Blood and Rain Page 5

  He wouldn't bring back my White Castle burgers. Said I'd stunk up the john too much last time I'd eaten them. He's probably right. I love the taste of them but they run right through me. So he went for Kentucky Fried Chicken and I went behind the bar and continued reading Felicia's diary.

  This is the first page where I found a mention of something unusual in her life. It was about three months ago.

  . . . Played in the chess tournament today. Kicked Ass! Oops, Mom would make me say I scored a profound triumph. I like Kicked Ass better!

  That white boy almost cried when he realized it was hopeless. I love it when they resign. I felt like jumping and screaming. But I didn't. That wouldn't be ladylike. Mom says I gotta be a lady.

  Something spooky today.

  Some guy was staring at me through the whole tournament. He dressed like he's rich and he might be kind of cute except he's so Old, Old, Old!!! Christ I think he's over 30. Yuck!!!

  When he looked at me it made me feel like I had a bug on my neck.

  Yuck!!!. . .

  There were a few pages of gossip and stuff like that. Then she went to a chess tournament in Bethalto.

  . . . He was watching me again. A coal black guy. He looked slick in this three-piece suit . . .

  Felicia's attitude seemed to be changing toward this watcher. She wasn't calling him spooky now.

  . . . He was staring at me. Smiling at me. His eyes are penetrating like he looks in my soul . . .

  Several more times she wrote of him at chess tournaments. Then he made a stronger overture than just a look after a tournament.

  . . . He passed me a note today. God what a romantic. . .

  Between the pages of the journal at this point there was a folded piece of paper, a poem. It read.

  You move the pieces

  And they all watch

  But only I understand

  They do not see

  You are their queen

  They are pawns

  In your hand

  The King

  Pretty lame poem, I thought. But what was really important was what Felicia had thought about it. She wrote:

  . . . Poem was cute. He doesn't seem like such a bad guy, just real lonely…

  Made me feel like Felicia must be real lonely. I thought about it and realized that without Felicia having a father or any male around her at home on a regular basis, she must feel a need for a father figure of some sort. That left her particularly vulnerable to the kind of freak this asshole was. Made me want to twist this guy's head off. Julia couldn't help the fact that she didn't have a husband. There just weren't too many good men around in East St. Louis to choose from. And this asshole was going to take advantage of a little girl because of that.

  . . . He talked to me today. He's not like the boys at school. He knows things. He's a man . . .

  There was another piece of folded paper between the pages. Another poem:

  There is so much

  There is no way of knowing

  That I can teach

  What level you can reach

  I will come to you

  And take you there

  Forever, Forever

  We will walk on air

  The King

  This guy is a sick puppy no doubt about it. I decided right then that I was going to be the cure for his sickness.

  On the next page there were comments about another chess tournament. This one at The Fairview Heights High School. Then there was:

  . . . He was there again tonight. We talked after the tournament. He really seems like he listens to me. And when he looks at me it really seems like he sees me like I see me. He says he's going to visit me at home after Mom is at work some night . . .

  That was Felicia's last entry.

  I'm guessing that he did visit her and took her with him. I didn't know how I was going to find Felicia and this freak, but I knew I had to.

  So all I had was a description and a real vague one at that.

  He's maybe thirty years old, dresses rich, and has coal black skin and penetrating eyes.

  That fits about half the black guys in East St. Louis except for the clothes and those can be changed. What I had was nothing.

  * * *

  Leave It To Beaver had gone off and Lost In Space was about half over when the drunk at the bar told me to give him a beer for free.

  I told him nothing is free in life, so he gave me the finger, said I was a cheap bastard and staggered out the door.

  A few minutes later, Johnny walked in carrying a bucket of chicken. Coming in after Johnny was that kid who had been with the two idiots who jumped me the night before.

  "Well, ain't this a fuckin treat," I said and started around the bar.

  "Hold on a minute there," Johnny said with his hand in the air motioning me to stop. "Terry is a kid and there's something he wants to say to you."

  I came around the bar and told Johnny, "If he's old enough to run with the two assholes who jumped me, he's old enough to take the same kind of ass whippin I gave them. Unless he gives me a good reason not to."

  "Look man," Terry said. "I don't really even know those guys. That was the first time I'd even hung out with them. If they jumped you, I'm sorry but I didn't have anything to do with it. Hell, man, I was out of there right when they tried to pull that shit here."

  Johnny sat the bucket of chicken down on a table. "So are you going to be peaceful or am I going to have to beat you with a chicken leg," he said to me.

  I sat down and pulled off the top of the bucket. Johnny sat down. Terry remained standing.

  "Well sit down, "I told him motioning him to a chair." I'm too goddamned hungry to argue. And I figure I ain't gonna be safe around here until I eat these four legs."

  After we'd all eaten a couple pieces of the Colonial's greasiest, I told Terry I was looking for a kid he might know and showed him Felicia's picture.

  "Yeah I know Felicia," Terry said. "I've been wonderin why she wasn't in school. I was gonna go by her house, but I don't think her mom likes me."

  So I told him about Felicia's disappearance.

