"I know, sweetheart." I hadn't planned the endearment, but I didn't regret it. "Let's go with Todd for now and get out of here. We can make a plan afterward."
I hear sirens. From somewhere out of sight, there is the sound of a man shouting, the slam of a car door, and a squeal of tires. Relieved, I feel my muscles beginning to relax for the first time since we left the motel room. He's fled from the cops before. If he's worried about getting caught, then he isn't looking for us on the streets. At least not yet.
Todd's giant Crown Vic pulls up. It's an older model, but he keeps it in cherry condition. Working for Riderz, he gets a ton of repeat customers. Folks like riding in the big luxury car.
"Hey, peeps! Welcome to the pimpmobile!"
Todd loves this car, but he's called it the pimpmobile since the day he drove it off the used car lot. It's painted dark green and has a tan colored vinyl top. There's a fuzzy cover on the steering wheel and a small pair of fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror. A set of fancy wire hubcaps and a gaudy front license plate of palm trees in front of a sunset complete the look. Customers seem to get a kick out of it.
"Hey, Todd," I say as I open the front door for Daphne and then climb in the back.
"Thank you so much for dashing to our rescue." Daphne buckles her seatbelt and then turns to smile at Todd.
"No worries, pretty lady. My pimpmobile is your pimpmobile. What's the plan?"
"All we've come up with so far is to get away from here as soon as possible," I say.
"Sounds like a good place to start. Why don't we go to my place? Quan is there, and he can help us brainstorm."
"Sounds good," Daphne agrees. "Can we stop at a Meijer or something on the way? We can't go home and I really need a change of clothes."
Todd and his boyfriend Quan rent half of a duplex in Plainfield. It's a nice place, but Plainfield is more expensive than my neighborhood in Speedway. Still, if the other half of the duplex ever opens up, I might consider moving. Might be nice to have a yard again and Todd's landlord does all the mowing.
It's a short drive down Forty to Plainfield, and there's a Meijer right on the main drag. Todd offers to stick with Daphne so she won't be alone while I'm rummaging through the men's department. I'm glad of the offer. I can't see how Douche tracked us to the Motel, and I can't imagine he's hot on our heels right now, but why take chances with Daphne's safety?
It doesn't take me long to pick out a couple pairs of jeans, polo shirts, socks, and underwear. I toss them into the cart and head to HBA. I don't mind going scruffy for a day, but if we're going to be away from home much longer I'll need to shave.
After I get through check out, I wait for Todd and Daphne at the front of the store. I don't have to wait long. Soon the Meijer is in the rearview mirror and we are on our way to Todd's house.
Quan welcomes us with a platter of cold cuts and cheese along with all the extras to make sandwiches. It hasn't been long since I was eating donuts with Daphne at the motel, but it seems like ages. I make and polish off two behemoths while we explain what's going on to Todd and Quan.
"What I don't understand is how Adam found us at the hotel," Daphne adds at the end of our tale.
"Well, you said he did time, right?" Todd seems to flirt with the idea of a second sandwich and grabs a handful of potato chips instead.
"Yes," Daphne answers. "That's what the police told us."
"And how did you pay for the room last night?"
"With my debit card."
"Uh-huh." Todd pushed his empty plate away and set his elbows on the table. "Sounds to me like he made some connections in the big house and got a tracker placed on your card. But however he found you, it is what it is. You need a place to crash and you can't use plastic to get it. So, why don't you stay here with us?"
"I don't like it." I finish the last potato chip on my plate and push it away, but I refrain from putting my elbows on the table. I do have a lady to impress, after all.
"Well, don't be shy, tell us how you really feel." Todd's voice is light in tone but it seems a bit forced.
I think I hurt his feelings.
"Look, Todd, I appreciate the invite, I really do. When this is over, Daphne and I will come over, watch movies all night, and have a slumber party."
"We can do each other's nails, and braid our hair, it'll be super!" Quan jokes, making Daphne laugh.
"I'd love it," she says. "With or without the nail painting."
