Brake Failure

by Alison Brodie

  Vanessa phoned from New York. ‘We’ll be in Times Square for midnight. I thought to phone you, but it will be one o’clock your time. Will you be in bed?’

  ‘No, we’ll be at a party.’ Ruby paused, tempted to tell her that at one o’clock, she would be setting off with her Indian brave, heading west and into the sunrise.

  *

  Ruby and Edward left the house late-afternoon. Donna’s party wasn’t due to start until seven, but Ruby insisted they get there early to help out. She also wanted the two lovebirds to have time alone before the guests arrived.

  Ruby was driving her Cadillac. In the trunk, Rowdy sat on his rabbit patchwork-coat with his teddy.

  ‘Why don’t you leave the dog at home?’ Edward complained.

  ‘Because Truman is having a fireworks party, and I’ve seen what he’s got lined up: Alabama Slammer and Detonator Destruction, to name but two. I don’t want Rowdy shivering all night in terror.’

  As they pulled out of the drive, Mary Jo and Bob drove passed, waving. They were off to Liberty to celebrate with the Staedhers and Runkles.

  Already it was dark. Ruby, wearing an Arran cardigan, a red tartan scarf and black woollen trousers, turned the heating up to full.

  ‘What about the beers?’ Edward asked.

  ‘I’ll drop you off at Donna’s then I’ll go fetch them.’ Ruby wanted Edward to have as much time alone with Donna as was possible. ‘They’ll load up at the store.’

  ‘Okay, but pay by cash. You’ll get fifteen per cent off. The bank card’s inside the glove compartment. Eighty dollars should be enough.’

  ‘Sure.’ Ruby gazed out at the passing view. Considering it was New Year’s Eve, there were plenty of places open; the liquor store, CiCi’s Pizza, Country Buffet, CD Warehouse … even Bank of America.

  Like falling back into warm water, she thought of Payat’s jet black eyes, the smooth, caramel-coloured skin.

  The car bumped over train tracks; ribbons of silver gleaming under a fat fluorescent moon and curving away into the blackness. On either side of the tracks, the snow was smooth and unblemished like the frosting on a Christmas cake. She wondered what her name would be when she became a fully-fledged Red Indian? Silver Moon? Silver Song? Silver Hair? That was something else; there would be no stylists to do her roots.

  She realised that Edward was saying something.

  ‘What?’ she said

  ‘I said you look nice.’

  ‘Uh-huh.’ She went back to her thoughts. With my Family Health Encyclopaedia, The Vitamin Bible and Homeopathic Hand Book, I could be Medicine Woman.

  Again, Edward’s voice broke into her thoughts. ‘I can’t tell Donna, not tonight.’

  Ruby groaned. ‘Oh, Edward! I know you didn’t get love as a child, and you’re scared of it - even when it’s handed to you on a plate. But you’ve got to fight for what you want. And you want Donna.’

  ‘But what if she rejects me?’

  ‘She won’t.’ Ruby was now getting bored with the whole Donna/Edward saga and just wanted to go off and live her own life.

  ‘How do you know?’ Edward insisted.

  ‘Because when the bell strikes midnight, she’s going to tell you she loves you.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘She told me.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yup.’ Ruby flashed the indicator as she turned left. ‘And I’ll be godmother to your six kids.’

  ‘And you don’t mind if we … um … if we …?’

  ‘Fuck? Nah. Go for it.’

  They pulled up outside Donna’s house. The downstairs was bright with harsh electric lighting. What the hell was Donna thinking of? Ruby thought. Where was the romantic candlelight?

  Edward hesitated. ‘Are you certain about this, Ruby? There will be no going back once Donna and I have made our intentions known.’

  She gave him a long level look. ‘You keep talking like that, buddy, and she’ll be running for the hills. Loosen up, why don’t you.’

  He laughed. ‘Thanks for this, Ruby. I will always be grateful.’

  She leant over and kissed his cheek. ‘Don’t mention it.’ She wouldn’t tell him about New Mexico until he was cuddled up with Donna on the sofa.

  Edward was out of the car. He stood nervously gazing at the house.

  ‘Go on,’ Ruby coaxed. ‘Sweep her off her feet.'

  He took a hesitant step forward then turned. ‘Beep the horn when you’re back with the beers and-’

  ‘Christ’s sakes! Just go!’

