"Why do you have handcuffs?" I asked as he pulled me off the sofa and toward the front door. "Actually, I shouldn't be surprised; it's always the ones you'd least expect who are into that kinky..." I looked up at a large mirror that hung by the door. It was framed by coat pegs on the sides and a shelf above and below. Each shelf displayed portraits of men and women in police uniforms. "Shit!"
"Yeah," Lucas said with a smirk, "you stepped right into it, didn't you? Meet my family." He pointed to the top row. "That's my great-grandfather, my grandfather, and my father. And these," he made a sweeping gesture under the four portraits on the bottom, "are my sisters."
"But you're not a cop, are you? You can't be, I can sense cops."
"No, I am but a lowly, unemployed, college graduate with a Master's degree in 19th century literature, thus, the black sheep of the family."
He slipped a pair of brown sandals over the yellow socks and opened the door.
"You're seriously going out like that?" I asked. "Have you looked at yourself?"
"Have you looked at yourself?" he asked, pointing to our reflections in the mirror.
I looked even more battered than I had the last time I had checked myself. My hair was still full of static, and a large clump had formed into the shape of a bird's nest above my right ear. Cotton fluffs poked out of the tears in my jacket, and the sleeves, torn at the seams, hung over my hands. My small, squinty eyes appeared even smaller and squintier above the blue shadows and bags that had formed under them. I looked like the last survivor in a horror movie.
"We can't go out like this! People will stare!"
"So?"
"So, I hate being stared at."
"It won't take long. We won't even see anyone else."
"You better hope not, because this," I held up my cuffed wrist, "is going to look mighty suspicious."
Lucas unbuttoned his oversized jacket and pulled the sleeves down, covering his hand and the chain between us. "There, hardly noticeable."
He pulled me out the door and tried to lock it, but I kept tugging on the chain. After a brief struggle, he finally managed to lock it with one hand.
"I have to pee," I said.
"You can pee later."
"If you don't uncuff me and let me use the bathroom, I will scream at the top of my lungs and have you charged with kidnapping."
"I'm not kidnapping you; I'm just preventing you from leaving."
"A.K.A, kidnapping."
"You don't want the police involved any more than I do. My sisters cannot find out I lost that ring! I'll never hear the end of it! Just tell me where you hid it, and as soon as I have it in my hand, we can go our separate ways."
"When did I have time to hide it? Face it, the ring fell on the ground, someone has found it, and they have already sold my ring to the nearest pawn shop."
"It's my ring and I checked the pawn shop while you were unconscious."
He pulled me along, walking with a stoop as he examined the ground, looking for small, shiny objects.
Though it was chilly, the sun was out in full force, assuring us that spring was on its way. I looked around, scanning the area for homes I could break into. Unfortunately, this didn't seem to be a wealthy area. The street was lined with little box-shaped houses, neat lawns, and picket fences, but the cracked sidewalks, peeling paint, and rusted gutters revealed not only the age of the homes, but the economic status. It seemed no one had the extra money to spend on exterior esthetics.
I couldn't deny I was irritated. Not only had my original plan unraveled, but now my plan B had unraveled as well. I had worked really hard plotting and scheming and, if life was fair, I would be on my way to a warm, tropical climate and a brand-new life. Instead, I was a hostage to some weirdo lit major with no fashion sense, being forced to walk in the chilled March breeze with a headache and a full bladder. I didn't need to get distracted by my feelings; I needed a new plan,
Gary's brother had always said I was the most annoying person on the planet. He said I could escape any hostage situation by annoying my captors until they were only too willing to set me free. It wasn't a complicated plan, but sometimes the simplest plans are the best.
"So, you just left me, all alone, possibly dead, while you went shopping?" I asked.
"I didn't leave you alone. I left you with a friend."
"You left me with a friend? Do you leave unconscious women with this friend often?"
"It wasn't like that! He's a doctor. He wanted to make sure you weren't going to die, and I wouldn't be a murder suspect."
"I don't remember any of this."
"Of course not; you were unconscious."
"I feel violated."
"You weren't violated. He just checked your vitals, you know, breathing pulse, pupils."
"He looked at my pupils? Now I really feel violated."
"There was no violating!"
"How do you know. You weren't there."
"I know because he's been my best friend since sixth grade."
