Point one five rules und.., p.8
Point One Five (Rules Undying Book 4), page 8
A few foodie hipsters in vintage T-shirts and slouchy hats walked by, phones high in the air to capture the local ambiance. Gail peeked out the passenger side window to scan the work trucks, looking for a familiar face. Just as she was pulling out her own phone, a welcome message splashed across her screen.
“I’m looking for you, amiga.”
She flipped down her mirror and checked her makeup. She had to smile at actually getting a straight cats-eye with her liquid liner and her lipstick hadn’t smudged too badly, despite her gnawing on her lip. She blotted it smooth and did a quick sniff to ensure that the deodorant has survived the summer drive before she finally dared to exit the vehicle.
She quickly texted, “At the light” before scanning desperately for any sign of her scruffy, nondescript coworker.
She heard a whistle from behind. “Buenas tardes, Señorita Gail.”
“Buenas tar—”
She gulped as she saw a well-fitted button-down shirt and skinny jeans instead of scrubs. Javier still wore his bright red high-tops, but he had somewhat tamed his mop of fluffy brown hair and trimmed his beard into a rather stylish goatee. “Wow,” Gail finally finished as Javier handed her a bouquet of daisies supplemented by dandelions.
“It is very nice to see you in a dress,” he said. “Is that wrong to say?”
“Only if I can say it’s nice not to see you in scrubs.”
“Oh, good. It has become very difficult to make small talk anymore… so easy to offend. I hope you aren’t vegetarian. Mama Rosa cooks everything, and I do mean everything, in the fat of a pig.”
“Oh no, definitely not a vegetarian.” She sighed as she sniffed her makeshift flowers. “This place seems super… authentic.”
Javier watched, bemused as she eyed the clientele and listened to the rapid-fire Español that surrounded the pair. “You mean it’s full of Mexicans?” he asked with a little wink. “Don’t worry, the, what do you call them, foodies? They are out here all day. Most get scared off when the sun goes down.”
“I will admit, I usually eat American tacos,” Gail confessed as she eyed the menu. “I don’t even know what to order.”
“You like it spicy? If so, I know just the thing.”
“Sure, just get me a drink. Somehow, I have the feeling that your idea of spicy and mine are probably very different.”
As they got in line, the side door of the shack flew open and a very short, broad woman with a huge smile came barreling at them, rattling off in Spanish at a speed that made Gail’s head spin. Javier returned the favor and laughed heartily as the woman all but tackled him with a hug. Gail finally picked up the words “señorita” and “tacos” amid the verbal avalanche.
“Gail, this is Mama Rosa, and she is horrified that we have to wait in the line like common guests. Mama Rosa, esta es Gail Foster.”
“Hi,” Gail said weakly under the withering gaze of the chef. The Spanish flew fast and furious again and Gail could only nod and smile until Javier finally stepped in and said, “She wants us to go to her table in the back and she will bring us something special, an Amantes Especiales, if you will.”
“Am I going to need Google Translate just to get through tonight?” Gail asked as she followed him meekly to a picnic table back by the kitchen window. Her stomach growled again as she saw smokers and barbecue pits in the back.
Moments after they sat down, Mama Rosa put an empty vase on the table and turned on some fairy lights overhead. Finally, she put down a candle and gave a little wink and knowing smile to Gail.
“This is incredible,” Gail said as she tucked her flowers into the vase. From their little secluded patio, she could see the beautifully creepy shadows of the old carnival grounds. “Mama Rosa must really like you, Javier.”
“It’s like she can’t live without me. I help her out… from time to time.”
“So, you aren’t just a janitor?” Gail asked. She cringed again as awkwardness spewed from her lips.
“Just a janitor? No, but you should know, I am not ashamed of what I do as a job. There is never any shame in honest work. At least, that is what my padre always told me. When I am not cleaning the lab, I help out here and there. I like to do what I can for the little guy. It is not always easy being, um, different in a place like this.”
“I guess not,” Gail said, trying not to get lost in his dark eyes.
