Scaredy Cat (7 page)

Chapter 12

Blake awoke on the sofa sometime around eleven in the morning. She’d left her computer around four, absolutely dizzy from exhaustion, and had fallen asleep on the couch. Sleep came the second her head hit the pillow. She was repulsed by the fact that she’d not even brushed her teeth. Her mouth still tasted of the strong tea she’d drunk to keep her going as she got up and staggered into the kitchen where she set the coffee to brew.

Chuck lay on the back porch, his head up. Brown eyes watched her as she stood at the window. “Did you sleep out there all night watching over me?”

Chuck sat up as if to say yes.

“You should be rewarded, but Quinn isn’t here to do it. That’s not fair, is it?”

Chuck cocked his head at the question.

“A pork chop, you say? That would do it?”

Chuck continued to stare at her, his tail slightly wagging.

“Be right back.” Blake went to the fridge and pulled out the leftovers. She made a plate to rival what she’d fixed Quinn the night before, including a roll, then warmed it in the microwave. When she went to the door, Chuck was in the yard sniffing at the base of a tree. She opened it quickly and slid the plate onto the porch. Chuck needed no prompting; he bounded up the steps and began scarfing up the food. From behind the screen, Blake praised him. “You are a great watch coyo— dog. You would never eat me, but you’d eat someone bad if they tried to hurt me…right?”

Chuck’s tail was going ninety miles an hour. Blake took that as a yes and went into the bathroom where first she brushed her teeth. Next she switched the water on and climbed into the shower, every so often peeking around the curtain to make sure there was no one sneaking up on her.

She ached from sitting in the chair for most of the night but was relieved to have accomplished half a dozen chapters of what she felt was a decent skeleton that she would flesh out once the manuscript was finished. She’d never written by an outline, though Cassidy suggested it when Blake had hit her slump. The story told itself in her mind, and she was like a voyeur who watched and recorded it all. She never knew the end of her tales until she’d made the last keystroke.

As she bathed, images of the story flashed through her mind, and she mentally recorded each one. She washed fast, eager to get back to her keyboard and paint more of the picture as it formed. Blake had not felt that excitement in a while. She switched off the water, dried, and dressed quickly in a pair of cotton lounge pants and a tank top. With the towel wrapped around her head, she sat at her desk and noticed another missed call on her phone. Blake stared at the last page she’d written as she listened to her messages. The first was from her mom, and she was whispering.

“Hey, baby, I was just calling to check on you. I’ll call you back later. Love you…I’m changing my clothes, do you mind?” she hollered before the call ended.

The second was from Cassidy.

“Hey, Blake, I’m calling for an update. Give me a shout when you can.”

Blake hit the redial on Cassidy’s number. Her breath caught for a second when a familiar voice answered. “Cassidy Spencer’s office, this is Beth, how may I help you?”

“Beth, hi, it’s Blake.”

“Hey, Blake, how are you?”

Beth’s voice washed over Blake like a warm summer breeze. She was eager to tell what she’d accomplished. “I’m doing fantastic. I’ve toured a plantation home, visited a graveyard where the crypts were above ground, and I kind of have a dog. I think he may still be on the porch right now.”

Beth was silent for a moment. “That’s…wow…great. I’m truly happy for you. Hey, Cassidy just walked back in, let me send your call to her office before she gets on the phone.”

“Thanks, Beth, it was great talking to you.”

“You too, Blake, just a moment.”

Blake swung happily back and forth in her chair as music played, then Cassidy picked up.

“Blake Taylor, tell me you’re writing something brilliant.”

“I am. I’ve written six chapters already, and the ideas are coming in like tidal waves.”

“That is music to my weary ears. I don’t want to pressure you and squash your momentum, but, honey, you have got to hammer the keys.”

“I know,” Blake said with a nod. “I’ve written an entire novel in two months, I can do it again.”

