Lily launched a bag of barbecue
potato chips across the room, hitting Jake squarely in the back of the
head.
He rubbed his skull. “What was that
for?”
“Jake Pratt, you are a dirty,
lying, thieving, no-good, ugly, low-life, belly-crawling thug,” Lily said
without pausing for a breath. “And didn’t you ask for a bag of
chips?”
“A half-hour ago.” Jake ripped open
the bag. “But I ain’t dirty!”
He also wasn’t ugly.
There was a rap at the door,
interrupting the yelling, but neither occupant acknowledged the intrusion. Jake
raised the TV remote and the volume followed suit. A second, louder knock rang
out, this time impossible to ignore.
“Phone call for Lily,” a man said
warily from the other side of the paper-thin door.
Lily sighed loudly before strolling
across the worn linoleum floor. The heels of her boots clicked with each step,
matching the sway of her hips. She kicked an empty beer can across the room. The
aluminum can ricocheted off several surfaces, the sound echoing throughout the
space before the container rested in the small, dated kitchenette. She flung the
apartment door open, letting it crash into the wall, and then slammed it shut
behind her.
Lily sniffed. She distinctly smelled
urine. Did it come from the rat-faced man before her, or was there some other
culprit?
“That’s quite a shiner,” the man
pointed out.
“Nothin’ gets by you, Einstein,” Lily
replied.
“My name isn’t Einstein. It’s…it’s
Clyde.”
“Whatever,” Lily mumbled. She picked
up the receiver of the pay phone down the hall, which smelled of stale nicotine.
Lily wiped the mouthpiece off on her shirt before putting it to her face.
“Hello.” She didn’t even bother masking her disinterest to the
caller.
“Is this Lily Tucker?” a shaky voice
asked from the other end of the line.
“I’m happy with my long distance
carrier, Elwood,” she advised the caller while she lamented over her chipped
fingernail polish.
There was a moment of silence.
“You…you don’t have a phone,” the caller pointed out.
“What are we talking on, brain
trust?” She blew a bubble with her gum.
“I…uh…well, a pay phone,” he
ventured.
A loud pop from her end of the phone
punctuated his words.
“You’re a hard woman to find,” he
added.
“Listen, I’m late for a very
important meeting and, as they say, time is money. So what do you want?” she
asked, not really caring but in no hurry to go back to her dingy studio
apartment to continue an argument she would never win. Fighting with Jake was
like trying to reason with a drunk—a waste of time.
Lily had not applied for any jobs or
been on any auditions recently. It was doubtful this call could be anything but
bad news. It was the story of her life—bad news, followed by more bad news,
followed by bad luck, bad timing and bad taste in men.
“I’m Arthur
Sutherfield.”
“Can you get to the punch line,
Artie? I have a bubble bath and a masseuse waiting,” she explained while reading
a dirty poem written on the drab, graffiti-tagged wall. The sound of a crying
baby mixed with rap music, grating on her nerves.
“I’m your grandmother’s
attorney.”
She sighed. “I don’t know what the
old broad told you, Art, but I don’t have money for my own bail, much less
hers.”
He paused. “She’s dead, Miss
Tucker.”
Lily was momentarily speechless, but
recovered her composure quickly. “I don’t have money for a funeral either,” she
replied. She stumbled against the wall, letting it hold her upright. Lily
couldn’t explain the sting of remorse she felt for a woman she didn’t
know.
“That’s not why I’m calling. Your
grandmother left everything to you,” the lawyer said.
She swallowed a lump that caught in
her throat, then scoffed. “And that would be what exactly? Family Bible, a case
of Ensure and some granny panties?”
“A house on a…a private island and
some money. Basically, everything.”
“Is this a joke?”
“No, it’s not, Miss Tucker. Of course
there’s paperwork, and probate…”
Lily cut in. “Are we talking about
Iris? Iris Flanders?”