  "Look man," Terry said with his face set real serious. "I really like Felicia. She's real nice. I even asked her out once. Her mother said no. So look, if there's any way I can help you to get her back home, just let me know."

  I told him I would.

  "You know," he said. "Felicia's mom is all right but she should've gave me a chance, ya know. I would've treated Felicia right. She's really special, ya know."

  "Julia is the kind of woman," I told Terry. "That you'll have to prove yourself special before you get a chance with her daughter."

  "I guess you're right," Terry said.

  We ate more chicken. Johnny and I drank a couple of Budweiser’s. Terry drank a coke.

  Star Trek came on. Johnny talked about Uhuru’s ass under that short skirt. Star Trek went off.

  A couple of local guys came in. They rolled dice with Johnny on the bar.

  A bad idea. He beat them for about thirty dollars apiece before they got disgusted and left.

  About eight thirty, Terry got up to leave. Again he offered to help to find Felicia.

  I told him I'd keep him in mind. He left.

  Some other local guys came in and started playing dice with Johnny.

  He knows better than to ask me to play. I've already lost too much money to him to play him anymore.

  I don't mind it that Johnny cheats at dice. It's just that he's so damn good at it that I can never catch him at it that bothers me.

  Somebody started playing the jukebox. It was something about "a very special girl, the kind you won't take home to momma." Yeah, I thought, probably the kind I'd throw a paper bag on her head and hope it never comes off. I can't stand that kind of shit music.

  So about ten, I headed home.

  CHAPTER 12

  GHOST'S

  It's raining lightly outside. Seems like it’s always raining. I get in my car and turn on the ignition. I know I
'll be home before the heater is warm so I don't even bother turning it on. It's only a block anyway. I turn on the radio instead.

  Elton John is singing Someone Saved My Life Tonight. As I drive home I think about Terry and the look on his face when he talked about Felicia. There was a yearning and a hunger and something else indescribable, the need for a man to be better than he is and to do it for someone else. Maybe Terry, in his own teenage high school way, was in love with Felicia. He sure wanted to look good in her eyes, I could tell that.

  Not so long ago, I could have been like that. I could have been the kind of guy who would accomplish great things for a woman that I loved. But I've lost that now. Now I'm hollow.

  Kira, I could have saved your life that night. I should have saved you from me.

  With you gone, who's gonna save me now? It probably doesn't even matter, since I'm already dead.

  * * *

  In my apartment I turn on the TV and head to the icebox. I have about half of a quart bottle of Ancient Age whiskey left over.

  That should do the job. I should have learned long ago to not let myself think about Kira any time after dark.

  Not if I plan on sleeping that night.

  But the Ancient Age should do the trick. Maybe Kira's ghost will sleep tonight.

  I check my bruises in the mirror. They're fading a little bit. But my ribs are still tender. The swelling around my eye has gone down. But it's still purple.

  What the hell. I can see and that's what matters.

  While I lay on my couch the TV spoke to me. On the news good old President Ronnie Reagan told me how to be a better American.

  I took a big drink of Ancient Age. Jesus, it tasted as old as its name said it was. I looked at Reagan, the wrinkled old fuck, and said, "Fuck you Ronald. Why don't you go back to Death Valley Days and take the Rawhide from Bonzo right up your ass. As if you know what America is really like. You don't know shit."

  I changed the channel.

  M.A.S.H. is on. "Fuck you Hawkeye." I change the channel. Mork And Mindy is on. "Nannew Nannew you fuckin idiot." I change the channel again.

  All right, there he is. There's my boy. Psycho is coming on. Norman Bates, my hero, is walking down the steps of the Bates Motel. I like Norman. If there's anybody more fucked up than me it's Norman.

  I take a big harsh drink of Ancient Age and settle back to watch.

  Norman, what a well-adjusted guy.

  The whiskey is soothing my brain. Good! I blink my eyes watching Norman rent a room to a victim.

  He looks directly at me. Holding the key out to me. He says, "For you John." The set goes blank, only snow and the white noise of static.

  Kira Brooks walks into the room from the kitchen with a big bowl of popcorn in her hands.

  I jump up from the couch.

  "What's up with you," she says. "Is the movie on yet?"

  She sets the popcorn down on the coffee table. I go to her and take her in my arms and hold her to me. I'm crying. I can't stop it. Tears are running down my face.

  "What's the matter baby?" she asks and I look in her deep black eyes. I touch the chocolate skin of her cheek with my fingertips.

  "I thought you were dead," I tell her and kiss her soft lips. "I thought I'd lost you and I didn't want to live, but I didn't have a choice."

  "Oh Baby," she said in her husky sexy voice. "Don't worry. It's just a bad dream, just a dream. I'm here to take care of you."

  I wiped my tears away. "I just don't know what I'd do without you," I told her. "I know I don't say it enough but I love you." And I held her close as we walked to the bedroom.

  "Honey," Kira whispered in my ear like a frightened child. "Will you please quit dealing? You know I can't handle the cocaine. The only way I can stay away from it is for you to get rid of what we got and quit dealin."

  "Sure Baby," I tell her and she breathes heavy as I kiss her neck. "I'll sell what I got," I say as I unbutton her blouse and kiss her breasts. "Then I'll quit dealin. I'll have enough money to quit."

