

  Ignoring her brother, Shanna walked towards Vivian bouncing it, holding it close to her face, "Isn't it as cute as a button? Look at those eyes—I had to have him. I knew it right off the bat."

  "Aaah, let me hold him." Vivian reached out for him.

  "Don't get attached." Jake warned, eyeing the ball of fur as if it were an alien hidden in the body of the meowing orange tabby. Vivian was standing next to him, face clean of make-up, hair tousled from romping around in bed with him. She wore only a bed shirt and shorts, bare legs and feet—staring at her, he swore she was the sexiest creature on the face of the earth. No make-up needed. Eyes that cut right to the quick of him. Now, she was making cute faces, holding the kitten, leaning towards him with it.

  "Ah, Jake, look at it. How can you not like something so adorable. Just stroke his little head." She pleaded up at him.

  "Only thing, cute, cuddly and adorable I'm interested in stroking, is you."

  "JAKE!" Shanna blared, "Is there ever anything else on your mind!" She scolded him. He was all teeth, grinning and looked at Vivian, puckering up he blew her an air kiss. Vivian blushed hot, rolled her eyes and shook her head, he grabbed her by the waist, pulling her to him, "Give him back, and let's get back to bed."

  "Here you go. Don't care what he says, one day—when we settle and I have time—we're gettin' a kitten." Vivian promised, passing it back to Shanna.

  "Not." Jake corrected her softly, his hand at her back guiding her back towards the hall and to his room. "Mm-hm." She mewed.

  "Not." He murmured behind her.

  "We'll see."

  "Only one kind of pussy I'm allowing in our house."

  "JAKE!" This time it was Vivian and Shanna screaming his name at the same time.

  "WHAT?" He knew "what", laughing and ducking as Vivian slapped him on the arm, for his obscene mouth.

  Shanna turned back to Royce, shaking her head as Jake and Vivian disappeared in the back. Royce smiled, coming down from a blush himself at her brother's bold sexual innuendos, he was opening everything, removing plastic, and bindings, putting them in the bags they carried them in, starting with the dish, "We should probably give it some of this kitten cream we bought and a tiny bit of food."

  "Good idea." She agreed, and then to the kitten. "You hungry? Hm, I bet you are." She cooed tenderly as it meowed. She chose a perfect spot on her kitchen floor for it, opening the small can of kitten milk and poured it in. Setting it down near the dish, the kitten greedily went into the milk as if starving. "Aaah, look at him, he was hungry."

  "Boy I'll say, look at him go. Should give him a bit of food, too. Some water."

  Shanna again agreed and set up his little dishes for him. By the time the kitten was done, his little tummy was extended and tight. They stood laughing at him, as he cleaned his little paws, his tiny pink tongue flitting out around his mouth to sop up the cream clinging to his whiskers. She took him into her bathroom, set up his litter box, put him in it, and right away, it squatted and went. She also put his bed in there for the night, a cylinder double layer hiding place and sleeper, that doubled for scratching on as well. She would leave him in there until it learned it was the kitty litter where it should go, then slowly she would withdraw him and his bedding to her bedroom, once it knew to go in her bathroom to use his tray.

  "That's it...he's all set now." She announced, feeling good about her newly acquired pet.

  "All except what to call him." Royce reminded her of that one detail.

  "A name? Hmmm? I'll have to show him to my niece and see what she can think of."

  "Good idea." He agreed, sitting on her sofa.

  "Would you like something to drink?"

  "Any ice tea?"

  "Sure do! Food galore left over as well."

  "Nooo, I've had my fill, thank you. Tea is fine."

  She prepared them both a tall glass of ice tea and walked towards the door with it. "Care to sit outside? I love sitting out on the swing."

  "Ohhh, my kind of girl, let's do." He rose eagerly, following her out the front door and onto her deck on the side, where they sat on the swing her brother built for her. Sipping their tea in companionable silence they gave it a push together, nice and slow—easygoing.

  "This tea is nice." He complimented her.

  "Em, it's sun tea. On the porch to sit in the sun and brew all day, best way to have it."

  "I'm agreeing with you whole-heartedly." He took a sip as if to validate his sincerity. He brought the glass down and sat it on the small side table built into the swing. "Your brother did a fine job with this, he should be in business. I mean, this is really well done." Royce complimented.

  "I know, he did. He and Shawn are our jack-of-all-trades. Derrick as well, but he's a coach, as you know."

  "So, he doesn't do any building then?"

  "Yes, he does—during the summer, in fact; he makes extra money when the school year breaks."

  "They all this good at it?"

  "Pretty much. Difference is, Shawn is an artist for a living. He could always draw, paint—for as long as I can remember, he was always drawing something." She smiled thinking back, and looked over at Royce, "Drawing naked women."

  He smiled back, "Ah, a young man's dream, we've all gone through that."

  "He sure did. He's made a living out of it. So building, it's a side thing for him. Derrick being a teacher, coach, it's a side thing for him as well. But Jake, it's a living. He's done it all of his life. From cutting down the tree, putting it through the saw mill, and then building with it. All three can do plumbing, electrical and building—but I would say, Jake's the best at it. He's never done anything else."

  "You're proud of him. Who's your favorite brother of the three?"

  Shanna smiled, "If I had no choice but to put them in first, seco
nd and third..." She leaned towards him and whispered, "Shawn first, then Jake, and of course then Derrick. But—I love them all. I was the baby of the family—"

  "And a baby girl, at that..." He inserted.

  "Yep...and I was coddled, protected, guarded like you wouldn't believe. Left home, and fell right into—a marriage—where there is nothing—but regret."

  "That's over now?"

  "Will be...my court date is coming up soon."

  "He in Ohio?"

  "Yes."

  "You still friends at least?"

  "No...not at all."

  "Oh...I'm sorry to hear that."

  "I should also tell you…that, uh…my first husband, was—is, extremely violent. Royce, he's—dangerously violent. In Ohio, I had to take out a restraining order."

  "I see. How bad are we talking?"

  Shanna sat a moment, quiet. Sighing, she looked up at him. "He's…capable…of killing—killing me. Took me forever to finally leave him, because I was scared to death. He's, very—sinister. There's something wrong with him. Anyway—that's over now, and I just wanna…put it all behind me."

  Royce sat and stared at her a moment. "Looks like I'll be driving by more often. I'm gonna give you my number, and you call me—no matter what time it is—middle of the night—any time. I don't care. You get scared, something happens...you call me, you hear?"

  Shanna smiled and nodded as he reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and removed his card. "That has my home number, my cell phone, and the number to contact me on duty. Keep it on you at all times, okay?"

  Shanna took the card from him, nodding.

  "How long were you married to this guy?" He asked.

  "I met him while I was away at college. I was married to him for over ten years. Ten horrible years. To be honest, with some of the things he's done to me, I don't even know why I'm still alive. I…ah, like your wife, miscarried as well; however, due to domestic violence. He scares me. And now—what scares me even more—is that Shawn is back."

  "Why is that?"