Tanked: TANKED (5 page)

Great.
I have the whole conversation worked out in my head on what I’m to say about meeting the great Mr. Osborne but it doesn’t do me any good. I forget everything I am going to say.

I walk in his office and he motions to the chair for me to sit. 

“How did yesterday go?” he asks.

“Honestly? Not too well.”

“He is a little rough around the edges I know but…”

I cut him off without thought. “I think that’s putting it mildly. I’d like to thank you for your offer of assistance but I don’t think I’ll be using his services. The police said I could call them back as many times as I need them. Hopefully it really was teenagers playing a joke and they’ll leave me alone.”

I watch as he moves a pen around on the top of his desk calendar. “I’m sorry to hear that. He’s had a tough time and I’d hoped a little work might help.”

I blow out a puff of air and rub my hands on the leather arm rests.  I shake my head as I say, “He kept calling me his ‘charity case’ so that didn’t help matters any. And may I speak bluntly about him?”

He furrows his brows and stares at me; I know I have his undivided attention. “By all means.”

“He could use some shaving cream, clothes that fit and a haircut.”

He blows out a breath. “That bad huh?”

“Yes sir, that bad.”

He seems in deep thought then bites the inside of his bottom jaw before he says, “Well I’m sorry I sent you to him. I didn’t realize how far downhill he’s gotten.”

I smile at him. “It’s fine, I really appreciate you trying.”

He sits straight in his chair and we go back to work mode. “Ok, well, we have three proposals to work on today.”

“I’ll get right on them”

As I stand up to leave, he stops me. “Oh, Ms. Morrow, I almost forgot. Are you busy Friday night?”

“No not really, why?”

“Well, somehow I have myself double booked.  I have that large job fair Friday evening at the civic center and my wife has some award ceremony she wants me to go with her to.  If you can’t do the job fair, I’ll tell her I can’t make it.”

“No I can do it; it will give me something to do on a Friday evening. Is there a, dress requirement?”

“This job fair, we’re looking for labor workers and entry level jobs, so you can dress as comfortable as you want as long as you look professional.”

I sarcastically reply, “So jeans and a tank top it is.” I slap my hand over my mouth. My eyes get wide; I drop my hand and start stammering. “I—I—I—don’t know why that came out of my mouth, I guess I forgot where I was. I promise it won’t be jeans and a tank top. I was being sarcastic.”

He slightly grins. “It’s fine, Ms. Morrow. I figured you were joking. Now go work on those proposals.”

****

The job fair is crazy; from the time the doors open at six and close at nine it feels like I hand out six thousand applications and answer nine thousand questions. I most definitely wore the wrong shoes, as my feet are killing me.  I look at the chair I brought.
If I sit down I won’t get back up.
I sigh and get busy loading all the materials back in the boxes and am pleased we have one hundred and seven new promising applicants.  I feel my phone as it buzzes against my leg in my slacks pocket.  I pull it out and look at the phone and see it’s a text from Mr. Samford – “How did we do?”

I respond, “I divided the applications into yes and no piles, one hundred and seven yes and sixty seven no; overall I think it went real well.  I am packing up now, and going to drop this stuff off at the office on my way home.”

“Ok, thanks for covering for me tonight.  See you Monday.”

I decide not to text him back; I stick the phone back in my pocket and continue to pack up.  By the time I’ve dropped everything off at the office and turn on the road to my house it’s 10:30.  When I pull up I’d notice a blacked out full size SUV parked across the street.  I sit in my car a few seconds watching
, I don’t want to call the police again, and they already think I’m insane. Maybe I could drive over to my parents? No they would know something was up.  What if –
my thoughts are interrupted when I see the door open and somebody get out walking toward me.  Panic immediately starts pulsing across my body. I try to get my phone but can’t get it out of my pocket fast enough.
Tap—Tap—Tap
, on the window right beside my head, I yell so loud my throat instantly becomes sore. I look up at the man and jump all at the same time.  “McKinsey, it’s me.”

I squint my eyes to try to get a good look at him in the dim light, and then he spoke again “McKinsey, it’s me— Tatum”

Tatum? Who is Tatum?
He steps back a step and reaches in his pocket, I turn the key to crank the engine and the overhead light comes on he slaps something against the window making me jump, it’s his wallet and I can see a card it reads
State of Alabama Private Investigators License Tatum Neal Osborne
.  Relief floods through me, followed closely by fury.
That lowdown skunk. What is he thinking scaring me like that!
  I turn off the car, snatch the door open almost ramming it into him in the process. Then I get right in his face so close I can see the scar running down his cheek in the dim light and start yelling, “That scared the living shit out of me! Don’t you know how to approach somebody like a normal human being?!”

He doesn’t back away and his voice stays a steady calm, “Look I’m—”

“No, you look you stupid moron! I had no clue who you were and you came up and knocked on my car window in the dark after everything I’ve been through.  I have a good mind to kick you right now.”

He crosses his arms over his chest and smiles. “Are you finished?”

“No I’m still pissed. I’ll think of something else to say in a minute.  What are you doing here anyway?”

“I came to tell you that I looked into your case and I believe you.  You do have someone messing with you.”

I roll my eyes. “Well.  Yeah, I could’ve told you that already and I could’ve told you who it most likely is as well. But you were too busy making assumptions and trying to make my problems all about you.” I turn and walk to my front door, unlock the door and walk inside.  I leave the door open behind me and kick my shoes off my aching feet at the door.  I turn to walk out of the foyer into the living room as multiple meows start sounding in the air.  I fuss at her as she weaves in and out of my legs almost tripping me, “Prima hush. Now shoo for a minute.” She tells me what she thinks of me shooing her as she sashays down the hallway toward my bedroom.  I turn back around and the front door is still wide open with Tatum still standing on the outside of the door and he asks, “May I come inside?”

