by Beth Flynn
He swung around to see where the voice had come from and he almost stumbled backwards. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. He sure as heck couldn’t speak. He was certain that he looked like an oversized ape with his arms dangling at his sides and his mouth open.
“Don’t you hear? Are your ears filled up with piss or something? You and your kind aren’t welcome. Get your big, tattooed, hairy face out of my restaurant. You get back on your bloody bike and keep going.”
She stood there with her hands on her hips and looked up at him with a defiant tilt to her chin. A defiant chin that he knew. He was looking at a blonde, blue-eyed version of Kit. He could tell her blue eyes were too bright, almost exaggerated, and he realized she was probably wearing those colored-contact things they made nowadays. He had to forcibly stop himself from reaching out to caress her cheek, run his hand down her jaw. He could picture himself tilting that jaw up toward his face to kiss her lips. He’d done it a thousand times before. He shook the thought from his head.
This isn’t Kit. But other than the hair and eyes, it looks exactly like her.
He slowly scanned her, from what had to be bleached blonde hair down to her painted pink toenails. He knew every inch of this body. He’d sucked on those toes. No tattoos and no piercings. He blurted out the first thing that popped into his head.
“You afraid of needles? They make you faint?”
She hadn’t expected this, and he could see in her expression he’d caught her off guard with his comment. She quickly regained her composure.
“Oh, so you’re the amazing fucking Zoron? What the fuck would you know about what makes me faint or not? You bloody, cocky shit. You’re all alike. Dicks for brains.”
He looked at her questioningly at the Zoron comment.
“He’s a fuckwit that read minds for a living back in the seventies.” She rolled her eyes. “Fucking American men. You’ve never ever heard of the Amazing Zoron? You know, Zoron, rhymes with moron! You’ve been living with your head up your arse?”
Without waiting for him to answer, she pointed to the door.
He started to walk toward her. She didn’t back away and instead appeared to adapt a more forceful posture, folding her arms now. Like she was ready for the challenge. “Don’t let the door hit you in the arse on your way out.”
Just then, he heard another voice coming from behind the lunch counter. “Don’t be so mean to the guy, Cricket. He doesn’t look like he wants any trouble and he’s by himself.”
Grizz looked up and saw an older woman peering through the pass-through from the kitchen to the counter area.
“Yeah, he’s by himself. Probably sucks his own dick all day long. You can wait on this balls for brains, Edna. I’ll be in the back doing my paperwork.”
Kit’s lookalike huffed her way past him toward the back of the small diner. He watched her pass through two swinging doors. Actually, he watched her ass. It was an ass he knew intimately.
He had no doubt he was looking at Kit’s twin. Kit’s twin who was supposed to be dead. Not living in the back country of Louisiana with a British accent and a vocabulary that would make a sailor blush.
He’d read the note from Delia. He knew she’d tried to find her other daughter and found a death certificate instead. What was her name? He vaguely remembered the nickname Cricket from the note, but he couldn’t remember her real name. What had Delia written? Joanie, Jenny, Jeanie? No. They weren’t ringing any bells. He couldn’t even remember Kit’s real name. Just that they both started with a J.
He decided against a table and took a seat at the counter. Edna had come out from the kitchen and handed him a menu. Without looking at it, he asked her, “Got any specials?”
She nodded. “Meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans.”
“Yeah, that and a large water.”
Before she could turn around, he nodded toward the swinging doors that led back to the kitchen. “What’s her beef with bikers?”
“Oh, don’t let Cricket bother you. We’ve had some trouble with them in the past, is all. She’s really a good person.”
“Cricket? What kind of name is Cricket?”
Edna smiled. “It’s Jodi. She’s gone by Cricket since she was a baby, though. I’ve always known her as Cricket.”
“You’ve known her since she was a baby?” he asked, and before she could answer, added, “Her accent isn’t from around here. Yours is.”
