Jack Kursed (13 page)

"Tiffany!" Jack shouted. "What in the
hell are you doing in my shed?"

The girl managed a small
wave and smile.

"Uh...hi?"

"You know this girl?" Victoria
asked.

"Yeah. This is Tiffany March, a little
chronic runaway. And she's really starting to piss me
off."

A few tears ran down her
face.

"Please, can I stay here?
I'll stay out of the way."

"No, you can't live in my damn shed.
Get out of there."

Victoria grabbed his shoulder and
pulled him back as Tiffany made her way over the lawnmower and bags
of soil.

"What is going on?"

"I have no clue. She hates
her foster-mother. I can't say I blame her. The kid ran away from
home last night, says she saw a monster in the alley. I found her,
took her to the cops. Now she thinks my shed is a damn hotel
room."

Tiffany stumbled coming
out of the shed. Victoria caught her before she could fall, Tiffany
in one hand and her backpack in the other.

"Whoa, there. I’m
Victoria. You’re Tiffany?"

The girl nodded shyly.

"Well, Tiffany, let’s go
in the house and talk, get you something to drink."

"She’s not stepping foot
in my house. Look at her. She’s covered in filth."

"Jack," Victoria said, glaring at
him.

Tiffany walked through the
garden to the back door. Victoria moved slowly, her hand on Jack’s
shoulder.

"Come on. We have to help the
kid."

"No, we don’t. This is
bullshit. I do my one good deed per decade, and this is how it
turns out? I gave her a hand last night. Got her some food and let
the police take it from there. I can see the foster-mother gives
her a hard time, but that’s not my problem. The police didn’t care.
Why should I?"

"You don’t care
about anything, do you? Didn’t care about your hometown, didn’t
care about Monterrey. We should have a bunch of shirts printed up
that say
I Don’t Care
."

"If you think it’ll make
some money."

Despite their typical
butting-of-heads, she laughed.

"Look," he said, his face
hardening. "I’ve always been honest. The people that strung me up
and killed Angela...they all deserved to die. I am not a good
person, but I like who I am. I care about two people. Me, and you.
That’s it. Tiffany made me laugh a few times last night, but she’s
got her own problems to solve. She’s not my problem."

Victoria sighed, but liked hearing
that she was once again in his good graces.

"Let’s just take her
inside and figure out what to do. Then you can get back to your
wonderful life."

The three stepped through
the back door into the kitchen, and Jack immediately became
irritated. Tiffany tried her best to wipe her feet at the door, but
still tracked dirt onto the tile. He barely held in a
groan.

"Sorry," she said.

"Whatever. You thirsty?"

She eagerly nodded her head. Victoria
sat at the breakfast bar and motioned for Tiffany to do the
same.

"You’re very pretty,"
Tiffany told Victoria.

"Why, thank you. You’re a
very pretty little girl yourself."

"Okay," Jack said, pouring the child a
soda. "Not to interrupt this pretty-fest, but why did you run away
again? And how the hell did you even find my house?"

"Miss Simmons is the
meanest woman ever. I don’t want to live with her."

"Eh, life’s full of
disappointments. Get used to it now."

Victoria shot him a nasty
look.

"Anyway," he said. "My
house?"

Tiffany smiled and rooted
through her backpack. She produced her camera, and pulled up the
picture she was looking for. Jack traded the camera for the glass
of soda. He stared at the picture and laughed before handing it to
Victoria.

"They took her back to the station,
and she took a picture of the paperwork I filled out."

"I got directions from the
library," she said. "I’ve got a bunch of pictures. Pictures of the
police station, the policemen, Miss Simmons pretending to cry. But
the picture of the monster doesn’t look good. Maybe monsters can’t
have their picture taken."

Victoria laughed. "Clever
girl."

Jack tried not to smile,
but his lip curled up anyway.

"Tiffany, you’re a cool
kid. But you can’t stay in my shed. You’re gonna have to go to the
police. Understand?"

She pouted. "But then I’ll
have to go back to Miss Simmons."

"I don’t know how foster
care works, but you won’t be with that bitch forever. Someone will
adopt you. Just hopefully not a serial killer or something like
that."

"Jack!" Victoria said.

"No one will adopt me," Tiffany said,
lowering her head.

"Whatever. Let’s just get
going. Maybe Victoria will let us ride in her Porsche. We can stop
and get you something to eat."

"But you're the only person who's ever
been nice to me."

"If I had a heart, that might get you
somewhere. Get your stuff."

Jack circled the breakfast
bar as Victoria frowned at him. He simply shrugged. What did she
expect him to do?

He grabbed her backpack and tried to
set it on her shoulder. Tiffany winced and let it fall to the
floor. She picked it up with her other hand.

"What's your problem?" he
asked.

She said nothing, just lowered her
head and stared at the floor. Victoria and Jack traded looks before
the vampire moved from the stool to her knees in front of
Tiffany.

"Tiffany, are you okay? What's
wrong?"

The young child looked up
slowly, her eyes full of fear.

"Miss Simmons got real
mad."

Victoria shifted Tiffany's
shirt around to see her shoulder and the top of her arm was
bruised. The bruises were spread out slightly, some larger than
others. Tiffany tried to pull away, but Victoria held her
steady.

"Your foster-mother did this to
you?"

"Yeah. She used a belt this time. She
left bruises, and they hurt."