"Anyway," I interrupt, "this dude is bad news. He shot at me yesterday. Shot at me with a gun! I don't know if he can find out we are friends or not, but I'm not going to risk bringing this shit to your house. The guy is nuts."
"I get it." Quan pulls his cell phone out of his back pocket. "Why don't I call my uncle and see if he can help us out. If I do it, it should be too convoluted for crazy dude to figure out. We don't have any direct connections."
"That's a great idea." Todd seems to have gotten over my not wanting to stay here.
"How can Todd's uncle help us?" Daphne asked.
"He's a realtor," Todd answers, since Quan is already dialing. "He's often got access to empty houses. He might be able to let you stay in one."
Quan steps away from the table and speaks into the phone in rapid Vietnamese. He was born here in Indianapolis but has relatives who emigrated from Vietnam. It's a pretty language to listen to, even if I can't understand a word of it. The conversation is short and soon Quan ends the call and returns to the table.
"He's got a house in Mooresville. You know, Todd, the one on Elm Street. It's empty, but it has some furniture in it to help it sell. He says you two are welcome to stay there as long as you need."
"How kind of him, and of you." Daphne stands to give Quan a quick hug.
"There's no food in the house." Quan turns to Todd. "Why don't you take them to the grocery, and I'll go pick up the keys."
"If we stop and pick up my car, Daphne and I can hit a store while you and Todd go to get the keys."
"Nah," Todd says. "It's better if I don't go with Quan. His Uncle doesn't like me."
"Is he upset because you're gay?" Daphne asks, her voice full of concern.
"Not at all," Quan says cheerfully. "He just wants me to find a nice Vietnamese boy."
"He'll come around." Todd smiles at his boyfriend. "It'll take some time is all. Then he'll see how awesome I am."
"I don't doubt it," Daphne agrees.
We leave the duplex soon after. Quan to go see his Uncle, and the rest of us to go get my car from the Pine Motel parking lot. On the way there, I ask Todd to stop at a gas station. I use the ATM to get as much cash out as it allows me. I know it's possible Adam the Douche has not only figured out who I am, but might have some underworld connection checking for hits on my debit card as well, but I don't care. We need some money if we can't use cards, and we'll be far away from this pokey gas station before Adam can do anything.
As we approach the motel, we all search the area for a dark pickup truck, but there is no sign of Adam. Daphne and I switch cars and we'll follow Todd's pimpmobile to the house.
We're off to Mooresville.
Eleven
Mooresville is a bit smaller than Plainfield. It doesn't have the old-fashioned town square many of Indiana's old villages have. The main drag in the oldest part of town is lined with two and three story brick storefronts. Most of the buildings have some fancy brickwork near their roofs making them visually more interesting, but there's not much in the way of gingerbread. While Plainfield is filled with strip malls and chain restaurants, Mooresville has a sleepier, more hometown feel. Oh, they have their shops and their big box stores, but they are kept to the outskirts of the city limits.
As we drive down Main Street and turn towards the grocery store, I enjoy both the storefronts and the craftsman style homes with their big open porches and their gables. The town is charming, and I think they did well when they decided to keep the modern hustle and bustle on the edges of everything.
Daphn
e and I are walking towards the main entrance of the grocery when I begin to feel a little off. I can't place why at first, then I realize my hearing has gone wonky. Everything around me has turned muffled, as if I'm listening to the world through a bath towel wrapped around my head. Even Daphne's voice has gone indistinct despite the fact she's at my side.
I hear one thing clear as a bell.
"I'm not supposed to ride with strangers."
The voice sounds young, like a child. There he is, standing on the sidewalk. The boy is maybe five years old, standing alone, and he's talking to a man in a car pulled up next to him.
I don't hesitate. I don't think about it. As we pass the child I pick him up and carry him briskly into the store with me.
"Hey!" The little one makes a token struggle to get free and gives up as I tighten my grip slightly.
"Nick?" Daphne is hurrying to catch up.
I walk directly to the nearest cashier with my wiggling burden. "This child is lost."
