The Trailer Park Princess 'Tis the Friggin' Season

by Kim Hunt Harris

  I landed on my knees in front of Viv and my hand slammed into the photo album. It slid to the floor and photos scattered everywhere. The album was ancient and the back of it ripped off.

  Tinky shrieked. Viv cussed. I kind of wanted to faint but I didn’t.

  “Jeez!” I said. “What a disaster.”

  Viv bent and picked up the album. “No big deal. We’ll cram it all back in a box and he’ll never know the difference. This stuff clearly hasn’t been touched in decades.” She flipped through the album. “It looks to me like this family is nothing but ugly. One ugly person after another. What is this?”

  She held the open album in her lap and lifted the corner of the back cover.

  “Don’t tear it more!” I said as she slowly lifted it away at the seam.

  “No, there’s something under here,” she said. “Feel it.”

  I rubbed my unbloody hand over the back cover. There was a slight but noticeable bulge. And now I could see what Viv had seen – the edge of a paper.

  Viv slid a bony finger under the seam of the cover and the ancient glue easily gave way.

  “Would you look at this,” Viv whistled softly.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Looks like a letter.” Obviously it was of value to someone, or it wouldn’t be hidden like that.

  “That was rude,” said a male voice.

  I looked up to see a very large gun pointed at the general direction of my head. Jergensen was on the other end of the gun, but at the moment my attention was focused on the black hole that was the gun barrel.

  It’s weird. Viv and I both stood slowly at the same time, as if someone royal had just stepped into the room. I guess a gun does pack its own brand of awe, especially when it’s pointed at you.

  “Mr. Jergensen,” I said. Then I said, “Umm,” because, really, what’s the appropriate thing to say under the circumstances?

  “Put that gun down,” Viv ordered. “Are you crazy?” Whereas I was the type to freeze and go blank when faced with danger, Viv was more the-best-defense-is-a-good-offense type.

  Unfortunately, questioning Jergensen’s sanity was the wrong tact to take, however. Apparently, it was something of a sensitive topic. He flattened his lips together and lifted the gun barrel a bit, aiming it at her head. “I am not crazy. And you are an intruder in my house, in an unauthorized area. You are disturbing my personal property. And, you called my family ugly. You’re not exactly Miss America, you know.”

  “No, but I was Miss Terre Haute at one time, and my talent was twirling fire batons.”

  I cocked my head at her. Jergensen looked puzzled.

  “That was supposed to sound more threatening,” she said to me out of the side of her mouth. “And impressive.”

  I shrugged. “I’ve never been anything but Miss Demeanor,” I said, then giggled. I felt woozy and now that my heart was about to pound out of my chest, I could feel the blood start to flow again. “Look,” I said to Jergensen. “I am really, really sorry. We didn’t intend for any of this to happen. None of this was supposed to –”

  “I know it wasn’t supposed to!” he shouted. “I was supposed to be able to go to the mountains with a girl! You were supposed to take care of Tinky. I never get to do anything I want to do!” He stomped his foot.

  I looked warily at Viv. I guess we had the answer to the “Are you crazy?” question.

  She held up the letter. “Okay, first, put the gun down. And second, what is this?”

  “None of your business. Give it to me.”

  “It became my business when you pointed your gun at me over it.” Viv scanned the letter. “‘No matter what you hear, understand that you’re the one I love and always will. Someday we’ll be together, and this will all be worth it.’ Hmmm, that’s interesting.” She flipped through the pages of the letter. “Grady Boulder. Hey, he lives at Belle Court. Has one of those fancy new townhouses all to himself. All those Cadillacs he sold paid for a private nurse and his name on a new physical therapy wing.”

  “You know Grady Boulder?” Jergensen narrowed his eyes in a way I was coming to recognize as not good. “Did he put you up to this? Did he send you over here to get that letter?”

  “Unfortunately, I was dumb enough to show up here all on my own.” She flipped the paper back over. “’Sweet Emily,’ it says.” Viv looked at Jergensen. “Hey, his wife’s name isn’t Emily. The Grady Boulder and Nancy Burgess-Boulder Physical Therapy Center, that’s what the sign on the door says.”