“You’ve got three, make your magic. How’re things going with…what’s her name? Is she taking care of you?”

“Quinn, and yes. She made me pet a dog last night.”

“Well, hell’s bells, you’ll be climbing Mount Kilimanjaro next,” Cassidy said, sounding truly impressed. “Get off this phone and get back to work.”

“On it,” Blake said with a smile. “Talk to you later.”

Blake ended the call, sighed, and began typing.

*******

At six, Quinn knocked on Blake’s door. It took a few minutes for Blake to answer, but when she did, her hair was wrapped in a towel, and her nipples poked at the fabric of a thin tank top that was nearly see-through. She didn’t appear to be ready to go anywhere.

“Uh…hey, I didn’t realize the time. I was engrossed in the new book I’m writing,” Blake said as she snatched the towel from her head. The hair that fell onto her shoulders was matted and tangled, making her look like Medusa.

Quinn noticed that Hootie was still sitting on the table near the door. She gave his plastic head a pat before asking, “How long will it take you to get ready?”

Blake looked very uncomfortable. “I’m…on a hot streak, and it’s been so long since I’ve hit one…I was wondering if—”

“You want to bow out,” Quinn said as she noticed the mess that had become Blake’s desk. The surface and the floor around it were covered with chip and cookie bags. There were three different coffee cups sitting next to the keyboard. “I should go and let you get back to it.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, I—”

Quinn held up a hand. “This is what you’re here for, I understand. At least take the time to eat something good for you. I see the snack carnage. Warm the leftovers from last night.”

“I fed it to Chuck for breakfast,” Blake said with a look of triumph. “I’ll make a salad in a little while when I get to a stopping point.”

Quinn backed out of the door. “You have my number, call me when you need me.”

“Thank you,” Blake called after her as Quinn walked briskly back to her truck.

When she climbed in, she could see Chuck walking with his back hunched across the backyard. He crapped, then moved to another spot and did it again.

“Aw, Chuck, you never could handle table scraps. I hope you feel better, boy.”

Chuck straightened, kicked at the grass, and pranced off.

Quinn drove away disheartened. She’d told herself as she rushed home from the last job and cleaned her house that she was excited about helping Blake over another hurdle. She’d told the neighbor’s cat to stick around because there would be treats and pets later. But the truth that she did not want to acknowledge was she was looking forward to spending time with someone new. Someone who would make her existence not seem so bleak.

She looked at the basket of clothes in the backseat that she’d intended to drop at Dawn’s and decided to round the evening out with another disappointment.

Quinn understood why nursing homes dubbed themselves with cheery names. As she pulled into the parking lot of Sunny Glen Rest Home, she stared dismally at the utilitarian building beneath tall oaks and pines. She knew when she walked inside, the first thing that would assault her was the smell of disinfectant that did little to mask the odor of human waste and the dying. What bothered her more were the dull eyes of the elderly who stared at her from wheelchairs as she walked in. Quinn gathered her mother’s things, strode across the parking lot, and put on her best smile as she punched a button, and moments later, the doors slid open.

“Hey, hey hey,” a white-headed woman who moved with the aid of a walker said and blocked Quinn’s path.

“Hi, Mrs. Beauchaine. How’re you this evening?”

“Did you know that we all once had tails and they fell off because of revolution? Bill O’Reilly says that’s not true, but that bitch is crazy, and she’s the ugliest woman I’ve ever seen. Her momma musta knew that she was gonna be ugly and gave her a man’s name. Kendra Watson’s tail fell off today. I looked in her room when they were putting medicine on her butt, and I saw the hole it made when it dropped off. Did you get married yet?”

“No, ma’am,” Quinn said, trying to control her laughter.

“You ain’t gonna find no man in here, you came at the wrong time. You should come around lunch when the visitors come.”

“I’ll try to remember that.”

Mrs. Beauchaine turned her butt to Quinn. “Do you see a nub back there? The nurse says there ain’t one, but I don’t believe her.”

