Hope and Honor

by Marilee Brothers

  I manage to get a glimpse into the basic landscape of her soul, an important part of my procedure. People’s souls are unique and normally maintain a fairly static balance as they progress through life, even though certain events leave marks. In Judy’s case, her soul is remarkably bland. Predominantly beige with a muddy brown border, I’d be willing to bet she’s not a deep thinker and, more than likely, a couch potato. I should be able to spot a lie flash across her soul if I can get her to look at me.

  Candy pops through the door and distributes the water. Judy removes the cap and chugs half of it down. Dry mouth from nerves?

  I lean back in the chair and cross my arms, our pre-arranged signal indicating I’ve successfully peered into Moss’s soul.

  Talbot says, “As you know, Ms. Moss, we’ve interviewed your boyfriend, Dwayne.”

  “Ex-boyfriend,” she corrects. “Why the hell isn’t he locked up?”

  Talbot attempts to deliver a friendly smile. It looks more like a shark baring its teeth. Exactly why she needs me.

  “A very good question,” I say. “I would totally feel the same way. I mean, what the hell? If my boyfriend slept with my mother, I’d do anything to lock the bastard up.”

  “Anything?” Her brows draw together in a puzzled frown. She so wants to believe me, but a glimmer of doubt remains. “He told you about my mother?”

  “Actually,” I say. “He seemed rather proud of it.”

  “Bastard,” she mumbles.

  Talbot steps in. “How’s your broken arm?”

  Moss’s eyes dart to and fro before connecting with mine, the friendly cop. I give her an encouraging smile.

  “Getting better every day.”

  “Oh my God,” I say. “How did he break your arm? I bet that really hurt.”

  She glances over at Candy before her gaze returns to me. “He threw me down a flight of stairs.”

  The bold-faced lie flashes across her soul like strobe lights at a rave. Not even a challenge. I decide to push a little harder. “Really? That’s awful! Did you call 911?”

  “I decided to go directly to the cops to get the asshole locked up.

  I lean back in my chair, ready to deliver the nail in her coffin. “Here’s the deal, Judy. Dwayne swears up and down he never laid a finger on you. He says your broken arm is fake and you whacked yourself across the face to implicate him.”

  Her eyes widen in outrage before going into darting mode. “I-I-well, that’s ridiculous. Who would do something that crazy?”

  It isn’t easy, but I manage to track her eyes long enough to see the lie. I turn to Candy and nod.

  Talbot says, “Then, I guess you won’t mind taking off your sling so we can take a look at your broken arm.”

  Judy Moss jumps to her feet. “Screw you! Both of you! I’m so outta here.”

  I look at Candy. “Wanna nail her for a false police report?”

  Candy rubs her temples. “Aw, what the hell. Let her go.”

  Moss wastes no time. In a flash, she’s through the door and down the hall, moving fast for a woman her size.

  I glance over at Candy. “Another one bites the dust.”

  She picks up the file folder and stands. “Thanks, Mel. Don’t forget to turn in your time so you can get paid.”

  I glance at my cell phone. It’s almost noon and I’m due at Nick’s for the lunch crowd.

  “Tomorrow,” I say. “Gotta run.”

  As I dash across the parking lot, I whip out a quick text message to Nick. “Running late. On my way.”

  Billy pulls in next to Buttercup. He steps out of his car. “I need to talk to you.”

  “I’m late for work. Later.” I unlock the door and slide behind the steering wheel.

  Billy grabs the door before I can close it. “Mick called me. He said you’ve got something going at New Dawn. He’s worried about you and I agree. You need to re-think it, Minnie. There are some pretty bad characters up there.”

  I bite back a snarky reply, knowing it will make things worse. Something like, “Gee, Mick is only in town for twelve hours, manages to get me in the sack and he still has time to talk to you?” Instead, I say, “Thank you for your concern. I’ll take it under advisement.”

  Billy shakes his head. “Yeah, sure you will. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  I start the engine. “I won’t.”

  Before he shuts the door, he leans in close. “Take care, Minnie.”

  I look into his eyes and see it again, floating across his soul. I catch my breath, because I know what it means and it shocks me. “Thanks, Billy. I will.”

