Blind Fold Page 5

  “Is that all?”

  “That, and be cool with my Mom. I can’t trust a man who doesn’t know how to handle his feelings when it comes to a woman,” the boy said to One Way’s face.

  He couldn’t help it, he burst into laughter. Birds squawked and flew from their perches in the trees. A stray cat came from nowhere in the bushes making the kid jump.

  “Again, I’m tracking what you’re saying,” One Way answered when he stopped laughing.

  “Mister, I don’t need a Daddy. I have one. He may not be the best, but he’s still my dad and he loves me. What I need from you is a friend who has my back. That’s all I’m asking,” Cool Guy said.

  “You know what Cool Guy, I can do that. I can do that,” One Way said.

  “Are you gonna be cool with my Mom, and not make her feel like she’s done something wrong because you don’t want to like her as much as you do?”

  One Way kept his eye on the kid. In the past forty-five minutes, the kid had pulled up six, nice sized trout. All he had on his hook was a half-eaten worm which closely resembled the state of his soul. If he pulled up one more, that would be enough for a decent fish fry for three people. As he was about to open his mouth to respond, Cool Guy pulled up a very large rainbow trout. Uriel checked his line and the half-eaten worm was now all the way eaten and his line was still bare.

  “Listen kid,” One Way said, “I can’t say I don’t like her because I don’t know either of you, but I can’t say that I do like her because I don’t know her.”

  “Then maybe, until you decide whatever it is you’re trying to decide, we create a neutral zone in the house, do a few friendly, get to know you activities, and go from there,” Cool Guy said.

  “Or maybe not,” One Way said. “Get those fish and let’s go. I’ll take care of the fire.”

  “I think a neutral zone is a great idea, like in The Hunger Games,” he said.

  “Is that where you developed such a clear insight into the nature of man?”

  “I learned a lot of stuff by reading books,” Cool Guy said with a wink.

  Chapter Five – Turn Around

  Uriel Tamagotchi wasn’t a man who believed in, reveled in or consented to being around people who were indecisive. It wasn’t his way. He took his time thinking a matter through before decreeing a course of action. The woman was right. He liked the boy and the kid reminded him a little of himself at the same age. He’d grown up without his father, relying the on the kindness of Joe Neary, or Reverend Young to guide him into manhood, which was later taken over by Gabriel Neary. At times he wasn’t so sure the Archangel guided him into the light or down an eternal path of darkness which consisted of him extinguishing the flame of lives petering down the final wick. However, a crossroad had been reached. The phone call needed to be made to rid himself of the nuisance he named Woman.

  “I’ll call Louisville after lunch,” he told them both. One Way dumped oil into the cast iron pot on the back porch, sitting it atop a propane fueled fire to cook the fish. He saw no reason to stink up the lemony fresh house with fried fish, especially after the woman had worked so hard to get everything a lemon sparkling cleaning. He may have been a stone-cold killer, but he wasn’t without manners.

  “Sounds good,” she told him, listening to the sound of the fish sizzle in the hot grease. The woman cleared her throat the second the boy left to get more fish from the kitchen sink. “I guess he told you about his father.”

  “Nope. He told me he had one. He said he wasn’t looking for another.”

  “Is that all he said.”

  “Yep.”

  She moved closer, but One Way took two steps back, pointing for her to head back to her chair. Her hands rested on her hips as she spoke to him in a low voice, “I was getting closer so my son wouldn’t hear what I was going to say.”

  “You ain’t got nothing to say to me that he can’t hear,” One Way told her, “state your words.”

  “My words are...you didn’t ask him about his father?”

  One Way took the long-handled metal spoon, moving the fish around in the oil. When it rose to the top of pot, it would be done and ready for a bit of hot sauce, a dash of yellow mustard, and a good ole fashioned slice of white bread. In the freezer he had a bag of frozen okra, that he battered with large diced chunks of green tomatoes, dropping those into the hot grease as well.

