Lemons 02 A Touch of Danger

by Grant Fieldgrove

  I brought my knee up hard into his groin and he relaxed the grip he had on me. I tried to roll him off but I lost whatever little traction I had on the ground. I felt water flood underneath me and we both spun a quarter of a turn until we fell a few inches on to the rock below. Any false move now would prove deadly for the both of us.

  I brought my head up and was able to connect it with his broken nose. His body flew backwards and he began to slide off me. He grabbed hold of my waist and pulled me downward with him. I only had a small footing and a handle on the rock above. I think Brad was dangling.

  I tried to shake him loose. I wanted him to fall.

  The storm continued to rage and for the first time that night, I could hear the huge wave crashing against the rocks directly below us. The combined sounds were nearly deafening.

  Water was pouring off the side of the cliff onto my face.

  “Get the fuck off of me!” I yelled.

  “Help me, man! Help me!”

  “Fuck you! Let go and die with a little bit of dignity, Pretty Boy!”

  I was losing my grip. My right thumb was dangling from my hand, completely worthless to me, and if I couldn’t shake Brad off of me we would both fall. I only had a few seconds left. Water continued to drain on me and the rocks I was clinging to became slipperier and slipperier. I felt my grip loosen. I was going to fall.

  “Hey Brad!”

  “What?!”

  “This pirate walks into a bar and he’s got this huge ship’s steering wheel around his johnson, right…The bartender asks ‘Hey, did you know you have a steering wheel sticking out of your crotch?’ Pirate looks up at him and says ‘Yarrrrrrr, it’s drivin’ me nuts!”

  My plan of him loosening his grip during hysterical laughter and falling to his watery grave had failed. Crap. I looked up to search for another rock to cling to. Lightening flashed from somewhere in the distance and I saw Elise standing over me…Holding a gun.

  She laid down on the rocks and leaned over towards us.

  “You have two choices, Brad!” She yelled. “You let him go and take your chances on the fall or I shoot you in the top of your head and end your miserable existence for sure!”

  “No wait!” he yelled.

  “You’ve got three seconds!” Elise yelled down at him then began counting. I didn’t know if she had the ability to kill someone.

  “One..!” she yelled.

  “Wait wait! I have money!” Brad pleaded. “Let me up! We can discuss business! I’m motherfucking Brad Jackson! I AM A MOVIE STAR!

  I found a little bit of firmer footing and I braced myself for the worst. I was able to look below me and see Brad desperately hanging out.

  “Yeah!” Elise yelled. “Well, that’s a wrap, bitch!” She pointed the gun at his arm and squeezed the trigger. I’m pretty sure the bullet shattered his elbow, causing him to release his grip on me and fall into the angry waves below. We lost all sight of him.

  Elise dropped the gun, grabbed hold of me, and helped me back up to level ground. We didn’t hear the sirens but flashing lights of the police cars lit up the night sky from the front of the house.

  We were safe.

  I hugged Elise like a vice-grip and we both fell backwards into the mud.

  “That’s a wrap?! Are you kidding me, Elise?!”

  “What, no good?”

  “No good?! It was amazing! How did you come up with that?!”

  “Glad you like it.”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. We laid there in each other’s arms until the police reached us.

  36.

  We both were transported, via ambulance, to the nearest hospital, where I was treated for my bloody hand and broken thumb. Elise just got a check-up from the bump on her noggin and was released back to the police who accompanied us there. After the hospital, we went to the police station to answer some questions.

  It wasn’t until late the following evening that we were allowed to return to our motel. We had ended up sleeping in the hospital, not really on purpose, though. We were just exhausted, and didn’t want to make our way through the media circus outside. After we awoke, was when we were escorted back to the station. And even though we were cut loose, we were asked to stay close for another few days. We agreed; anything to speed this up and put it behind us.

  They found Daniel Mayweather’s car in the police parking lot, of all places. It was Captain Gibson who had driven it away from Brad Jackson’s house the night before. I’m sure he had intentions on ditching it later, but didn’t have time right then. He took it to his work, switched cars then came to pick us up.