  “I know that!” Jergensen snapped. “There’s also a Grady Boulder and Nancy Burgess-Boulder Foundation supporting everything all over the freaking town, and the Burgess-Boulder Elementary School being built about three blocks from here.”

  “So who is Emily?” I asked.

  Jergensen shrugged. “Some girl Boulder was in love with before he married Nancy.”

  I was having trouble keeping up, but Viv got there pretty quick. “Are you blackmailing Boulder?” She lifted the letter.

  “No,” he said with a sneer. Like it was a dumb question. “Father was. I’m just…not giving the letter back. I am guarding it with my life. I am supposed to guard it with my life, so I am guarding it with my life.” He nodded his head decisively, although to be honest, he looked a little confused.

  He wasn’t talking with the robot voice anymore, and I decided to take that as a good sign. Of course, it could just as easily have been a very bad sign, but I kind of needed some hope to latch onto. Maybe if I could keep him talking, I could figure out a way to get past him.

  “Is your dad that grumpy old guy who used to live here?” I asked.

  It was kind of a vague description, but Jergensen nodded. “Yeah.” He looked around glumly. “He started all this crap. He found that letter and threatened to show Nancy and her dad. So Boulder helped him get a job in the dealership and kept him on for years, until he finally died.”

  “Because he wrote a letter to someone else?” Viv asked, incredulous.

  “Yeah, well, he wouldn’t get to be the big shot man around town then, would he? He wouldn’t inherit his father-in-law’s car dealership and get to live high on the hog and have everyone bow down to him like he’s some sort of – sort of – god, then, would he? There would be no Grady Boulder and Nancy Burgess-Boulder Little League teams and this sponsored by the Burgess-Boulder Foundation and that brought to you by the Burgess-Boulder Foundation, would there?” He jabbed the gun in the air to punctuate his words. “If she knew he only married her to get into the family business and the family money, there would be no money, would there? Then he’d have to scrape by like everyone else.” He sat on a box with a huff, irritated. “This is all very, very inconvenient.”

  I was having a little trouble keeping up. I eased down onto a box too, trying to figure out how old man Jergensen blackmailing Grady Boulder fifty-something years ago added up to me being shot in Jergensen’s attic.

  “So your dad blackmailed Boulder into giving him a job. But your dad died, what, ten years ago? Why are you still guarding the letter?”

  “Because I’m not falling for that!” He shifted on the box, agitated. “She tried to trick me into thinking she was interested in me and the whole time all she cared about was getting that letter back. She used me just like her dad used Nancy Burgess and old man Burgess. Users, that’s all they are in that family. She never cared about me. She just wanted the letter back.”

  He jerked suddenly, as if a thought had just occurred to him. “Did she send you here?” He stood, raising the gun again. “She hired you, didn’t she? That’s how you got in here!”

  “Ummm,” I said, rising shakily as adrenaline flooded once again through me. “You hired me, remember? You came to the shop and asked for someone to look after your bird.”

  “Oh, yeah.” He looked confused. “I was going to Santa Fe to meet a girl. Three whole days I paid for, up front. And I had to turn back because you–” He sneered at me. “You weren’t capable of taking care of Tink
y.”

  “But how did you know that?” I asked, not even trying to defend myself.

  He fished in his pocket and held up his phone. “Web cam. I have it on her cage. Good thing, too. I could be off having sex with a strange woman while Tinky is eating –” He gestured to the ceiling. “Eating insulation or something.” He sank back on the box, dropping the gun between his knees, his bottom lip sticking out. “I never get to do anything I want to do.” He looked glumly at the floor, then raised his head as if a thought had just occurred to him. “They put you up to this, didn’t they? The people with the website! They lure men in with pictures of beautiful girls, get their credit card information, get them out of their houses, and then swoop in and take their most prized possessions! That’s how they make their money!”

  “Wow,” Viv said. “You really are a paranoid one, aren’t you?”