  He paused, gazing at Donna who was framed in the window. ‘Love is scary,’ he murmured, ‘it gives you all these emotions that you can’t control. Yet, whenever I see her, I feel this joy, this feeling of contentment, as if everything is just right.’

  Ruby blinked back a tear. She knew exactly what he meant, because that was how she felt about Hank. She touched Edward’s arm. ‘I’m glad for you, Edward, I really am.’ As she watched him walk away, she felt a rising panic. He had always been her island in a stormy sea. Now, she had swum from that island and, looking back, she could no longer see land. She had gone too far to go back. All she could do was keeping swimming until she felt a different land - Payat - beneath her feet.

  She pulled away from the curb. There was no hurry. She would go to the ATM machine, take out cash, buy the beers and come back and help set up the party. Payat would arrive; they would share a stolen glance, he would ask if her suitcases were packed, he would tell her not to be scared, everything would be alright because he was there. Then, at midnight she would watch as Donna and Edward kissed. Ruby prayed that she wouldn’t cry, knowing that Edward and Donna had found the love that she, Ruby, had lost.

  She drove slower and slower. Now the time was fast approaching, the thought of New Mexico was beginning to worry her. Payat was a stranger. Yes, he was handsome and sweet-natured, but she was abandoning her life to go off with someone she didn’t know. What if it had been Hank? Would she have gone without fear?

  Yes.

  She couldn’t think about him - not now. But she had to! If she couldn’t flush Hank out of her system - now - then she couldn’t go with Payat.

  She pulled the car to a halt at the curb and rested her forehead on the steering wheel. Yes, she loved Hank, but he had Roxanne. Remembering how he had smiled at the beautiful red-head, Ruby moaned, the memory like talons clawing at her soul.

  He was gone from her life. She had to accept it and move on.

  She sat straight, and accelerated away from the curb, hardening herself against the pain. Did she really want to be cooped up with Hank in his little house on the prairie?

  Ruby and Hank

  Mr and Mrs Gephart

  What would happen when they had an argument? Would he whip out his little black book? And because he was a cop, he would expect to be the one in charge. Did she want to be bossed about? No!

  She was better off without him.

  The car bumped over train tracks, jolting her. The Bank of America was up to her left, a low, squat building isolated in a sea of tarmac and floodlit by a cold white light. Cash, she needed cash. She pulled off the road, circled to draw up to the ATM machine in the wall and got out of the car.

  Payat made her feel content and balanced. With him, she would be the one in control. Hank, on the other hand, aroused in her turbulent emotions that she couldn’t handle: passion, lust, fury, jealousy, desperation. She could live a serene life with Payat, but not with Hank.

  Deep in thought, she slotted her card into the ATM machine and punched in her pin number. As she watched, a bright Happy New Year! flashed across the screen and then the screen went black.

  The machine had swallowed her card!

  She surveyed the building. Although the venetian blinds were drawn, the lights were still on. She went to the front door and turned the handle but it was locked. She knocked. No answer. Maybe everyone had gone home?

  She would just have to phone the bank manager after the holidays. What a
bloody nuisance! She was just about to give up and go when she glimpsed a shadow move across the blind to her right. There was somebody there!

  She knocked again, shouting. ‘I know someone’s in there. I’m not leaving until I get my card back.’

  There was the sound of jangling keys and a bolt being drawn back. At last! As the door opened, she was ready with her complaint. ‘I know you’re closed,’ she said to the middle-aged man in starched white shirt and name badge, ‘but your cash machine has just swallowed my card.’

  There was a strange expression in the man’s eyes. ‘Come in,’ he said quietly, drawing back to let her enter. She heard fast-approaching vehicles and turned to see two Brinks trucks pull to a halt. She stepped into the bank and crossed her arms, determined to be fair, but firm. ‘I know it’s New Year’s Eve,’ she began. ‘But I do need my card-’

  ‘LOCK THE DOOR AFTER HER!’

  Ruby glanced around to see who had shouted. Hearing the bolt thud shut behind her, she felt a strange sense of unease.

  The man seemed distracted. ‘We’ve got to go through to the other room,’ he mumbled.

