24
1008 Words
It’s Lisa, one of the girls who works day shift on weekends and occasionally subs for Carla if she’s sick. “Hey, Lisa. It’s Tru. Is Buddy there?”
“Hey, Tru! No, Buddy already came and went.”
“Shoot. Do you have his cell number, by any chance? It’s in my purse, but I left it in my locker. I need to talk to him.”
“Hang on a sec.” I hear her rummaging around on the other end of the line. “Yeah, I found it. You ready?”
“Let me get a pen. Okay, go ahead.” She reads off the number. I scribble it on a piece of note paper, then thank her. Then I ask tentatively, “So…how are things there?”
“Ugh. Same old same old. I’ve got this regular who comes in every Sunday after church and lectures me over his pancakes about my relationship with god. Apparently, the butterfly tattoo on my wrist has him concerned for the state of my soul.”
“The regular or god?”
She laughs. “I doubt the supreme being gives a hoot about what people ink into their skin. If he does, I’m not interested in getting into heaven. Gotta go, hun, some bearded old guy with a parrot on his shoulder is waiting to be seated.” “Good luck with that.”
She drops her voice, imitating a pirate. “Ahoy, matey, there be a salty sea dog dead ahead!” She hangs up, leaving me shaking my head as I dial Buddy’s number.
Obviously, Lisa knows nothing about what happened in the alley the other night, which makes me think nobody else at Buddy’s does, either. Gossip normally spreads through the place like wildfire.
Somehow, Liam managed to keep three dead guys a secret. But how?
And where do Diego and Carla think I disappeared to that night?
Hopefully, Buddy will provide me with some answers. He picks up, sounding guarded. “Hello?”
“Hi, Buddy. It’s Tru.”
Thundering silence. Odd from a man who chatters non-stop to everyone and everything, including himself, random strangers, and the pigeons he feeds in the park.
“Um, did I catch you at a good time?”
“Any time you want to call me is a good time, dear.”
The “dear” gives me pause. Buddy’s a friendly man, but he isn’t prone to endearments or pet names. I’ve only ever heard him call his wife by her first name, and they’ve been married for fiftytwo years.
“Okay. Um. Great. So…I guess you already know what happened on my last shift.”
More silence, this one vast and empty, like outer space. After a long time, Buddy clears his throat.
He says, “Are you all right?”
Nice evasion. “Yes. A bit bruised up, but nothing that won’t heal.”
His exhalation sounds genuinely relieved. “Thank heavens.”
I wait, but he doesn’t add more or ask any other questions, which seems strange. “I will need a few days off work, though. Which I take it you already know?”
He says hastily, “Yes, yes, take as much time as you need, dear. As much time as you need. The most important thing is your health. In fact, if you feel too traumatized to return to work, I’ll make sure you get disability and unemployment.”
I’m not sure I could legally get both at the same time, but he’s still talking.
“And anything else you need. We could even keep you on payroll until you find another job, if you prefer. I’ll cover all your medical bills, of course. Just send them directly to me.” “I’m not too traumatized to come back to work.”
“Oh. Well, then.”
I can’t decide if he sounds relieved or disappointed. This is getting weirder by the minute.
“I appreciate the offer though. About the medical bills, too. That’s very generous of you.” I frown. “Although, to be honest, I don’t know if the hospital even knows how to contact me. Liam seemed to handle everything.”
Buddy pauses. When he starts to talk again, he sounds like he’s proceeding with enormous caution, carefully choosing every word.
“I’m just glad you’re okay. Your well-being is the only thing that matters.”
I hold the phone away from my ear and make a face at it. When I put it back against my ear, I say, “Buddy?”
“Yes, dear?”
“What’s going on?”
He hesitates a hair too long. “I…don’t believe I know what you mean, dear.”
“I’ll clarify. You’ve called me ‘dear’ four times in sixty seconds, which is four times more than the entire time I’ve worked for you. You offered to pay me disability, unemployment, and continuing wages if I didn’t return to work, plus all my medical bills, and we both know your picture is next to the definition of frugal in the dictionary.”
I try to imbue my pause with weight. “Did Liam threaten you or something?” I hear a loud thud and wonder if Buddy fell out of his recliner.
“No! I didn’t say that! Please, don’t tell him I said that!”
“Sheesh, calm down. I was just asking.”
On the other end of the line, he’s panting like a Labrador. “Please, Tru, this is of the utmost importance. The utmost. It cannot get back to him that I said anything…” He gulps. “That I even implied anything negative. About you, or him, or—or anything.”
His fear is so palpable it’s reaching through the phone and squeezing a cold hand around my throat. Lowering my voice, I say, “You’re afraid of him.”
His exhalation is shaky. “Of course I am. The devil himself is afraid of that man.”
- Writer
