Business as Usual (19 page)

A
thin cloud of cigarette smoke settled overhead before slowly dissipating. 
The stranger was nearby.

I
drew myself to my knees, palms on the ground. The cigarette in the stranger’s
mouth dropped into the puddle at my finger tips, its dim red light slowly
fading away in the darkness. Fiery red embers hissed at death by drowning.

The
footfalls drew nearer, surrounding me in every direction.

“I’m
just trying to get home,” I reasoned, giving the assailant a sideward glance.

I
gazed into the darkness, hoping to make something out. A man of average height,
lean, if not a bit muscular stood on the other side of my bike.  I
strained my eyes as I tried to make out his face.

“Do
I know you?” I asked.

The
man looked at me then reached into his front pocket, hand lingering a moment.

I
didn’t wait for him to make his move. I scrambled to my feet and took off.

My
heart was beating so hard I thought it was going to explode out of my chest as
I tripped over fallen branches and stumbled through a bush where I cut myself
on a vine of thorns, searing my skin away.

There
I was…dodging boulders, evading trees and the possible axe murderer following
me. I looked back, but only for a split second. He kneeled over my bike then
stood, lifting it out of the mud.

I
ran like that creepy cop in the Terminator, and soon, saw light at the end of
the tunnel.
The trail, not far ahead, lead to the highway and
the gravelly path to my house.

The
sound of the stranger’s footsteps beating behind me in the distance soon gave
way as I breached light and cut across the field. When I made it to the house I
leapt two stairs at a time to the back door and banged it open with my fist.

I
slammed it closed behind me. Safe, but exhausted, I slid to the kitchen floor
in a heap and sobbed my eyes out…yet quietly, so mother would not hear me.

CHAPTER TWO:

The
first thing I saw when I opened my eyes the next morning was my cracked laptop.
It sat on the nightstand next to my bed, a grim reminder of the night before.

I
sat up, a blinding headache nearly pushing me back down. There was a lump on my
temple where I apparently hit my head on a rock when I was thrown from my bike.
Had I imagined the stranger? I couldn’t’ know for sure.

I
got out of bed, wearing the pajamas I put on the night before, and limped to
the bathroom. I stood before the mirror, inspecting the cuts and bruises on my
arms and legs. A tiny plum sat beneath my eye. I looked like I had been in a
fight.

I
washed up, wiping remnants of grass and dirt from places you couldn’t imagine.
Then I brushed my teeth and hair then went downstairs to eat breakfast. Mother
always cooked a big breakfast. Taking care of the house was her only joy in
life. I sighed at the thought of such an existence. 

I
sat at the kitchen table. Mother stood before the stove scrambling eggs while
simultaneously rolling turkey sausages around in a frying pan.

Not
a hair on her head was out of place. She wore it in a bun. At eight in the
morning, she was fully dressed, makeup already on her face.

She wore
a jogging suit most of the time but didn’t jog. Mother simply liked the way she
looked in her outfits. Dad obviously liked the way she looked too.  They
couldn’t keep their hands off of each other.  Sometimes he’d sneak from
behind and tickle her sides.

Mother
used the spatula to scoop eggs and sausage onto a plate then turned to set it
before me, looking down at my face for the first time.

The
spatula fell to the kitchen floor.

“Dear
lord! Victoria… what happened to your face?” Mother shrieked.

In
other words, what kind of man was
gonna
  want
a
beat up baldheaded old bumpkin
like me?

“I
fell off my bike, mother.”

Concern
gave way to a look of anger.

“I
told you not to ride your bike at night, and in a damned thunderstorm at that.”

I
ignored her, scooping eggs onto my fork. Dad walked in, took one look at my
face and grabbed the morning paper from the kitchen counter. Mother sat a plate
of food and a cup of orange juice before him. He took a sip, flipped the pages
of his paper open and began to read.

“How’s
your story?”

“I’m
screwed. I broke my laptop last night.”

Dad
peeled the corner of his newspaper forward and peered at me from the brim of
his glasses.

“You
can have the old one downstairs in the den. What are you
gonna
do about the article?”

“I
finished the story but I can’t get it because it’s on the broken laptop. I’ll
write it again, I’m just…”

I
sighed, throwing my hands in the air.
Wasn’t like we could really
talk with mom in the room.

“What’s
on your mind, Tai?”

If I
told them about last night, they’d freak. Then again, dad was cool… until mom
figured out a way to rile him up.

“Nothing.
I’m just a little
tired…that’s all.”

“Get
some ice on that shiner,” he ordered, gesturing toward my black eye.

I
got up, went to the refrigerator, grabbed a tray of ice and poured the contents
into a plastic zipper bag. I held it against my eye. Mother shook her head in
dismay. 