  I bugged my eyes at her in an attempt to get her to shut up. Then I shifted slightly to edge toward the stairs.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Jergensen, raising the gun back to point at my head. “You stay right there. Look at the mess you’ve made.”

  “I’ll clean it up,” I said with a bright smile, wiping at the blood that dripped down my cheek. “It’s going to be fine. I’ll pick all this stuff up and everything will go right back to normal.” Normal being a relative term, of course.

  Tinky flew over and landed on Jergensen’s shoulder. She made a cooing, clicking sound and nuzzled at his neck.

  “I know,” he said to her gently. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I never should have trusted anyone to take care of you.”

  Tinky squeaked and pooped on the back of his shoulder. He didn’t seem to notice.

  Jergensen sighed and let his gun hand drop down between his knees. He rubbed his forehead hard. “Let me think a minute. Who knows you’re here?”

  “Nobody,” Viv said, at the same time I said, “Everybody.”

  We looked at each other. “Everybody,” I said again. “Remember? We talked about me doing this pet sitting thing at work. Flo knows I’m here. Everyone at the shop knows I’m here. They all warned me about you, too,” I said quickly. “If I come up missing they’re going to suspect you immediately.”

  Jergensen groaned and leaned back. Tinky muttered something in bird language and shifted so she didn’t get squished against the wall.

  “This is all because of Desiree. God, how I wish I’d never met her. She was way more trouble than she was worth.”

  “She said you have a Shirley Temple doll collection. Do you have a Shirley Temple doll collection?”

  “Viv!” I hissed.

  “Well, we’re all in now, and I want to know.”

  “No, I don’t have a doll collection, I don’t think I’m an alien, I never once said that in my life. But do people care about that? Of course not. I’ve got people driving by my house at all hours of the day and night, shouting stuff. Throwing things at my house. Calling me alien in the grocery store. Kids do this robot walk by me and say ‘Danger! Danger!’, waving their arms around.” He sighed. “It’s all because she was a pretty girl and everybody freaks out when a pretty girl dates an ugly guy. Pretty girls are too much trouble.” He sighed again. “Your husband doesn’t know how lucky he is,” he said tiredly.

  I blinked, and said for what felt like the tenth time that day, “Ummm…” My brain wasn’t working too well, but I was pretty sure I’d just been insulted. “Why did she say all that, anyway?”

  “To get back at me. When I figured out she was only seeing me because she was trying to find that.” He nodded toward the letter in Viv’s hand. Then he looked at me. “You’re bleeding,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “You’re standing there holding a towel and you’re bleeding. Why?”

  Viv and I looked blankly at each other. Neither one of us had thought for me to use the towel I’d brought to catch Tinky to staunch the blood dripping from my scalp. Now who were the crazy ones?

  But on the bright side, it did remind me that I had something of a plan before all the dingle-dangle business started.

  “Yes, thanks for reminding me,” I said with another bright smile. I put the towel to my head and took a tiny step toward him. “Listen, Tinky said something I’m curious about. He said, ‘There’s the dingle dangle.’ What does that mean?”

  Jergensen directed an indulgent smile in the general direction of his shoulder. “Did you say that to her? You silly-willy bird.”

  I inched closer to them, holding the towel loosely to my head. “He is silly-nilly,” I crooned.

  Jergensen scowled at me. “Silly-willy,” he corrected.

  “Silly-willy,” I said, moving slowly closer to them. I kept my eyes steady on Tinky, my hand clutching the towel, the smile frozen on my face. “You silly-willy bird, you. Yes, you are. Yes, you are. You’re soooo silly-willy.”

  I could practically feel Viv rolling her eyes, but I didn’t turn around. I crept closer to Jergensen, clutching the towel as tightly as I could without being obvious.

  I stepped close enough that Jergensen started to look wary. The moment had come.

  I flung the towel over Tinky, clutched my hands tightly around him, and was running down the stairs in one breath. “Run, Viv!” I screamed over my shoulder. I didn’t check to see if she was doing as she’d been told. I held a squirming, furious Tinky in front of me and ran for all I was worth.

  My plan – such as it was – was to get to the doorway, get Viv out and then throw the bird back at Jergensen. In the ensuing pandemonium, Viv and I would dash to her car.

