The Nine Lives of Felicia Miller (17 page)

“Come on, hop in. Why walk when you can ride?”

Felicia didn’t argue. She was happy to grab a precious moment with Nelson. He put the car in gear and started driving.

“So what did you say you were going to see that lawyer about? You haven’t been arrested or something, have you? You’re not one of those deadly women I see on the true crime channel, are you?”

“What if I am?”

“That depends. Are you planning to stalk me and kill me? Or just murder your parents for a big inheritance?”

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then I could fly us to Hawaii and buy you a surfboard and treat you to a luau.”

“Sounds like a plan. Count me in.”

“Relax, Romeo. I’m just going to see Mr. Villani to try to convince him to help Granny Dola. I baby-sit his kids and in all modesty they worship the water I walk on.”

“Granny Dola? You know that old witch?”

Felicia paused before replying. Not exactly thrilled with Nelson’s response. And aware that she was treading on dangerous ground. “Don’t tell me you believe all those silly stories about her? Hello? It’s the twenty-first century.”

“I just believe that she’s an old kook. That’s fairly indisputable. Living way out in the deep woods. Alone. Never coming into town. You have to admit that’s pretty strange. How does she even feed herself?”

“She’s not alone. She has a boy to help her.”

“A boy?”

Is that a touch of jealousy in his voice?
“A tweener. He’s cute… in a chubby, pasty-faced, Pugsley Addams sort of way. You know, a big soft puffy marshmallow with a home-made bowl haircut.”

“Sounds hot. I’m jealous. What’s his name? Hansel?”

“Elmo.”

“Elmo? Ha! That’s even better.”

“Don’t make fun of him. He’s really nice. They both are. I think he’s her grandson.” Felicia knew that wasn’t true, but didn’t want to start any rumors that might lead to an investigation and make trouble for Granny and her foundling.

“If you say so, Morticia.”

“Well, I say so.”

Nelson stopped for a traffic light.

Felicia leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “This is my stop. Thanks for the lift. I’ll call you later. Unless you want to wait for me?”

“I have a better idea.” Before Felicia could open her door he pulled a fast U-turn in the intersection.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking you for a joy drive. It’s a beautiful day for it. You don’t have anything against joy, do you?”

“But I promised Granny I’d talk to Villani.”

“Relax. He’s not going anywhere. You can see him tomorrow. And she can wait one more day. I can’t.” He reached across the seat and stroked her belly. His fingertips felt electric on her skin, gliding gently under her coat, tickling her soft flesh along the beltline of her jeans.

Felicia was silent. Feeling somewhat manipulated and not sure she liked it.
Carjacked.

She wondered what Nelson would do if she insisted he turn the car around and drive her straight back to Villani’s.

Nelson sensed her annoyance and smiled roguishly. “Hey, I’m sorry. I can’t help it if I find you irresistible.” He touched her cheek sensually.

Felicia relented, and kissed his fingers.

“Okay,” she said, surrendering to his dreamy smile. “I guess Granny can wait one more day.”

***

Three more days passed before Felicia finally made it to Villani’s office. Her after-school hours were spent parked with Nelson in their secret nook in the woods. He seemed to have cast a spell on her, and had an uncanny knack for tracking her in his car.

Her initial interest in him had been largely physical, but now she was growing used to being by his side. Psychologically dependent on him. And the more they fooled around and got acquainted with each other’s bodies, the more addictive their groping became.

Despite all their time together and Nelson’s wonderfully sensuous moves, Felicia had still not let him go all the way. At least not in the strictest sense. They’d dry-humped and groped and she even used her mouth a few times to please him, but she hadn’t allowed him to enter her most private sanctuary. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. But she was terrified of how it might affect her mentally. Possibly rekindling memories of that terrible night at the Point. She’d read about aversion therapy, and understood the psychological tightrope she was walking. A premature attempt at intercourse might trigger an emotional misfire and imprint negative feelings about Nelson and the sex act.

It sucks that those bastards did this to me. They robbed me of the most precious pleasure in life. Made it impossible to share myself… without being constantly reminded.

Maybe once I’ve had my revenge things will be different. Maybe then I can put the past behind me. When there are no more ghosts left to haunt me… because they’re all in their graves.

Her fear was that Nelson would grow weary of her refusals, and desert her for a more willing partner. It wouldn’t be hard. He was the cutest boy in school, and came from a wealthy family. She’d caught plenty of dagger looks from other girls once it came out that they were an item.

He seemed to love being with her as much as she loved being with him, but he was also strangely moody. She wasn’t sure if they were really truly in love. Sometimes she worried he was merely playing her, and the harder he pressed her to go all the way, the harder it was to suppress that suspicion.

No. Don’t be stupid. Nelson’s not like that.

He’s not like that at all.

169

Oogie lay like a stone in his hospital bed, semi-delirious from the generous cocktail of pain pills and anti-depressants fed him to help ease his pain and the horror of his predicament. But the last dose of meds were wearing thin and the ugliness of his new reality was growing dangerously clearer with each passing minute.

His fingers found the nurse call button and he pressed it over and over.
Come on, bitch, where are you?

Oogie had always laughed at people who went to church and believed in a higher power. He thought karma was some half-baked joke left over from the hippie era. Now he was second-guessing his former beliefs, or the lack thereof. He had certainly done a slew of things that in retrospect seemed meaner and shittier than they did at the time he committed them. A time when his brain was usually fogged with illegal drugs or booze.

