Flesh and Blood (24 page)

He shook his head.

I slapped him again, harder this time.

“It wasn’t a question, but a statement of fact,” I said.

He shook his head again, and I drove my knee into his nose, blood spurting out, covering his face and shirt, my pants leg and shoe.

I knew when I was sober again, I’d feel guilty about what I was doing—not for doing it to someone like Taylor, but for how much I was enjoying it, and how easy it was for me to betray everything I believed in.

“You like harassing women,” I asked.

This time he didn’t shake his head, just continued holding his nose.

“We’re gonna show you what it’s like for them,” I said.

Merrill smiled, his bright white teeth lighting up the area around us. “He sayin’ we gonna make you our little bitch,” Merrill said.

Obviously a slow learner, Taylor shook his head and said, “You some cunt’s boyfriend or somethin’? If your slut strays she should get the beating not the guy who obliged her with a little cock.”

“I heard it was little,” Merrill said. “Big of you to admit it.”

Merrill then kicked Taylor’s balls so hard it had to have driven them up into his body cavity. After a few moments of excruciating pain, Taylor passed out.

Dragging Taylor down to the lake, we dropped him in the water. When he came to and pulled his head up, gasping and choking, we let him have one quick inhalation and then shoved him back under.

We repeated the process a few times before letting him up for good. After he finished coughing up water and was breathing again, he began to cry, a long string of snot from his left nostril nearly touching the ground.

“Taylor, you listening?” I asked. “Do we finally have your attention?”

He nodded.

“If you ever harass or force yourself on any woman again or even look in Laura Matthers direction, we’ll be back,” I said. “And if we come back, it’ll be to kill you.”

“No warnings,” Merrill said. “No questions. No chances. No mercy. Just a little noise, searing pain, and lights out.”

“Understand?” I asked.

He nodded.

“Let me hear you say the words, Taylor,” I said.

“I understand,” he said.

We turned and began to walk away.

“But I never did nothin’ to that Matthers bitch she didn’t want me to,” Taylor said.

Merrill looked at me. “He tryin’ to set some sort of record?” Glancing back down at Taylor he said, “You really that slow or you one of them masochist motherfuckers?”

I withdrew the empty .38 from my pocket, stepped over to Taylor, pressed the barrel to his forehead, thumbed back the hammer, and pulled the trigger.

Taylor began to cry again when he realized he heard the dry fire of the empty cylinder. He began to beg, too, pleading and promising and praying, and in the process, he wet his pants.

“Told you,” Merrill said. “How much you owe me?”

“Didn’t take the action,” I said. “I knew putting stock in Taylor’s fortitude was a sucker bet if there ever was one.”

“It won’t miss-fire next time, Taylor,” I said. “I promise you that.”

The next day I was just returning to the chapel from visiting the infirmary, when my phone rang.

“So far,” Merrill said loudly above the background noise, “Price keepin’ his distance. In fact, I the only bastard been followin’ our favorite delivery girl.”

“Delivery person,” I corrected.

He was calling from a cell phone near a highway. I could hear vehicles speeding by, and somewhere in the distance, the warning beeps of a commercial vehicle backing up.

“Well, whatever she is, she alone.”

It was his day to follow her. We had been taking turns, but neither of us had yet to spot anyone.

“You sound disappointed,” I said.

“Well, I
was
hoping,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

“You think we scared him away?”

“Oh, we scared him,” he said, “but was he the one doin’ the stalkin’?”

“Didn’t seem like it, did it?”

“Hard to tell with these pansy-ass mama’s boys.”

We were quiet a moment, as I thought about Taylor Price and the likelihood of him having been the one following Laura.

“Word on the street is you and Jake play a little Cain and Abel at the landin’ the other night.”

“Uh huh,” I said. “What else is new?”

“I hear it involved me,” he said. “He tell you why?”

“No.”

“I took April out Friday night,” he said.

“As in his ex-wife, April?” I asked.

“Uh huh.”

“Well now,” I said, “that makes it all worthwhile.”

He laughed. “I’m glad you feel that way,” he said. “’Cause we goin’ out again this weekend. Anyway, I just wanted you to know that everything is everything. The delivery girl, ah, person, is safe.”

“Never doubted that,” I said.

“Let me rephrase that,” he said. “She safe from whoever was followin’ her, but I on the case now, so she not safe from me. I one charmin’ motherfucker. I’ve tried to tone it down some, but only so far it can go.”

“I understand,” I said. “You
could
tell her about my wonderful qualities. Might deflect some of her attention.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I should. Remind me what they are again.”

“She knows,” I said. “Why don’t you have
her
tell
you
?”

He turned his mouth away from the phone slightly. “Well, it would appear that Blockbuster now has all they new releases. Time for us to roll up on Victoria’s Secret.”

“Victoria’s got no secrets left,” I said.

“That’s what I’m hopin’,” he said and hung up.

I opened my door to find Laura holding a package, completely naked except for her FedEx cap.

“Special delivery,” she said. “For your package.”

Though mine was the only mobile home in the failed second phase of the Prairie Palm, it was still a brave thing to do, and it made me want her even more.

