Through the Storm (The Montclair Brothers) (13 page)

Jacob watched Emma toss from side to side in bed. She was eating, but it wasn't very much. Every time someone walked by to go to the bathroom, she'd sit straight up in bed. He'd have to gently coax her to lie back down. She was constantly scared or irritated, and when she thought he was asleep, she'd try to muffle her sobs with the pillow.

At four-thirty in the morning, Jacob finally heard her breathing become slow and steady. Slipping quietly out of the room, he went into the kitchen and began to tear a piece of paper from a pad. Sean, who was sleeping in the living room with Brian, jumped to his feet in record speed.

"Dude," Sean whispered. "You scared the shit out of me." He walked over to Jacob. "What's going on?"

Jacob tried to keep his voice as low as possible. "We need to get together so we can come up with a way to stop Robert. It's going to be close to impossible to meet, so I thought I'd write something out so we could just pass notes back and forth."

"Like we did in third grade?" Sean tried not to chuckle.

"My first note wasn't until fifth grade. You were hitting on girls when you were eight?" Jacob playfully punched his brother's upper arm.

"We can find a way to talk. I'll ask the officer to provide a place where Vincent can council us. They can't deny our right to confidential legal advice." Sean looked at Jacob's shaded face. The only light came from a dim bulb over the stove.

"You're a genius, which makes me one too." Jacob smiled, feeling so relieved that they'd actually found a way to communicate, face to face. "Can you get Vincent alone and explain it to him, then have him tell Tyler?"

"No problem, but remember something Jacob. I'm the smarter half of you…" Sean smiled.

"You're full of shit. Go back to sleep." Jacob winked and then headed back to bed. Hopefully he wouldn't wake Emma up. Hopefully, they wouldn't all die.

That morning, Carrie arrived carrying another gallon of milk. It was getting stuffy inside the apartment, so Tyler asked her permission to open the sliding glass door. He had to promise that they wouldn't go outside of it. He'd talked to Vincent about the meeting, and he thought it was their best and only option for the brothers to get together.

"We'd like a room, outside of this apartment, to talk privately with our attorney," explained Tyler.

"Who's your attorney? I can clear him to come up here." She took out a pen and paper.

"That would be me," stated Vincent as he handed her a business card. "I need to speak with my clients in private. Could you direct us somewhere?"

"Let me see what's available, Mr. Montclair. I'll be back in a couple of minutes." Carrie went out the door.

"Wait a second." Emma approached the men, with Renee close behind her. "What do you mean 'talk with your attorney in private' crap? We're all in this together." Emma was fuming.

"Whatever needs to be discussed can take place right here. You're not leaving us alone, and you're not going to talk behind our backs!" Renee was becoming livid.

"We need to discuss my adoption of Brian, and I'd rather not talk about it in front of him. Bringing up his parents, isn't going to help him any," explained Tyler in a whisper.

"Oh, okay. We understand." Emma softened her tone. "Just don't go far, please."

"We won't. As a matter of fact, there's no way they're going to allow us to leave the floor." Tyler hated lying to the women.

Carrie returned a few minutes later and escorted them down the corridor, into an empty apartment. "Just don't walk back to your apartment without me, and don't make any messes or the manager will ring my neck." Carrie stuck a key in the lock and held open the door. "Lock this once you're all inside. I can't give you too much time so try to hurry," she warned.

"Got it.
Thank you." Tyler closed the door and turned the deadbolt.

"We have just
under two weeks, until we can make our move," began Vincent. "We need to figure out the details, and we're going to have to divide the tasks up between us."

"
No
. It's imperative that we stay together." Tyler spoke in a rushed voice. "First things first, we're not going anywhere if we don't find a vehicle. When we get the paper in the morning, Sean can check the classifieds. We have to get our hands on a cheap car, something that won't attract attention. When we leave, it will have to be in the middle of the night. If we wake anyone up, they'll seriously nail us to the floor. I'll take care of writing a note to Renee and Emma, but I'm not guaranteeing that either of them will listen."

"Where do we go," asked Sean.
             

"Castle Lake," offered Jacob. "We have to start up there, because Robert isn't down here. He's probably hundreds of miles away, and I highly doubt he's aware of our location."

"I don't know, Jacob. I hope you're right." Tyler didn't believe it for a second.

"Guns," said Sean. "Right now we have nothing to defend ourselves with."