  When Gibson is released from the hospital, he will have a lot of explaining to do. And as far as I knew, people were searching for Brad, but I hadn’t heard one way or the other if they found him or what became of him.

  While I was getting my hand attended to, I had asked an officer outside my room to call Detectives Anderson and Enzite back home, and fill them in. I thought if there was any doubt in the minds of the Pismo PD, my boys back home could clear it up for them. It seemed to work well.

  Two officers took us back to our motel, then left to go fetch our car for us, which was still parked by the cliff. When it was returned, the full size spare tire was on it. So polite, those officers.

  Two seconds in the door though, Elise called Jamie and begged her to bring the kids back. She told her she would pay for anything she needed and absolutely needed to see them right now. All she told her was our new motel and room number. She wouldn’t even explain to poor Jamie why, making her wait the entire car ride over before divulging in our fun-filled night. Jamie said they would leave first thing in the morning.

  Sadly, both of our phones didn’t survive. They’re lost and may never come back. We shared a moment of silence for them before collapsing back onto the bed, and both letting out a huge sigh of relief that it was over.

  “Hey,” I said, “what do you say we hit the Drive-In tonight? It was the one thing I wanted to do on this vacation.”

  “What’s playing?”

  “I don’t know. Does it matter? Who cares?”

  “Yeah, I guess not. Alright, I’m game.”

  We hopped in Elise’s car and headed off for the Sunset Drive-In, ten miles away in San Louis Obispo. We were pleased to see the double feature was a good one.

  We backed the car in, popped the hatch and got comfy together. We were both asleep before the coming attractions were over.

  When the horns of nearby cars woke us up when both movies were over, we drove back to the motel and fell on our beds. We both slept until we were awakened, this time, by the sounds of children’s loud voices outside the door. They were here.

  Elise got up and opened the door to Jamie and two smiling children…and one apathetic, lazy dog.

  Happiness.

  Epilogue

  It’s been a couple months since our wonderful and relaxing beach vacation, now. It’s November eleventh, me and Marianne’s anniversary, actually. It’s a tough day for me, but I’ll survive. Oh! You’ll never believe this, though, but they actually found Brad Jackson. Alive! He apparently had a clean fall into the ocean and managed to get on top of a large rock and wait for rescue. His elbow was shattered and he had a broken leg. Other than that, he was fine. Psychically, I mean. He is currently in jail facing trail for two counts of murder-one and several other felonies. Boo-Hoo for him.

  Speaking of jail, Emma Ricks is no longer in hers, all thanks to yours truly. No ego here, right?

  But seriously, after we returned home, I called the defense attorney I had done some work for a while back, Chester P. Combs. Doesn’t that totally sound like an amazing lawyer name? Anyway, I told him the story and was planning on hiring him, but he took the case pro-bono and ran it all the way to stardom. Emma got her retrial, Chester got famous, and now they’re working on suing the city for millions. I hope she gets it. Maybe then she could get her disgusting freak hands fixed.

  When Captain Gibson cam
e to, I heard he sang like a canary. Ratting out anything and everything in a pathetic attempt to save his own ass. It didn’t work. That ass is currently getting reamed in the California State Prison near Lancaster. Those inmates sure do hate cops.

  I’m nervous about Brad Jackson’s upcoming trial, though. I wish I had enough faith in the system that someone who is so obviously guilty might actually be found guilty. But, as OJ continued his golf game, Casey Anthony kept partying down and R. Kelly gets to keep peeing on underage girls, I’m not holding out too much hope.

  Oh well.

  Some exciting news though. A certain major Hollywood studio has shown interest in buying my story. If that comes through, the money would help Elise and me a great bit. I’ll keep you posted on that. Imagine that, though. Archie Lemons: Superstar!

  As for Elise, she took three months off. I wasn’t actually sure that she would ever return to the job, but after a while, I could tell she missed it. She asked to come back and I, of course, welcomed her. I need her far more than she needs me.

  So here we are now, on this wet and chilly November afternoon, walking from the parking lot, through the lobby and into our new, new office…on the bottom floor of the tallest building in Bakersfield.