Blind turn, p.16
Blind Turn, page 16
Parking, he scanned the perimeter for threats to his calm and potentialities for the immediate impending death of anyone who pissed him off. Seeing nothing on the surface, he pondered the idea of getting a table tonight, taking in the stupid book the girl had given him, and eating in public versus over his kitchen sink. Grabbing his satchel along with the book, he made his way inside.
The place was pretty vacant for a Saturday evening, which meant Lucious would more than likely get bored and want to start some shit. If that came to pass, One Way would take his tacos, the yummy fries, and his blades and head home. His eyes were focused on the door, but he also spotted a form sitting in the shadows.
“You read that yet?” the kid asked.
One Way held up the book. “Not yet; about to start it. Is it any good?”
“Actually, it is. I finished that one a month ago, and now I’m on Book 3. I think the series is getting better,” he told One Way.
“Okay’ good to know. What are you doing out here alone in the mountains, off the beaten path, sitting in the dark, and looking suspicious as hell?” he asked the kid.
The boy stepped forward into the light. One Way blinked several times, making sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing, and just in case, he blinked twice more. He allowed his vision to adjust to the low light, and then gave his brain credit for telling him what he saw was indeed real.
“My Ma. She’s waitressing here again tonight. Tips last night were pretty good, but it’s slow tonight. I’m staying out of the way,” the boy said.
He looked sour around the mouth, as his mother used to say when he was hungry and no food was in the house.
“Kid, have you eaten anything tonight?”
“Naw, if there are leftovers and good returns on orders folks didn’t want, my Ma will bag it up and slip me something out the door, but I have to stay out of the way,” the boy confessed.
“I tell you what, I’ll buy you some tacos and fries if, and this is the cost of the meal, you explain to me what this book is about and if I shouldn’t waste my time reading it,” One Way said, surprised at his own generosity.
“For real, Mister? No funning me? No weird stuff?”
“Weird stuff?”
“Yeah, a lot of men are into weird stuff, so I have to be careful. My Ma too,” he said. “So, if you’re going to let me eat with you, that would be great.”
“Get a leg moving before I change my mind,” One Way said, leading the boy inside. He waved at the bartender and walked past the bar into the non-drinking side of the establishment. A woman, looking like the frazzled end of a piece of yarn, darted over to the table.
“Jiminy, what are you doing inside? Who is this man?”
“One Way,” he said, “W.U.N. W.E.I. is how it’s spelled. I offered to buy the kid some tacos and fries if, and this is the important part, he tells me about this book I have been forced to read by my...niece.”
He nearly choked on the word niece as he thought of the adorable little girl who, by all rights, still creeped him out a bit. She’d touched his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart, declaring, as if he didn’t know already, that his heart was still inside and working. Maybe this is what she meant. The book thing was also creepy, that she gave him a book that a random kid just so happened to have read. Whatever the universe was saying to him, it had his attention. Plus, the whole pizza dinner conversation with Dex and the family was nice. He wouldn’t mind a bit of nice for himself.
“Mister, I don’t want no funny stuff with you and my kid,” she warned. “Now what can I get you?”
“Tacos, fries for two, bottle of water for me, and whatever you approve of for the kid to drink,” he said, taking a seat and pushing to book towards the kid. “Order one more for yourself to go, on me.”
The woman stared at him with suspicious eyes. He knew the look. Fear. Terror. Wanting to trust but trusting had gotten her where she was, and where she was equated to trouble for her and the kid. Just as he was about to say a word, he heard the roaring of motorcycle engines coming up the mountain.
Three things were never good in this part of Tennessee—one was a gang of bikers, two was a lone black waitress with a mixed kid, and three was Lucious. One Way knew it was going to go bad and fast. She wasn’t going to make it through the night if she stayed and tried to wait on the men coming into the bar, and the kid would be collateral damage.
“Aww fuck,” he whispered.
“Hey, no need for that kind of language, especially not in front of my kid,” she warned.
“Listen, and hear me good, I know you may need this job, but what’s coming up that mountain is nothing but trouble,” he said. “My suggestion to you is quit and get the hell out of here.”
“Can’t,” she whispered. “We’ve got nowhere to go and not enough gas to get me there.”
One Way knew the drill. He’s seen it one time too many and she looked like she needed a bit of good luck to come her way. Maybe the unicorn-loving girl touching him had done it, or possibly arguing with a fifteen-year-old over the merits of Jackie Chan versus Bruce Lee while eating mediocre pizza had brought him to this point. He reached in his pocket and took out his keys.
