Unwanted Company - Barbara Seranella (5 page)

She almost didn't want to take his money. But, hey,
they'd made a deal. Whatever was going on with this guy had nothing
to do with that. She waited while he stretched awkwardly to reach a
hand into his pants pocket. Finally, he pulled out a wad of cash,
mumbling something that sounded like, "What they all want."
He coughed wetly and jammed two hundred-dollar bills into her hand.
She was ashamed when she realized that she had been hoping he'd
forgotten about his earlier payment. She straightened and folded the
bills while Raleigh fumbled for the door release, cursing. She got
out to help him, but by the time she came around to his side he was
already out and heading for the curb.

"
I'll phone you about next week," he called
over his shoulder.

She watched him stagger off and wondered if he was
going home to blow his brains out. Nah, she decided, people don't
make plans for the next week they're going to off themselves. Do
they?

Fuck it, she thought. It's not my job to save every
lost soul in the world. The guy is just drunk. She got back in the
car and started the engine.

So why did she feel like such a jerk for letting him
go home to sleep it off?

She put the limo in drive but didn't lift her foot
off the brake.

Shit, she thought, shit
shit shit. She moved the gear selector back to park while she
thought. Maybe there was somebody else who knew this guy and would
know what to do. She reached back for the car phone and pushed the
recall button. A number lit up across the small screen. She pushed
SEND. A woman answered by saying, "Go away," then hung up.
Munch tried again but got only a busy signal. She wrote the number
down on her copy of the receipt and shut off the phone. What more
could she do? Raleigh Ward was in Gd's hands.

* * *

It was twelve-thirty by the time Munch pulled into
her driveway. Asia met her at the door, still wearing her school
clothes and looking every bit as tired as Munch felt. Derek was
asleep on the couch with the television on and one of Asia's Cabbage
Patch dolls wrapped in his arms.

"Can I go to bed now?" Asia asked.

Munch scooped her up, carried her into her bedroom,
and helped her change into her pajamas.

"I'm really glad Derek came over tonight,"
Asia said as Munch tucked her into bed and surrounded her with
stuffed animals.

"You are?"

"
Yeah. I forgot how much I don't like him."

Munch didn't say anything, but she knew what the kid
meant.
 
 

CHAPTER 3

The call to the police was the least he could do
after he dried his own body and did what he could to make the women
presentable.

"
There's been some killing done," he
whispered, partly to disguise his voice, partly to make sure they
listened carefully. "Fifteen hundred North Gower, unit lO3,"
he told the operator.

Then he left the women's apartment, making certain no
one spotted him. He was exhausted physically, but the important part
of him—his soul, his spirit—roared with new life. Earlier, when
he had prepared to go out for the evening, he had filled his pockets
with everything he thought he would need. The checklist included his
own roll of Johnson & Johnson half-inch waterproof tape and a
four-inch dagger—his "stinger"—strapped to his shin.
Great men needed to be prepared for whatever the world threw at them,
and the way he had been feeling lately . . . Well, it was only a
matter of time.

How simple the answer had been. How he had fought his
natural God-given yearnings. Did birds resist migration? Salmon their
spawning? The cold-blooded species their periods of hibernation? The
headaches should have clued him in—those stabbing pains were just
his body's way of telling him to not question his instincts, to let
go and let nature take its course. The truth—seeing it, knowing it,
embracing it—set him free.

It was while still in college that he had first read
John Locke's lucid work,
An Essay Concerning
Human Understanding
. The gist of it was that
all thoughts arise from sensory experience. According to Locke,
thinking is an entirely involuntary process. There is no free will,
no innate concepts. A man can no more control the ideas his mind
generates than a mirror can "refuse, alter, or obliterate the
image of objects set before it. " People are neitheri "good"
nor "bad." One merely does the things that enhance pleasure
and avoid those that bring pain.

He knew enough of the secret things that went on
inside people's homes to know everyone had their own private ideas of
pleasure.

He studied the buildings courtyard. The security in
the building complex was a joke. It gave the residents a false sense
of safety. As if any person with criminal intent would be stupid
enough to make himself visible to the cameras mounted so obviously.
The joke, of course, was on them—the sheep.

He stepped lightly toward the rear of the compound,
savoring the warm afterglow of satiation. He remembered his boyhood
credo, particularly his preamble to the Golden Rules for Control,
written years ago with a hopeful teenage hand. "I shall endeavor
through the application of psychology to adapt myself to the Golden
Rules and to attack human nature to my fullest extent." He
smiled at the memory of the sweet, naive boy that he had been. With
experience and seasoning, he had modified the Rules. He still
thirsted for understanding. The human mind still fascinated. Ah, but
the rest . . .

He climbed the cinder-block wall that surrounded the
building's trash enclosure. Easily vaulting the perimeter fence, he
landed lightly on his feet and found himself in a narrow, dark alley.
Perfect. He followed the alley to where it joined a small side street
and turned so that he was heading toward the neon extravaganza of
Sunset Boulevard. As he walked, he threw back his head and laughed.

Why couldn't he run the world? Great men had that
choice. Why couldn't he have that same chance? God, it would feel
fantastic to have so much power. Money was the key, and soon he would
have plenty.

He pulled a bus schedule from his pocket, finding the
number of the line that serviced the many cities of Los Angeles's
west side. Then he drew a deep breath and pounded a fist on his chest
The bus ride could wait a bit. It was a beautiful night for a walk.
 
