No Offense

by Francesca D'Armata

  “That would be very cool.”

  Bea sneered. “You were born in the wrong century.”

  Steely flipped over on her abdomen, pushed up on her hands, repeated the repetition twenty-five times. “The exterminator gave us their first available appointment.”

  “I’m sure the rats don’t mind waiting.”

  “Wasn’t it a little mouse?”

  “He has a momma! Country rats are fifty pounders. Yard-long tales, six-inch whiskers. They can chew through steel.” Bea picked up a broom and whacked the recliner.

  Steely coughed. “I think you can stop beating up the chair, Miss Bea. Anything in it has to be dead from motion sickness.” She coughed again and rolled over onto her side for leg lifts. Fifty of those were coming up next.

  “Every night I hear them scampering around in the attic.” She gave the seat another whack. “We’ll wake up one morning, and they’ll be at the table eating our breakfast.” Bea dropped the broom beside the chair and reclined back, yanking up a lever to elevate her feet.

  Steely turned to the other leg. She didn’t tell Bea the exterminator would find something, but it wouldn’t be a rat. It would be a raccoon. She had gone up in the attic the night before and flashed a light on the scared creature, cowering in a corner. The raccoon had managed to crawl in but couldn’t get out.

  “How much time have you spent in the country, Miss Priss?”

  Steely sat up, stretching out her legs. “One week.”

  “That’s what I thought. You don’t know anything about country rats.”

  “Rats aren’t only in the country.”

  “No, but they’re like people, twice as big in the country.”

  “I don’t think that’s right—”

  “Are you questioning me again?”

  “No. But you can’t generalize like that. I grew up ten minutes from downtown Houston. One day I lifted up a box in our garage, and a rat the size of a cat flew out. It ran off faster than I could drop the box. They’re more scared of you than you are of them.”

  “I doubt it.”

  Steely curled up in a crunch, working her abs. “I understand fear,” she said, bopping up and down. “Most fears are irrational. I’ve had fear before.”

  Bea glared at Steely. “Are you calling me irrational?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Well, what exactly?”

  Steely briefly stopped. “It would be like waking up every night for six months, sweating, in a room full of people, thinking someone was going to attack you in your sleep. Irrational. It never happened. Then you end up being awake when the knife wielder shows up to slit your throat.”

  “Well, that’s loony.”

  “It’s reality.” Steely angled her foot to lace up a loose shoestring. “Would you like to take a walk? It’d get your mind off the rats. You haven’t left the house since we got here.”

  “You want me to get a heat stroke?” Bea fanned herself with a newspaper.

  Steely bolted for the door.

  Bea sniffed. “Did you make a poot?”

  “No. I did not.”

  “I smell something.” She sniffed again.

  “It’s not me.”

  “Don’t be so touchy.”

  Steely pulled on the door. “Miss Bea, you ask me that every day. I don’t make poots.”

  “Everybody makes poots. Some people are just real sneaky about it.”

  Steely stepped outside. “Miss Bea, I’ll be back in a little while.”

  “Hope you don’t pass out.”

  Steely shut the door.

  “I smell something nasty.” Bea hit the remote.

  Steely ran a good five miles around the property. Never saw a single rat. That night, she pulled Jack aside. They needed to make an adjustment before there was a situation. Jack agreed to start a rotation with her. She’d go with David three days out of the week while Jack stayed home with his lovely wife, starting the next Monday.

  The last day of the week, Jack and David had finished working and were heading home when thunderstorms suddenly barreled in toward them. The wind pushed hard on the truck, swaying the trailer in and out of the two-lane stretch. Hunter held steady to the steering wheel. He had seen worse storms on that highway.

  Hunter’s phone buzzed. He flipped it open with one hand. “Nick?”

  “Sir, he wants it now.” Nick spoke with urgency.

  “Already?” Hunter asked.

  “Yes sir, he wants a P & L and balance sheet for the last thirty days. He wants them every thirty days after that. He trashed the audit. It never left the boardroom. He’s moving the assets in fast, like you said. You were right, sir. He’s restoring the company.”