I ushered her into my trailer and closed the door behind her.

Her body was lean and tan—the look on her face somehow innocent and seductive. Her small firm breasts trembled slightly from the force of her beating heart and her belly beneath them looked to have been sculpted by an artistic and meticulous God. And even lower, between two muscular legs, was a dark, thick, triangular garden that promised sweet and tender fruit.

She handed me the package. The address read: John Jordan, 69 Sex Drive, Pottersville, FL 32412.

“What’s inside?”

“A tube of KY,” she said, “but we don’t need it. I’m practically dripping. See.”

She put two fingers inside herself, moaning as she did, then brought them up to my lips. I kissed her fingertips, took them in my mouth, tasting her, then pulled her to me and kissed her hard and long.

When we had finished kissing, she dropped to her knees, unzipped my pants and took me in her mouth. I tried to undress, but as I did, her teeth scraped me, and I stopped.

“Here, let me help,” she said, standing again, and undressing me.

When we were both naked, I led her over to the couch, sat her down, and knelt between her legs. She moaned as I licked along her inner thigh, arching her back and tilting her head toward the ceiling as I made my way up her leg.

After we made love, I had too much to drink, and we made love again, repeating this process until I blacked out at some point.

When I regained consciousness, we were lying on the couch together beneath a blanket.

“Welcome back,” she said.

“How long was I out?”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “A while.”

I didn’t say anything and we were quiet for a long moment.

“Taylor sent me flowers today,” she said.

I raised up and looked at her.

“He apologized for any misunderstanding,” she said. “What’d you do to him?”

“Just let him know what it’s like to be afraid,” I said.

“Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that,” she said. “Not anymore. Thanks to you.”

“I don’t think he’ll bother you anymore,” I said, “but if he comes around again, just call us.”

I was alone in the chapel praying when the phone rang. The sanctuary was dim and cool, and I didn’t want to leave it but I didn’t have a choice. Most of the calls that came into my office were crises.

“Chaplain Jordan,” I said.

“Hey, handsome,” Laura said. “Whatcha doin’?”

“Tryin’ to climb out of the bottle before I drown,” I said.

“What?”

“What’re you up to?”

“Just wanted to see if I could come over and cook dinner for you tonight,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said, “but I can’t tonight.”

“Got a date?”

I laughed. “With destiny,” I said.

“Huh?”

“I’m going to a meeting.”

“I think you’ve got a good handle on things,” she said.

I didn’t say anything.

“Aren’t you more relaxed?” she asked. “Having more fun? Aren’t you just as good of a chaplain? Can you name one way drinking is detracting from your life?”

“How many times have I passed out?”

“Just a few,” she said.

“That’s a few too many,” I said.

“Can we get together after your meeting?” she asked.

“Not tonight,” I said.

“But—”

“I’ve got to go,” I said.

“Okay,” she said, “but be careful. Don’t mess around and lose me.”

“You avoiding me?” Laura asked.

I had nearly a week of sobriety, and I hadn’t seen her within that time.

“Not at all,” I said. “Just been busy.”

“I miss you,” she said. “And the things you do to me.”

“I’m finding that, at least for now, solitude helps me maintain my sobriety.”

“I understand,” she said. “I just miss you so much. But I’m proud of you and support what you’re doing. Sorry if I wasn’t sensitive before.”

“Thanks,” I said. “That means a lot.”

“Well, I mean it,” she said. “I’m here. Anything you need. And when you feel like we can get together again, let me know.”

“I will.”

We were quiet a moment, and I could tell she had something else to say.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said, but it wasn’t very convincing.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” she said. “Really.”

“Laura,” I said. “It’s okay. Tell me.”

“I know you’ve got a lot on you,” she said. “I didn’t want to say anything, but I really don’t know who else to turn to.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m being followed again,” she said.

“You let me cap his ass, we wrap this thing up,” Merrill said.

“It’s not him,” I said.

“I’s wondering if he that stupid,” he said.

We were sitting in Merrill’s truck, a black Toyota 4 x 4, on Pensacola Street in Tallahassee across from Laura’s apartment watching a man watching her through one of the rear windows. Merrill had called me shortly after I got home and said that, at last, someone was actually following Laura besides us.

The man who was not Taylor Price was young and thin, and wearing all black. He was standing near a small grouping of Bradford Pear trees near the fence behind her apartment. He’d probably chosen black attire to help conceal his presence, but it had the opposite affect, drawing attention to both the outfit and his pale face.

“He a stalker or a cat burglar?” Merrill asked.

I laughed.

“This his first time followin’ Laura since we started,” he said. “We wouldn’t a missed his ass.”

“I know.”

“You think ol’ Taylor was innocent after all?”

I shook my head. “Nothin’ innocent about him,” I said.

The young man, though partially hidden by the pear trees and the darkness, was easy to watch. He moved around a lot, as if cold or nervous, and nearly all of his gestures were exaggerated. He appeared to be stretching, as if preparing for a race.

“Not very good at this, is he?” Merrill said.

“Stalkin’s harder than it looks,” I said. “He’ll get better.”

“Less we put his ass in a wheelchair permanently,” he said.