He had always felt safe in his mischief, owing in large part to the collaborative glee he shared with Wally and the other guys in their crew. But where was Wally now, when Oogie felt so alone and helpless?

Marky was dead so he had an excuse not to visit. But where were the others? They had always been tighter than clams. Doing things that no one else would dare to do. A band of bad-ass brothers, secure in the knowledge that none would ever betray another.

So where the fuck were his so-called pals, now that he really needed them?

Maybe it’s just the hospital. It probably creeps them out. Yeah. They’ll come visit me once I’m home, in my own bed.

Yeah, that’s it. It’s just this fucking hospital. I’m sure they’ll come visit me at home. They’re my friends. Through thick and thin. True to the very end.

He heard soft footsteps pad to his bedside and the sound of the night nurse adjusting the valve of his drip. Mercifully releasing more meds.

He thought about speaking to her, but his throat clenched tight with emotion. He couldn’t sort out what he was feeling, but shame and a feeling that he was unworthy of normal human contact were a big part of it. And then her footsteps padded away. Leaving him alone again, without so much as a word.

Marky was lucky. He went fast. I have to live like this. Why didn’t I just die in that fucking forest?

He imagined closing what used to be his eyes, trying to will himself to sleep.

His mind raced with fear and anger as he waited impatiently for the fresh meds to kick in. Dismal sobs racked his shoulders, but no tears streamed from his scab encrusted eyeholes.

The fuckers haven’t been here once to see me.

Not once.

Slowly the drugs seeped into the crevices of his brain. His dark contemplation grew half a shade brighter, from hellish black to hopeless gray.

His sobbing slowly subsided and he finally started drifting, not to sleep, but to halfway there. He was adrift in a personal limbo, just slightly more tolerable than the future he was coming to accept. A bleak, pointless future.

He lay for hours like an empty shell, his feelings submerged in drug-induced denial. But as midnight drew near the effects of the drugs plateaued and grew weaker, until he found himself back in the cold dark forest of his eternal night.

In this half-waking nightmare he relived the attack, with an angry snarling monster ripping into his face.

He woke drenched in sweat, heart pounding like a kettledrum, and fought to shut out the haunting memory.

But he couldn’t shut out the growing loneliness.

Where are my good buddies now?

Where is that bastard Wally?

And that fucking weasel Sparrow?

And where is that motherfucking pretty boy Nelson?

169

“Well Felicia, I’m not sure what I can do for her until I find out exactly what her situation is,” Villani said, in his characteristically bold but inviting voice.

Felicia squirmed, but his smile assured her he was on her side.

“I do know that Mandee Madisson is spearheading some humongous real estate development in that part of the county,” he continued, “But whether that’s material to this case I couldn’t say. I’ll be happy to help if I can. But you’ll need to convince Mrs. Dola to come in and sign an agreement before I can do anything on her behalf.”

“She may not have much money,” Felicia said meekly. “I don’t even know if she collects social security. She kind of lives on the fringe...”

“Nobody has money these days, Felicia. That’s why they call it the American Dream. Because everybody dreams of having money but nobody actually has any. Except for the bankers and Wall Street scammers and of course all the politicians.”

Her blank expression told him she didn’t quite get the joke.

“I think I can find some spare hours to contribute to her cause.”

“Thank you, Mr. Villani. I’ll make it up to you, even if I have to baby-sit for free for a whole year.”

Villani laughed. “I don’t think that’ll be necessary. But I do appreciate the offer. And I think you’re sweet for lending a helping hand to the old gal. Have her come in and see me. It’ll be interesting at any rate. I’ve never met a bona fide witch before. Maybe we can barter for services. I know a few judges I’d be thrilled to see turned into toads. It’d suit their personalities.”

Felicia smiled.
Be careful what you wish for, counselor.

“Now get out of here,” he snapped playfully. “I have important work to do. Someone had the audacity to plant a peach tree too close to their neighbor’s fence, do you believe that audacity? Now I’m arbitrating World War Three.”

Felicia looked at him blankly again, oblivious to his legal humor. Then she gave him a peck on the cheek and hurried out the door. Anxious to run out to Granny’s to deliver the hopeful news.

***

Felicia trudged the last fifty yards towards Granny’s house with growing trepidation. The place was dark and there was no smoke rising from the chimney. That was peculiar because the day was wintry cold and she knew the fireplace was the cabin’s only source of heat besides the old wood-burning stove.

As she drew closer her heart skipped a beat. A chicken lay dead on the ground, its neck twisted and swollen like a thick braid of taffy.

When she reached the cabin door her spirits plummeted further. A dog-eared Notice of Eviction was stapled to it. She tried the doorknob. The bolt clicked softly and the door creaked open with a ghostly groan.

“Hello…?” she cautiously peeked inside, afraid of what she might find. “Granny…?”

The place was dark and clearly vacant. No sign of Granny or Elmo. The cupboard doors hung open, emptied of the antique crockery and quaint stoneware mugs that Felicia had admired on her earlier visits.

But more disturbing was what remained. Granny’s huge black caldron still hung in the kitchen fireplace, cold and abandoned. Felicia couldn’t imagine why Granny would have left that behind. It seemed a vital part of her lifestyle, always bubbling away above the fire.

Damn, I’m such a selfish shit. Why did I drag my feet to help her? And where in the world is Granny?

A sick feeling came over her as she spotted a glittering pile of glass scattered across the floor along one wall. Her eyes crept from the jagged shards up the wall to an old hand-painted frame. Fragments of broken mirror glass were still embedded around its wooden edges, like pieces of an unfinished jigsaw puzzle.