Desperate Measures

by Elle Casey

  Aimee raced to her room where Kiki had stacked all of her boxes and her suitcase. She threw the suitcase on the bed and pulled out an outfit of jeans and a t-shirt. Her sneakers were in there too, so she grabbed them and dropped them on the floor. Investigating the room a bit showed her that she had her own shower and bathroom attached, fully stocked with towels and hair and body products. She smiled, realizing that she expected no less from Kiki – the woman who was focused not only on pampering and beauty, but on taking care of her friends.

  How did I get so lucky?

  Within seconds, she was stepping into a steaming hot shower and sighing in contentment. This is exactly what I needed.

  Chapter 17

  KIKI WASTED NO TIME, PUTTING the breakfast dishes into the dishwasher and wiping away the few crumbs that had found their way to the counter and table. She had showered earlier before Aimee had gotten up, so she quickly dressed in jeans and a casual blouse. Her wedge sandals and gold bangle bracelets finished the look.

  She texted Elizabeth, asking her if she’d like to meet them at the Coconut Grill around noon for lunch, figuring they could start working on their business ideas over a meal. Seconds later a response came, firming up their plan. Now all Kiki had to do was get Aimee’s stuff over to the townhouse and they’d be ready to roll.

  Kiki walked over to her bedside table and took out the small pistol she kept there. It was loaded. Since no kids ever came to her house, she didn’t worry about keeping it locked up or the bullets out of reach. She had a permit to carry it, but she had never actually taken it out of the house except to go to the shooting range to learn how to use it. Should I bring it? She didn’t know this Jack guy, but he sounded like a class-A jerk from what Aimee had said.

  She shrugged, deciding she might as well have it along, shoving it into the satchel she planned to keep carrying. Normally she would have switched to a smaller purse on a warm day like today, but she needed to carry the gun, the to do list, and she’d also decided to throw in her latest bank and stock account statements – in case the subject of money or investment came up during lunch. It felt a little strange to her to be sharing such private information with two virtual strangers, but she decided that it was no different, really, than sharing them with some anonymous bank employee when asking for a loan. Besides, they needed to get all their cards out on the table today to see if this crazy idea of working together was worth even thinking about.

  She walked out of her room and across the hall to Aimee’s, knocking on the door. “Come on! Bus leaves in five minutes!”

  Aimee’s wet head poked out of the door a couple seconds later. “We’re taking a bus?”

  Kiki walked down the stairs. “Yes. It’s called a Camaro. Hurry up.”

  “Five minutes. Be right down.”

  Kiki heard the door shut behind her. She didn’t believe for a second Aimee could be ready that fast, so she sat down on her couch and started reading a magazine. She especially loved Elle Decor. She’d used color schemes and decorating ideas from several issues to inspire the look in her townhouse. Her home was the calmest, chicest place she knew, and made it completely possible for her to unwind after a night at the club. She folded over a page that featured a room done in salmons and gray browns, intrigued by how it was both feminine and masculine at the same time, inspiring and relaxing too. She heard Aimee emerging and shoved the magazine in her bag, standing and grabbing her keys off the nearby coffee table.

  “Ready?”

  “Ready!” said Aimee cheerfully. “Back to my old house?”

  “Yes. How long do you think it’ll take to get it all?”

  Aimee frowned as she thought. “Mmmm, maybe thirty minutes.”

  “Will Jack be there?”

  “I doubt it. He likes to golf on Saturdays.”

  Kiki raised an eyebrow at her. “Isn’t that hard to do without clubs?”

  Aimee cleared her throat, not meeting Kiki’s eyes. “Apparently not.”

  “Good,” said Kiki, not wanting Aimee to feel bad about the stupid clubs. “We’re golden. Come over here so I can show you how to set the alarm when you leave.” Kiki gave her a quick run-through, showing her how to turn it off and on, and how to enter in a code that looked like it was turning off the alarm but was actually alerting the police department to a home invasion.

  “So, if someone forces me to open the door for them, I press in this code, and it will shut off the beeping but will call the police and tell them a bad guy is in here with me?” asked Aimee.

  “Yes. Exactly.”

  “Huh. That’s convenient. But what if the bad guy knows about this feature?”