  I could hear them both behind me now, clambering down the attic stairs. I yanked open the front door, then spun around, holding Tinky at arm’s length. Any second now he was going to get his beak free of that towel and bite the ever-loving crap out of me.

  Jergensen and Viv stood at the bottom of the stairs. He had the gun pointed at Viv’s curly white head.

  “Let her go or Tinky gets it!” I shouted.

  “Give me back my bird or the old lady gets it!” Jergensen answered.

  I looked at him. Then I looked at Viv. Unfortunately, this was not the first time I’d seen her with a gun pointed at her head. Like I said, we’d She had never looked more terrified.

  I took a deep breath. Then I threw the towel with all my might at Jergensen.

  Also unfortunately, my aim is not good under the best of circumstances. Viv was directly in front of him. I had kind of expected her to seize the opportunity and dodge or something, but instead she stood wide-eyed and gaping as the towel filled with a furious Tinky thudded against her chest.

  “No!” Jergensen roared, forgetting the gun and diving for Tinky.

  Tinky shook off the towel and flew out the door.

  “Come on!” I grabbed Viv’s hand and pulled her out the door. Her Caddy was parked in the driveway, so we got there quickly. She had the key in the ignition and was backing out before I got my door closed.

  I turned in my seat to see Jergensen leaping over and over at a branch of the tree in his yard.

  Viv roared the Cadillac down the street and I sat back in the seat. “Jeez-O-Friggin’-Pete,” I said with a sigh. “What a loony tune.”

  Viv shook her head. “He sure does love that bird.” Then she scowled at me. “You were going to let him shoot me!”

  “No,” I scoffed. “I just called his bluff. I knew he would do whatever he needed to do to save Tinky.”

  “That was a risky move.”

  “No pain, no gain,” I said. “Speaking of which, can you take me to the ER? I think I need a transfusion.”

  It turned out that I did not. In fact, the ER doctor acted like I was being a hypochondriac for even showing up. He gave me one pity stitch and a tetanus shot that hurt worse than the poke with the nail had. All in all, it was a very discomforting experience, and I left with a $350 ER bill. Ho ho ho.

  Thanks for the help, God, I thought sourly as we got back into Viv’s car.

  It w
asn’t until we were pulling away that I remembered about the letter. “Hey, did you get it?” I asked.

  “Oh, yeah,” Viv said, patting her front pocket. “We’re going over to Grady Boulder’s place right now. He’s kind of hot, you know.”

  To my knowledge, Viv has been married at least seven times, and she’s always on the lookout for the next Mr. Viv. Some of the late Mr. Viv’s must have left her some fundage, because she lives at Belle Court (which is not cheap, even if you don’t live in one of the new townhomes) she drives a Cadillac, and she wears $800 boots. But I guess the prospect of spending her most golden golden years with a rich old guy still held some appeal.

  Boulder lived in the most recent addition to Belle Court called Park Place, on the east side of the large complex. They were designed to look like a row of New York City brownstones. Because the section consisted of eight units flanked by cotton fields on both sides, you had to use quite a bit of imagination, but if you squinted your eyes you could almost believe you were in New York.

  I was standing beside Viv as she rang the doorbell before I realized we were about to walk into a strange guy’s house and I had dried blood all down the front of my shirt. “Umm, Viv?” I said.

  “You look fine,” she said, fluffing her white hair in the reflection of the glass door.

  The door swung open and a woman with a very, very bright smile greeted us. She wore a red sweater and fake reindeer antlers. “Merry Chris…” She trailed off and gave me a concerned look.

  I could see a group of people milling around the house, holding wine glasses and little plates. Burle Ives was crooning in the background. Excellent. We were crashing a Christmas party.

  “Merry Christmas!” Viv called. “We’re here to see Mr. Boulder.”

  The woman plastered her smile back on and blinked. “As you can see, he’s a bit occupied at the moment. Let’s arrange a time next week –”

  Viv pushed past her. “Don’t worry, we won’t make a scene and he’ll be very glad to see us.”