  I arrive at Nick’s along with the lunch crowd. The other waitress, Helen, gives me a dirty look. “About time you got here.”

  I ignore her and get busy taking orders and delivering food. When the action dies down, I notice the tables are cluttered with dirty dishes. Nick pitches in to help.

  “Where’s Ziggy?”

  “School. I dropped her off this morning.”

  “Did you walk her in?”

  “She didn’t want me to.”

  I remember my rebellious teenage years and how adept I was at cutting classes. “Did you see her go into the building?”

  He says, “A bunch of kids were across the street from the school, smoking. She walked over to them and bummed a cigarette, because I threw her smokes in the garbage. I stayed in the car and watched. A few minutes later, the bell rang and they all went inside.”

  He cocks his head to one side, looking quizzical. “Why are you giving me the third degree? You think she skipped out?”

  “Maybe,” I say. “She wasn’t too thrilled about going to school.”

  “Damn!” he says, vigorously wiping a table down. “How about you pick her up at three? See if she’ll talk to you. She sure as hell won’t talk to me.”

  “I’ll pick her up, but here’s my disclaimer. She doesn’t like me all that much.”

  Nick mutters, “She probably likes you better than me.”

  ****

  I leave Nick’s in plenty of time to be at the school at three, but didn’t factor in late afternoon traffic. It’s five minutes after three when I pull up in front of the school. I spot Ziggy across the street with her new friends. All are clad in black. Cigarette smoke wafts through the air.

  I lower the window. “Hey, Ziggy. Your dad sent me to pick you up. Hop in.”

  She’s standing next to a tall, skinny guy with a bright green Mohawk and multiple piercings. She calls, “Benny’s giving me a ride.”

  “No, Benny’s not giving you a ride. Let’s go.”

  Benny drops his cigarette and grinds it out with his unlaced shoe. He flips me off, grabs Ziggy’s hand and they take off running.

  “Aw, shit!” I put the car in gear.

  The designated smoking area is across the street from the school in a vacant lot, flanked on both sides by rundown houses with an alley behind. Ziggy and her new boyfriend hit the alley running, take a quick right turn and disappear behind the houses. I stomp on the accelerator and zip down the street. After a quick left turn on the next street, I pull to a stop next to the alley and spot them immediately. Benny has a long-legged lope and is practically dragging Ziggy along behind him. They see me, make an abrupt left turn across a private back yard and disappear around the corner of the house.

  Still cussing like a sailor, I drive to the intersection, just in time to see them pile into an old junker car with primer on both sides and a flaking tan vinyl roof. As I turn the corner, Benny fires up the engine and peels out, laying a patch of rubber. I press the gas pedal to the floorboard. Buttercup shudders and tries valiantly to keep up. Benny doesn’t slow down at the stop sign and makes a quick right turn. I figure he’s heading for the expressway. There’s no way I can catch the kid. Since I’m sure he has no intention of taking Ziggy home, I go back to the school, hoping to score some information about Benny, like maybe where he lives. I hold off calling Nick.

  What would I say? Hey, Nick, I just lost
your daughter.

  Chapter Eleven

  In my short life, I’ve learned some valuable lessons. Institutions, like schools and hospitals, will not give out personal information. I understand why. It’s to protect their clients’ privacy. Sometimes, rules are made to be broken. As I pull into the school’s parking lot, I take a moment to decide how best to acquire the information I need. I choose hysterics.

  After running my fingers through my hair until it’s standing on end, I try to think of something sad, like little motherless Kimber at New Dawn, shivering in the cold wind. Tears well up in my eyes.

  I burst through the door of the school and dash down the empty hall to the office. A stout woman with a crew cut and red-framed glasses looks up from her desk as I enter. Her nametag says, “Call me Tootsie.”

  I’m sobbing hysterically, barely able to get the words out. “Oh, my God,” I wail. “I came to pick up my sister and she ran off with some guy named Benny. I couldn’t catch them. Please, please, tell me where he lives. Maybe he took her to his house.”

  She stands, holds up a finger. “I’ll get Principal Dan.”