  “He won’t know if you did the good code or the distress code, regardless. Unless you tell him of course, which we would never do.”

  “Of course. Let’s just pray we never have to use that one.”

  “Yes. Let’s,” agreed Kiki, shutting and locking the door behind them.

  Fifteen minutes later they were pulling up to Aimee’s old house, very happy to see the driveway empty.

  “Good. Jack’s not here.”

  They walked up to the front door and Aimee dug in her bag for her key.

  Kiki tried the handle and the door opened on its own. “Not locked,” she said, searching Aimee’s face for her reaction. She saw fear.

  They walked cautiously into the foyer, Kiki looking left and right to try and figure out if they were alone. There were no obvious signs of someone else being there. There was no broken glass, and no sounds other than their own footsteps reached their ears.

  “I think maybe I forgot to lock it last time,” said Aimee, sheepishly.

  “Okay, good. I was a little worried for a second there. So what’s first? Kitchen?”

  “Yes. That’s the only place I need to pack anything, actually. Everything else is already at your townhouse.”

  “You didn’t have a lot of stuff.”

  “No. Jack took almost everything and I was never much of a clothes maven. Jack gave me an allowance, but it didn’t go far.”

  Kiki looked at her, disgusted with the whole idea. “An allowance? Are you friggin’ kidding me?”

  Aimee frowned and shook her head. “Nope. Pitiful, isn’t it?”

  “Ridiculous is more like it. Come on,” she nudged Aimee’s shoulder, “let’s get you the hell out of this shit hole.”

  They went to the kitchen and Aimee took over. She directed the packing of her precious culinary tools like a drill sergeant. Kiki was happy to follow her orders, glad to see that Jack hadn’t managed to completely eat all of her soul. That’s what he was, as far as she was concerned – a soul eater.

  Kiki’s back was to the front hall, so she didn’t see anyone coming in. But when she looked up to ask Aimee which thermometers she wanted Kiki to include in the box she was packing, Aimee’s expression told her everything she needed to know.

  Kiki swung around and found herself face to face with a guy - a short, angry guy, who couldn’t be anyone other than Jack.

  “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my kitchen?” he said, gritting his teeth together, his face glowing red.

  Oh, shit. This isn’t good. She’d been around mean drunks before at work, but at least she had a bit of an advantage there with their slowed reflexes and sloppy coordination. This guy was sober and fueled only by rage. Kiki risked a glance toward her purse and saw that it was near the front door, and of totally no use to her right now. Jack was between her and her gun.

  “Jack!” squeaked Aimee. “What are you doing here?”

  “I think a better question would be what the hell is she doing here?” He looked over at Kiki and said, “Get the hell out of my house before I call the police.”

  That got Kiki’s back up immediately, but she knew she had to be smart, or this guy was going to go ballistic. “Yeah, sure. No problem.” She glanced over at Aimee and said, “I guess I’m gonna go. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Aimee looked stricken. Her mouth open
ed and shut, but she said nothing.

  Kiki turned her back and made her way down the hall, praying Jack wouldn’t follow her. She needn’t have worried, as he was too intent on meting out punishment to Aimee.

  Kiki reached down when she got near the front door and grabbed her purse, shoving her hand inside and closing her fingers around the cold, wood and steel handle of the gun. She yanked it out, dropping the bag on the ground and striding back toward the kitchen. She got there just before Jack had made it around the kitchen island, obviously in pursuit of a very sad and scared-looking Aimee.

  “Stop right there, before I decide to be a hero,” said Kiki, lifting the gun and aiming for Jack’s chest. She kept her finger off the trigger because she could feel her heart racing a mile a minute and she didn’t trust her finger not to accidentally pull back in a spasm of gut-wrenching fear.

  Jack stopped in his tracks, staring at Kiki in disbelief. “What the ... is that a gun?”

  “Oh my god, Kiki, is that a gun?!” cried Aimee, clearly in total freak-out mode. “Don’t shoot him!”

  “Thank you, Aimee,” said Jack, satisfaction coloring his voice.

  “I don’t want you to go to jail, is what I meant, Kiki” said Aimee, looking only at her friend.