"Oh, is he now? Hello, sweetie! Can you tell me your mom or dad's name?"
"I'm not here with them." The boy has stopped fidgeting and sits quietly in my arms as he studies the cashier."
"Who are you here with, dear?"
"My Gran. She's called Martha."
"And what's your name, sweetie?"
"I'm Tommy!"
"All right, Tommy. You keep being a brave boy and we'll see if we can find your Gran."
The kind cashier picks up the phone near her register, and soon an announcement is heard throughout the store.
"Paging Martha to register three. Paging Martha, please come to register three. We have your grandson Tommy at register three."
An older woman with a baby and a girl younger than Tommy rushes out of the aisles and smiles in relief when she catches sight of Tommy. She's pushing the other children in one of those carts with a plastic car for half of it. The younger children are sitting in the car, and Tommy must have been walking alongside.
"There you are! I've been looking everywhere! Thank you, Mister, for finding him."
I put Tommy down and he runs giggling into his Gran's arms. The crisis is over, but I feel Gran needs to know how serious the situation had been.
"Ma'am, Tommy was outside talking to a man in a car when I intervened. The man may have been trying to help, I don't know, but he was absolutely trying to get Tommy into the car."
"Oh my goodness, thank God you were there to help. I've told my daughter I can't keep up with all of them since they're getting older, but she's trying to save money on the daycare. I'll have a talk with her tonight. I can still keep the baby, but Tommy and his sister need to get into daycare."
"Probably wise."
She thanks me again and heads back to her shopping with Tommy in tow.
"How did you know?" Daphne is staring after the family with the car cart.
"I heard him talking to the man. It didn't sound good."
"You are amazing, you know."
I don't respond. My face feels warm and I think I might actually be blushing.
It doesn't take us long at the grocery. A few breakfast things, snacks, and drinks are all we bother with. There's no reason to buy a ton of food when we're hoping any day to be able to return home.
Back in my car, we follow Todd's pimpmobile to our borrowed home for the night. Quan is already there, and the guys help us get our things inside and get settled. It's a nice house on one of the town's secondary streets. There's a giant brick open porch in front and the walls of the house are done in light green siding. Inside, there's enough furniture to make it look less empty. There's at least a bed in the main bedroom, a dining room table and chairs, and a sectional in the living room. Enough to get by, but I wouldn't want to stay here long no matter how nice the house is.
I'd at least need a television.
Leaving Daphne chatting with the guys, I excuse myself and grab my bag of Meijer purchases before heading to the bathroom. I might be in hiding, but it doesn't mean I plan to run around looking scruffy. Freshly shaved and teeth brushed, I head back to the dining room.
"Hey, Nick," Todd says. "We were just talking about going to Zydeco's for dinner. You up for it?"
"Dinner so soon?" I check my phone and see it's nearly seven o'clock. I don't know how it got so late. It seems like we had sandwiches at Todd's house not long ago, though my stomach disagrees with me.
"Yes, dinner." Daphne seems to be laughing at me. "The guys tell me Zydeco's has been on that TV show, you know, the one with the guy who has the crazy bleach-blonde hair."
"It has been on that show," I agree. "Besides, Zydeco's has some of the best Cajun food I've ever eaten. It's not at all what you would expect in such a small town."
"Then let's go." Quan stands up and heads for the door. "I can use some good food after listening to my uncle go on and on about some 'nice Vietnamese boy' living down the street from him."
Zydeco's occupies one of the historic brick storefronts we passed earlier on Main Street. It has colorful signage, but seems sedate, even boring on the outside. Once you step through the door it's like walking into a different world. There are colors everywhere. A predominance of green, purple, and yellow give it a Mardi Gras air, though the effect is more eclectic than mere Mardi Gras. We are seated, for example, at a table you would expect to encounter on a patio, complete with faux grass tiki umbrella.
"I haven't eaten much Cajun food." Daphne unfolds her napkin and sets it in her lap. "Is it very hot?"
