Novel Treatments / RENDEZVOUS WITH A RUNAWAY: Appetizers
“Okay, bro,” Gardner said, squinting into the smoke-filled den, “Where’s your pretty sidekick?”
“At her aunt’s, I guess.” Derek smiled that he could speak it so easily. It was one of the lies he had rehearsed this afternoon. He watched Gardner closely. ”You know, she does go home once in a while. You coming in?”
As Gardner stood in the doorway his shoulders appeared broader than life. They might seem that way to anyone who didn’t read the finer print. A trained eye could catch him sucking in his gut, while at the same time, his shoulder blades rose, as if by magic wire. Tonight he wore his red and green hunter’s jacket, topped off by a brown scarf under a dirt-white cap. Redneck, pure and simple.
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He stared idly down at the snow from Bobby’s window. The thick aroma of bacon, eggs and butter found the stairs and made the ascent. Embarrassing lyrics of a love song cried from the distant basement. The floor picked up each pound of Megan’s bare feet as she marched past behind him, most likely stripped to a towel and no doubt wearing a protective frown.
“Hurry up,” Derek said without looking around. ”She told Bobby tonight, but she could come back anytime. Clocks don’t exist in her world.”
He heard the aerosol spray. He could smell her deodorant. She was close behind him. Was she topless? His eyes knew their place. He better not look around.
Her scent shot through his nose. The idea that she might be naked plunged from his mind through his stomach to his groin, and made him feel sick. The first pains of an unmanageable relationship.
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”How do we get around telling Bobby?”
Eddie frowned and brushed the rim of his hat. ”We don’t,” he said.
Derek sniffed trouble. ”What do you mean we don’t?”
Trouble came wrapped in the shell of a wicked grin. ”Why tell Bobby anything? She’ll probably only be here tonight. Tomorrow we can figure out somewhere else she can stay.”
“Agreed,” Derek said.
Eddie was wearing some kind of commando look. If he wanted to lead—then fine. Friction between them they didn’t need. Besides, a sneaky suspicion said she wasn’t simply a runaway to him. Old Romeo could have his new toy. The important thing to Derek was that he and Eddie conduct themselves as friends.
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By 9 P.M. a new voice could be heard in the den. Doctor Hathaway was in there rehashing old rules. Derek had heard them all before. Years ago at the Miller house. Some things were never going to change. The rules weren’t, and Bobby’s generation probably wasn’t either.
Derek kept the curtain drawn in the laundry room, quietly plotting in his own defense. Several times the lecture stopped, and he could picture her frowning and pointing, while hovering over some insignificant flaw.
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Headlights arched across the room and Derek held his breath. Moments later a car door slammed. Derek frantically shook Megan.
“What’s wrong, Derek?”
“Wait a minute,” he whispered and released her arm. ”Cops don’t slam doors.”
Megan rolled over and faced Derek in the dark. ”No, but my big brother or my daddy might.”
Somewhere within the backyard vicinity a neighborhood dog started a restless bark. Derek and Megan scrambled out of bed.
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Somewhere around midnight footsteps creaked across the ceiling. Derek traced them in the dark from the upper stairway to the living room window. Propped on his elbows, he peered restlessly around in the flammable silence of the basement lagoon. Was that Mrs. Hathaway? What was she doing? Had there been a noise out front? The neighborhood tonight had been customarily still and Derek felt he would have detected anything peculiar, even in his sleep.
So what was she doing? Soon there was the unmistakable stomp descending from Bobby’s room followed by the familiar bark for her to return to her room. The standard protest ensued that this was her house, and Derek could almost see Vanessa’s flailing arms combating Bobby’s mortar-filled eyes.
A minute later the middle floor was quiet. Hooray for Bobby. Derek let his head settle into the cold pillow, while his ears distilled from the false alarm.
Was Megan awake? Silently worrying with him? Or was she lying peaceably next to him, perhaps deep into some secret dream world where exclusively runaways gathered each night?
Finally, his eyes burned shut, and his thoughts stumbled hazily back and forth between deceptive here and impassable tomorrow. His antenna slowly relaxed, and he mentally reset his townhouse timer. Just enough for several hours of sleep.
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“Okay, Mr. Wise Guy. You said she left home with just the clothes on her back. Barely enough money for her next meal.”
“That’s what she said.”
“If she’s such an innocent victim, then where did she get—Better yet, how did she get that stuff she’s wearing? Which, by the way, all designer stuff.”
Derek could cough up a dozen possibilities. None of them would be probable to Bobby. Or to himself.
“You can’t come up with anything, can you?” Bobby was frowning, his hand waving in Derek’s face. ”Tell you what. Why don’t we ask her?”
“You ask her.” Derek started to walk. ”I’m satisfied it’s none of my business.”
Bobby moved with him. ”She stays in my house tonight it’s your business.”
“You ask her. I will not treat her like a criminal. Poor kid has it bad enough as it is.”
“Ha. Kid. The way you keep looking at her? Ha-ha, Greazy.”
“So I watch over her.” Derek took a breath. ”We need to get something straight. You can admire a beautiful flower without trying to own it. At least I don’t think of her as a toy. But you do. If I wasn’t around you’d play her to death.”
“Liar.”
“Only because she won’t play with you. Drunkard.”
“Child molester.”
“Whoa. Pothead. Hell no. Crackhead.” They walked halfway around the block and Derek cut in front of Bobby. He made sure no one was listening. ”Child molester? That’s heavy. For what, Bobby? Sleeping in the same bed as her?”
”With her.”
“As her. There’s a big difference.”
“Not to a cop. Not to her dad.”
A leash slapped the sidewalk and they both glanced behind them. The neighbor with the dog stopped for local business. Derek quickened his pace and Bobby accelerated past him with his butt sticking out and his arms glued to his sides.
“Quit it,” Derek said and slowed to a normal pace. ”You’re not funny. And I’m not in the mood.”
“Greazy,” Bobby said and touched Derek’s shoulder. All grudges and jokes were gone. His face said this was serious. ”The only thing I know is she was in my drama class. And she was damn good. Maybe she uses that talent for other things.”
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“I don’t know,” Derek said. ”All I did was nod at that dude. Carla, you know him? I think he wants to ask us something. I’m rolling down the window and finding out.”
Carla jumped up and down in the back seat. Something slapped against the back of Derek’s head.
“I know him,” Carla cried. ”Get your fuck out of here. He think I stole his pot.”
Derek hit reverse and kicked some gas. ”Damn it, Carla. It’s one thing after another. What is he? A drug dealer?”
Bobby said, “I wish I had my piece. Take his ass and his pot.”
“Shut up,” Derek snapped. ”Everybody just shut up. The hell was that? Anybody see that? He pulled something out of his pocket.”
A set of fingers clung to Derek’s waist. The rest of Megan was down against the seat.
The hood in the street threw his hands in the air and blocked the path of the car. Derek jammed ahead, swerved wildly and punched through a red light. In the mirror, a confused trucker almost ran over the dark figure.
Derek eased off the gas. It grew quiet. Ghetto quiet. He said, “I’m sick and tired of nothing but trouble. Anybody understand me?”
Bobby split a couple glances behind them. ”That dude didn’t reach for no gun. He was holding up his stash.”
“So what?”
“So nothing. There’s probably a thousand bucks back there. Turn the car around, Greazy. We can take him.”
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I believe that so far from what I have read that you have a clear undersatanding of where you would like to go with this story. The usage of language is very good but I would like to see a bit more of imagery. From reading your profile Ive gathered that you have been working on this novel for a while, and I can tell. Your work shows promise and I hope that you do continue with this, finish it and consider talking with a publisher.
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