“Yes. I’m sorry to be the one to
inform you,” Arthur said. “She was a fine, Christian woman…”
“Can I call you back later?” she
asked, breaking in again, interrupting his love fest for a woman he knew better
than Lily did.
Lily wrote Arthur Sutherfield’s
number on her hand before replacing the phone. She paced back and forth in front
of the telephone, picking it up only to put it back in its cradle. Finally she
mustered the courage to punch out zero and the number she knew by heart. It
rang.
Why hadn’t he changed
it?
“Collect from Lily Tucker,” she
mumbled, and then waited. Her impulse was to hang up before someone could pick
up, but she didn’t. “Lily Tucker for Keenan Kane.” Her eyes rolled around in
annoyance at hearing a woman answer his phone. “Oh, I know he’s a big TV
star. Trust me, he’ll want to talk to me.” She took a few deep breaths for
courage as she waited to hear his voice. She’d longed for it nearly every
day over the past year and half—and at the same time dreaded it.
“Lily?”
“Don’t talk, just listen. If you
talk, I hang up and walk,” she threatened him. “Write down this name—Jake Pratt.
Lives in the valley. You got it? He has what you’re missing. We never had this
conversation.” She slammed the phone down hard.
Lily tried to steady her hand with
her other shaking hand.
After her call to Keenan and a few
more deep, cleansing breaths, she returned to her dreary room, using her acting
skills to suppress the joyous emotions that welled up in her.
“What was the call about?” Jake asked
her.
“I inherited an island in
Wonderland.”
Jake turned to her, rubbing his sore
jaw. His eye was black and swollen shut. “Yeah, right.”
A smile tugged at the corners of
Lily’s mouth. She knew he wouldn’t believe her. “Can I get you a beer,
babe?”
“So suddenly I’m babe
again?”
Lily popped the top off a can of
Pabst Blue Ribbon, handing it over with a smile. “What do you
mean?”
“What do I mean?” Jake took a long
drink of his beer. “Twenty minutes ago I was a dickhead and you stuck your fist
in my eye.”
You’re still a
dickhead.
A few short days later she left the
highway in a beat-up ’69 Buick Electra with the top down and the radio on full
blast. The wind whipped through her short hair. The fresh air filled her lungs,
invigorating her. Lily needed the burst of energy, considering she’d napped in
the car at a rest stop the previous night. Her grooming regime that morning had
consisted of touching up her nail polish, splashing some water on her face,
applying a fresh coat of deodorant, followed by makeup and brushing her teeth
using only her finger. She remained focused on getting farther away from Jake
and closer to Arkansas, where her newfound fortune awaited her.
The tall, majestic trees that lined
the winding road, along with the stunning scenery seemed to have popped up
shortly after crossing the Texas state line. The lush greenery and chiseled
hills had little effect on Lily. Mother Nature was nice. Money, on the other
hand, was a beautiful, beautiful thing. Whoever said money couldn’t buy
happiness, well frankly, they were just wrong.
Her cell phone rang. Lily looked at
the caller ID. Jake again. She flung the phone out the open window,
deciding she had listened to enough threatening messages. After all, “I’m gonna
kill you with my bare hands,” is just a figure of speech.
Cell phone flinging was liberating.
It should be an Olympic event. Lily felt empowered. She was done with men. Men
were evil. Who needs ’em?
The thought of her inheritance wafted
around in her brain when she spotted the road sign that warmly welcomed her to
Wonderland, population in the four digits. Also there to welcome her were
flashing lights in her rearview mirror. Shit!
The patrol car let out a
whoop-whoop when she failed to comply. Lily swore under her breath before
pulling over to the side of the dusty, gravel shoulder. Once stopped, the smell
of her own exhaust caught up with her. Tapping her long red nails on the
steering wheel, she watched in her rearview mirror as the deputy approached in
what looked like a well-starched uniform with perfectly pressed pleats. His
badge, she noticed, was shiny, same with his shoes. The patrol car was at least
ten years old, but it appeared to be freshly washed and waxed.