“The job, it pays the bills. My true passion will always be mi música.”
“You’re a musician?”
“Sí! I have been for a very long time. There is something about a beautiful song that… that stirs the blood. Through music, I can make someone feel anything I want. It’s almost like magic, no?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’d have to hear it,” Gail said, trying her best attempt at a smoldering look. Any semblance of sultriness melted instantly as chips and guacamole landed on the table along with two icy-cold glass bottles. Javier laughed and tipped his darkened bottle her way.
“So much for sexy,” Gail muttered under her breath.
“Now, why don’t you let me be the judge of that, Señorita?” Javier asked. “It is time to eat, to drink, to laugh, no? Tell me all about Gail.”
“There is not much of a story.”
“You came all the way out to the dark side of town just to rendezvous with the crazy janitor you barely know. It seems to me that you are a woman of danger, Señorita Gail, and I simply must know more.”
Gail nearly spit out her beer as she choked with laughter. “Me? A woman of danger? For me, living on the edge is an extra glass of chardonnay before curling up with a good book, or daring to wash a light blue sock with my whites!”
“A blue sock. You simply must tell me more.”
They talked and laughed about the glory of lab work and cleaning in general until finally a mountain of food arrived on their table. Gail gasped at her plate piled with shredded meat and gooey cheese while a whole tray of salsa was set before her.
“This is heaven, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Oh, sí,” Javier said before tearing into his own unique little taco. Gail cocked her head as she tried to make out exactly what he was eating. He smiled and pointed to the shell. “It’s tacos orejas. Um, you would call it pig’s ear. My um… doctor… he told me to try the paleo diet so I gave up the tortillas.”
“You’re on the paleo diet?” Gail said with a raised brow.
“Well, I wasn’t always this skinny,” he said with a little laugh. “I was gordo… er chubby when I was a little kid.”
“Oh,” she said, looking down.
“It’s all right. One day I just got taller and poof! I just have to watch out for the old health, you know.”
“Of course. It sounds like something I would recommend. I used to be a nurse.”
“Used to be? You just gave it up?”
“More like had to give it up. It’s a long story.”
“We have all night. I don’t plan to work tomorrow, do you?”
“Are you saying you’ll spend the night with me, Javier… on a first date?” she asked as she stared over her second beer.
He clutched his hands over his heart. “Would you accuse me of having ill intentions upon the virtue of a señorita such as yourself? I merely meant that my ears are open for you as long as you need me.”
They kept talking as the night finally took over the sky. A few of the attractions across the street flickered to life with old flashing lights. “It should be terrifying, but it’s not,” Gail said as she watched the half-lit Ferris wheel cut across the vista.
“Like something out of the horror books, no?” Javier asked. He had slipped around the table to watch the lights with her. Somehow his hand ended up right next to hers. She held her breath as he tentatively slid his pinky over the back of her knuckles. She dared to look over and started leaning ever so slowly towards him.
The spell was broken as a particularly drunk patron wandered to the fence right next to them and unzipped his fly. Both Javier and Gail giggled as they watched his terrible aim. Mama Rosa screamed something that sounded decidedly foul from her window before running out to join the couple.
“So sorry!” she said to Gail as she pointed to the terrified man running off. She muttered something in Spanish to Javier. After they went back and forth for a few minutes, Mama Rosa swept away their empty plates. A moment later, she came back with a little basket of churros for Gail and another big hug for Javier. She handed him one more darkened bottle before blowing a kiss to them both. “Buenos noches!” she said with a warm grin. She gave Javier a wink and then disappeared into her kitchen.
“What did I miss?” Gail asked.
“She was just saying that dinner was on the house since I brought such a pretty lady with me tonight,” Javier said before taking a gulp from the bottle. His cheeks flushed a bit and he let out a contented sigh.
“Really?” Gail asked. She too sighed as she chomped down on deep fried heaven. “You can’t eat these, can you?”