“Take my keys, grab the kid, and go get in my truck. Stay down low and out of sight. I’ll be there in a few,” he said as he tossed her the keys. “Move now and go.”
The woman didn’t argue, and he prayed when he got outside his vehicle would still be there and she hadn’t taken off in it. She wouldn’t get far since the truck only had ¾ of a tank of petrol. Frankie J saw the woman take off out the door with the kid. He eyeballed One Way.
Frankie J snarled at him, his crusty old lips raising on one side of his raggedy mouth, “You hear the engines too, huh?”
“Yep, she and the kid wouldn’t be safe,” One Way said. “I’m going to leave her vehicle here and come back for it tomorrow. I’m taking her and the kid with me, but I need some tacos, those fries, and my knives.”
“Lucious ain’t gonna be happy you took his help,” Frankie J stated, “plus he had plans for her tonight.”
“Did she also have plans with him or was it going to be a one-sided party?”
Frankie J pursed his lips and pulled the sharpened knives from under the counter. “Let me get those tacos and fries for you,” he said, calling into the kitchen.
One Way paid for the sharpening plus the food just as the sound of the engines cutting off rang through his ears. Time was up. He needed to get gone. Frankie J brought the to go orders to the counter and One Way slipped out the side door as burly, bearded men came through the main doors. He could hear Lucious calling out for the woman as twenty or so bikers, covered in tattoos of everything from Swastikas to hooded men entered the facility. He’d done the right thing.
He only hoped it wouldn’t come back to bite him in the nuts.
INSIDE THE VEHICLE, the woman and boy huddled down on the floor. It hit him hard in his mid-section like a bad memory returning to taunt him. She reminded One Way of his mother. The kid reminded him of himself.
“Where are you taking us?”
“Home with me for the night,” he said. “I have room. You and the boy can shower and get a good night’s sleep. We’ll come back tomorrow for your car and any wages due, but tonight, F & J’s is not the place either of you want to be.”
Her eyes were weary as she looked at him with ten years of sadness hovering in her eyes. “Thanks, but what is this kindness going to cost me?”
“You, not a thing,” he said, thinking of himself, but the expression on her face meant she was taking what he said the wrong way. “Me, it’s going to cost me my peace of mind, having strangers in my home, but it’s just for one night.”
“Thank you,” the boy said, smiling at him.
“Yeah, you’re welcome.”
The woman looked scared, and she had every right to be; he was a scary man who did scary things for a living. However, he didn’t want her to be afraid of him. She had no need to be.
Reaching for his visor, he flipped it down and pulled out a photo. He passed the image to his passenger. The photo had become tattered over the years, worn and slightly separating at the ends, yet cherished by him. She accepted the image and looked at it in the dim light. The vehicle began to roll after he put the truck in gear and eased his way around the dark winding roads, devoid of light, high into the Smoky Mountains.
She was up in the seat, buckled in, as well as the kid. The further they drove, the tighter she clung to the photo he had handed her. They were miles from civilization and miles from another neighbor when he finally did stop. If she wanted to run, or if she wanted to escape from him, there would be nowhere to hide. She wanted to cry, but truthfully, she’d given up a week ago and was barely hanging on for the sake of her child. Whispering, she spoke to him.
“Listen, if you’re going to force yourself on me, just let my kid be asleep first okay. I have no fight left in me, I’m barely standing, and I’m tired. I’m simply just worn out, slap down tired of this life, of this fight, and all of it,” she said, as the tears started to roll down her cheeks. The boy wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close.
“It’s okay, Ma. I prayed really hard like you taught me, and he pulled up. He’s good. We’ll be safe. He’ll be nice to us,” the boy said.
One Way didn’t know what to say to any of it, therefore he didn’t. “Walk where I walk, step where I step,” he told them as he moved towards the cabin nestled in the tree line.
She followed closely behind her son, standing on the porch as the man opened the front door and disarmed the security system. When the lights came on, she didn’t know what to expect. The room was bathed in soft light with oversized, comfortable furniture. A hominess filled the entire cabin and it felt like, home.
“Bathroom is to the right; take the bedroom next to it. The food is getting cold, so wash up and come eat, then shower,” he told them. “After you eat, I can put on a movie or you can sleep. There’s a lock on the inside of the bedroom door.”