  She followed, noticing the shiny Happy New Year banner above the tellers’ counter and a silver Christmas tree on a coffee table in the corner. As they entered the corridor, there was the smell of coffee. A Xerox machine was tied up in a red bow. Everything was how it should be - yet she couldn’t shake of this feeling of unease.

  There was silence, disturbed only by the man’s laboured breathing. He stepped to one side of an open door and gestured to her to enter. What she saw made her halt on the threshold.

  People were sitting on the floor with their hands on their heads, their brightly-coloured paper party hats crushed and buckled. All eyes were on her - big eyes that seemed … petrified.

  This is the office party, she told herself firmly, and they’re not enjoying the game.

  So, why do I feel sick?

  ‘COME IN! JOIN THE PARTEE!’

  That voice again. And it was coming from inside the room. Ruby had an overwhelming urge to run. ‘Actually,’ she turned to the man who had escorted her in and, reading his name badge, said, ‘Mr Glockspein, I think I’ll come back another time.’

  With an apologetic shake of his head, Mr Glockspein pushed her gently into the room.

  A fat cheerful black woman in a padded blue coat sat wedged in a swivel office chair behind a desk. She gave Ruby a broad Kansas smile and, for a moment, Ruby felt reassured.

  ‘Howdie,’ the woman said. ‘You English?’

  Ruby nodded. The people on the floor sat rigid, their misery palpable in the air.

  The woman continued. ‘Ahve never met nobody from England before. What’s yer name, sugar?’

  ‘Ruby Mortimer-Smyth.’

  ‘Hi, I’m Cindy. Cindy Prudhomme. Nice ta meet ya. Come on in.’ She waved Ruby in with a gun.

  A gun!

  Ruby stood paralysed.

  ‘It’s okay,’ the woman assured her. ‘You just go sit down on the floor with the others.’

  Ruby couldn’t move.

  ‘Go on, honey.’

  Ruby stumbled to the back of the room. Her vision had become a blur of coloured shapes and her brain so full of terror that there was no space for coherent thought. As she lowered herself to the carpet, a woman looked up and gave her a smile of sympathy. Ruby sat with her back to the wall, tightly clasping her trembling knees.

  ‘Ruby?’

  ‘Ruby?’

  ‘RUBY?’

  She heard her name. The sound came from a great distance, as if a voice was calling her awake.

  ‘Ruby, do you hear me? Ahm saying, I’m not here to rob no bank.’

  The words beat a tattoo in Ruby’s brain. This is a bank robbery. This is a bank robbery.

  ‘And I don’t want to hurt none of you.’ The woman encompassed them all by sweeping her weapon over their heads, inadvertently causing a ripple of flinching bodies.

  She’s going to shoot us. She’s going to shoot us.

  ‘Ahm here for one reason only …’

  The woman’s voice faded as the voice in Ruby’s head took over: I’m a hostage. I’m going to die. Nobody knows this is happening to me. Edward thinks I’m buying beers. And Payat? What if I don’t get back in time? Will he go without me? I’m a hostage. I’m going to die. Nobody knows this is happening to me …

  A wail of police sirens came from all directions, the noise getting louder and louder. There was a whop-whop of helicopter overhead. Ruby expected to see fear stamped on that broad black face; instead, the woman grinned: ‘Here come the feds - right on time.’ She settled more comfortably in her chair. ‘Now we wait for the TV cameras.’

  There was the shriek of tyres. Car doors banged. Men shouted in staccato bursts. At the windows, the venetian blinds suddenly glowed white. Spots of blue and red chased each other around the walls. Ruby could visualise it: the bank illuminated by police car headlights, the building surrounded by a tactical SWAT team in bullet-proof vests studying the building through the sights of sniper rifles, while overhead a helicopter circled, its lights beaming down on the assembling crowd.

  Ruby felt a tear crawl down her cheek. All her life she had been a hypochondriac, fearful of death. Now that she was cured of her neurosis, this had to happen.

  The telephone rang. The woman picked it up in a leisurely fashion. ‘Howdie,’ she drawled then listened briefly before barking out: ‘I ain’t speaking to no man. Git me a woman.’ She banged down the receiver and turned to her captives with a friendly wink. ‘That’ll get ’em hopping.’