Javier shook his head. He gulped deeply again, wiping his mouth quickly afterwards. “Mmm, so good. I must say, this night has been better than I ever… I ever imagined.”
“I’ve had a great time,” Gail said, staring into his eyes again.
This time as she leaned over, no random peeing dude interrupted her. Javier slid his hand fully over hers and leaned in slowly as well. “Are you sure this is not too forward for you, señorita?” he whispered as their lips nearly touched.
“Definitely not,” she said before kissing him. She took in delightful mix of cinnamon, alcohol, and minerally meat flavors while Javier wrapped his arms around her. She pressed her whole body against his, grabbing at his hair and desperately pulling him closer. By the time she finally pulled away, her cheeks were burning and most of her lipstick was smeared across his mouth.
“Do you want me to follow you home?” he asked, staring at her in a way that made her shift in her seat. “Or do you think you’ve had enough for one night?”
Gail gulped. She grabbed a napkin to wipe the makeup from his face. “I really want to—”
“But?” he offered.
“I’m not the type of girl that goes home with a guy on a first date. I’m sorry,” Gail said softly.
“That would be too easy, wouldn’t it?” Javier said with a strange smile.
“You’re not mad?”
“Of course not,” he said, kissing her hand. “You will find that I am a very patient man.”
“Then maybe we could get coffee tomorrow?” Gail offered.
“But of course,” he said, sweeping up her flowers and walking her back to her car. He opened the door for her and leaned in the window. “Be safe, Señorita.”
Gail smiled the entire way home. As she slid into her parking space she cried “Woo-hoo!” and pounded the steering wheel. She flopped in the driver’s seat and whipped out her phone. Her eyes lit up as she saw text messages already waiting for her.
“Café Libre, eight PM,” she read. “Surprise later.”
The next message, however, furrowed her brow. She scrolled down to see a message from Jonathan. “We need to talk tonight.”
She looked out her window and, sure enough, a black Dodge was parked in the visitor space at her complex. “What… the hell?”
She stormed over to the car. Her face softened as the window rolled down and she saw a surprisingly pensive, beaten down guy in a red-stained T-shirt. “Are you… bleeding?”
“No, this isn’t my blood, but I really can’t… I can’t stand—” he said weakly. She finally noticed the vomit just over the curb.
“Jesus fucking Christ, let’s get you inside,” she said as her instincts took over and she helped him in. “Not your blood?”
“Long story, but can we not talk about it yet?”
“Yeah, it’s just corn syrup and food coloring,” Gail said. “You must have gotten into quite a lot of syrup.”
She led him straight to her kitchen and wasted no time peeling off his sticky T-shirt. Bruises lined the stained bandages that seemed to hold his chest together. She eyed the stain on his chest in particular and a row of distinctive scars along his arm.
“How many times have you been shot?” she asked.
“Um, six, maybe seven times. Wait, do you mean instances of being shot or actual bullets removed?”
“Just close your eyes while I clean this up.”
She ran and grabbed her first aid kit, as well as every non-white towel she had. She dragged over one of her barstools and the wastebasket. Jonathan practically fell in his seat.
“Is there a reason you’re at my apartment and not at the hospital? A good reason?”
“I didn’t want to explain why I had someone else’s blood on me.”
“And you think, what? That I’m not gonna ask or care because of who I am?”
He grabbed her arm and looked her right in the eyes. “I asked because you’re a friend, and yeah, because I’m pretty sure you’ve fixed people up without asking questions, OK?”
“Well, at least you were honest.” She sighed. “Just breathe normally. This might hurt.”
She carefully unwrapped the ruined section and saw an actual knuckle pattern still indented his chest. She took her time only cleaning and patching the cuts and scrapes along his shoulder.
“What? Not gonna wrap me back up?” he asked.
“No. Whoever did that is a hack. You have to be able to breathe and heal. You also need a lot of rest—”
“Oh.”