"Vinnie, do you know anyone who could maybe help us get our hands on some weapons?" Tyler turned to him and watched his expression change.

"Legal or illegal," instructed Jacob. "It doesn't matter."

"Shit," replied Vincent. "I knew you guys would ask me to do something like this. I'll see what I can find."

∞  ∞  ∞  ∞

Robert had found a pencil from Bear Lanes in a kitchen drawer, which he'd used to draw an X through each day on the Girly
Calendar, for the past week. There was no way he could wait any longer.
Bear Lanes. It figures Big Bad Buck Roy would bowl. Pansies bowled.

He stood in front of the full length mirror on the back of the shabby bedroom door, and placed the sunglasses, that he'd purchased for five bucks at the gas station, on his face. He smiled at his perfect reflection. Robert's gut was smaller, his face more narrow, and even his teeth looked better since he'd started brushing them daily. Fat Buck's toothbrush wasn't so bad. He'd cleaned it off real good with the hand soap that smelled like
freakin' strawberries for God sakes.
Lavender, strawberries, and bowling. Yep, Buck was born in Pansyville.
Shaving everyday was pissing Robert off so bad, he'd had to buy a new razor. He busted Big Ole Buck's cheap electric job on the floor. Smashed it with his high-tops.

He could tell his arm was healing, because he could button and zip up the pair of jeans without wanting to punch something. Big Buck's ugly pants weren't even tight. Hell, his stomach didn't even hang over the top of them anymore.

The first thing on Robert's list was to call Ron the Cop, and make sure the Seven Stupid Dwarves were still in Lyons. He was about to show them what a real Lion was.
King of the Jungle
! Robert roared in the mirror.

Picking up the phone, he removed his sunglasses and dialed the idiot's number.

"What now, Rob?" Ron the Cop was sounding a bit sarcastic.

"Don't get cocky with me," threatened Robert.

"I'm sorry. What do you need?" Ron the Stupid Cop exhaled right in Robert's ear, pissing him off.

"Is my dumbass wife and her idiot friends still in Lyons in that apartment? If you lie to me, I'll send these letters out, R-r-
ronnnn."

"To my knowledge, yes.
It's not like I can call Terrance and ask him where they are. Look, Rob, you c-c-can't touch those people. They're innocent in this. Why don't you just give your wife a divorce and be done with it. You're c-c-crazy." Ron the Cop was starting to stutter. The stupid jerk did the same thing when he was drunk, while they played poker. Robert loved making fun of him.
R-r-ron, p-p-pass the ch-ch-chips.

"It's none of your business, now is it, R-r-
ron? Open your mouth, and I'll ruin you." Robert slammed the phone down, but wished he could slam it into Ron the Cop's head. Maybe when he was finished with the Stupid Dwarves, he'd give good ole' Drunken Ron a third eye in his throat too. Robert laughed as he pictured the jerk lying in a pool of blood, while staring up at him through three eyes.

The phone rang as soon as Robert shoved the shitty phone into the cradle.

"Hello, this is George McDuffy. Is this Buck Roy?" Robert almost cracked up. The Goon talked through his nose.

"Yeah," said Robert.

"I want to proceed with the sale of the forty acres. I haven't heard back from you, and I gave you a deposit." The Goon sounded constipated.

"I'm not selling it." Robert thought it was fun to get this moron riled up.

"We've already signed papers, Mr. Roy. You have to sell it."

Robert slammed the phone down again.
What a loser
.

After taking one last look around the shoddy trailer, and carrying the Girly suitcase he'd packed with Big Fat Buck's clothes, and everything else he'd need for his Secret Mission, he headed out the door. He wondered how rotted Trailer Trash Fat Buck was. Hopefully the raccoons and rats drug him off. Robert laughed and his belly hardly shook at all. He didn't look like the same guy. With his shirt tucked into the faded jeans, head and face nice and shiny and---
Shit
! Robert looked down at his size fifteens. He'd definitely have to get a new pair of shoes, something a little on the pansy side, like Big Buck would wear, before he drove out of this Willy Town.

He was tempted to go to the cabin to check out his handy work, but he didn't feel like messing with that stupid chain again. Robert drove up the main dirt road until it forked off onto a badly cracked two lane with shabby asphalt. His luck came through again when he reached a large tractor supply store. They'll probably have Cow Pile stepping shoes in here. Big Fat Buck would sport something like those, proudly.
Pansy.