  “So JHI is back on track.”

  “Looks like it.”

  Wind blew hard against the truck; rain hit sideways on the windshield. Visibility was not concerning to Hunter. He knew the road blindfolded. Hunter held the phone in one hand and gripped the wheel securely with the other.

  “Sir, he’s fixing the problem faster than anyone we could have brought in. No one could work that fast. He’s telling everyone you took a planned retirement. We’ll beat the analysts’ projections. Our stock will soar.”

  Hunter’s tone was solemn. “He’s falling into his own trap. Don’t discuss this with anyone except Pierce. Did you reach him?”

  “No, sir. But he should be back in a few days.”

  “Where is he?”

  “No one knows. I’ll have him call you when I reach him. And, sir, would you call my dad? He’s asking for you.”

  “I’ll call Vince when I get back to the house in about ten minutes.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Nick, I’m going to sue Harry for the false and misleading statements he made to the board. Then I’ll let the auditors take over. He’ll be indicted when they’re done.”

  “Perfect move! Also, Mr. Keaton and Mr. Qualls took the jet to Geneva. We don’t have any business interest there, do we?”

  “Sure don’t. Try to find out what they’re doing.”

  “I’ll hack into every computer in this building if I have to.”

  “I’m sure you will. Got to go now. It’s a mess out here.”

  Hunter tucked the phone into his pocket. The truck’s headlights barely lit the road.

  “Dad, be careful. Canyon Drop is ahead.”

  Hunter knew the curve, knew how it got its name too. He stomped the brakes. But the truck raced on. The wind blew harder. They heard a train. A funnel cloud could make its debut at any second. The trailer swayed.

  “Dad, please slow it down.”

  Hunter stomped on the brakes again, pumping them.

  David pulled on Hunter’s jacket. “Dad? Please slow down!”

  “The brakes are out, Son.” Hunter hit them again, hard.

  “We’re too fast. Put it in neutral.”

  Hunter answered, “I did.”

  David hollered, “The curve!”

  “Hold on, Son!”

  Chapter twenty-five

  Nick hated malls, especially crowded ones. He sure didn’t want to be in one on a Saturday. It took some manipulation to get him into a dress shop with Cricket. She could try on a dress speckled with diamonds, and she wasn’t getting the accolades she wanted from him.

  “Nick!” Cricket called, gaining his attention. “What do you think of this one for the fund raiser next month?” She held up a glistening gown.

  He was right in front of her, but his mind was not. “Nick!” she snapped. “Why aren’t you paying attention? You’re thinking about the Hunters again, aren’t you?”

  His body sealed his lips. No sense in lying.

  She flung the dress on a chair. “Nick, that’s all you’ve thought about for the last year—JHI and the Hunters. They’re gone! Out of the picture! Mr. Hunter and David had an accident. The rest of them are on a chicken farm somewhere in the backwoods. They’ll never come back. You act like you’re obsessed with them.”

&nbs
p; “I’ll tell you what I am,” said Nick. “I’m ready to get out of here. Now, why’d you call me down here? It better be more important than this.”

  “Can we talk about us for a moment?”

  “Us? What us?”

  She put her hands in his. “We’ve been dating for over two years.”

  He jerked his hands back, placing them safely in his pockets. “Dating?”

  “Yes, dating.”

  “We’re not—”

  “It’s time to talk commitment.”

  “Commitment?” he said, raising his voice.

  Cricket curled up next to him. “Don’t tease me. Haven’t I changed?”

  “You almost persuaded me. The way you go and help with the children’s home.”

  “Every Saturday.”

  “And visiting your grandmother daily. Why is she at Star of Light anyway?”

  “Oh, just to be comfortable.”

  “Most of the residents there don’t have family or a home. Why can’t she stay with your mother?”

  Cricket became jittery. “Mother remarried a few years ago. She needed time with her new husband.”

  “Is this her seventh?”