Edna set his water down in front of him. “I was friends with her mother. We’d worked together at a hospital. She was a nurse and I worked in the cafeteria. She went back to England when Cricket was a baby. She was raised over there. Her mother and I stayed in touch over the years. When she died, I asked Cricket to come here and help me with my diner. I think she was missing her mother or maybe having some trouble of her own over there. She’s been here a year and has taken on the role of self-appointed watchdog of me and my restaurant. It’s hers now. She bought it from me. She’s not a bad girl, really. Well, she’s obviously not a girl, but you know what I mean.”
Grizz didn’t reply and Edna headed back through the swinging doors. He could see her in the kitchen fixing his plate. He would like to pick Edna’s brain some more.
He sipped his water and thought about the blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman who had spoken to him like nobody, nobody ever had before. A foul mouthed, British version of Kit with a boulder-sized chip on her shoulder.
No, she was not his sweet little kitten. She was more like a tiger. A dirty-mouthed, obnoxious, nasty tiger, and if he hadn’t been certain he was looking at Kit’s twin, he’d have shut her up instantly. He’d actually had a moment when he almost grabbed her by the throat, but stopped himself because he kept seeing Kit’s face in spite of the blue contacts and blonde hair.
He would have to think about what to do with this information. Should the twins meet? Should they know about each other? And if so, how the hell would he arrange it? He smiled when he thought about how much fun it would be to drag her ass back to Florida and drop her on Blue’s doorstep. Blue had confessed he was attracted to Dicky because of her dislike for him. If that was true, then this one would certainly have his dick hopping all over the place.
His thoughts were interrupted when Edna set a plate in front of him.
“What’s today’s date?” he asked her.
After she told him, he motioned to the TV in the corner. “Does that thing work?” he asked before taking a bite of his food.
She grabbed a remote and pressed the “on” button.
“Want to watch anything in particular?”
“How about national news?”
She switched it to a national news station and laid the remote down next to his plate.
He ate his food and listened with half an ear as the newscaster talked about snow in the North, the search for a sailboat lost in the Caribbean with a famous actor’s fiancé on board, and the latest stock statistics.
“We now return to a tragic story we brought you yesterday,” the newscaster droned on. “A married father of two in South Florida is still in critical condition and barely clinging to life after police believe he tried to intervene in a convenience store robbery that left the store clerk dead and the perpetrator still at large. There are no witnesses, but police believe the forty-one-year-old architect from Fort Lauderdale—”
Grizz’s head snapped around to face the TV and he grabbed the remote to turn up the volume. He saw a convenience store with crime tape and several police cars on the scene.
The newscaster continued in a voice laced with concern. “In an ironic coincidence, the surviving victim is slated to testify later this year in the trial of prominent South Florida defense attorney Matthew Rockman. Rockman is expected to go on trial for last summer’s murder of a woman he’d placed in the Witness Protection Program over fifteen years ago. It’s not clear whether or not this shooting is related to the trial, or whether the victim was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. We’ll bring you more as we follow the inv
estigation.”
He felt a sadness that he couldn’t identify with. Grunt was near death and he was sorry for that. His shoulders sagged. He realized he was genuinely sorry, and the revelation surprised him. He hadn’t allowed himself to love his son all those years, but he’d cared for him, and couldn’t deny their connection. He’d always had a soft spot for the kid, even if he did want to put him in the ground a time or two.
He reached for the pager on his waist. He knew everybody carried a cell phone now, but that wasn’t his way. He was still stuck on old technology. One person knew the pager number. Carter. He placed it on the counter and felt the last spark of hope leave his soul. Grunt had been shot yesterday and was in the hospital clinging to life and yet there had been no page. If he had to think of a time when Kit might need him, he would’ve thought it would be now.
But he guessed not. She had really moved on. She was surrounded by friends who loved her and would see her through this. She had accepted that he was gone and he couldn’t blame her one bit. Still, the realization brought a crushing weight to his soul. He could feel the darkness creeping back in. Would he fight it or allow it to consume him?