Quinn made a show of looking closely. “No, ma’am, your tail must’ve fallen off when you were born.”

“Turn around, let me check you.”

Quinn did as she was asked, then gasped when Mrs. Beauchaine grabbed a handful of her butt.

“Yours is gone, too.”

Quinn spun around and looked at the nurse’s station. She could see the aides and the nurses laughing hysterically. “Thanks for checking. I need to go see my mother. It was good to see you,” she said as she walked off.

The TV was blaring when Quinn knocked on the open door of her mother’s room. Nelda looked tiny in her bed. Her eyes were dark beneath, and the nasal cannula seemed to make an indention where the tubes lay on her face. Congestive heart failure made it difficult for her to breathe. Nelda had made the decision to move into the nursing home when she could no longer care for herself, refusing Dawn’s offer to live with her. It’d been a good decision because no one in the family could tend to her round-the-clock needs.

“Dawn didn’t come by today, where is she?” Nelda asked by way of greeting.

“I have no idea. I imagine she was busy with the kids or work.” Quinn put her mother’s underwear and socks in one drawer and the nightgowns in another. That was the most Nelda wore as of late. Next, Quinn went into the bathroom and put away the clean towels and emptied the dirty clothes hamper into the basket.

“That bathroom needs cleaning. They never do a good job,” Nelda called out with a rasp.

Quinn unfortunately agreed and put on a pair of rubber gloves. Instead of complaining to anyone, she sprayed everything down with disinfectant and wiped it clean with one of the oldest washcloths, then tossed it into the trash along with the gloves. She spent a long time washing her hands to rid herself of whatever germs there were and to cut into the time she’d spend with her mother.

“I need some more protein shakes,” Nelda said when Quinn emerged from the bathroom. “They don’t serve the kind I like.”

Quinn grabbed a notebook and sat down. “Noted. What else do you want?”

“A puzzle book, nail files, shampoo.”

Nelda recited a list of things she already had plenty of. Quinn made the notations anyway because otherwise they’d sit in silence and stare at the TV. Her mother wouldn’t ask Quinn what she’d been doing. She didn’t want to know.

“I hate this,” Quinn said as her mother prattled on.

“What did you say?” Nelda asked sharply.

“I said I hate this pen, it never writes well,” Quinn lied.

Like Blake, Quinn had built a wall of her own. It was just one, but the bricks were solid and packed tightly with the fear of confronting her mother. Deep down, Quinn felt if she could show a little backbone, her mother’s temper would flare, but they’d say what needed to be said. But every time Quinn felt it welling in her chest, one look at her mother in her weakened condition would steal her steam. More frightening was Nelda might dispel the hope that Quinn had that deep down her mother still loved her.

“All right, I have your list and your dirty laundry. Is there anything else you need before I go?”

Nelda continued to stare at the TV. “Can’t think of anything.”

“Call me if you do,” Quinn said as she got up and walked out. She immediately put her hands over her breasts as Mr. Wade aka The Titty Twister shuffled down the hall toward her. He was known for boob grabs and pretended not to know any better. “Don’t make me whip your ass tonight, old man.”

Mr. Wade passed without a reach, and Quinn heard him chuckle.

Chapter 13

“So when am I gonna meet Blake Taylor?” Jacob asked as he sat in front of Quinn’s desk.

Quinn shrugged as she thumbed through a magazine. “I haven’t talked to her much the last few weeks. I’ve only gone by every so often to drop off milk and a few other things she’s needed.” Blake had invited her in every time, but Quinn had refused, still a bit peeved that Blake had stood her up for dinner.

“Well, call her.”

“She’s writing. I’m not going to disturb her.”

“Do you remember Carl Flemming?”

Quinn looked at Jacob and furrowed her brow. “He was the computer genius you used to hang out with, right?”