  “It doesn’t matter, as long as Mother is happy.”

  “I see. What’s his—”

  She interrupted, “Nick, can we look at rings, please?”

  “Rings? Look at anything you want—”

  “Oh, Nick!” Cricket jumped up and down and wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “What are you—” His hands were glued tightly to his sides.

  “You’re making me the happiest woman on earth.” Then she opened her wide mouth and attached it to his.

  Nick unsuctioned her and reprimanded her: “Cricket, why’d you do that?”

  She laughed. “Why don’t you quit with the prude act? Cricket has needs. And don’t tell me you’re waiting for marriage. Nicky, I will make you feel things you never felt before. Once I take you to my special place, you’ll beg me to go back.”

  He untied her arms and stepped back. “You make this so easy.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing,” she teased, walking away.

  “I’m about to get exactly what I’ve missed.” It’s been a year now.

  Steely swayed back and forth in the swing for over an hour. The porch in front of the farmhouse was a peaceful place for her. Bea wouldn’t go out there. She said it was too painful for her. Steely tried to get her to go out at least to get some fresh air. But she wouldn’t do it. Steely was dozing with a book on her chest when Bea hollered, “Steely!” The screen door was the only barrier between them. “Steely!” she yelled.

  Steely jumped up, stubbing her toe on a post.

  “Steely!” Bea hollered again. “Where’s that girl?”

  “I’m coming.” Steely hopped to the door. “Be right there.”

  Bea was wearing her sunglasses inside again. When she wore those sunglasses in the house, it meant she’d had another rough day. “You coming or not?” Bea was riled up. Yesterday she tried to run Steely off for the umpteenth time. Bea hadn’t considered how she would survive if Steely left her out there all alone. There wasn’t another soul she’d let in the house. Food and supplies would have to be air-dropped to her. In spite of Bea’s reminding Steely daily that they were only kin by law, Steely treated Bea better than any daughter she could have birthed.

  Steely pushed on the screen door. It sprang back in place behind her. “Give me just a minute.” She hobbled toward the bathroom. Bea’s open door caught her attention. “Why is there a suitcase on your bed?”

  “I’m leaving.”

  Steely hobbled back to the living room. “Going where, Miss Bea?”

  “Just sit—just sit down here.” Bea slapped the adjacent sofa in the appointed spot and then propped herself up in her recliner.

  Steely took her place, extended her arms down on her legs, and leaned toward Bea. “Do you need me to get you a snack?”

  “I’m not hungry.” Bea’s foot was hard at work, rapidly tapping the floor.

  “You need me to cut your toenails again? I found the jumbo clippers for those thick ones on your big toes.”

  “No.”

  Steely’s eyes widened. “You have another fungus?”

  “Will you please be quiet and listen?”

  “Sure, Miss Bea.”

  Bea rubbed her hands together. “I’m broke.”

  “We’re all right—”

  “We always had a backup plan. I never saw a time when we didn’t have a plan.” Bea shook her head. “We’re not making it here.”

  “Miss Bea, don’t worry. I’ve worked three jobs before. I’ll find something else.”

  Bea cut her hand sideways. “What can you do? There’s only one drugstore in town. It’s not going to work. You need to go back to your family in Dallas. There’s nothing else I can do for you here.”

  Do for her? For over a year, Steely had taken care of Bea as if she were her mother, although there were no similarities between her mother and Beatrice Hunter. “Miss Bea, I’m not leaving you.”

  “Leave! You make me nervous, reading those crime books all night. You want to know about crime? I’ll tell you about crime. The crooks steal, then lie, and get away with it. That’s how crime works.”

  “Good observation.”

  “We’ll starve to death if we stay here.”

  “I’ve never starved before. We’ll make it.”

  “What are you going to do—shoot the squirrels?”

  “Guess I could learn.”

  “I’m not eating squirrels!”

  “I was just saying…some people do.”

  “I’m going back to Houston and find somewhere to stay until I die.”

  Bea argued like she had a home with a bed and hot meals waiting for her, but there was none.