“You can’t keep taking beatings like this,” she said as she swept away the mess. She then checked the bruises on his sides. “You really need a doctor to look at this deep bruising—”
“I’ve had worse,” he muttered. He watched her take his shirt to the wash. “Hey, you look nice tonight.”
“Yeah, well, I had a date.”
“Couldn’t have been that good. You came home alone,” he said with a pathetic laugh. She rolled her eyes.
She worked on his hands next, carefully washing them and putting liquid bandages on his battered knuckles. She checked each one for any further injuries.
“Your ring finger was broken,” she said as she looked at his left hand.
Jonathan fell stone-faced and dreadfully quiet. “’Yeah, well, that was a long story. I’ve broken most of the bones in my body. That just happens to be the one that didn’t ever heal.”
“Is everything a long story with you, Jonathan?” Gail asked. “I’ve heard that one a lot, and not just from you.” She nodded towards the bedroom. He dutifully followed her as she eased him onto her bed. As she was taking off his shoes, she heard a whimper of pain.
“I’m pretty sure you have a broken toe, too,” she said after slipping off his sock. “Try not to get any more injured while I get my kit.”
She came back with an icepack and more tape. “I should take you in—”
He grabbed her hand weakly again. “Please,” he begged. “It’s—”
“A long story? Just warn me if the cops are coming for you and if I have to lie on your behalf. Do me that favor, OK?”
“I owe you… again,” he muttered as she finally lifted his legs onto the bed and packed the worst of his injuries in ice.
“Have you self-medicated? If not, I still have a few of your Percocet in my medicine cabinet.”
He shook his head. She fished out his leftover meds and helped him drink them down. As she tried to slip her arm away, he gave her a rather pleading set of puppy eyes. “Can you just stay here, a little while?” he begged.
“Just how I wanted my night to end,” she muttered. However, she did stay by his side, stroking his hair until the medicine finally allowed him to sleep.
9
“Best Sunday ever,” Gail growled to herself as she tried not to burn her thighs on the already steamy seats of Jonathan’s Dodge. “Last night it’s kissing and tacos. This morning it’s bloodstains and hiding evidence.”
She eased open his glove compartment and lifted the perfectly innocuous auto manual to reveal a revolver with a worn wooden grip. She picked it up gingerly, feeling the weight in her hand. She eyed a family walking to a nearby sedan in their Sunday best and quickly shoved the gun into her purse. She tucked it under a maxi pad and some tissues before she peeked back into the glove box and gulped as she saw a box of bullets.
“Please fit,” she muttered as she shoved the ammo next to her lipstick. “All right, now I just need to get one little thing out of the trunk and we are all set.”
She slipped out of the car and fanned herself as the sweat beaded on her skin. Her neighbors took it as a wave and all smiled at her. Gail grinned sheepishly.
“Just a girl in a romper and curlers removing firearms from a muscle car,” she mumbled as she Miss America waved. She popped the trunk and squeaked as she saw an overstuffed duffle bag and a shotgun just lying on the carpeting for the world to see.
“Little something in the trunk, my ass!”
She tried lifting the bag and nearly toppled into the trunk. She looked over her shoulder to make sure none of the nosy neighbors were looking before sliding the zipper. Her eyes widened as clothes, shoes, and notebooks nearly burst out. “Do you live in your car?” she muttered as she crammed the gun in there, too. “Please don’t shoot me in the foot,” she prayed over and over as she finally lugged the bag onto her back.
She waddled back to her flat like a sweating Serbian Santa Claus. By the time she wedged open her front door, she was red from head to toe. She dragged his stuff back to her bedroom and growled as she found her comforter on the floor and her main pillow under his fragrant feet.
He rubbed his eyes and smacked his lips a few times. “Um, sorry, must have dozed off,” he muttered as he fumbled for his phone on her nightstand. “I needed to—”
“Get a few things out of the car, yeah,” Gail snapped. “You said a gun and a bag.”
“Did I have my other ones in there?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. He let out a loud yawn. “Oh yeah, I let Stan keep Bessie in there. Sorry.”