Jacob smiled. “It was nice of you not to call him a geek. I saw him a few months ago when he came back into town to visit his folks. He’s living in New Orleans now, and he has a very interesting hobby, paranormal research. Carl and a few guys go into places that are supposedly haunted with all kinds of electronic equipment and find out the truth. He said that most of the time, the hauntings can be disproved, but in a few instances, they’ve seen some crazy shit.”

He nudged the desk phone closer to Quinn. “You should call Blake. I bet she’d jump at the chance to hunt a few ghosts. Your favorite brother and his wife could go along, too.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure Blake would be all over that,” Quinn said with a smirk.

“Why are you laughing? You think it’s stupid, don’t you?”

“No.” Quinn stared at him for a moment. “Jacob, I’d like you to meet Blake because I know you really want to, but there’s something you need to know about her first.”

“Okay,” he said, seemingly bewildered by her tone.

“This has to remain between us, not even Tonya can know right now.”

Jacob nodded emphatically and put a hand to his chest. “You have my word as your brother.”

“Blake is…” Quinn licked her lips. “She’s terrified of just about everything. She’s got some phobias, and that’s one of the reasons she’s here. She’s trying to work through them. That’s why I haven’t already introduced you to her.”

“Quinn, I screamed like a bitch when I watched her movies. There are nights that Tonya has wanted to sleep with the closet light on because Blake’s books scared the crap out of her. So you’re just gonna have to come up with a better excuse to cover up the fact that there’s something going on between you two, and for whatever reason, you don’t want me to know.” Jacob pointed at her. “You’re not funny.”

“There is nothing going on with us, and I swear to you as your sister, that’s the honest truth. I invited her to my house, and she wouldn’t come. I took her to Oak Alley, and she nearly ripped my boobs off trying to get away from a squirrel. She thought Chuck was a coyote and thinks the birds outside her house want to peck her to death. She’s the most neurotic person I’ve ever met.”

Jacob snorted. “Asshole.” When Quinn didn’t laugh, the grin slid off his face. “You’re serious.”

“As a heart attack.”

“You’ve totally ruined my vision of the mistress of darkness. I was looking forward to being afraid of her,” Jacob said sadly.

Quinn patted his arm. “You’re just gonna have to go back to having Batman as your hero.”

Jacob jutted his chin. “He was never my hero. I just liked his suit.”

*******

“Quinn, where are you? Please, talk to me,” Blake pleaded, but no matter how much she begged, Quinn refused. “Why now? It was going so good.” Blake stared hopelessly at her computer screen. She’d written, then deleted words by the thousands as she waited for Quinn the character to speak up.

Even Chuck had left her. Blake wasn’t sure if it was the spicy sausage or the salad she’d put out earlier that had gone uneaten. She was pretty certain that dogs didn’t care for lettuce, but she thought Chuck might make an exception because of the bacon ranch dressing. She’d even been daring enough to reach a hand out and scratch his head when he came near the door and mistook a burp for a growl. She shrieked before she caught herself. Chuck ran off with his tail between his legs, leaving a smelly vaporous cloud behind him. Blake thought he’d come back for another snack, but she’d not seen him for a day.

She’d not seen the real Quinn much for weeks, and perhaps that was the problem. Blake needed fresh inspiration from her muse. She felt slightly guilty as she stared at Quinn’s number on her phone. She did enjoy Quinn’s company, but what she wanted at the moment was to study her in hopes that it would trigger the character Quinn to start talking again. Blake pressed a button. Quinn answered on the second ring.

“Hey, Blake.”

“Hey…what’re you doing?”

“It’s a slow day, and right now, I’m shooting my brother with rubber bands.”

A high-pitched squeal prompted Blake to pull the phone away from her ear. “I bet he sings tenor.”

Quinn laughed. “You heard that high C, right?”

“I think people in Alaska heard it. Are you busy tonight?”

“No, you need something?”

“Pizza. I was wondering if I could cash in my rain check with you.”

