It was Wednesday morning. I was getting ready for the morning shift at Price Bargains when I got the call. Michael’s offer was accepted. I immediately phoned Michael to tell him the good news. He expressed his gratitude and we talked about the next steps in the process. “I can’t thank y’all for everything,” he drawled causing my knees to go.
My next call was to Dee to give her the good news. She was thrilled to hear it and appropriately reciprocated by giving me the dirt on their lunch. Which, she said, went very well. “Would you like me to handle setting up the home inspection?” she offered.
I graciously accepted, relieved, because I wasn’t quite sure what to do. She promised to contact all the right players. And, as I hung up, I noticed she didn’t ask for Michael’s phone number. And, I know I didn’t give it to her.
Just as I was getting ready to walk out the door, the phone rang again. “Is this Tina?” the gravely voice on the other end asked. I assured my caller he was talking to me. “Yea, this is Rocky from Landscape Experts.”
Rocky? Oh please. “No it isn’t.” I said quickly. “Nobody in their right mind named Rocky would be in the landscape business.
“Yea, lady? You think you are the first person to find my name funny?” Fortunately for me, he didn’t wait for my answer. “This Daniels guy said to call you. He needs some landscaping done and said you had the address.” I rolled my eyes. Where did Mr. Daniels find these people?
“I am pretty surprised,” I said, “Mr. Daniels knows the address to his house. I wonder why he didn’t just give it to you?”
“I don’t know either. You got the address or not?” I sighed, reciting the address for him. Afterwards, I called Val to see if Mr. Daniel’s agreement had been miraculously faxed over. Nope.
Again hoping to slide out to work I was reaching for the doorknob when it rang again. “He called me.” Amy sing-songed.
“That’s great Amy. Listen, I need to go—,”
She cut me off. “Don’t you want to know what happened?” she whined.
“Yes I do.” I lied. “But, I am late for an appointment, so I need to go. I will call you later ok?”
This time, Amy let me off the hook. Figuring there was a higher power involved in getting our call wrapped up so quickly, I said a prayer of thanks. Flinging open the door into the hot August morning, I was ready to start my day.
Two seconds and three feet out the door, I peered over to my car, baking in the desert sun, and shook my head. No, I resolved, I would not sere my thighs today on my car seats. I did a quick one-eighty into the house for a beach towel to place between the seat and my backside. I swear I was preoccupied for no less than thirty seconds. But, it was long enough.
“Hey.” I jumped at the voice out of nowhere, finding it coming from the man standing in the doorway.
I stood there, towel in hand, too afraid to scream. I recognized his face, his ball cap, his tattoo and his voice. He was taller than I thought and much more muscular than I expected. He was defiantly part Latino, with darker skin and eyes. He was wearing bagging shorts and a tank top. I froze as he came near me.
“Hey. Tina is it?” He asked, when he finally was in arm’s length. “I am looking for your friend.”
My fear turned to anger. I did not sign up for these crazies. I did not ask Laura to leave. And, I certainly didn’t ask to be late for work. I snapped. After the week I had, I was tired of everything scary and unpredictable and this, this goon—Juan was it?
At that very second, I didn’t give a damn if he killed me on the spot. The look I gave him conveyed my anger. Juan seemed taken aback I wasn’t shaking in fear. He took a tentative step backwards. Too late, I was pissed.
“You are looking for Laura? You! Well dude, take a friggen number. I am looking for Laura. Other people are coming around here looking for Laura. Hell, Laura’s own mother is looking for Laura. If you called the Vatican
Off guard, he took an unbalanced step backwards. I pushed him again, finding it didn’t do anything to him, but it made me angrier.
“Look,” he said with a bit of irritation in his voice, “I just want to talk to her.”
“So do I! Why do you want to talk to her? Why is she running? Is she running from you or one of the other crazies around here?” He said nothing, so I got louder. “Answer me! Why did she leave?”
“I dunno, she was doing fine paying on time. Then, something happened and she stopped. I don’t get it she only had five more payments to go.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“She was paying on time—,” realization dawned him and a sick smile spread across his face. “You don’t have a clue, do you?”
I threw my hands up. “Do I look like I know what is going on?”
Juan ignored the comment, instead shaking his head. “The big guy wanted to teach her a lesson. She don’t want to pay him, so he decided to go after her insurance money. Now, she won’t talk to the adjuster. You don’t mess with him—look what happened to your tires?”
My face grew hot as the light bulb went on. I could feel the realization spreading across my face. “You mean Carl? She borrowed money from Carl?” I was incredulous. Who—other than me—would do something so stupid?
Juan laughed at my naivety. “Yea, Carl’s company. And, Carl don’t like it when people miss a payment. She was still paying Carl—so he still owns her. That’s why you are living here, you know. Carl told her she had to keep an eye on you and report back if she thought you were going to bolt.”
Juan smiled a toothy menacing grin. My face burned and my stomach dropped a few feet.