  “One, I didn’t ask because it’s none of my business. Two, I didn’t ask, because I don’t care unless you’re on the run from him and he’s hot on your trail, which isn’t the case, because if that were so, you would have said so before now,” One Way spoke, “which answers your question. It’s not relevant to me.”

  “Then why in the hell are we still here?”

  “Woman, do you have somewhere else to be?”

  “Well, no...”

  “Are you safe, with a roof over your head, and food in your belly?”

  “Yes, but...”

  “But what? Sometimes, the best time for a bird to stop singing is when it’s warm,” One Way cautioned. “The moment you start flapping your beak is when shit starts to get real. If you want to be gone, here, watch the fish. I’ll go make the call.”

  He stuck the spoon out, passing to it her as he turned to walk away. Before she knew it, she grabbed his arm. The way he reacted, one would have thought she touched his bare skin with the hot spoon the way he jumped in the air.

  “Don’t touch me! I have told you, time and time again to not touch me, yet every chance you get you have to put your meddlesome hands on me! What is wrong with you!” he snapped at her, walking past the kid who’d run outside once the yelling started.

  The woman’s face showed pure mortification. Cool Guy was frowning at her and before she knew what else to do, she took off running towards the wood line. Her son screamed for her to stop, bringing One Way out of the house. She ran blindly into the thicket of shrubs, touching tree trunks and heading straight for the line of fire. Before anything could touch her skin, the air was knocked out of her as One Way tackled her, bringing the woman to the ground, hard on her back.

  “Get off me!” She screamed, wiggling under him.

  “Be still you crazy person!”

  The sound of arrows whizzing by sang out as the poison darts made contact with trees. “Cool Guy, get down. Get down low and crawl inside of the house.”

  He lay atop of her for several minutes as she struggled against him. The more she struggled the more he became irritated, ready to strangle her within an inch of her life. “Be still Woman!”

  “Get off me. Let me go. I’m so sick of your hostility. I can’t win with you. I didn’t mean any harm. I was simply trying to stop you and you act as if I broke your vow of contact and celibacy,” she said.

  “If you keep moving like you are, you will,” he said, rolling off of her, and springing to his feet. He held out his hand and yanked her body off the ground. His attention went to the trees and the darts, each of which were numbered. The numbers told him which traps the arrows came from and which ones needed to be replaced.

  “You’re celibate?”

  “I am, and you have no right to touch me. You are jeopardizing my journey to cleanse my spirit,” One Way lied.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” she told him. “Oh my God! I’ve been...oh Jesus. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I promise, I will respect your space and your boundaries.”

  “Well, maybe I should have told you I’d taken a vow of celibacy last week and then we wouldn’t be at each other’s throats,” he said, trying to muster a smile. Instead, his face looked as if he was smelling the fish which was burning. “Just great. You’re a hazard. An absolute menace. I need to call Louisville.”

  And with that, he walked away, leaving her standing in the woods feeling like a total ass. One Way was satisfied. Maybe now, he could get her to actually listen.

  ****

  Inside of the garage, away from prying ears, he made the call to Bleu Neary, who ran an outfit in Louisville called the Bleu’s Crew. A ragtag bunch of miscreants who helped him flip houses. A few of the homes The Archangel had used to resettle women and children on the run. He hoped they had at least a cottage available for the woman and child. At this point, he’d give up a hundred large to be rid of her.

  “Bleu’s Crew, Bleu Neary,” the strong voice said into the line.

  “You have One Way.”

  “Yeah, and what the hell do you want?”

  “A home for a woman and boy, about 13,” he told him. “Her car was set on fire and everything they owned was lost. I replaced some of the items, but they need somewhere to live.”

  “Not my department. Call the Archangel,” Bleu Neary said.

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not? Your fingers dialed me; your fingers can dial him.”

  “The last few technicians who called him for assistance in similar situations ended up wedded, and I’m not about that life,” One Way replied. “Can you help?”

  “No.”

