Nine Minutes (16 page)

He was
right. I’d hocked my guitar. It was a special guitar, and I’d received a
substantial amount of money for it. Thank goodness Guido had picked it up in
Delia’s yard sale before she sold it. She never did believe me when I’d told
her how valuable it was.

     
I got the guitar
as a gift in 1969. I was nine years old and attending Woodstock with Delia and
Vince. The only thing Delia let me bring to keep myself occupied
were
some magic markers and coloring books. We’d set up our
small camp next to a young couple. I wish I could remember their names. The guy
had a guitar he would bring out and play when there were no performances. He
caught me staring the first day. I think they both felt sorry for me since
Delia and Vince were either wasted or asleep. He gave me guitar lessons. He
showed me the basic notes and let me practice on his guitar.

     
It rained that
weekend and performances were delayed and it was a muddy mess. The young couple
left for home late Sunday night. While his wife was packing up, he called me
aside and told me he wanted me to have his guitar as long as I would keep
learning to play it. I’d already learned “Jingle Bells,” and he said it was
good to learn that, but I needed to practice the notes he taught me, too. He
said it was an old guitar, but tuned well, and I could keep it. I was thrilled.

     
The next morning,
most of the crowd had cleared out. I woke up to loud music that was so good I
was mesmerized. It was Jimi Hendrix playing “The Star-Spangled Banner” on his
electric guitar. I tried to wake up Delia and Vince, but they were completely
passed out. Before Jimi was finished with his set, I took one of my black magic
markers and my newly acquired guitar and hauled myself up to the side of the
stage.

     
“Sorry kid, can’t
let you back here,” some guy with an official-looking pass told me at the gate.
He had to yell over the sound of the music.

     
“My parents are
working back there and I’ve been walking around with my dad’s guitar. He’s
gonna
be so mad at me for running
off. Please let me back there before I get in trouble,” I lied, shouting up at
him.

     
He either
believed me or figured a kid wasn’t much of a threat. He let me in. I was
waiting for Jimi Hendrix when he finally came down off the stage. I barged right
up to him and stopped him in his tracks.

     
“Could you please
sign my guitar, Mr. Hendrix?” And before he could answer, “I just learned how
to play it this weekend.”

     
I think this
amused him because he gave me a big smile. His face was glistening with sweat,
and he used his arm to swipe across it. “Sure,
gotta
pen
or something?”

     
I handed him my
magic marker. He wrote “Gypsy Eyes, Jimi Hendrix, WS, 8/18/69” right on the
back of the guitar.

     
“What are gypsy
eyes?” I asked him as I tried to make out the words of his hasty scribbling.

     
“What’s your
name?”

     
“
Gwinny
.”

     
“Well,
Gwinny
, it’s a song I recorded last year, but since you
have the biggest, brownest eyes I’ve ever seen, I think it applies to you
today.”

     
I gave him the
biggest smile I could muster. “Thank you.”

     
He didn’t reply.
He just smiled and started walking. I took my newly autographed guitar and
headed back the way I came in.

     
“Hey, your
parents are
gonna
be mad if
you take your dad’s guitar out there again,” the guy at the gate said to me.

     
“No, it’s okay,
my parents are out there camping,” I said as I sauntered past.

     
“What? I thought
you told me your parents were on the crew.”

     
“I did. I’m sorry
for lying. But I got Jimi Hendrix to sign my guitar!” I lifted it up for him to
see.

     
“Nice going,” he
said with a smile.

     
When Delia and
Vince finally sobered up enough for us to leave I showed them my autographed
guitar. They didn’t believe it was an authentic signature. I guess it was just
sloppy enough that they thought I signed it myself. Either that or they were
too
hungover
to care.

     
“Yes, I hocked my
guitar,” I answered
Grizz
, my eyes on the ground. “You’ve
given me so much, and I just wanted to give something back. I’m sorry it took
so long, but it’s handmade and there was no way I could get it in time for
Christmas.”

     
He stood up and looked
down at me. Then he took my hand, pulled me up and caught me in a bear hug that
almost took my breath away.
           

     
“It’s the nicest
present that anyone has ever given me, Kit. Thank you. I love it and I love you.”
He kissed the top of my head.

     
“Now let’s go get
your guitar back.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

By now I’d almost
forgotten I was a victim of
an abduction
. I continued
to disguise myself when I left the motel, but for the most part I just assumed
people had forgotten about me. I was okay with that. I didn’t want to be found.

     
There were always
new people coming and going, and I did my best to avoid them. I knew what
Grizz
was. He was a criminal. So were the majority of the
people he associated with. I despised that the man I loved earned a living
illegally. The only way I knew how to deal with it was to ignore it. It wasn’t
always easy.