  “I’m staying with you,” Steely blurted.

  “No, you’re not, little girl!” Bea stomped the floor. “You go back to Dallas. I’m sure there’s someone there who can help you start over again.”

  “I’m fully capable of starting over if I wanted to. I’ve made my decision. I’m staying with you.”

  “Oh no, you’re not! There has to be something you can do—you have a degree in something. You’re fair looking—”

  Steely reached for Bea.

  “Keep your hands to yourself!” grumbled Bea. “You’re the most touchy-feely person I’ve ever met.”

  “Miss Bea, you’re in pain. I’m in pain—” Steely caught herself before she made an unthinkable comparison. “But I know I’m not in the same pain as you.”

  “The more you say, the worse it gets.”

  “This discussion is over. I’m sticking with you.” Steely crossed her arms.

  Bea went off on a tirade. “You’re telling me when the discussion is over? You’ve got your nerve.”

  “You’re my mother-in-law. I love you.”

  “Nobody loves anyone these days—especially a worthless old woman like me!” She exhaled, sat back, and pulled up the leg rest.

  “That’s not true.”

  “Please go on off to Dallas.” Bea pointed to the door.

  “Miss Bea, I’m from Houston. I’ve been to Dallas a few times, but I’m a Houstonian.”

  “Well, then go there, but not with me! I lost everything.”

  “I’ll find us a place to live.”

  “Where?”

  “In Houston, if that’s where you want to go.”

  “Where?”

  “They have housing in Houston. It’s a big city.”

  “You’ll dump me in another rathole!”

  Steely ignored the voice in her head screaming, Run, Steely, run! “I’m not going to put you in a rathole. And I’m not abandoning you.”

  Bea wagged a finger. “I’m going to the old folks’ home. That’s where I’m going.”

  “You’re too young. They won’t take you.”

  “I want to die,” Bea said, weepi
ng. “My life is over. Dig a hole and throw me in it. Just let me die in peace.” She was having a meltdown.

  Steely stayed close, keeping her hands in her lap, until Bea took a tissue out of her pocket, blew her nose, and dried her eyes.

  “Miss Bea, it isn’t time for you to die.”

  Bea reared up. “Do you think you’re God? How do you know it’s not time for me to die?”

  Steely spread out her hands. “Because you’re not dead.”

  Bea faintly grinned, pushed her silver roots off her forehead, revealing new creases. “You’re the most hardheaded girl I’ve ever seen.”

  “My dad used to say I was just like him.”

  “Now you’re going to bring up your daddy? What am I supposed to say?”

  “‘Steely, I’m so thankful you’re here with me.’”

  “Oh brother. Let’s get out of this rathole—you wore me out.”

  Steely wasn’t sure what a rathole was supposed to look like, since the exterminator confirmed there were no rats in the farmhouse, just the misguided raccoon. Steely had a place to go in Houston. She hoped Bea wouldn’t consider it a rathole since there were no rats there. Steely understood there was always the possibility that she might.

  Chapter twenty-six

  Donna Kaye dutifully guarded Keaton’s office from unwanted visitors. Everyone who entered the executive floor passed by Donna Kaye. Most would get a nod since they were employees or had already been screened by security.

  Nick usually received her wave plus the status of her current boyfriend when applicable. He’d nailed her last beau. The boyfriend called the $25,000 he took a “loan.” When he disappeared the next day, HPD called it theft. Donna got her money back within a week. He got a reservation for an extended stay at the Texas Department of Corrections.

  Nick’s mind was racing, and so were his feet. “Mornin’, Donna,” he said, hurrying past her toward his office. Every minute of his day was taken, appointments lined up in his mind.

  She charged after him. “Nick, hold up!”

  He flat-hand waved and kept moving. “Donna, I’ll have to catch up with you later.”

  “Nick, stop!” she yelled.

  He swung back around. “Did that bum show up at your door again?”

  “Yes, but that’s not it.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “They moved you,” she blurted.