“I don’t see why not. I’m gonna leave early today if we don’t get anything else. That would put me on your front porch at a little after four.”

Blake glanced at the clock. “I’ll be ready this time.”

“Okay, great, see you then. Bye.”

“Bye.” Blake ended the call, jumped out of her chair, and made a mad dash for the shower. Her legs were hairy, but she didn’t have time to shave. She did it anyway, disgusted that she’d only taken the time to bathe each day before racing back to her computer. Fast meant sloppy and reckless. She nicked herself twice on the knee. She shaved her armpits without looking, afraid they looked like a beard on a pubescent boy.

Blake sprang out of the shower like a jackrabbit and dried herself as she ran down the hall, leaving a wet trail behind her. She had to towel off again just to be able to put on her underwear and jeans. “Not black, nothing black,” she said as she rifled through the dresser until she found a light gray T-shirt. When she’d finished dressing, she charged back into the bathroom and frowned at her hair. It grew fast, and the brown roots were really beginning to show against the black. “Ball cap.” Blake ran back down the hall and grabbed a blue one.

Her hair was still wet as she peered out the window of the front door. She breathed a sigh of relief that Quinn was not already sitting there as she turned and came face to beak with the plastic owl. “Oh, shit. She’s gonna think I didn’t appreciate this.” Blake grabbed the owl, threw open the front door, and held Hootie out in front of her like a shield as she walked over to the railing and set him down. “Look and listen, fowl. This is Hootie, and if you come anywhere near my porch, he’ll kick your ass. Be warned, winged demons.”

Quinn drove up before Blake could go back inside, so she threw a hand up on a post, hoping to look as though she was relaxed. But a bird landed on a nearby branch, and Blake’s legs began to feel wobbly. “Do your thing, Hootie,” she whispered.

“Look at you, hanging out with the owl,” Quinn said with pride as she hopped out of her truck. “Have you… Damn, there’s more dog shit out here than grass.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to Chuck about that. He’s kind of rude in that regard.”

Quinn fanned the air in front of her face as she stared at the side yard. “Have you been feeding him?”

“Yes, he eats everything I give him, except the salad. He didn’t appear to be too fond of that.”

Quinn opened the gate and walked up to the porch. Her voice was low when she said, “The Comeaux’s feed him really expensive dog food. I imagine they’d be upset to know that he’s been eating a buffet over here. If you want to give him treats, then we’ll pick up some dog biscuits.”

“Oh, okay,” Blake said just as softly.

“You ready to go?”

“Yeah, sure, just let me get my bag.” Blake reached inside the door and grabbed the pack she carried with her camera and her keys. Eager to be in the safety of the truck, she locked the door and quickly walked through the yard, but at least she did not put the pack on her head and run screaming.

“You really have more choices than pizza,” Quinn said when Blake climbed in. “We have Chinese, Mexican, and there’s a seafood place that has the best fried shrimp you’ll ever put in your mouth. All I have to do is call and we can pick it up. Unless, of course, you’d like to eat out.”

“I think I’d like to see your place, and the shrimp sounds great.”

“As you wish,” Quinn said with a nod as she pulled out her phone. “The plates come with fries, hush puppies, and coleslaw. Is that good with you?”

“Yes, make mine a kids plate, please.”

“We could share one,” Quinn offered.

“Fine with me.”

Quinn called in the order, then backed out of the driveway. “We’ll take the long way around and give Freddie’s some time to fry the shrimp.”

“One thing I noticed the other day was that there are a lot of houses built in the old style, but they look new, and in between a few of them, there are overgrown vacant lots. What happened there? Was it a fire?”

“No, Hurricane Katrina did a lot of damage here. Storm surge forced the bayou into the town, and what the flood didn’t ruin, the winds took care of.” Quinn turned onto a street and slowed. She pointed at an old home. “The wind blew the second story out of that place. A tree fell into the one next to it. This street used to be completely shaded. There were old oaks on both sides, but we lost a lot of them when they blew over. That’s why the sidewalks are new here. When they toppled, the roots left gaping holes in the ground and pulled up the cement.”