  Principal Dan looks like an aging hippy. Long, gray ponytail, tie dye T-shirt, jeans and sandals with black socks. He leads me into his office, waves me into a chair and thrusts a box of tissues into my hands. “Alrighty then, let’s see if we can chill a little. Tell me what’s going on.”

  I repeat my story. He asks Tootsie to deliver Ziggy’s folder and I’m gratified to know Nick listed me as a relative with the power to pick up and deliver her to and from school. It makes my plea easier, once I convince Principal Dan we don’t need to put out an Amber Alert. I describe Benny. I can tell by his reaction he knows exactly who Benny is.

  He says, “If I give you his address, what do you plan to do?”

  “First of all, I’ll contact Ziggy’s father and see how he wants to proceed.”

  Principal Dan gives me an approving nod. I have no intention of following this course of action. “Then,” I continue. “We’ll try to call her cell phone. If she doesn’t answer, her father will contact the authorities and let them know she’s underage. She’s only sixteen. How old is Benny?”

  He glances down at Benny’s file. “He’s one of our older students, here for GED prep.”

  “Is he over eighteen?”

  “Maybe.”

  “It’s possible he’s putting a minor in danger. I’m sure you don’t want that to happen.”

  Bottom line: I leave with Benny’s address. I climb into Buttercup and call the person I know can help with my little problem. Uncle Paco.

  After I explain the situation, he agrees to meet me at the address provided by Principal Dan. I shoot a quick text to Nick: Be back soon. Ziggy and I are working something out. It’s not a total fabrication. Ziggy is trying to get away from me. I’m trying to locate her and get her into my car. I think the current situation falls loosely within the working it out category.

  Benny lives in a sprawling, seedy-looking apartment complex, number 2D. When I pull into the parking lot, I spot the junker car. Naturally it’s parked haphazardly, taking up two spaces instead of one. I expected no less from the creep who aided and abetted a runaway teenage girl. Not that Ziggy is the picture of innocence.

  Paco arrives on his Harley. A huge, intimidating presence, he’s clad in baggy jeans topped with his Los Habañeros leather jacket. The jacket features a habañero chili shaped like a knife and dripping blood. A blue bandana holds back his bushy black hair. A droopy Fu Manchu mustache completes the image. I step out of Buttercup and into his embrace.

  He kisses the top of my head. “Haven’t seen you for a while, little girl. Whose ass do I get to kick?”

  “I hope we can do this without an ass-kicking, Unc, but you never know.”

  “So, let me get this straight. Nick has a daughter, who knew? And, instead of hopping into your car like a good little girl, she took off with a skinny ass kid and they’re holed up here?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No problem. Let’s go get her.” He wraps a beefy arm around my shoulders as we head for apartment 2D.

  “Here’s the plan,” Paco says. “You try to coax her out and if it doesn’t work—”

  “It won’t,” I interject.

  He smiles. “I believe I’ll be able to convince her.”

  We pass by apartments A, B, and C without attracting unwanted attention. Paco’s appearance is scary. People have been known to call 911 when he appears in their neighborhood. We stop in front of D. The drapes on the window left of the door are tightly drawn. Heavy metal music and smoke leak out from under the ill-fitting door. I knock. Loudly. The music stops. I hear approaching footsteps. The drapes part and Ziggy’s face appears. Paco is standing on the other side of the door, out of her view.

  “Open up, Ziggy,” I say. “Let’s go home. I haven’t ratted you out to your dad. We need to talk.”

  She says, “Screw you, Mel.”

  Pretty much the reaction I thought I’d get. It was my best shot. Now, all bets are off. I nod at Paco.

  He doubles up a ham-sized fist and pounds on the door. It quivers in the frame and a crack appears. He puts his mouth next to the crack and bellows, “Open up now, shithead, or I’ll break it down.”

  Benny’s pale face appears in the window, mouth agape. His eyes are wide and fearful. Paco leans over the window until his face is level with Benny’s. “Now.”

  The drapes fall shut. The door opens a few inches. Benny peeks out. I see Ziggy standing behind him. Paco gives the door a vicious kick and the two stagger backward. Paco and I step inside and close the door behind us. The place reeks of pot and greasy food.