“I’m
goin
’ downtown. If you need a ride let me know,” dad
said.

I
sat down, ready to finish my breakfast.  Mother laid a hand on my
shoulder.

“Victoria!
Before I forget to remind you, get your bike off the porch. I nearly broke my
neck this morning.”

I
got up, walked slowly to the back door and looked out. There it was… my bike
sat on the porch steps, the back wheel spinning, chain in place.

I
went outside in my pajamas and hauled the bike off of the stairs, scanning the
yard nervously for my would-be attacker. 

Weird
things like this happened all the time. When I fell asleep the night before, I
opened my eyes in the darkness and for a fleeting moment…saw someone sitting on
the window sill. Was I crazy?

I
parked the bike and went back inside trying to figure out how it ended up on
the porch. Maybe dad saw it when he was out for a jog and brought it back.

Satisfied,
I went to the den and got my father’s old laptop. I remembered some of what I
wrote for the article, but wondered if someone else had already beaten me to the
story. According to Dana, the department planned to release a statement later
that day. I sat at my desk and turned the laptop on.  

When
the old processor finally booted up, I went into my dampened messenger bag and
took my notepad out. The words were smudges of ink running down the pages.

I
swore loudly and slammed it on the table. The department was playing the arsons
down, calling them “isolated” or “copycat” fires. Madison Heights had a serial arsonist
on its hands and the public deserved the truth. But I also had an obligation to
the department as its civilian researcher I had to get permission from Dana who
was the lead detective on the case
before
I wrote an article alerting
the public to the pyromaniac on the loose in our city. It was a matter of
choosing my words carefully.   

Dad
gave me a ride downtown a few hours later. As promised, Dana waited outside of
Satsuki, the Japanese restaurant across the street from the burned out
diner. 

“Thank
god you’re not on that damned bike,” was the first thing out of her mouth.

 I
took my sunglasses off and put them on top of my head. 

“What
happened to your face?” Dana exclaimed.

“It’s
a
looong
story.”

“Well…
I
wanna
hear the story so let’s get inside where you
can tell me about it.”

I
hated when Dana talked like a cop.

“Is
this an official interrogation?”

“Maybe.”

“You
wanna
cuff me first?”

“I
just might, if you don’t get your ass through that door.”

She
opened the door and I walked ahead like one of her criminals. We sat down,
taking a corner table where she could watch the rest of the room and keep an
eye on the burnt down diner across the street.

“I’ve
been staking the diner out all morning.”

“We’re
not blowing your cover are we?”

“No.
I put two guys out there. They needed a break so it’s a good thing we’re
sitting here. What happened to your face?”

The
young waitress from the night before appeared at our table. I was slightly relieved.
Since the accident, everyone, including Dana, was overly protective of me.

“Hi,
nice to see you again,” the young woman said. The name
Mihoko
was on her name tag. “May I take your order?”

She
smiled and I smiled back. Dana rolled her eyes and glared at the bruises on my
arms and face.  I was stalling and she knew it.

 We
gave the young woman our orders and she scribbled it in her notepad.

“Alright,
enough’s enough. Tell me what happened or I’m filing a report.”

“I
fell off my bike, it’s no big deal.”

“Fell
off a bike my ass…you look like you fell off a damned cliff.”

“I
took the bike path to my house.
Got caught in a mudslide.
The chain on the bike snapped and I fell.”

“How’d
you get the black eye? What happened to you, Tai?”

I
waved my hands in mock surrender.

“Fine…
I’ll tell you the truth. I took the bike path to my house. The chain snapped,
and I fell. I was probably out for about thirty seconds. I woke up, looked
around and some guy was standing over me.”

“You’re
shitting
me!” she squealed.

“I
took one look at him and took off. I don’t remember the cuts and bruises.
Or how I got them for that matter.”

“So
you rode your bike into a densely wooded area in the middle of the night and some
lunatic tried to grab you? What on earth would possess you to do something so
stupid? I told you I would give you a ride.”

I
rolled my eyes. “I’m tired of people fussing over me all the time…”

The
smell of chicken Teriyaki and rice wafted into my nostrils. I looked up. A
young Japanese man stood next to our table with two trays in his hands. I
inhaled as he sat the plates before us, long dark hair swaying in front of his
eyes. He was tall, with broad permanently slouched shoulders. His face was lean
and his body thin but sculpted. He looked up and I recognized him immediately.

Squinting
my eyes for a better look, I
leaned forward, trying to see past the veil of glossy dark hair. 

“O?
Is that you…?”  I asked.

My
eyes slid to the muscular lines of his neck, down to the top of his exposed
chest. O’s heart hammered visibly through taunt rippling, sticky flesh.