He stared at the pager on the counter, and something caught his eye. He squinted and noticed the light wasn’t on. That was strange. It was always on. He reached for it and looked closely. He must have flipped it off accidentally when clipping and unclipping it to his belt. How long had it been off?
His gigantic fingers fumbled with the tiny “on” button. When the light went on he set it back on the counter and stared at it. Nothing.
He started to take another bite of food and realized he’d lost his appetite. He was going to ask Edna for his check when a loud buzzing caught his attention, and the pager practically hopped across the counter.
He picked it back up and read the message. Three words were digitally displayed in red: She needs you.
He was going home. To her. It was about fucking time.
Epilogue
Carter sat in the hospital waiting room and surveyed the strange mix of people that were gathered.
There was a group of bikers in one corner. She recognized a few, especially the big, handsome Native American who’d been at her house so many years ago to collect Grizz’s chess set. Anthony Bear. The pretty blonde talking to Ginny was his wife, Christy. They’d never been formally introduced before this tragedy. Anthony was Grizz’s friend, not so much Tommy’s. The Bears had moved to this coast just this past year, and even though Christy and Ginny were friends, Carter still hadn’t crossed paths with them until yesterday.
Another corner harbored men and women in business attire. They had to be some of Tommy’s work associates. Some were dressed more casually and it was obvious that others had made their way over from the office. She recognized Tommy’s secretary, Eileen, who’d been with him for years. Her red nose and swollen eyes made it obvious she’d been crying.
A bigger, louder group was huddled together in the center of the room. It looked like some of Ginny’s friends from her church and neighborhood, as well as some of the parents of Mimi and Jason’s school friends.
Carter noticed when one of the bikers glanced at someone who had just walked in. She turned and recognized the reporter from the execution viewing room last summer. What could she possibly want? The biker, who she now recognized as Blue with much longer hair and a beard, headed straight for the reporter and, grabbing her by the elbow, roughly escorted her away from the waiting room. Glad I’m not in her shoes.
Her gaze then fell on Mimi. Her nose and eyes were red. She had been crying. She was sitting next to a very handsome young man. He had been introduced as the oldest son of Anthony and Christy. His name was Slade, and Carter had no doubt he and Mimi were trying to conceal something. They had known each other since they were children, and Mimi looked at Slade with a desire Carter recognized. Carter couldn’t tell by Slade’s demeanor if he felt the same way.
She could tell, however, that Slade’s younger brother, Christian, didn’t like it. He was sitting across from the two with his arms crossed as he glared at his brother the entire time. Even though she’d never met the family before today, Carter had heard enough about them over the years to know Christian was about Mimi’s age. And it was obvious by his stare that he did not like seeing his older brother with her. Carter tried not to smile. The complications of young love. I’m so glad I’m past that. She felt a rush of love for Bill, her Bill, always so steady and true. She’d take that over passion and drama any day.
She looked at her watch and wondered when Bill would be back with Jason. He had taken the kid out to get him away from the hospital for a little while. Jason was having a really hard time with the trauma of Tommy’s attack, and Carter was grateful Bill was in town and doing his best to provide a distraction.
A loud wail from behind her brought her out of her observations. Everybody in the room stopped their conversation and watched as Sarah Jo came into the room and dramatically launched herself into Ginny’s arms.
“I’d have been here sooner, Gin. I got on a plane as soon as I heard.”
Carter knew Sarah Jo had been out of the country with her husband. He had been interviewing all over the world since last summer and had yet to accept a job. They just couldn’t agree on which country they wanted to settle in.
Ginny started crying all over again as Sarah Jo clung to her, trying to calm and soothe her. Everybody went back to their discussions and left the friends to console each other, but Carter just stared at Sarah Jo. Something was off. She didn’t look as upset as she should. Wasn’t Tommy a childhood friend? Shouldn’t she be sporting red eyes and a red nose? As if reading Carter’s mind, Sarah Jo started crying, too, as if on cue.
