Kristyn hung headfirst over the counter to answer it, her plaid hind end aimed skyward. I swear I didn’t look. “It is where it’s at. This is Kristyn. How can I help you?” Her business voice changed quickly to her friendly voice. “Oh, hey, Mira! We were just talking about you! Yeah, he’s right here.”
She launched the cordless phone at me, and I caught it with a minimum of fumbling, thankfully. “Hey, baby.”
“Hey. How’s work going?”
“Super slow. You guys at Dixie’s?”
“Yeah, Anna’s finger painting with banana pudding.” Now there was an image. I had to chuckle. “Um… your phone keeps ringing.”
“Did you answer it?”
“Yeah. It’s some guy, not Ivan. He won’t give me his name, but he insists that you know him, and that he needs to talk to you immediately. He’s called about four times now.” And she’d probably started giving him nasty answers after the first two. My wife wasn’t one to play coy with. I’d seen her reduce telemarketers to tears in a matter of moments.
It had to be Kidd. “Give me the number. I’ll call him back from here.” Grabbing an ink pen shaped like a famous wizard’s magic wand, I scrawled down the digits. Yup. That was the hotel number. “You guys had better get your heads down. It looks like this thing’s about to open up and blast us to Oz.”
“We’ll be okay. You be careful, all right? Please?” There was no hiding the worry in her voice.
“I will. Promise. I’ll call you as soon as it passes, so you know we’re not marching on the Emerald City.” After mutual I- love-yous, I hung up the phone. “I’m gonna go in the back for a minute and make a call, Kristyn.”
“Make it quick. I need help with all these customers.” She smirked, gesturing at the empty store.
Our employee break room consisted of a wall of basket lockers, a soda machine, and the hot-water heater for the three tenants around us. Yeah, someone didn’t think that design out real well. I found a free spot leaning against the bulletin board-between the year-old ROCKFEST TICKETS NOW ON SALE! sign and the reminder to clock in and out for breaks-and called Kidd’s hotel room.
He answered almost immediately. “Hello?”
“Mr. Kidd, I understand you’ve been annoying the hell out of my wife.” I wasn’t nearly as irritated as I sounded, but he didn’t need to know that.
“Oh… yes… that… I’m sorry. I just… I needed to speak to you, and that’s the only number I have for you and-” I don’t know how much longer he might have babbled on, because I interrupted him.
“What did you want, Mr. Kidd?”
“I-I wondered if perhaps we couldn’t speed up the process and everything. I mean, two weeks is a long time. A lot can happen in two weeks. What if something were to happen to me in the meantime? I don’t want to die, with this still hanging over me.”
“I didn’t set the time, Mr. Kidd; your ‘friend’ did.” And yeah, with my leg hurt, I wasn’t going to rush into the fray by any means. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”
“Things happen, Mr. Dawson. All the time. Car accidents, plane wrecks.” There was very real fear in his voice. He truly thought he’d never live to see his soul returned. Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you, but there is such a thing as taking it too far.
“I can’t speed up the cycle of the moon. Two weeks. Less than that, even.”
“Could I come talk to you in person? Where are you?”
“No, you may not.” Never mix work with… other work. Just safer for everyone involved that way. “I’m at my other job, and they don’t know about things like-” Realizing at the last second that to say “things like you” would not be a good idea, I finished instead, “Like what we’re dealing with. I intend to keep it that way.”
“But I really think-”
In the background, I heard the unmistakable and imperious sound of Travis Verelli’s voice. “Is that him? You’re talking to him, aren’t you? Put down the phone, Nelson! We discussed this!”
Kidd tried to get his plea out in a rush. “Please, Mr. Dawson, I really need to… Ack!”
I listened in amazement as the two grown men proceeded to tussle over the phone. I couldn’t even tell who was winning, but there were many grunts and half-muffled expletives. In all honesty, I didn’t hold much hope for Verelli in a physical scuffle, especially not against a professional athlete-even an old one.
The phone crashed to the floor with a jarring clatter and I winced, holding it at arm’s length. When I finally put it back to my ear, I heard nothing but silence beyond. What the hell happened?
“Um, Mr. Kidd? Hello?” I got no answer; not even the sound of heavy breathing. “Uh, listen, you work things out with your agent, and I’ll see you in two weeks, okay?” I hung up on dead silence, unsure what else to do. Weird.
Sure, Kidd’s pleas made sense. I am not a man without sympathy. The thought of dying while the minions of Hell owned my soul was not pleasant; I admit this. But I couldn’t speed up time, or protect him from the random acts of nature, or God, or even his well-meaning agent. And considering that I was most likely facing jail time in the near future, Nelson Kidd, for good or ill, was on his own.
Something low and mournful, fitting to the darkness outside, wailed from the radio as I walked back to the front. I flicked it quickly to a bouncier station. We didn’t need to add to the oppressive atmosphere.
Kristyn stood at the windows, watching the wind whip the leaves from the tiny trees. “Ellen came over. She says they’re closing up shop and going home.” She nodded toward the jewelry shop across the street.
“You wanna go home?” It wasn’t my first Missouri storm. It wouldn’t be my last. But even I could tell that this was going to be one for the record books.
“Jesus, if corporate found out I’d shut the place down during business hours, they’d burn me at the stake.” Kristyn chewed on her lower lip, though, watching the lightning strobe through the darkened sky. It was closer now. “I’m gonna call Chris and Leanne and tell them to stay home, though. No reason to drag them out in this mess.”
“Good idea.” The shopping center was deserted, from what I could see. Nothing stirred, save the billows of yellow construction dirt on the far side of the courtyard, churned up by the sporadic wind gusts. The shop lights opposite us gleamed weakly through the clay dust fog. Something white and plastic went bumping down the street and out of sight-a bucket, maybe. “Come on. If stuff gets nasty, we don’t want to be standing by these windows.”
I put my arm around her shoulder-normally a no-no with our strict corporate stance on sexual harassment, but damn the Man-and led her to the back of the store where we could hover over the radio and pretend we were contributing to the greater good. It was going to be a long damn day.
21
My day got significantly worse when the doorbell chimed, announcing someone’s arrival. Believing that no human would be insane enough to go shopping on a day like this, I fully expected it to be Axel.
As it turned out, I was wrong about Axel, and the sanity of our visitor was definitely in question.
Nelson Kidd struggled to get his umbrella down, but the wind had warped it beyond salvation, and he finally flung it to the floor to watch it spin in drunken circles. Even at a distance, I could see the staring, glazed expression in his blue eyes. I’d seen that look before, in victims of sudden catastrophe. It was the look they had right after they went numb and just before they started screaming.
Kristyn rounded the counter to greet him with her retail-brilliant smile, but I grabbed her arm and shook my head at her. I’d handle this one.
“Welcome to It. Is there something I can help you find?” Out of Kristyn’s view, I gave Kidd a warning look. He’d better be damn careful what he said here. Pretending he’d answered me, I grabbed his elbow, squeezing just the right place to make his fingers go numb, and dragged him into the racks of assorted hoodies. “How the hell did you find this place?” I hissed.