  “No, you can’t, or no you won’t,” One Way inquired.

  “Both really. There’s a housing boom here, I don’t know why,” Bleu told him. “Everything we’ve got is gone, spoken for, and even a few we just bought, people have stopped in and paid a deposit for already. Deshondra, that’s my wife, she’s selling whole communities faster that we can get inside and flip them. I kid you not, we had one last week, we’d just gotten the sheet rock in and a man paid cash money for it, said he’d finish it himself. We have nothing.”

  “Will you have anything in a few months, maybe in Ohio, or elsewhere?”

  “Not likely,” Bleu told him. “Pookie Jenkins, that’s my designer, he’s working day and night to get the designing done and I think that pink cowboy boot weari
ng fool is about to collapse.”

  One Way remembered Pookie. A very large man to hold such a moniker for a tiny person, who was as flamboyant as the day was long. An idea hit him.

  “Maybe the woman can serve as Pookie’s assistant if you give her and the boy a place to live,” One Way suggested.

  Bleu started to laugh. He laughed so hard and so long, One Way wanted to hang up on the man. For years, Bleu worked for the ATF as a mind shrinker. He knew how to get inside the minds of criminals and the longer a person talked to him, the more he found out. One Way was preparing to end the call.

  “She’s cute ain’t she?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The woman, she’s cute and you want some of that don’t you?” Bleu asked laughing. “You’re trying to get her out of your house before that middle of the night throb makes you tip to the guest room and help yourself to a big ole slice of that pie.”

  “Pie? What are you talking about Bleu?”

  “Fur pie man,” Bleu said laughing. “You want her so bad the smell of soap on her skin makes you want to rut like a raging bull who has been out in the pasture too long. Is that it, Uriel has it been too long? Does the woman make you feel civilized with home cooked meals and a domicile that doesn’t smell like your ass and sweaty feet, and now you feel like you’re getting soft in all the wrong places?”

  “You know what...I can’t fucking stand you,” One Way said. “Your whole fricking family is a bunch of sociopaths with advanced degrees earned so you can learn the best way to mentally manipulate people. The payment always comes due Bleu.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Uri?”

  “You’re playing with my life. I’m trying to do the right thing and show this woman and child that not all men in the world want something in return. I called asking for help and you are psycho mind screwing me,” One Way snapped.

  “I’m just telling you, little brother, get a grip on your emotions,” Bleu said. “Your knee jerk reaction, which you always do, and have done, is to push away anything and anyone that has a chance to get close. The desire to sink your cock into her on a regular basis is too much like normal for you and you’re scared.”

  “I ain’t scared of shit!”

  “Says the man trying to unload a defenseless woman on the likes of Pookie Jenkins,” Bleu said.

  “She’s a menace. She doesn’t listen. She ran into the woods and nearly got herself taken down,” One Way said.

  “And why was she running from you?”

  “Who said she was running rom me?”

  “She wasn’t running from her own child dipshit,” Bleu said. “Try, for one minute to not be so much of you. Maybe what’s coming due has arrived and you have to deal with it before you can move on to what happens next.”

  “I can’t have them here and do my job.”

  “Then take a leave of absence,” Bleu said. “It’s not as if the Southeast Crew is the only team in operations. The Midwest, Northeast and even the Western division can pick up the slack should you need a time out.”

  “Why did I call you again?”

  “Because you love me,” Bleu said, “also you needed a smack across your nose to be better. Stop snapping at her, which I’m sure you’re doing because your balls are backed up.”

  “You know nothing about my balls.”

  “If you haven’t gotten any in the last six months ninja master, then you’re backed up. When you get backed up, you get testy,” Bleu said. “Take a hot shower and rub one out while you think about killing baby bunny rabbits or whatever it is you do to get off.”

  “I hate you so much.”

  “Yeah, yeah, but listen,” he said taking a long, pregnant pause, which One Way also knew was a tactic of the mind humping game. “You have a chance to turn this around. Use an excuse to put distance between you like tell her your ninja way of life requires you to practice a vow of celibacy, or some shit.”