  Benny apparently thinks this is a drug bust. He points at the still smoldering joint. “It’s medicinal, man. Totally legit. I have a condition. I can show you the prescription if you want.”

  “You’ve got a condition, all right,” Paco growls. “It’s called being an asshole and I don’t think weed’s gonna help.”

  I walk over to Ziggy. She’s shaking and the pupils of her eyes are dilated. Even though I’m mad as hell, I can’t help but feel pity for the screwed-up kid. I grip her arm. “Let’s go, Ziggy. We’ll talk in the car.”

  The fight has gone out of her. I lead her from the apartment. Paco gives Benny one last ferocious scowl and follows. The ruckus we created attracted attention. As we walk past apartment 2C, the door flies open. An elderly gentleman with a cane steps out. He peers at me through his bifocals and then catches sight of Paco. “What’s going on here?” he barks. “Young lady, are you okay?”

  I hold my breath and keep a tight grip on Ziggy’s arm. This could go sideways quickly.

  Thankfully, she says, “I’m okay.”

  Maybe the weed mellowed her out.

  “Sorry we bothered you, sir,” I say. “We had a little misunderstanding with your neighbor, Benny. We’ll be going now.”

  “Benny.” He flaps a hand and snorts, “It figures.” He steps back into his apartment and slams the door.

  Paco and I load Ziggy into the car. I give Paco a hug. “Thanks, Unc. That was awesome.”

  He bends down and looks into my eyes. “Did you get my text message? The one with the thingamajig?”

  I scan my brain cells. “Oh, yeah, the emoji. It looks like a loaf of bread and something else…”

  “An oven.” A huge grin blossoms on his face. “Get it?”

  My foggy brain attempts to connect the dots. Obviously, this is important to him. It would be crass to rain on his parade, especially after his help with my Ziggy problem. I pull out my phone, check his message and the dim bulb brightens. “No way!” I exclaim. “Aida’s got a bun in the oven?”

  “Yep!” He grabs me around the waist and twirls me around. When he sets me down, I stagger sideways before I get my balance.

  “Wow, you guys didn’t waste any time. Is Aida ready for another baby?”

  “It was her idea. She wants Larissa to have a little brother or s
ister.”

  I give him a hug. “Congratulations, Paco. You’re a great dad. Now, you’ll have another one to love. Just don’t ask me to babysit. Okay?”

  After a roar of laughter, he says, “Gotta run. First birthing class tonight.”

  I watch him climb on his Harley and tool away, wishing I could be a fly on the wall when my gangbanger uncle and his beautiful Russian wife walk into the birthing class.

  Ziggy nods off on the way home. I let her sleep.

  When we pull into Nick’s parking lot, she rouses. “Are you going to narc me out?”

  “Here’s the deal. I’m going to work. I’ll take orders and deliver food. You’re going to get your butt inside, put on an apron and start bussing tables. We’ll talk later. Got it?”

  She nods. “Got it.” She climbs out of the car, pull up her hood and head for the backdoor of the pub.

  I’m still ticked off and part of me wants to tell Nick the whole story. On the other hand, I now have leverage. She knows I know. Maybe she’ll behave for a while. I know what I want to tell her. In her present condition, she may not remember my words of wisdom, so I’ll wait for tomorrow.

  Chapter Twelve

  It’s nine in the morning and I’m groggy. I can only imagine how Ziggy feels. Tough titties, we’re going to breakfast whether she likes it or not.

  I climb the stairs to Nick’s apartment and pound on the door. He opens it immediately. I’d told him last night what I planned to do. He’d pumped me for information as to my motives. I gave him my default answer. “You said Ziggy and I should do girl stuff together.”

  He looked surprised. “Didn’t know going out to breakfast was a girl thing.”

  I stick to my story and here I am, sleep-deprived and grumpy. Ziggy doesn’t look much better. She’s in her usual costume, raggedy jeans and hooded sweatshirt. The hood is pulled over her head.

  She squints at me through puffy eyes and whines, “I’m not hungry. Why do I have to go to breakfast?”

  I take her arm and pull her through the door. “Because you do, Sunshine. You’re stuck with me. If you don’t want to eat, you can drink coffee. Tell your dad goodbye.”

  She gives him a half-hearted wave.