Victoria looked up at Jack. His face
was unreadable, and he was quiet for a long time. She waited
patiently to see his reaction.

"Do you have any spare
clothes in that backpack?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Okay. Go upstairs and get cleaned up.
Take a bath, take as long as you like. Throw your dirty clothes
down the steps. I'll wash them."

Tiffany walked through the living room
and had one hand on the stairwell railing when she turned
around.

"So...I can stay in your
shed?"

"Go."

She disappeared up the
stairs. Jack exchanged another look with Victoria before moving
into the living room. He hooked his iPhone into the largest dock
Victoria had ever seen and sat on the couch. Jimi Hendrix filled
the room. She sat in the chair across from him.

"What are you doing?" she
asked.

"Thinking. I always listen
to Hendrix when I think. I met him once. Coolest guy you’d ever
meet. I helped him change a flat on the side of the
road."

"I had sex with Jim
Morrison."

He looked at her.

"Just kidding. What are you thinking
about?"

"About what to do with
this kid. I knew she was verbally abused, but I only suspected
physical abuse."

"You thought her foster-mother was
beating her, but didn't say anything?"

"Actually, I did tell the cops. They
blew me off, and I went home."

"Jesus, Jack. Let me guess. You don't
care, right?"

"Hey, what did you want me
to do? Do you stop and help everyone on the street? The kid's lucky
I bought her breakfast. Anyway, stop giving me shit. I'll try to
help now, just to keep the girl off my property."

"I always knew you had a conscience in
there somewhere."

"Whatever."

"Plan A is still on
the table. Take her to the police, and tell them she's being
abused. It's a little hard
not
to see now. She's got some nasty
bruises."

"I don't trust Parkville's
finest to do the right thing. They think Tiffany is a liar. I'd
rather not deal with them."

They were both quiet
as the minutes stretched. They heard the bath water running
upstairs, followed by her clothes flying to the bottom of the
stairs. Victoria watched him as he fought internally. Part of him,
a very
large
part, kept going back to Plan A. Drop Tiffany off, and be
done with her. He didn't know her. He didn't care about
her.

But for reasons he couldn't put a
finger on, Plan A felt very wrong to him.

Victoria stood up and
grabbed his laptop bag from the corner. Jack laughed. She was
already making herself at home.

"Go ahead. Just use my
stuff."

"I am."

"What are you doing?"

"Looking up Tiffany March. Seeing if
there's anything out there."

"Remember in our day when
we had to walk to the library? If any porn pops up, just ignore
it."

He turned ideas over in his mind as
she browsed the web. It all came down to one question. What was the
best thing to do for Tiffany, while also being the easiest for
himself?

"Wow. Tiffany made the
news a few years ago. Her mother died from cancer when she was
four, and her father just split. They found her alone in their
apartment after a month, living off rotten food. I hope she doesn't
remember that."

Jack said nothing. He simply
grunted.

"What are you thinking
over there?" Victoria asked.

"I'm thinking I kill Andrea
Simmons."

"Her foster-mother?" She shook her
head. "So much for that conscience I thought you had."

"Can you think of anything
simpler or cleaner? I kill her, and every kid she has gets moved to
different foster homes."

She looked up from the laptop. "You're
serious? Some things just never change. You have a problem, and the
killing starts."

"So, you think it's wrong to kill a
child abuser?"

"I've killed a lot of
people, too. Just like you. But that should be the last thing you
try, not the first. You have other options."

"Like what?"

"Let her stay here."

"My shed's off-limits."

"I don't mean the shed, ass. Here in
the house. You've got...what, four bedrooms here?"

"I don't even own a bed,
Victoria."

"That's my point. Get a sleeping bag
and let her stay upstairs. You'll never even see the
girl."

"I somehow doubt I could
get certification to be a foster-parent, nor would I want to.
There’s probably more legal crap than I care to deal
with."

"Please. With my contacts, I could
have you one before tomorrow morning."

"I've got my own contacts.
I bought my way out of a mess in Chicago. I could buy Tiffany's way
out of the mess she's in. I guess she could stay here for a while.
Keep her upstairs, put out some food and water."

"She's not a dog."

"I know, I know. I can do this. Let
her stay, help her get adopted by a nice family. I can squeeze two
good deeds in a decade instead of one."

Victoria laughed. The
water drained from the tub upstairs, and Tiffany walked down a few
steps so she could see the living room. She nearly looked like a
mummy, with a towel wrapped around her head and another around her
entire body.

"What are you doing?" Jack
asked. "You're dripping water all over the place."

"It's scary up there. All the rooms
are empty."

"There aren't any alleyway monsters up
there."

"Be nice," Victoria hissed. She smiled
at Tiffany. "Come on down here."

Jack felt panic coming on
as he watched Victoria dry Tiffany's hair. Tiffany was a living,
breathing person, and he was going to let her stay at his home. He
didn't even like pets.

However, he admired the
girl. He remembered that defiant look she gave him on the street,
hands on her hips, looking up at him intently. Her foster-mother
abused her, but she didn't let that stop her. Not even losing her
parents could stop her.

Still, he was afraid, and he couldn't
remember the last time that happened.

"Am I making a big
mistake?"

Victoria gave him a
wide-eyed look. He read her mind perfectly clear that he should
watch what he said around Tiffany.

"I don't know. Maybe. But look at it
this way. It won't kill you."