I groan with aggravation. “Yes, you can come inside. Do you think I just left my door wide open for no reason?”

He sighs and finally walks through the door, I notice when he shuts the door he locks the door including the deadbolt.

“That bad?” I ask.

“What?”

“Is it that bad you know you have to lock the dead bolt?”

“I’m not sure yet. You’ve made an impression on Cootie and he made a phone call to me about 15 minutes after you left Tuesday.  He said they couldn’t do anything about it and asked if I might look into it and I told him I would.”

Completely confused I ask, “Cootie? Who in the world is Cootie?”

“The police officer you talked to Monday night at the station.”

“Oh, he said his name was Bruce.”

“It
is
Bruce, but we’ve always called him Cootie.”

“Why do you call him Cootie?”

“You really don’t want to know.”

“Then why would you tell me his name was Cootie?”

“Are you always this way?”

“What way?”

“The way you are right now?”

“What way am I right now?” 

He stares at me a second and a wicked grin crosses his bearded face. “No way.”

“Ooooo—kay. Now do you mind telling me why you are here, besides confirming what I already know that Joel an ex— well not even an ex-boyfriend, just somebody I dated a few times has went off his meds and now thinks our relationship was a lot more than it actually was.” 

“What’s Joel’s last name and why do you think it’s him?”

I pull my cell phone out of my pocket, open the text messages from Joel and reach my arm out to hand him the phone. When I place it in his hand I notice scars all over his hand. There has to be a dozen of them at least. They are more predominating than the scar on his face.  I look back at his face and examine the scar there. It goes from the top of his eyebrow down the side of his cheek and the hair is definitely missing in his beard where the scar continues. I fight back the strange urge I have to touch it, immediately turn, walk to the couch and plop down.

I watch him slowly move across the living room, reading the texts. 

“His last name is Reynolds,” I say when I remember he had asked me the question.

“Where does he live?”

“He lives on the other side of town.”

“This is all you have?”

“Yes. Isn’t that enough to make you think something is wrong with him? Oh and he sent me some black roses too.”

He walks toward me and tosses me my phone as he says, “Well, honestly he does come across as needy but that doesn’t really match what you’ve got going on here.”

Reality starts to hit me that I might not have this totally figured out and I might have some psychopath really after me.

He must notice the fear showing on my face because he immediately promises. “You’re going to be alright.”

I half laugh. “You can’t know that.”

“You are—” he abruptly stops and I can tell he is listening. I’m stunned when he reaches around and pulls out a gun that I never knew he had and is now aiming it toward the front door and slowly walking in that direction. 

I whisper, “What—?”

“Shhh,” he motions his hand around, which I’m to assume, is the international signal to shut up.

I look at the gun then the front door, then back to the gun. 
That’s Jessie,
“That’s J—”

The front door opens and Jessie comes in the door with his airline uniform and a hot pink feather boa wrapped around his neck. He stops and looks at Tatum holding the gun. I close my eyes and shake my head when he starts yelling in the highest pitch possible and the feather boa bounces around. “OH—MY—GOD— WE’RE BEING ROBBED!”

Tatum slightly lowers the gun and looks back at me confused as I inform him, “This is Jessie, he’s my best friend.”

“Jessie, this is Tatum Osborne and he’s here looking into all the crazy stuff I have going on.”

“You can call me Tank,” Tatum informs both of us for the first time. Jessie has the same response I do, except, I don’t say mine out loud.
Tank—what kind of name is that?

Jessie eyes him. “Tank, what kind of name is Tank? And I’m sorry but you look straight up out of a horror movie with your long hair and long beard aiming a gun at me.” He looks at me then back toward Tatum. “Tatum Osborne, seems like I’ve heard of you somewhere.”

Tatum’s face turns to stone he turns back to me. “Ms. Morrow, do you have any occurrences when your boyfriend is home?”

Jessie makes a “Pffft.” noise in disbelief at his statement.

I speak up interrupting him, “No it’s normally when I’m by myself.”

“Alright, I will start looking into your case and I’ll start with Joel.”

“Joel? You think Joel is behind this? He’s a total douche but he’s not smart enough to pull something like this off,” Jessie exclaims.

“Well, I’ll be in contact with you sometime next week. If you have any more trouble you call the police and then you call me.”

“Okay.”

“Do you still have my number?” Tank asks.

“Oh, ha ha. I guess I might need that.”

He rolls his eyes as he walks over to the couch and picks up my phone. He hits the screen several times and hands it back.  He turns to leave and says to Jessie, “Lock the door behind me would you?”

“Sure thing, puddin’-tang.” Jessie says and turns to follow Tank.

When he comes back in the living room he plops down in my dad’s old recliner he says, “Wow! That was a little crazy”

“What was crazy was him thinking you were my boyfriend.”

“Oh honey, he knows I’m not your boyfriend. That was just an excellent diversion and you fell right for it.” 

“Diversion?”

He rolls his eyes at me. “Girl he has a past, and we’re going to find out what it is. Let me get my notepad unpacked. We’re about to Google the bitch.”

“Can I ask you a question first?”

“Sure, sunshine,” he says as he stands out of the recliner.

“What’s up with the pink boa?”

He smiles a brilliant smile and starts prancing around twirling it. “There are two of them here. One for you and one for me. Remember you said we needed disco outfits for the Relay for Life fundraiser your momma’s doing with her church group.”