Before I had the chance to make further accusations, an elderly woman marched towards us, her white, orthopedic shoes slapping rhythmically and purposefully against the pavement. She wore a white, A-line, dress and a lilac jacket with a matching purse, and her salt and pepper curls were neatly pinned beneath a white, pillbox hat. Her light amber eyes stood out against dark skin, and they were sternly fixed on Lucas.
"Lucas Baxter Bean! What possessed you to walk out the door looking like something the cat dragged in? I know your grandmother raised you better than that! The least you could do is comb your hair and put on proper shoes!"
She reached up and finger-combed his hair. He started to protest, but I was no longer able to stifle my giggles, and the woman turned her attention to me.
"And you're no better, little missy! I don't know what's wrong with young people today." She rummaged through her purse and produced a brush, which was suddenly struggling through my hair and tugging at my scalp.
"I just can't fathom it," she continued, "how you can go out in torn clothes that look like they've been pulled from the trash bin. Lord help me, I've even seen young folks shopping in their pajamas!" She finished my hair and put the brush away. "No respect! That's what it comes down to! No respect for yourself or others! Now, Lucas, don't let me catch you out in public again, looking like you just rolled out of bed! And why are you walking with this strange girl? Does your fiancé know about this? I may not like her, but she is your fiancé."
Lucas tried to interject, but the woman didn't notice. "I've got to catch the bus. I have a lot to do today! But you're not off the hook, Lucas. I'll be stopping by this evening and we're going to have a little talk about all this, you can count on it!"
She walked briskly to the bus shelter at the opposite end of the street. Lucas and I stood still and silent for a moment, then cautiously turned our heads to see the woman seated primly, staring straight ahead as she waited for her bus.
"What just happened?" I asked.
"Mrs. Bentley. She was a friend of my Gram. She's a real force of nature."
"I can see that. You know what you said I wouldn't see? Other people!"
"One person, big deal. I doubt we'll see anyone else."
Two seconds later, a great dane bounded down the sidewalk, pulling a tiny woman behind him. She went by so quickly, I couldn't see anything more than a blur in a green parka, but Lucas called out after her, "Hi, Mrs. Fujiki!"
The woman could only scream and wave with one hand as she tried to hold onto the leash with the other.
"That was Mrs. Fujiki," he said, as if I cared. "She was another friend of my Gram. I worked with her granddaughter, Janie, before I got fired."
I faked a yawn. "That's absolutely fascinating."
He sighed and shook his head, then started picking through a pile of discarded lawn furniture on the curb.
My headache had escalated from dull thud to stabbing icepick, and my bladder wasn't going to hold much longer. "Will you give up already?" I asked. "It's not going to be there or anywhere else. It's gone, long gone,"
Lucas ducked behind the furniture, meticulously checking the ground. I crossed my arms and leaned against it, hampering his movements. I was doing my best to get control of my irritation; nobody does their best planning when they are full of messy emotions, when two more women came down the sidewalk.
One of the women waved and shouted, "Yoo-hoo! Lucas!"
Lucas was too absorbed in his task to hear his own name, so I shook the chain between us. "Lucas! Some more of your Gram's friends are here. Jesus! How many friends did the old bat have?"
Lucas stood in alarm. "Oh no! They've all seen us now! This is bound to get back to my sisters!"
The woman who had been waving jogged up to us and asked, "Lucas, were you hiding from us?"
The second woman caught up to her and scolded. "Ernessa June! Leave the boy alone. Even if he is out with a strange girl, it is not our place to judge."
The differences between the two women could not have been more marked as they stood side-by-side. The first woman, Ernessa June, was round and plump. Her blonde hair was long and loose with gray roots that had been neglected. She wore a butterfly- print dress, a pink, sparkle-threaded sweater, and pink canvas sneakers. She had accessorized with multiple bangles, bracelets, and rings as well as a pink carnation in her hair. Her smile was warm and genuine as she waited for Lucas's reply.
Her companion was tall and thin, all angles and sharp corners. Her hair was gray with a few dark black streaks and was pulled into a tight bun. She wore a black wool skirt, a gray turtleneck, and a heavy gray sweater. Her shoes were simple black flats, and her only accessory was a demure wedding ring. Her thin lips were set in a straight line as she waited for Lucas's explanation.