Blake tried to envision what that must’ve looked like. “Did you stay here during that storm?”

“At first, we decided to ride it out, but when we saw how massive and strong it was, we packed up what we considered valuable and caravanned to Baton Rouge. A two-hour trip took us six because of the mass exodus. I kept telling myself that she was gonna turn like they always seemed to do and miss us. But when it hit and we started hearing how devastated St. Bernard Parish was, my heart sank. When we were finally allowed to come back almost a month later, I cried when I saw it. We all did.”

Blake looked at Quinn. “Were your homes…gone?”

Quinn sighed and was quiet for a moment. “Grandma’s was. She’d been gone a long time and Dad had sold the place, but it was always there reminding us of her. It looked like matchsticks. Dawn’s house was destroyed, too. She and her family lived in an old place like the ones here on this street close to the bayou. She said she had her family and her pictures and that was all that mattered, but she went through a depression for a long time.” Quinn turned onto another street.

“Mom and Dad’s house fared well. They built it about twenty years ago farther out of town because Dad wanted land. It had some roof damage but held together okay. Jacob and his wife live there now. My house is the one we grew up in. A tree came down on it and demolished the add-on we use for an office. Jacob and I just had it rebuilt a couple of years ago. It was nice to get the desks out of my spare bedroom.”

“Where did you live when everything was being repaired?”

“Dawn and her family moved in with my parents. Jacob and Tonya lived in a garage apartment that was miraculously untouched, so I stayed with them while my house was being repaired. When we first came back, we had to drive an hour away to buy groceries because everything here was in a shambles. We rode around with gas cans in our trucks to refuel because the gas stations were also damaged. Power wasn’t restored for like a month, so we spent a fortune running generators.”

Blake stared at her for a moment. “I hope this question doesn’t sound callous, but why would you want to come back knowing that could happen again?”

“This is home,” Quinn said with a shrug. “It’s one thing to choose to leave, but it’s another to be forced out. You know how that feels, don’t you?”

Blake looked away. “Yes, I suppose I do.”

Quinn pulled into a parking lot next to a shack on the water. “I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“To get the food,” Quinn said as she climbed out.

Blake pointed to what looked like a hut. “In there?” she asked, appalled.

“Don’t let the exterior fool you, it’s a nice place inside. They get their shrimp from the boats that come right up that bayou. You can’t ask for fresher seafood.” Quinn closed the door with a laugh.

“I beg to differ,” Blake said. “It might be fresh when it gets here, but God only knows what they cook it in.”

She watched as a boat moved slowly up the bayou, long metal arms raised on its deck. The setting sun in the west cast a soft warm glow over the town. Blake liked the light and pulled out her camera. She snapped one picture after another, then lowered it. An old man and woman sat on the dock fishing. Blake smiled as the woman picked up the man’s beer and poured it out as he slept in his chair.

“I think I could live like this.” But as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she thought about Beth. Aside from her, there were many reasons to return to New York, but they were growing hazy with each passing day.

Quinn reappeared carrying a brown paper bag. The smell of the food filled the truck when she climbed in, and Blake’s stomach growled. “What did you do during Hurricane Sandy?” Quinn asked as she put on her seat belt.

“I got the hell out. My parents and I stayed with my sister and her family. Even after we returned, I saw most of the damage on TV like everyone else.” Blake looked out of the window and mumbled. “I’ve never ridden on the subway.”

“Really? I thought that was a rite of passage for a New Yorker.”

“Well, I’m not a real one. I travel by car when I have to.” Blake sighed. “One day, I will. One day, I will walk down the street like everyone else with my head held high and pepper spray in my pocket.”

“That’s the spirit,” Quinn said with a laugh.