  Almost immediately the telephone rang again. She picked it up, listened carefully then smiled. ‘Hi, Alexis. Nice ta meet ya, too. I’m Cindy.’ She listened again and nodded. ‘Okay, Alexis, here’s my demand. I want to talk to Sean O’Leary.’ Her steady, cheerful voice rose through the scales to end in to a crescendo of vitriol. ‘That dirty rotten, no-good low-life scumbag!’

  The room tensed. Their charming hostess had become angry, very angry. Ruby’s gaze rested on the gun. As an extension of her captor’s arm, it moved continually, swooping up and down, across and back. Like a cat mesmerised by a spot of reflected light dancing across a wall, Ruby could not take her eyes off it.

  ‘I’ll tell you why,’ the woman continued, her hand visibly tightening on the receiver. ‘Because ahm havin’ his baby and he’s gone and left me after promising to marry me. I’ve worked the graveyard shift at Stumpers for twelve months to pay for the house, now he’s sold it from under me and skedaddled. I know he’s staying at his ma’s but he won’t take my calls, won’t talk to me.’ Her voice dropped to a threatening rumble. ‘But, this time, he’ll talk.’

  No wonder she’s so angry.

  ‘You can try his ma’s house: 23415 West Prairie Hill. But she won’t open the door to you, and she’s got a German Shepherd that don’t like strangers.’ The woman listened for a moment then yelled: ‘Release the hostages? Are you nuts? If they go, the feds go. Then the TV cameras go. Then am sittin’ on my butt in a bank, twiddling my thumbs - alone.’

  She has a point.

  ‘Okay,’ the woman conceded with a sigh. She hung up and turned to the room. ‘Who’s got kids?’

  Four hands shot up.

  ‘Okay,’ she waved the gun towards the door. ‘You four get ready to leave.’

  Ruby sat erect. Why didn’t she think to put up her hand? Although she had missed this opportunity to be released, she was very much alert for the next. An elderly man spoke up. ‘I’ve got a sick mother at home. When she sees this on TV, it’ll kill her.’

  ‘Just wait by the door with the others.’

  Another man raised a hand. ‘My wife’s pregnant.’

  Ruby was helpless to do anything but watch as, one by one, all the people around her got up from the floor and congregated by the door. Suddenly, she remembered Rowdy! She stuck up her hand in genuine panic. ‘My dog. He’s in the car. He’ll freeze! I have to go to him.’

 
‘No, hon’, you stay with Cindy. Is the car unlocked?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then Mr Glockspein, here, can fetch him.’

  ‘He’ll need his water bowl,’ Ruby told the man. ‘And there’s tinned food-’

  Their captor interrupted. ‘Mr Glockspein will be sure to bring everything, won’t you, Mr Glockspein?’ The man nodded. ‘Right, you can escort everyone out the building.’ She turned back to Ruby. ‘You and me can have a little chat. I ain’t never spoken to no Englisher before, and you can tell me ’bout your queen.’

  Ruby stared at her. Is this why I’m kept hostage? Because of the fucking Queen?

  Ruby and two other women remained behind. On her left sat a fat, greasy-haired woman with a pale pasty face, wearing a white quilted coat and pink jogging pants - the same woman who had looked up with a smile of sympathy. Now the woman unzipped her coat. ‘Don’t fret,’ she said calmly, as if she’d done this a hundred times before. ‘It’ll be fine.’

  The woman to Ruby’s right, shifted. She, too, was fat with a pale, spotty face; also in her mid-thirties. She wore a brown jacket and a mustard-coloured woollen hat with reindeers running around it. Having taken a pillow from the couch she now stuffed it behind her back and rested against the wall. ‘Ahm just glad to rest ma feet,’ she said, yawning. ‘I work twenty-four-seven at the Cheesecake Factory. An’ tonight ahm expected to feed a drunken husband and ten of his drunken family.’ She smiled wickedly. ‘But I cain’t if I’m a hostage now, can I?’

  Pink Pants laughed. ‘Too right. Me? I sit all day in telesales with everyone telling me to fuck off. And I ain’t got nobody at home and the TV’s bust.’

  Ruby was amazed at their calm, as if being taken hostage was a pleasant interlude in their humdrum lives.

  Their captor called across: ‘You with the reindeer hat. I want you to go to the front door, take the dog offa Mr Glockspein, then lock it. Don’t let Mr Glockspein back in – his aftershave makes me want to puke.’