  “I told her that already,” he said, chuckling at the spot-on accuracy of Bleu Neary’s skillsets.

  “See, you’re thinking,” Bleu said. “Next, change the dynamic between you. If she thinks she’s harming your chance for spiritual enlightenment, she’ll listen and leave you alone. Then as a reward, take her and the boy out for a day of family fun.”

  “She’s not my family.”

  “And you’re no fucking fun, so it works out for everybody,” Bleu said. “You need anything else?”

  “A place for her to live that is not with me,” One Way said. “Maybe she can put on trailer on your place, and help out around your house.”

  “Nope, not happening,” Bleu said and ended the call.

  One Way felt defeated as he stood in the middle of his garage. There was one other option which he would take into consideration on Sunday. It might not be the ideal solution, but it was better than waking up another week with her in the house. He also remembered one other item; the movie given to him by Tim. In the garage, he found himself standing in between his trucks. The fishing poles were put back where the boy found them, just as he’d stored them. The tackle was properly stowed and the kid was still wearing that stupid shirt again.

  Such a simple item that brough the boy joy. Hopefully, the movie would as well. He reentered the house to find them both at the table waiting for him. One Way held up the movie.

  “I forgot to tell you, my friend loaned me this,” he said to them both. “Maybe after dinner, we can watch it.”

  “Awesome! You’re going to love it,” Cool Guy said.

  “It has a talking raccoon, so I doubt it,” One Way said.

  “Yes, but the racoon is a genius with weapons, kicking butt and he can fly a spaceship,” Cool Guy said with arched eyebrows.

  “Really?”

  “In the words of Rocket the raccoon, oh yeah,” Cool Guy said, lightening the mood and the air in the room.

  One Way breathed a sigh of relief. He could do this. He could get through this and figure out a plan without calling the Archangel. All he had to do was get through the weekend, and everything would work out just fine.

  At least that’s what he hoped.

  ****

  Blairsville, Georgia

  What he’d hoped, wasn’t panning out. The harder he tried to make the pieces stick together, at the least bit of resistance, all of it fell apart. No matter how much effort he put into trying to figure out the one corner of his mind that continue to go dark, no light was coming his way. He sat in the corner of the diner, staring out at the mountainside.

  It started here.

  Tempest Fateman had come here. Surely it wasn’t the eat the greasy food doled out in Styrofoam containers from a diner in the butt crack of Georgia. The Cleaner for the crew had come here.

  “I left her here and she ended up at home in Louisville,” he muttered to himself, still staring at the window. “How did she get from here to there? It’s just not adding up.”

  The longer he stared the darker his thoughts became until finally, the jangle of the doorbell drew his attention. A tall man, muscular, walking with a limp entered. The ball cap on his head kept the man from seeing his eyes as he observed him order a fish dinner, with cornbread waffles, hushpuppies with extra coleslaw. He also ordered a Redpop, a peach soda and a grape one for his little girl, or so he said.

  “Is that all for ya Zeke?” The woman with the thick ankles asked.

  “Yeah, I think that’s enough Mabel, but I sure would love a couple of slices of your lemon pound cake,” Zeke Neary said.

  “Coming right up,” Mabel replied, lumbering her massive body over to the order window. She yelled into the back the order, more than likely spraying spittle on everything waiting to be sent to a table.

  The man looked familiar. Again, the dark spot in his head would allow him to place the face, in the space, where he’d seen it. He didn’t want to stare but the profile view of the man, nearly made his breath catch.

  A jangle from the doorbell brought in another tall man, who seem to know the other tall man. They appeared to be friends. He watched quietly, waiting for a tell or an indication of where he knew them from or had seen each. The second man moved like an Apex predator. The first man, who moved stiffly, had suffered an injury but the way his eyes frequently scanned the room for perceived and unperceived threats said law enforcement.