“Thank you,” she said, still crying.
“Hurry up. I’m hungry,” he added, setting down his bag. The tacos would be getting soggy and so would the fries. He hated soggy fries.
They scurried to the bathroom together, washing quickly and coming back to the table. He saw no reason to dirty dishes and opened the containers for them to eat out of the to-go boxes. She’d placed the photo on the table.
The boy looked at the image, staring closely. The kid in the picture wasn’t much older than he was now, and the woman looked a little bit like his Ma. They were in the back of a truck, snuggled up together.
“Is this you and your Ma, Mister?”
“It is,” One Way said. “A nice man by the name of Gabriel helped us that night, and it changed my life. Tomorrow, I will call Gabriel and see if he can help you as well. For tonight, I want you to rest. Don’t touch any of my stuff. Don’t steal from me and don’t go outside. The place is booby trapped.”
“So, we are your prisoners?”
“Oh hell no, I just don’t want to have to clean up your strewn body parts before I have my morning tea,” he said, taking his tacos and heading for the couch. Thinking better of it, he too was tired. “Good night. Sleep well. We’ll talk more in the morning.”
And with that, he closed his bedroom door, locking it and preparing himself to end his day. For a brief moment, he considered keeping them and starting his own little family. The kid, half black, half Asian, could easily pass as his own.
“What in the hell am I talking about?” One Way muttering, smirking silently, but thinking about it really hard. “The little unicorn girl was right. I’m still in here.”
An hour later, curious at the quietness of the house, he got up from the bed, thinking maybe, possibly, that he should have provided them with some clean clothing to change into once they showered. They were both pretty ripe. Once he opened the door, the sound of the washing machine going answered his question, but the air in the room felt off.
Turning, he spotted the boy sitting in the corner in the dark.
“Don’t do that,” he cautioned the kid. “Why are you always sitting in the shadows?”
“I’m practicing to be a ninja,” the boy answered, “plus, Ma taught me to work hard at being unnoticed. If no one notices you, no one bothers you.”
“Fair enough, but why aren’t you in bed?”
The boy emerged from the shadowy corner where One Way’s favorite reading chair sat. He would sit there and sharpen the edges of his ninja stars or dip his darts in hemotoxins, and sometimes he even read. This felt like a violation.
“I was waiting for you to come out of your room and make the last walkthrough of the night,” the boys said as if he knew his routine.
One Way was almost impressed. “What makes you think I would do that?”
“You didn’t use your phone to disarm the security system, but did it by hand. You also didn’t turn it on again before you went to your room, so I figured you’d come out, make sure we were still here, and turn it on.”
“Okay, so what are you waiting to say to me?”
He could nearly hear the mouse on the hamster wheel inside of the kid’s head, churning, running, trying to catch up with his little lips. It was obvious the kid had given his plan careful thought as he laid it out step by step, or at least that’s what One Way expected.
“We had a deal,” the boy said, “You buy me dinner and I’d tell you about the book. I wanted to keep my word.”
“Keep your word?”
“Just because we’re poor and don’t have nothing, don’t mean we are nothing,” he said to One Way and pointed at the couch. “You want something to drink or do you just want me to get started?”
“Give me a minute to make a cup a tea, and we can get underway,” One Way said, looking hard at the kid. His pants were too small, and his shoes were old and dingy. The shirt he wore had seen better days, yet his eyes were bright and full of hope.
In a lot of ways, it also gave some hope to One Way. They did have something. They had him. One Way or another, if he could get her to listen, he might have a way for them all to be something.
- Fin -
Meet Olivia Gaines
OLIVIA IS A USA Today Best Selling and multiple award-winning author who loves a good laugh coupled with some steam, mixed in with a man and woman finding their way past the words of "I love you." An author of contemporary romances, she writes heartwarming stories of blossoming relationships filled with heart and humor. The Technicians, The Blakemore Files, and the Modern Mail Order Brides, are one clicks for thousands of readers.
When Olivia is not writing, she enjoys quilting, playing Scrabble online against other word lovers and spending time with her family. She is an avid world traveler who writes many of the locations into her stories. Most of the time she can be found sitting quietly with pen and paper plotting more adventures in love.
Olivia lives in Hephzibah, Georgia with her husband, son, grandson and snotty evil cat, Katness Evermean.
Learn more about her books, upcoming releases and join her bibliophile nation at www.ogaines.com
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Olivia Gaines, Blind Turn