“Thank God you and Stan haven’t moved yet, Jo,” Ginny babbled, sniffling. “I can’t imagine dealing with this without you. Just thinking about you moving to another country is too overwhelming.”
Sarah Jo continued to hold Ginny tightly. “We could never move now. I would never move and leave you here to deal with this. This is just awful, Ginny. Don’t give it another thought. I don’t even need to talk to Stan about it. We’re staying.”
Ginny let out a loud sob. Christy walked over and handed her a clean tissue.
“Stan’s in there now consulting with Tommy’s doctors,” Sarah Jo added. “He’ll make sure Tommy’s getting the best care possible.”
Carter shifted uncomfortably in her seat and watched Sarah Jo with suspicious eyes. Something wasn’t right. Sarah Jo was crying, but Carter didn’t see any tears.
Ginny’s ponytail swung slightly as she and Jo hugged. The ponytail was sporting the blue bandana, but was sagging under the weight of yesterday’s trauma. Carter had never forgotten the favor Grizz had asked of her all those years ago; she had only been too happy to comply. He had told Ginny to use the blue bandana as a way to signal him if she ever needed him.
Carter had watched her friend for years. It wasn’t hard. They spent a lot of time together. They belonged to the same church. Carter went to all of Mimi’s piano recitals and whatever sporting event Jason happened to be involved in. There were family dinners, barbecues, shopping trips, vacations. Not to mention all of the animal rescue fundraisers they’d both attended. That blue bandana stayed on Grizz’s bike for years.
Even after Grizz’s fake execution last summer and Ginny’s realization that he was still alive, that blue bandana had never been worn, and Carter purposely made sure to be around her friend even more than normal.
She hadn’t noticed any difference in Ginny’s behavior after finding out that he was still alive. She was the same Ginny, same attentive, loving, and giving wife and mother. That had never changed and never would. Ginny was just Ginny.
But she also detected a new hollowness behind Gin’s eyes. Carter regretted confirming Ginny’s suspicions that day in the driveway, but that’s what Grizz had wanted. To make sure she knew. Carter now questioned the wisdom, or lack of, behind that decision.
It was probably the worst thing Grizz could’ve done.
But she understood it. She honestly believed what she’d told Ginny that day. She had never seen a man love a woman as much as Grizz loved Ginny. She had wondered to herself if Ginny would ever talk to her about it. And besides, if she needed him, wouldn’t she just come directly to Carter and ask her to get in touch with Grizz?
Carter smiled to herself and shook her head. No. Ginny was too smart to mention him. Carter was certain Ginny would understand the instructions were there for a reason. She wouldn’t risk mentioning his name even to Carter. No. Her friend would wear the bandana if she ever needed Grizz. The short discussion they’d had in her driveway last summer had never been mentioned again, and Ginny had seemed to accept it and move on.
Carter had received a call from Ginny just two days ago. It was a reminder that Jason had an important basketball game the next day.
“He’s in the playoffs. You’re coming, right?” Ginny had asked her friend then.
“Bill and I wouldn’t miss it. You know that, Gin.”
Carter and Bill had been at Jason’s playoff game. They sat in the bleachers and cheered his team on with Ginny, Tommy, and even Mimi.
Ginny had been wearing the blue bandana at that basketball game. Carter had excused herself to go to the restroom and sent a page within twenty minutes of seeing the bandana.
And that had been almost twenty-four hours before Tommy had been shot….
The End
Acknowledgments
This is the hardest part for me: expressing my feelings to the people who have made such a difference in my life—from the moment I typed the first word in my debut novel, to when I typed “the end” in this one. I’ve been the recipient of so much unconditional love that it continues to amaze and astound me on a daily basis.
First and foremost, I would like to thank my Heavenly Father for seeing me through this journey. He alone knows the personal struggles that went into writing this novel. He alone knows my heart and how it has swelled with love for the people who have shared their love for me and the whirlwind that has been Nine Minutes.