“But, Carl don’t like to be bossed around,” he said
“Look, she isn’t coming back. She is selling the house and moving on.” I hoped my lie would be good enough.
Juan shook his head. “She’s coming back. The insurance company is making her fill out a bunch of forms before they can cut the check. She hasn’t done this yet.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Because the adjuster—he came over to the Sweet Shop looking for her. Roy
I gasped. “Roy the tow truck driver?” I shuttered as realization dawned. Roy
“Who did you think? He and Ed own the Sweet Shop. Roy
“So, you know Laura isn’t here. Why are you here?” I asked, afraid of his answer.
He let out a sigh. “It’s just business you know. Nothing personal. I just need to ask you, do you know where she is?” he took a step closer.
I shook my head. “You know I don’t.” I was hoping I still sounded tough.
Juan took another step toward me. “Well, you need to get a message to her.”
Holy shit! “Why? What—, what—, what do you mean?” I finally spit it out. “Look, what did I do? What kind of message?”
Juan was coming closer. He inadvertently blocked off the doors to the house and outside. I was talking fast, hoping to think of something—anything persuasive. Please God, please just let me live. I silently bargained everything I could think of.
And, because the automatic shut off valve in my mouth malfunctioned, I added, “I am already late for work. I don’t want to lose my job. Then I won’t be able to pay Carl.”
With this admission, I did the only practical thing I could think of. I snapped Juan with my towel. Somehow, in my fleeting moment of genius, I was under the impression a dry beach towel precisely snapped at Juan’s knees would be enough for him to turn and run screaming, never to be seen from again.
No luck. Juan just grabbed the end of the towel, and in one deft move, had me wrapped in it like a straight jacket. My arms were pinned to my side. I could smell his sweat as he stood close to me. I got one scream in before he slapped his hand over my mouth. “You need to relax and I won’t hurt you.” he seethed and I whimpered.
Juan dragged me to the bed and pushed me face down on to the bed, beach towel still bracing me and his weight keeping me from moving. I screamed and he instinctively grabbed my mouth, giving an audible sigh, like a mother with an ornery toddler.
“Now listen up you dare ever tell Carl I went easy on you and next time it won’t be so pretty for either one of us.” Easy on me? Was he serious.? I was scared out of my wits. “I need to know who you want me to call,” he said, scrolling through my phone book.
Reading the names, he got to Jet. “What kind of name is Jet?” I gave a muffled, and inaudible confirmation from behind his hand. Juan caught on, “You want me to call this one huh?” I will call this one in a couple of hours. And, I always keep my word.”
I tried to give him a few more muffled directives, but its effectiveness was lost. “One more thing,” he said, practically murmuring in my ear, “You tell anyone and next time Big Juan won’t go easy. It will be personal. I am supposed to be messing you up bad right now. Got it?”
And with that, he produced the now-familiar bottle and a small rag. Everything went dark.
There was a wet washcloth on my head and I felt like hell. A voice came from somewhere. No, two—three voices.
“I just got a call. Someone said Tina had food poisoning and needed help. It was from her phone, so I thought someone was with her. But, I found the phone outside the door and she was inside, taped up. I don’t get it.” Jet.
Somewhere, a woman sobbed and another man swore and said, “Do we go to the police?”
My eyes flew open. “No!” I gasped.
Matt, Frieda, Evan and Jet stared at me. “No you don’t.” I sat up, steadying myself with one hand and pointing to Matt with the other. I said, “You tell her to run like hell. You are talking to her. You know where she is. You tell her she has to get in touch with the insurance company. Get the insurance money and get out of Dodge.”
And, yelling at Matt having sucked all the strength out of me, I flopped back on the bed.
Frieda glared at Matt with a murderous look. “You know where she is? You told me you had no idea.” Her eyes were blazing. I almost felt sorry for Matt. Almost.
It was dark outside when I woke up again. Matt was sitting at my dinette playing solitaire. He looked over towards me, “Don’t get up.” He said, making his way over to the bed. “How are you feeling?” He asked, pulling the hair from my face.
“Where is everyone?” I asked, wondering if I dreamed the whole thing.
Matt perched himself next to me on the bed, grabbing my hands and planting a kiss on my forehead. “We can talk later—but not here. Are you up to going across the street? Are you hungry?”
I nodded, answering both questions.
“Come on. I will help you.”
At Matt’s house, he helped me on to the couch, promising to return momentarily. Keeping his word, he returned with my duffle bag. “I got some essentials from your house—toothbrush, clean underwear—I thought you might like your red set—I know I do” he smiled, holding them up for a closer inspection, “Something to sleep in, something to wear tomorrow if you decide to get up.”
For whatever reason, maybe Juan used more chloroform this time, or maybe because I struggled so much earlier, I was completely wiped out—emotionally and physically. Matt brought me some soup. I ate a bite and I felt sick to my stomach. Later that night, it took all of my strength just to lay on the couch watching the Diamondbacks game with Matt.
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