  “Hey!” said Jack. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Aimee turned to him, a cold look coming over her face. “It means, Jack, that I’d be perfectly okay with her shooting you if I thought she wouldn’t go to jail over it.”

  Kiki smiled. She liked this Aimee better than the sad or cowed one.

  “Get out,” Kiki said. “And stay out. You don’t live here anymore.”

  “You can’t kick me out of my own house!”

  Kiki moved her finger to the trigger and took two steps closer. “You sure about that?”

  Jack held his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine ... you crazy bitch. I’m leaving. But I’ll be back.” He pointed at Aimee. “You know you can’t keep me from coming into my own house.”

  Aimee got an inspired look on her face. “Give me my car keys back, you jerk.”

  Jack stole a look at Kiki and then reached into his pants pocket, taking out the keyring and throwing it on the counter. “Here. Thing’s a piece of shit anyway.”

  Aimee said nothing, her eyes glued on Kiki’s hands.

  Kiki moved farther into the kitchen and stepped to the side, giving Jack room to walk by. “Mess with Aimee and you mess with me. And my gun.”

  Jack didn’t say anything until he got to the foyer. Then he turned and said menacingly, “You’re going to be very sorry you did this.” He slammed the door behind him on the way out.

  Kiki rushed to the entrance of the house, stepping out and shouting, “Touch my car and you die!” She waved the gun at him making sure he could see it. She watched as he clicked something in his hand and the garage door went up. He disappeared inside, and shortly thereafter an engine started. An Aston Martin backed slowly down the driveway. Sweet ride, she thought, wondering what the hell Aimee was doing driving that old granny car while this jackass drove this design marvel.

  Aimee come up behind her, stopping in the doorway. “Well, that was exciting.”

  Once Jack’s car was clear of her Camaro, Kiki turned to look at her. “Yeah. Let’s get the rest of your stuff and get the hell out of here. He’s going to be back, either with something dangerous or the police.”

  Aimee turned and ran to the kitchen, throwing open drawers and tossing things into boxes and even a few trash bags. “Put it all in! Just go! I’ll sort it out later!”

  Kiki wasted no time following her and emptying the few remaining cabinets and drawers. She grabbed two fully loaded trash bags and ran them out to her car, throwing them into the backseat before turning to go into the house for more.

  Aimee followed with two boxes stacked on one another, leaving them by the curb to fit in once the trunk was open.

  Within fifteen minutes they had the rest of Aimee’s possessions loaded and had gotten into the car. Kiki turned to look at Aimee before she started the engine. “Are you ready?”

  “Ready for what? To go? Heck yes.”

  “No, I mean ready to start your new life.”

  Aimee smiled. “Double heck yes.”

  Kiki held up her hand. “Give me some skin on that.”

  Aimee gave her a high-five, laughing when their hands nearly missed. “Oof, we suck at that.”

  The distant wail of a police siren hit their ears at the same time. Kiki took one look at Aimee’s face and turned the key, slamming down on the gear shift and pushing down hard on the accelerator. They peeled out of the neighborhood, going well over the speed limit.

  “Was that for us?” asked Aimee, her hand gripping the oh-shit handle.

  “I don’t know. I figured we’d better not risk it.”

  Aimee started giggling and Kiki glanced at her sideways. “You losing it?”

  “Maybe. A little.”

  “Good,” said Kiki, smiling. “I think you’re entitled. Your ex acts like a mean pimp.”

  “That’s sad. I was married to a mean pimp,” said Aimee. “Is there such thing as a nice pimp?”

  “No. Not in my experience.”

  Aimee sighed. “I hate that I stayed with him for so long. I’m a serious wimp.”

  “Don’t do that to yourself. That’s in the past. It’s onward and upward from here. No more pimps.”

  Aimee rolled down her window and shouted, “No more pimps!” at the passing houses.

  Kiki laid on the horn. “Whooo hooo! No more piiiiimps!” She looked in her rearview mirror and blanched. “Oh, shit. No more yelling. Cops.” Kiki grabbed Aimee’s arm. “Don’t turn around. Just be cool.”