"Actually it's not." I love Cajun food and have eaten at this fine establishment many times. "Cajun isn't as much about heat as it is about spices. If you don't want hot, just skip anything on the menu labeled spicy. And stay away from the maque choux."
"What's that?" She looks through her menu until she finds the description. "The corn chowder? Really?"
"Really," Quan answers her. "It's the hottest thing they serve."
"And it's Quan's favorite," Todd adds.
The food is delicious as it always is. Quan gets the crawfish maque choux, Daphne is delighted with her étouffée, and both Todd and I get our favorite. The Black Cat gets its name from the two blackened catfish fillets sitting atop a bed of jambalaya. If one is particularly hungry, one can order it covered in crawfish tails, which I do.
After the entrees have disappeared down hungry gullets, we order one piece to share of a dessert called 'slightly maimed by chocolate,' the name of which always amuses Todd no end. If it seems strange to order one dessert for four people, even people who have just devoured massive quantities of Cajun food, then you haven't seen this gigantic dessert. It arrives at the table with three extra plates and we take a moment to stare at it in awe. It is a multi-layered creation of dense but moist chocolate cake. It's hard to determine which is richer, the cake itself or the plentiful icing.
Eventually, even the bottomless maw I call my stomach is at critical capacity. We sit drinking coffee and chatting.
We are on the sidewalk outside, saying goodbye to Todd and Quan, when a passing bicyclist wipes out right in front of us. He's lying in the street and there's a car coming far too fast.
Before I know what I'm doing I'm at his side, helping him up and half pulling half dragging him to the sidewalk. There's a thunderous squealing of tires as the speeding car tries to stop and then a metallic crash as the car completely destroys the abandoned bicycle.
I'm out of breath and a little shaky. Sitting on the curb, I put my head in my hands and try to relax as my friends help the cyclist and call an ambulance for his broken arm.
Wherever I go, whatever I do, there always seems to be sirens. They echo in my head and invade my dreams. Even on those occasions where they have nothing to do with me, the merest hint of a siren in the distance makes me flinch in reaction. Such an ugly sound. Such a necessary and ugly sound.
After the most recent siren in my life comes and goes, Daphne tugs me up from the curb by my hands and leads me to my car. She takes my keys and drives us to
our borrowed house. Leading me by the hand, she takes me straight into the bedroom where she sits me on the side of the bed and removes my shoes, socks, and polo shirt. I let her do all this without comment.
I sometimes think I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, if the term can be used to describe a trauma built of unrelated incidents relentlessly happening every day of my life. My life is an endless war-front, complete with daily emergency and danger. Yesterday I was nearly shot, today I am nearly hit by a car, and so on, and so on, all the days of my life.
I feel the bed dip, and Daphne is cuddled up to my side. Like me, she is sans shoes, but she has left her shirt on. I'm far too weary of everything to be disappointed.
"You never get a break, do you?"
It's as if she's read my mind. Now she'll begin to understand. Now she'll think of the dates I will miss and the important events she'll end up at alone.
"No. Not really."
"Well, don't worry about it. I'll look after you."
Unprecedented. Since I turned eighteen, the few women in my life have rushed away from me with a speed so great one can almost feel the vacuum left in their wake. The instant they realize the circus of my life never ends, they vanish. I don't blame them. I'd run away from my life myself if I could.
Perhaps Daphne is different. Maybe there's a chance, no matter how slim, she'll stay. I rouse myself enough to get an arm around this unprecedented woman and cuddle her close.
"When this thing with Adam is finished," she murmurs, "we're going to talk to your grandmother, Fiona. She knows something about this, and it's time she told you."
"As you like."
It's strange, the feeling which comes over me then. It's been ages since I felt hope. Daphne seems to bring out the best in me, I imagine. I close my eyes and before I know it, I'm asleep.
Twelve
"You're pacing again."
I roll my eyes and flop down on the sectional sofa next to Daphne. Oh, sitting in this half-empty house is fine with her. She's got a book up on her cell phone and she's been happily reading for the last hour.
Nick of Time Page 9
