I finished wiping the furniture and appliances for fingerprints and closed the suitcases, and Boozanne was still poking around, wearing rubber gloves. Bones was sleeping on the couch and I gave him a goodbye pet, feeling real sad.
I went into the kitchen and looked at the clock. I couldn’t believe it. “Damn!” I yelled. “It’s a quarter to 7!”
I ran back into the living room. She was searching the bottom drawers of the desk.
“Boozanne! We gotta go. It’s not like we’re headed to a movie.”
“Five minutes. I don’t want to miss anything. Money goes fast on vacation.”
“We’re cutting it too close. I never stay this late.”
“No worries.” Just then she opened the drawer with the folders of silver dollars. I held my breath, hoping she’d pass them by again, thinking they were books.
She flipped open the first cover. “Oh, wow!” She lifted them out and carried them to the coffee table. She opened another and another.
“We don’t have room for those old coins. They’re too heavy,” I told her.
She pulled out a dollar and studied it. “Mouse, these could be worth a fortune! They’re antique silver dollars.”
“Naw, put ’em down. You’re allergic to silver. We gotta get out of here.”
“No way. Open the suitcase.”
“Boozanne, I won’t take ’em. They’re Melodie’s inheritance. It’s all she got.”
“You’re insane. Now open that suitcase, or I will. I’ll leave you here with your fucking Melodie.”
I didn’t have time to let that sink in. There was the sound of a car pulling into the carport. “Jesus Christ,” I whispered. I ducked and took a glance out the corner of the window. “It’s her.” I grabbed Boozanne’s hand, but she didn’t budge. “Come on!” I hollered. “We can make it out the hole.”
“I’m not leaving without the coins.”
I just stood there, unable to gather a thought. She was digging into her pocketbook.
“Stand next to the door,” she said. “Grab her mouth from behind and hold her.”
I did as I was told, and Boozanne ducked around the corner. In seconds, the key turned and poor Melly stepped inside. I yanked her from behind, clamping a hand over her mouth and kicking the door shut before she could scream. I pulled her down against me and fell half on top of her. She was more delicate than I thought, and her fine skin had wrinkles I never saw in the pictures, but she was beautiful. My eyes filled because I knew I hurt her. She whimpered and my heart broke. When I looked up, Boozanne was bent toward us, those freckled double-Ds spilling over her brassiere near my head, her purple shirt pulled up, covering her face and hair. The shirt was nylon, and she was stretching it so she could see through the thin mesh. A.25 in her other hand pointed straight into Melodie’s ear.
“What the fuck?” I was so stunned I let go of Melodie’s mouth, and she yanked her face sideways and screamed. I cut her off fast and pushed her head under my armpit, but she’d already seen my face. Bones was there, staring at me, his green eyes huge, not knowing whose side to be on.
“Move aside!” yelled Boozanne.
All I could think of was sweet Melodie’s brains splattered on my shirt. None of it her fault. I grabbed the barrel of the gun and tilted it toward the ceiling. I couldn’t risk any new ideas of Boozanne’s that might get Melly shot. “Go!” I yelled at Boozanne. “You go! I’ll hold her while you get away.”
“You sure?” she said. She didn’t sound too disappointed.
“Hurry up.”
She blew me a kiss, opened a suitcase, threw out my new clothes, and dropped in the books of coins. I stayed on top of Melodie, my head sagging onto her neck. I smelled her hair, clean and flowery. I tried to sooth her by stroking it. Bones gave paw onto my cheek, but seeing no treats, climbed up and sat on my back. I laid still while the squeaky wheels of the suitcases rolled past my nose.
“We could’ve been great together,” she said, “if one of us was a different person.”
I looked up and thought I saw a glint of tears in her eye, as she shut the door. Boozanne was gone, taking our dreams with her.
It all hit me then — Melodie would have no idea I saved her life, and she was never gonna think of me like a brother. She’d have a fit when she found out I’d been living there, intimate-like, with her and Bob, even if I did keep the house nice and feed Bones. Some of her ribs were likely broken too. I’d never be able to explain. I was headed back to the slammer for a long, long time.
I thought about Boozanne. I didn’t even know her real name and hadn’t never seen those airplane tickets to ponder where she was headed. It could’ve been so perfect, if she hadn’t got greedy. Our plan was to walk down to the bar, have a beer, call a taxi to the airport... She wouldn’t do that now.
Bob’s car pulled in, and I was still laying there, half on Melodie. My arm went limp, and Bones jumped off my back as I sat up. Melly rolled to her side wailing, her eyes glazed, flat as those silver dollars. I said, “Sorry, so sorry, Mel,” but she didn’t hear.
I leaned back against the wall and pictured Boozanne, down the block — big and bold as she was, in that purple shirt, sticking out her thumb — and a gold Cadillac stopping, its doors opening like wings, to fly her away.
The recipe
by Carolina Garcia-Aguilera
Downtown
Listen, you either find a home for your mutt by tomorrow, or I’ll take it to the vet to put it to sleep.” Rob was speaking so loudly that I had to hold the cell phone a foot away from my ear. “I mean it, Lily, no more excuses — either you find it a home, or I swear I’ll do it for you.”
I knew Rob was not yet finished threatening me. Sure enough, less than ten seconds later, he added, “Lily, you have until 5 o’clock tomorrow afternoon — I already called the vet, and they’re open until 6.” In spite of the loud noises from the traffic, I could hear his breathing.
“Rob, I know you’re fed up with Royal. You’ve been so understanding, really — and I appreciate all you’ve put up with.” Although my heart was beating so fast that I thought it would burst through the cotton shirt I was wearing, I could not let Rob know how upset I was. I knew it was best to approach my husband from a position of strength. “I’m sorry, honey, but I can’t talk now — I’m late for an interview — can we please discuss it later, when I get home?”
“There’s nothing to discuss — you have twenty-four hours, period.” I flinched at the harsh sound the receiver made as Rob slammed the phone down. Although it was another unbearably hot steamy August day in Miami, I was ice cold.
I could feel my eyes begin to fill up with tears as I thought about what Rob had just said. I did not doubt for one second that he was capable of carrying out his threat. It was true that Royal, at his advanced age, would have accidents inside the house. Because he had problems with his digestion, he would pass gas often. In addition, it was easy for him to become disoriented: He would bark at odd hours and, every so often, wander outside and get lost. I had spent quite a few hours searching the neighborhood for him. In spite of those problems, though, Royal was in good health and, according to Dr. Roth, could last a few more years.