“Good afternoon, miss!” the man said,
tipping his hat and shouting over her radio, which blared Born To Be
Wild.
“Huh.” She chewed her gum in time
with her tapping nails to mask her mounting panic.
“Could you cut the engine and turn
the music down?” he barked, and this time she complied. “Do you know why I
pulled you over today?”
“Bored, lonely, looking for a
friend,” she guessed with a wily smile.
“Brake light is out.”
“Crime of the century,” she said,
holding her wrists out, daring him to cuff her, “Officer.”
“Your tags are expired, tires are
bald and, FYI, it’s deputy.”
“Deputy Dawg,” she drawled, looking
at his nametag from behind the sunglasses that concealed her black
eye.
“Deputy Tobias Dodd,” he corrected,
pointing at the tag that displayed his name. “I’m gonna have to issue you a
citation. Can I please see your license and registration?”
“Deputy Dodd, isn’t there some way we
could work this out? I’m willing to consider any suggestions you may have.” Her
lower lip jutted out to pout for her freedom.
Lily wouldn’t have made the offer,
but the deputy was young, tall and handsome. And if that wasn’t enough, he had
the broadest shoulders she’d ever seen. It wasn’t true that objects may appear
larger in her rear or side view mirror. He looked delicious, and she had skipped
breakfast and lunch.
His hair was dark brown with eyes to
match. The southern accent he tried so hard to mask was like music to her soul.
There was no wedding band, which was inconsequential to Lily. She was trying to
beat a ticket, not search for an ex-boyfriend. Additionally, she’d always had a
thing for men in uniform, preferably a cop uniform, and he wore his well. If she
promised to meet him later to rock his world, he might let her slide without a
ticket. The deputy was so cute she might even show up to let him rock
hers.
“License and registration,” he
repeated.
Lily hesitated, not sure what illegal
substance Jake may have left in the glove box. She rummaged through it, tossing
garbage on the floorboard to mix with the other trash already there. Her mind
was at work formulating a story for any possible scenario.
“Ah-ha, here it is,” she said in
triumph, handing the ripped and crinkled paper over to him with a
well-practiced, demure smile.
He looked from the registration to
her and then sighed with disappointment, which displayed itself on his face in
the form of a frown. “Is your name Jacob Pratt?”
“No.”
“I didn’t think so.”
“I can explain. You see, I bought the
car from Jake.”
“Does he know that?” Dodd inquired
doubtfully.
She paused, pondering the truth
versus a lie. “He might have been passed out during the transaction,” she
admitted with a sly grin, momentarily picturing Jake waking up with a killer
hangover to find her, his money and his car gone. The image gave her a wave of
pure pleasure.
“Do you have any paperwork to
substantiate your claim?”
“Are you calling me a liar,
detective?”
“Maybe when I get to know you
better—and it’s de-pu-ty.” His index finger dotted the syllables on his nametag
with force.
“I assure you, de-pu-ty, I paid
dearly, certainly more than this heap is worth,” Lily protested.
“I’m gonna have to check and see if
it’s been reported stolen,” he informed her in a tone that alluded to his
annoyance. “Do you have any weapons in the vehicle? I mean other than your
obvious charm.”
The deputy’s compliment, she noted,
was anything but. It dripped with sarcasm and was accentuated with a slight eye
roll. Lily shook her head, even though she had no idea what was stashed in the
car. Admitting that would get her searched and impounded, possibly detained and
arrested. That would make poor use of her valuable time.
“I’ll be right back,” he promised.
“And I’m gonna need that driver’s license,” he reminded her, and then he walked
back to his cruiser shaking his head.
She slid her sunglasses to the tip of
her nose to watch his reflection stroll back to his patrol car from her driver’s
side mirror. She let out a low whistle before pushing the shades back in
place.
