Death Orchid

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

It was still winter at the end of December, and it was frosty cold in the mornings. The fact that the sun had shown and the morning seemed like it was going to finally be a warm one, had been the reason Mandal had decided to ride her mountain bike to see her “Witch Doctor.”

Dressed in her winter gear of Nike warm up pants, three T-shirts and a-heavy black cotton, hooded sweatshirt covering it all gave her the perfect gear for cold mornings turning to tepid afternoons. In the yellow backpack cinched on her broad shoulders she had various raingear and a blue Swiss rain parka. Sometimes she could be as much as fifty miles from home and a good biker was always prepared for bad weather.

With her black leather bike gloves on and the usual cotton T-shirt scarf wrapped around her neck she was just cruising off of Bonanza Blvd and had decided to walk her bike down “The Fremont Experience” checking out the freaks and other off kilter people that haunted the place.

With her black skull cap covering her blond head and her super light gray Oakley lenses and ski goggles defending her eyes from the cold air, she looked like she had just departed from a UFO.

Walking down Fremont, she spied two of her cop friends, who looked cool in their shorts, various police man’s gear and bike stuff. Glad to see her as usual, the two handsome six-footers smiled and joke begged her for some time, which she had given them.

She reminded both guys about her one-year anniversary gig at JASON’S Thursday night and asked them to be sure to tell the other cute guys at the station to remember also. It was classy move that endured her into their hearts a little more.

After professing their love for her, jokingly of course, they hugged and as she continued to walk her mountain bike past the casinos, the two cops both agreed that she was not only the sexiest lady they had ever seen, but the classiest too.

Stalling in front of Binion’s Casino, she looked at a sign in the window telling of an up and coming poker tournament. Remembering that she had not played poker in a while, she made a mental note of the tourney, and moved on.

Poker was something her unusual brain excelled at and though a loser at first, she was beginning to win more and more the more she played. A Mensa member and as in everything else she did, she was not only welcomed at the tables, but now was beginning to gain some respect from the other players. As usual, brain’s, beauty and class and a devastating smile got a girl a long way in life.

Walking her bike to an intersection, she felt the first hints of sunlight warming her.

Peeling off her long sleeve T-shirt, she tied it around her small waist and waited for the light to turn green.

About to step off the curb, something odd caught her attention. Puzzled, she looked to her left about a hundred feet down the street.

She had seen him before, as well as the stunning, young blond homeless girl.

The tall, muscled man with the shaved head, dressed very much like her, workout pants, lots of basic T-shirts, Van tennis shoes, gloves and goggles and an orange backpack on his back often stoked her curiosity.

She had only seen him a few times since winter, but during the heat of summer she saw him often, powerfully peddling his mountain bike around the valley.

Within the fired air of summer, bike peoples gear changed dramatically and several times she had seen his lean, tall, muscled body in shorts, sleeveless T-shirt and floppy socks grinding up the mountain towards Red Rock.

His face was tan, weathered and deeply lined, yet to her thinking his body was that of a twenty year old. She did not know if he were sixty or thirty, for his body was so cut that she guessed his body fat to be about five percent, much like her own. He was the only man she had ever thought sexy, for his ruggedness and power had enticed her curiosity greatly.

Taking liberties with her cop friends, she asked them once about the man and the beautiful young homeless girl, which she often spied loitering in alleys and along Fremont Street.

Her buddies had simply said:

“Oh, that’s Mal…Some kinda wild poet, artist, but a very cool guy indeed.”

Of course that fixed absolutely none of her curiosity, and she often wondered who the man really was.

Once she’d been early for a Pilate’s class and seen him exiting a yoga session.

With his winter bike gear on and orange back pack with a blue yoga mat sticking from it he walked right past her, neither making eye contact nor acknowledging her at all.

Not used to being ignored, she turned and watched as he exited the studio, unlocked his bike and peddled away.

At the door of the studio, she corralled her Pilate’s teacher and casually asked her about the man.

“Oh, that’s Mal…He’s some kind of famous artist or writer or something. Very private guy. He once and only once complicated me on my class.” She guffawed.

“Actually he should be teaching me the class, he’s a real master. I know he’s an older guy, but he’s got the body of a twenty-year old gymnast. Told me he has a house in Mexico that is on the beach next to a Dutch Ashram. Gave me the web site in case I ever wanted a cool place to work. I never went to it…Ya know I like Vegas.”

Mandal was more confused than ever.

As for the blond homeless girl, Mandal had watched over the past year as at times the girl would suddenly start screaming, flailing, foaming at the mouth and other times she seemed quite, cheerful and quite normal, almost angelic.

The cops had given her about the same amount of information they had given her about the artist.

“Oh, that’s Mary. Dangerously unbalanced, homeless. Showed up one day outta nowhere. Eighteen years old.” They thought. “Beautiful, yet a very sick young girl.”

Both cops thought that she for sure did not have long on this planet.

“If HIV don’t get her, probably the streets will.” They said with some remorse in their hearts.

But now as Mandal watched the Man called Mal talked to the pretty girl, she thought he was chastising her, for her head was bowed and he was poking her in the chest and to her thinking, the girl look frightened. Then, the girl lifted her face, leaned in and kissed the man on the cheek, which seemed to calm the moment.

Staring at the odd production, she noticed as Mal unhitched his backpack, unzipped a pouch handing the girl a wad of money.

Mary, as she knew her, grinned, took the money, shoved the considerable amount of bills into her blue jeans, hugged Mal one last time, turned and gaily skipped down the street.

Slowly, as she watched the confusing moment dissipate, the man turned his head and through his sunglasses stared directly at her.

For a moment their eyes locked. He lowered his glasses and welded her with a stare from his penetrating blue eyes. Gulping, she felt as if he were peering right through her.

Feeling unnerved by his look, she thought that the slightest of smiles graced his lips, but she was not sure. As quickly as his stare had locked her mind, his glasses were back covering his eyes. Watching enthralled, she stared as he remounted his bike and powerfully peddled down the street, disappearing around a corner.

Giving her head a shake, she blinked and feeling odd, she thought about him for a moment longer. Understanding none of it, she mounted her bike and began to move east and towards her appointment with her “Witch Doctor.”

A HALF hour later as she scooted down Decatur Blvd., she felt unsure of herself and nervous, for she could not get the handsome man’s eyes out of her head.

Pulling up to the three-story office building she parked and secured her bike to a pole with her bike lock. What she did not know as she took two stairs at a time, was that soon her life, a life seeking so much, would be in more danger then she ever thought possible.

As she reached her doctor’s office door she couldn’t possibly know that a man who rode his bike, and was a genius much like her would either be saving or ending that life once and for all.