"I'm not judging," said Ernessa. "I'm hoping. Did you finally dump old, what's-her-name? Is this your new girlfriend? Oh, I am so pleased to meet you! My name is Ernessa, but you can call me Ernie. And This is my sister, Odette. You can call her Odie, even though she doesn't like it. Be a gentleman, Lucas, and introduce your new girlfriend!"
"She's not my girlfriend. We're just...umm... friends."
"Friends with benefits?" whispered Ernie.
Odette elbowed her sister's ribs. "Ernessa June!"
"We're not friends with benefits," said Lucas. "There are no benefits to this relationship whatsoever."
"Of course not," said Odette. "Geraldine raised you better than that."
"She's much prettier than the last one," said Ernie. "I never liked the last one. She always had a puckered look on her face, like she had a mouthful of lemons."
"Nobody liked the last one," said Odette, "but it is not our place to judge."
"What was wrong with Amelia?" asked Lucas. "No, never mind; it doesn't matter anymore. You know, I hate to be rude, but we've really got to go. We were, uh, just on our way to get some coffee. I need some caffeine ASAP."
I sidled up to him and held his hand. "Well, of course you need coffee, Pumpkin. We hardly slept at all last night, isn't that right, Tiger?"
Lucas' face turned deep red. He tried to shake my hand away, but as we were handcuffed, it was impossible. "She's kidding!" he said. "She's such a kidder!"
"Come along, Ernessa," said Odette. "It is not our place to judge.
As they walked past, Ernessa turned her head and winked. "Have fun, kids! Don't do anything I wouldn't do!"
When they were out of sight, I burst into laughter. "That was great! You should've seen your face!"
"What is wrong with you?" Lucas asked. "And why are you still holding my hand?"
"I have to get some sort of revenge."
"I'm the one who should be getting revenge. You really are a brat; I can't wait to get you out of my life."
"Uncuff me, and I'll be gone."
"So you can sneak back to wherever you hid the ring, and I never see it again? Not happening."
"Will you be logical? I thought I was getting away scot-free. The last thing I would do is return to the scene of the crime. Only serial killers and arsonists are crazy enough to do that."
"And you're a paragon of sanity, are you?"
"Compared to Jack the Ripper and H.H. Holmes, yes."
"It's good to know you set the bar so high."
"A girl's gotta have standards, am I right?"
Lucas continued looking at the ground, behind trash cans, and into every little crack and crevice we passed. My headache was getting worse, I was dizzy, and frankly, this little walk was no longer amused me. When we came to another bus shelter, I sat down, causing Lucas to jerk backwards and nearly fall.
"You can rest later," he said. Only two more blocks and we're back at Le Magnifique."
"I'm not taking another step on your stupid scavenger hunt! My head aches, I'm dizzy, tired, and hungry. And I really, really need to pee."
He stepped back and crouched in front of me, so we were eye-to eye.
"You honestly don't know where the ring is?"
"No, I honestly do not know where your moldy old ring is!"
He stared at me for a moment, squinting into my eyes as if he could find the truth there.
"All right," he said. "Follow me."
"Where are we going?"
"Someplace where you can rest, eat, and pee. It's just down this alley."
"He said, before he stabbed her and left her dismembered body in the dumpster."
"Stop acting like I'm the villain here. It's a shortcut to the diner I worked at, that's all."
"Okay, fine! I was just joking."
"Well, I'm having a bad day, as you well know. I'm not exactly in the mood for jokes."
He walked down the alley, and I followed. A sudden wave of nausea and weakness washed over me. I stopped for a moment and leaned against a cool, brick wall.
"Are you okay?" asked Lucas.
"Yeah, fine. Let's just get out of this alley. It's creeping me out."
We came out onto a fairly deserted street. A majority of the buildings were vacant and boarded up. There was almost no traffic, and a general air of emptiness and decay settled onto everything. On the corner of the alley and the decrepit street, sat a small building whose signage and design mimicked a 1950's diner. It was the only building that did not seem deserted.
"Here we are, Mac's Diner!" Lucas announced. "It doesn't look like much, but you won't get a better grilled cheese anywhere in the world!"
We entered, and I was surprised by how clean it was. The metal tables and chairs gleamed, and the scent of pine cleaner mingled with the aroma of hamburgers on the grill. It should have felt calm and inviting, but I felt prickles all over and a strange sense of foreboding. In my line of work, you develop a sixth sense and can tell when you are being watched. I felt it in my stomach.
Someone was watching.
Someone was waiting.
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