     
I’d been living
at the motel for almost a year. One day in particular I heard a loud fuss out
by the pit—yelling and hooting. Lucifer and Damien were barking.
Grizz
walked out to see what was happening. When things
didn’t quiet down, I went out, too. It took me a few minutes to assess what was
happening, and when I did I was horrified.

     
It was a young
couple. He was getting beaten and she was getting raped.
Grizz
was just standing there talking to some guy and ignoring everything that was
happening. The dogs had stopped barking because
Grizz
had commanded them, but other than that, there was still a frenzy of activity
and yelling. I almost couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

     
Apparently, this
young couple had been tricked into coming back to the motel. The guys who did
it didn’t want the couple; they wanted the couple’s motorcycle. And they made
sport of the young guy and his girlfriend for kicks.

     
I walked right
over to
Grizz
and interrupted him. “Can you please
stop this? Do you see what’s going on?”

     
He looked at me
hard. “Not your concern, Kit. Go back inside.”

     
I looked around
for someone I might recognize, but there was no one. Where was Grunt, Chowder,
Moe
? I saw Monster, but he was enjoying himself too much. He
must have raped the girl before I got out there because he was zipping up his
jeans while simultaneously kicking the young guy in the ribs. I was outraged.
Not my concern? I was witnessing a rape, for goodness’ sake!

     
 
“
Grizz
, please
stop this. I’m asking you to stop it for me.”

     
Grizz
nodded at the guy he was talking to. I recognized him
now. His name was Chico. I’d noticed him at the motel once or twice before. He
didn’t wear a gang jacket.

     
“Miguel, end it
now,” Chico said to one of the guys sitting in a lawn chair.
Grizz
and Chico went back to their conversation.

     
Thank God, I
thought, willing my hands to stop shaking. Before I could thank him, I watched
the man called Miguel walk over to the girl who was lying on the ground and
sobbing. I jumped. Miguel then walked over to the young man who had just been
beaten and was also lying on the ground.

     
His way of ending
it was by putting a bullet into each of their heads. I’d just witnessed my
first executions.

____________

It happened
so quickly I couldn’t even react. I was in shock but knew better than to show
any hysterics to
Grizz
in front of these people.

     
I walked quickly
back to number four and shut the door behind me. I leaned against it and was
taking deep breaths and battling nausea when it opened and I fell backwards
into
Grizz’s
arms. He caught me and took me inside.

     
“You shouldn’t
have come out.”

 
    
“Really?
Really
Grizz
? What the heck was that? You were just
standing there while a guy was being tortured and his girlfriend was raped?” I
struggled to control my rising voice. “How could you let that happen?”

     
“Wasn’t my
problem to deal with, Kit.”

     
“This is your
place,
Grizz
. These are your people.”

     
“Chico and his
crew aren’t my people. Miguel is his guy. They were setting up a delivery.
Those kids were collateral damage. Not my problem. Not yours, either.” He
stepped past me to the couch and sat down.

     
I followed, hands
on my hips. “So what you’re basically telling me is you had no problem blinding
Monster to save a kitten, but you wouldn’t stop the execution of two innocents?
Grizz
.” I paused for effect, my heart pounding. “You
nodded your head and two people were
executed
.”

     
“Kit, they weren’t
mine to deal with,” he said and flipped on the TV. “You asked me to end it. Not
my problem how he chose to do it. You don’t like what goes on out there,
then
stay inside. Got it?”

     
I couldn’t
believe it. I thought I’d seen a different
Grizz
.
A sympathetic
Grizz
who rescued kittens
and listened to my kind of music.
Someone who made sure his young wife
went to church every Sunday.

     
I couldn’t
believe how naïve I was. He was all of those things, but I kept forgetting that
he didn’t get to be the leader of this gang by being soft. He was hard. He was
cold-blooded. He was ruthless in his pursuit of what he wanted.

     
I took his
advice. I stayed inside as often as possible.

____________

I racked my
brain for days afterwards, trying to figure out if I could’ve done something
different. Of course I could have. I could’ve walked into that motel room and
called the police. But would it have saved those two people? No.

     
More than likely,
Grizz
would have received a tip of his own before the
police got here, and I might have ended up in the swamp with the others. I didn’t
really think that would happen, but I couldn’t let myself imagine what
Grizz
would do to me if I really made him mad.