  “Ohshitohshitohshit,” whispered Aimee over and over, her hands folded tightly in her lap. “Just act casual. Caaasscchjjuuuul. I’m casual. I’m cool.”

  Kiki tried not to laugh. “Shut up. Seriously. They’re ...” She didn’t get the words out before they heard a whoop! – the police car’s signal that they needed to pull over. The red and blue flashers were going now, too.

  “Oh, fuck me sideways. I’m screwed.”

  “Is your gun ... illegal?”

  “No. I have a permit. But that doesn’t make it okay to point it at your ex.”

  “Even if he deserved it?”

  “Well, maybe. But I don’t think we want to get into that with them. Just don’t say anything, okay?”

  Kiki pulled over to the side of the road and waited for the officer to get to her window before she did anything. The last thing she wanted was for him to think that she was reaching for something dangerous, so she put her hands on the steering wheel, up high where he could see them. Better to figure out what he was after them for anyway, first. She was trying to remember if she’d noticed a tail light out, when he arrived at the passenger-side window.

  Kiki’s smile lit up her face as soon as she saw who it was. “Well, hello, Joe.”

  Aimee’s eyes almost bugged out of her head. She stayed completely silent.

  “Hello. Um ... Kiki is it?”

  “Yes, very good. You remembered. I’m impressed.”

  Joe looked at Aimee. “Hi, Aimee. Nice seeing you again.”

  “Yeah, um ... you too.” She had a frog in her throat and tried desperately to clear it out. She sounded like she was going to hawk up a loogie any second.

  Kiki tried to save her. “So, what’s up with the lights?”

  Joe broke his gaze away from Aimee and smiled. “Well, we got a report of a crazy woman waving a gun around inside someone’s private home. Drove away in an orange and black Camaro. Would you happen to know anything about that?”

  Kiki weighed her options, unsure about how to answer. She could lie and risk pissing him off and maybe blowing Aimee’s chances for a future date. Or she could tell the truth and get booked for assault. Hmmmm. What to do, what to do?

  “It’s mine!” shouted Aimee. “I did it! Take me to jail!”
<
br />   Joe looked at her in shock at first. Then he looked at Kiki. “Does she own a gun?”

  “No,” said Kiki, disgusted with Aimee’s complete lack of self-control. “She doesn’t own a damn gun. I do, though. The permit’s in the glove box if you want me to get it.”

  “Sure. Do that for me. I’ll be right back.”

  He returned to his car, talking into a speaker on his shoulder.

  “Shit, Aimee, what are you trying to do?”

  “Keep you out of prison,” she said, pouting.

  “Well, at this rate, you’re going to get us two tickets to pokeytown instead of just one.”

  “I’m sorry. I panicked.”

  “No shit,” Kiki said, but laughing anyway. “Kind of dramatic, aren’t you?”

  Aimee pressed her lips into a thin line and then said, “Sometimes. I might get a little out of hand ... but only sometimes. When the stakes are high.”

  “Or you’ve had a glass of wine.”

  “Maybe then, too.” Aimee looked at Kiki, worry in her eyes. “So what’s your plan? Full confession? Surrender?”

  “Not exactly. Just follow my lead. And don’t lie.”

  “Fine,” huffed Aimee, staring straight ahead.

  Joe came back to the window, this time on Kiki’s side. “I’m ready for that permit.”

  Kiki handed it over, explaining, “I have the gun with me, in my purse. But what I did was ...”

  Joe held up his hand and said, “Ah! Wait. Don’t say anything else. I don’t want to hear it.”

  “How come?” asked Aimee, before she quickly put her hand up to her mouth. “Oopsy. Sorry. Ignore me.”

  Kiki rolled her eyes. “So what’s the deal? Am I in trouble?”

  “For owning a properly permitted gun? No. Nothing unlawful about that.” Joe smiled and handed her the permit back.

  “You didn’t call for backup?” asked Aimee meekly.

  “No. Do you want me to?” He was addressing Aimee directly.

  Her face colored under the attention.

  “No, Officer Joe, we do not want you to call for backup,” answered Kiki wryly, noticing that Aimee was clearly too flustered to speak with her brain connected in any way to her mouth. Officer Joe was flirting with the poor girl, and she had no idea.