  I know I'm lying even as I pull her blue jeans off of her slim legs and she pulls my clothes off me.

  "You promise," Kira says and moans as I rub my face on the skin between her legs and then on her stomach.

  "I promise," I tell her and pull her panties off and throw them.

  Kira's breathing harsh now. "You'll get rid of it and not get no more," she gasps.

  "Yes," I lie and I plunge myself into her.

  She gasps and whimpers, "Oh, God thank you," and pulls me deep into her and we move together. Both of us are one rhythm.

  Kira gasps and grabs me tight. She screeches, "Oh, Lord, Oh, Oh, Lord."

  And I pound into her seeing her face contorted and tight.

  "Oh, Lord," Kira yells then screams loud a high pitched squeal. She goes rigid. Muscles all tight and I see it. The white spots around her nostrils. The cocaine left there.

  Her head is thrown back, her eyes bulging. The veins on her necks stick out. She's trembling.

  "No, No, No," I scream but I know it's too late. I've lived this before.

  She's in my arms and I'm inside Kira but she is dead. I can feel the heat of her draining away.

  I pound on her chest but it doesn't work. She's dead. My Kira is dead.

  I try CPR but she doesn't respond.

  Her eyes are open, staring…dead.

  I pound on her chest and yell, "No," and find myself pounding on the ground, on the dirt. I know I'm kneeling on her grave as I've done countless times since her death.

  How could I let it happen?

  I left my uncut cocaine in the house with the woman I loved who was addicted to it. She begged me dozens of times to quit dealing and each time I lied and told her I would.

  But I never did and now it was too late.

  "Oh, Kira," I said digging my fingers into the dirt. "I'm so sorry babe. I'm so sorry." Tears run down my face as my head hangs down.

  The ground below me is a trembling. Then two hands shoot up from the damp earth and grasp me around the throat in a choking deadly embrace.

  Kira has got me by the throat. Her arms are dry, sticks. Her face is partially eaten away. Bugs fall from where her right eye had once been. The left stares at me with hatred. She opens her mouth and maggots pour out.

  "Come with me baby," she says and I feel myself dragged down below the dirt into the darkness by her claw like hands on my throat.

  I try to scream but I can't breathe. I can't breathe. There's a beating in my ears, my heart pounding, pounding.

  I bolt upright on the couch and I scream. But the pounding continues.

  The door, the door, it's the door, I finally realize after my eyes focus a bit. Someone is pounding on the door.

  I stand, my legs shaky, trying to shake the dream out of my head and go and answer the door.

  PART II

  TACTICS

  AND

  STRATEGY

  Kill the body

  And the head will die

  - Joe Louis

  The Candyman can. . .

  - Sammy Davis Jr.

  Out here at the bottom of the deep blue sea

  The fish are never

  Quite what they seem

  Some of them kill

  Some of them die

  But no one will ever

  Answer why. . .

  - The Walker in Darkness

  In the dark

  We are all blind.

  - The Walker in Darkness

  CHAPTER 13

  MOMMA ROSA AND SLOP CHEWY

  It was Rosa Delgado at the door. I pulled the door open and she came in saying, "Wake up sleepy head."

  I must have groaned because I had a horrible headache and her words felt like ice picks in both ears.

  Rosa was a short, chunky, happy Spanish woman in her fifties who charged me fifty dollars a week to do my laundry and clean up my apartment.

  "What time is it?" I asked Rosa.

  "Noon," she said and looking the pla
ce over she made a noise like, "Ayeeieechee!" And said, "The pigs live here."

  "Thanks," I said. I was still dressed in the same clothes I had worn the night before and my chest felt sticky. I think I fell asleep while taking a drink of the whiskey and spilled it all over myself.

  "Tell me," Rosa says, "Are all white men as messy as you are?"

  "Only when they can be," I say.

  Rosa moves around the place picking things up and putting the apartment in some kind of order.

  I get some clothes from the closet and walk past Rosa on the way to the bathroom.

  "Whooo you smell," she says. "A Mexican man could not be as dirty as you. A Mexican woman would not let him be."

  "I know Rosa," I told her. "I need a woman just like you."

  "I'm too much for you," she says and laughs, "I'd wear you out."

  I go in the bathroom and shave and when I close the door to take a shower, she shouts through the door, "Don't you play with yourself in there. I know all you white men are perverts."

  I take five aspirins and shout back just before I step in the shower, "You love me don't you Rosa?"

  "Oh yeah," she answers. "Just like I love all my dogs. You're my favorite puppy."

  I like Rosa. She can get me going when I really don't feel like going.

  The shower made me feel like I was almost human again, but I was still walking around in a fog. I got dressed and came out of the bathroom.

  Rosa was finishing up what few dishes I had. She had already finished cleaning up the rest of the apartment and had the laundry stacked by the front door.

  "Damn you're fast," I tell her.

  "Too fast for you," Rosa answered.

  She finished the dishes and I paid Rosa. Then I helped her carry the laundry to her family's apartment just down the hall. She knew I'd pick it up the next day.