     
I went over it
and over it in my head. If I told, would it save future people from being murdered
in cold blood? Maybe. But what else would happen? Did I want to go back to my
old life with Delia and Vince? Did I want to see
Grizz
,
Moe, Chowder or Grunt in prison? Did I want to see Blue go to jail and his
family fall apart? What about Fess?

     
The truth was I
didn’t know the extent of the criminal activity that went on here, but it
couldn’t have been worse than murder. Could it?

     
I tried to engage
Grizz
in conversation about it, but he never indulged
me. “It’s better for you if you don’t know certain things” is all he said.

     
After the
incident with Chico and his crew, I noticed
Grizz
was
trying to be more accommodating with me, if that was possible. He already
spoiled me. But there was something different in the way he treated me after
that day. I can’t explain it, but I certainly felt it. I think even though he
put his foot down and refused to discuss it, he secretly worried that what I
saw that day might have put me over the edge. Maybe he was concerned I would
stop loving him. I wasn’t sure.

     
But then
something happened and I knew my suspicions were correct.

     
It was a Saturday
afternoon a week later. We were getting ready to leave for the west coast for
church. I was packing an overnight bag. The weather was supposed to be good,
and
Grizz
wanted to take his bike. He was standing at
the foot of the bed and had just asked me if I would rather drive my car. I
told him no. I loved my car, but I loved riding with him more.
That seemed to make him happy, but quite honestly
,
it was true
.

     
Just then the
door burst open and Moe ran in, frantic. Tears ran down her face. She grabbed
Grizz
by the arm and pulled him towards the door. She didn’t
have to do much pulling. We both were on high alert and ran outside as quickly
as possible.

     
When we got
outside we followed her over toward the edge of the motel, and that’s where we
saw him—Damien. The big dog was lying on his side, and Lucifer was prancing
around him excitedly, crying and whining. We heard the problem before we saw
it.

     
A huge
rattlesnake was coiled and made a lunge for Lucifer. Lucifer was able to avoid
it and just kept barking and pacing. As soon as we got close enough,
Grizz
put up his left hand and waved me back. Before I
realized it, he pulled out a gun that had been shoved into the back of his jeans.
He killed the snake in one shot.

     
“Probably
protecting her nest,” he said. “Otherwise, she would’ve bit him and slithered
off. Not stayed around for a fight.”

     
I didn’t know
anything about snakes, so I just nodded like I knew what he was talking about.

     
He told me to get
my car. I ran for number four and grabbed my keys. I ran to my car and got in.
I started it and drove toward him. He was carrying Damien. He told me to get in
the passenger seat. I put the car in park, jumped over the column and waited
for him to lay Damien across my lap. Just then, Chowder came out and asked what
the commotion was all about.

     
“Call the vet,
tell him rattlesnake bite. Looks like two bites, maybe. I’ll be there in ten
minutes.”
Grizz
turned to Moe and said, “You can’t
come.”

     
I think she was
already expecting this, but I could tell she was hurt and worried about Damien.
It made more sense to me when we drove up to the vet in Davie. Of course Moe
couldn’t come. If she had been part of a rural community and raised horses, it
was likely someone from the vet might have recognized her.

     
Chowder must have
talked to someone, because they were waiting for us when we pulled up.
Grizz
parked and came around to pick Damien up off my lap.
They were waiting with a gurney, but
Grizz
ignored
them. After realizing
Grizz
wasn’t going to lay
Damien on the gurney, they ran up the front steps past him and opened the door.
We followed the two vet technicians in and passed through the waiting room and
into one of the treatment rooms, where
Grizz
laid
Damien on a table. The vet was there and told us to wait outside.

     
We didn’t go back
out to the waiting room, but instead sat in two chairs just outside the door. I
didn’t notice if there were other patients waiting when we rushed in, but it
didn’t matter. I would think a deadly snakebite would take precedence over the
other appointments.

     
We waited for
what seemed like forever, but wasn’t really long at all. The vet came out and
explained he was treating Damien intravenously with anti-venom and heavy doses
of antibiotics. Damien had to stay at the clinic for at least a week. They
would watch the area around the bite marks and make sure he continued to
respond positively to the treatment. He expected Damien to make a full
recovery, but it was still too early to tell. He told us to go home and give
him a call in the morning. It was going to be a long week.

     
Grizz
shook his hand and opened the door for me to go out
into the waiting room. He stopped at the reception desk and told the girl we
would handle the bill the following day. She batted her clumpy mascara
eyelashes at him and said that would be fine. We made our way through the
waiting room, not really noticing anyone who was there.

     
Grizz
was holding the door open for me to go outside when I
heard a voice.

     
“Ginny? Ginny
Lemon, is that you?”