Walking inside the dim building, Robert began to sweat from the stuffy air. He stared at the dipshit woman behind the counter as she asked in a
twangy voice, "Can I help you find something?" Robert wanted to smother her with one of the bags of feed on the shelf.
Yeah, find me an extra brain so I can shove it in your freakin' ear
!

"Do you sell shoes?" Robert showed her his clean teeth, but kept his sunglasses on his face. Sucking in his stomach, he followed her to the back of the store.

"Would you like work boots or work shoes? It's all we carry. We have regular and steel-toed." Dip Shit Counter Hag was pushing his limits.

"Size fifteen, steel-toe."
Robert could almost feel the crunching when he kicked his ignorant wife's skull in.

"Here
ya go. They come in black and brown." Dipshit wasn't color blind.
Hag.

"Brown ones will do just fine." As she handed Robert the boots, he had to stop himself from pulling her fake eyelashes off. He wished she'd leave, but Dipshit stood there like a damn crane.

Robert slipped the boots on and stood up. They made him feel taller, tall enough to slam Hag on top of her head and bust it open.

"I'll just wear these out to the car," said Robert as he strutted to the register.

"That'll be one hundred and thirty-nine dollars."

"
What
? A hundred and thirty-nine bucks for a pair of boots?!"

"These are high quality." Robert wanted to break her spine.

He dug Fat Buck's wallet out and handed her three fifty dollar bills.
Freakin' Dipshit
!

He took the receipt, grabbed the box with his high-tops in it, and headed out the door.

"Have a nice day, Sir." The Hag called out and showed her crooked smile.

Robert ignored her. When he got to his car, he flipped her right the hell off. He wiped the sweat off his brow and started the car.

He whistled as he drove, frequently admiring his handsome face in the mirror. When he reached a town called Henry, he pulled up to a payphone. Robert dug into his pockets, but he didn't have enough change. He walked inside, standing up straight so he would be more intimidating, and told the pimply faced kid that he needed to use the phone.

"I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to."
I'm sorry, I'm not allowed to
, Robert wished he could mock Pimple Boy out loud and make him shit himself.

"Um, is it local?" he asked as Robert glared at him through his dark lenses. He was making Pimple Freak squirm.

"Yeah," he lied.

"I guess it'd be okay." He handed Robert the phone. It looked just as shitty as Big Fat Buck's.

He didn't give Ron the Cop a chance to speak after he picked up.

"Rent me a room in Lyons."

"I can't—"

"I'll call you later and get the info." Robert hung the phone up and laughed. Pimple Head stared at him. He walked out before he lost control and made the Big Pimple give him all his money.

He ended up at a four way stop. A sign pointed to the freeway, and after a few seconds of quick thinking, Robert decided that no one would recognize who he really was. He turned left to take the fast route; 70 mph was a lot better than 35. The quicker he splattered the Dwarves brains, the better. Once his Mission was complete, he would be free to chase his dreams…all the way to the racetrack.
Indiana, here I come
! Watching the Indy races front and center, would put him in seventh heaven.
Seven Dwarves
. Robert cracked up and drove onto the entrance ramp to the freeway.

∞  ∞  ∞  ∞

After a week of being holed up, everyone was starting to go stir crazy. Emma was used to getting fresh air at Montclair Park, or sitting out on her patio at home. She was having a hard time recalling when the last time was that she got to lean back and just close her eyes in the sun. Renee seemed to be getting even more depressed, just like herself, and poor Brian flipped through television channels, but his eyes never seemed to focus on the screen. He went from living outdoors
on his own, to having every step he took dictated.

The
Montclairs were acting the strangest of all of them. Their awkward glances at one another, slight nods, and quiet mumblings didn't fool her. Something was up, and it had nothing to do with Brian's adoption. Emma wanted to confront Jacob and Tyler, to make them disclose what all the secrecy was about, but she knew they'd just tell her another fabricated story. She wished she could talk to Renee in private, to see if Tyler had said anything to her, but Emma knew that whatever was going on, the men were going to keep it between themselves.

Maybe they were planning to bail and leave her, Renee, and Brian, here. It'd be just like Tyler to take off after Robert, just so the creep couldn't harm anyone again. He'd think the police could keep an eye on three people better than seven.
No, he wouldn't dare.

Emma looked down and adjusted her light pink t-shirt. She could feel someone staring at her, so she turned her head and saw Jacob standing in the hallway. His eyes were caressing her, and a smile spread on his face. He walked over to her and sat down.