 

CHAPTER 4

The following morning, Asia woke first and pulled on
her light pink tights and rose-colored leotard. Munch was vaguely
aware of the sounds of dresser drawers opening and water running in
the bathroom. The phone rang only a half tone, then was quiet. No
doubt some aborted wrong number where the caller realized his error
just as the last digit was pressed but not before a connection had
already been made. She pulled the pillow over her head and then heard
Asia talking to someone.

"Six and a half," Asia said. A pause, then,
"I'll check. I think she's asleep." Munch lifted her head
in time to hear Asia yell, "Mom! Telephone."

"
All right." Munch reached over to her
bedside table, picked up the receiver, and croaked a hello.

"
How do you manage to have a kid who is almost
seven?"

Ellen asked. "I do not remember you being
pregnant. "

Munch was fully awake now, her heart thumping and
wondering if Asia was still on the line. Asia had a general idea
about where babies came from. Munch had told her the part about
living in the mommy's stomach first. She hadn't told her that
sometimes birth mommies die and other lucky mommies find their babies
already born.

"Just hold on a minute." She cupped her
hand over the phone. "Asia? What are you doing?"

"Eating," came back the muffled reply. "Did
you hang up the phone?"

"
A1l right," Asia yelled back, clearly
exasperated. Munch pulled the receiver away from her ear as she heard
the extension in the other room ricochet back into its cradle. She
spoke back into the phone. "What time is it?"

"
Seven. Would you like me to call back at a time
that is more convenient?"

"
No, that's all right. I needed to get up. Asia
has dance class this morning. What's up?"

"I have run into a situation."

"Can you talk?"

"
I don't know why not I am standing on the
intersection of Washington and Main with all my worldly possessions
scattered at my feet. I will damn well speak until my dimes run out,
which should not be happening for another twelve minutes."

"What happened?"

"
Russell decided that I was not fulfilling my
obligations to him. You want the details?"

Munch lay back in bed, picturing the "personal
time" she had spent with Russ and all the guys like him in her
other life before she learned she had options. Another point high on
her gratitude list: No more having to coax the shriveled white worm
of manhood between Russ's spindly legs to brief life. She remembered
how when Russ unzipped his  tar-encrusted jeans or pulled off
his boots, there was always the pervasive undertone of mildew and
dried urine. The smell grew nastier as your nose got closer to it.
"Couldn't do it anymore, huh?"

"
Not sober. "

"
Welcome to the narrowing road."

"
Does this clean-living thing get easier as you
go along?"

"
Yeah, it just takes a little while to figure
out the rules." She didn't say that she herself was still
struggling after seven years. Ellen didn't need to hear that right
now. What Ellen needed was a safe place to put her next step. "Tell
you what, why don't you crash with us for a couple of days? I've got
a couch that folds out into a bed. It's not much, but you won't have
to share it."

"
You are too good."

"
You need me to pick you up?"

"
No, that won't be necessary. I have your
address. I still believe I know how to use my thumb."

"
Everything is going to work out," Munch
said. "You'll see. Sobriety is easy. You just don't drink or
use, and change everything about yourself."

"
Is that supposed to be some kind of a joke?"
Ellen asked.

"
Yeah. The thing that makes it funny is how true
it is."

"
Any other words of wisdom?"

"We'll have lots of time to talk later. If we're
not here, the key is under the mat."

"Thank you."

"
Don't worry about it. We've got plenty of ways
for you to earn your keep."

After she hung up, Munch pulled on a pair of jeans
and a hot pink T-shirt she'd bought at a flea market. She'd paid
extra for the black lettering across the front that read, LIFE'S TOO
SHORT TO DANCE WITH UGLY MEN. She walked out to the kitchen, poured
herself a bowl of cereal, and joined Asia in the living room. The two
of them watched cartoons until it was time to leave for the little
girl's ballet lesson.

Derek was still asleep on the couch, making little
popping noises as he exhaled. Munch didn't bother to wake him. If
there was one thing Derek knew, it was his own way out. She did write
him a short note saying that she was expecting a friend named Ellen,
and to make her welcome if she arrived before he left. She propped
the note against the coffeepot and ushered Asia out the door.

"
An old friend came by my work yesterday,"
she said as she loaded Asia into the car and waited while the girl
fastened her seat belt.

"
Man or lady?"

"
Lady. Her name's Ellen."

"
How old?"

"
My age. She's going to drive the limo for us."

"
You should have had her drive last night."

"
She's not on the policy yet. I invited her to
come stay with us for a while."

Asia was quiet as she processed this bit of
information. "Does this mean I'll have two mommies?"

Munch felt her throat go dry. "What makes you
say that?"

"Some kids have two mommies. One that grows them
in their tummy, and one that takes care of them."

Munch wasn't ready for this conversation yet.
"Ellen's neither, okay? She's just a friend. If anybody asks
you, you tell them you have one mommy, okay?"

"
And we're always going to live together."

"
You say that now, but later on you'll change
your mind."

"
No, never."

"What if you want to get married and have your
own kids? Won't you want your own home?"

"
I'm not getting married."

"
You're sure about that?"

"Me? Live with a boy?" Asia rolled her eyes
theatrically. "I don't think so."

"
Never say never. Things change."

"Not that much," Asia said with the
certainty of the old soul Munch was convinced she was.

Miss Kim's Dance Studio was located in the corner of
a single-level minimall on Sepulveda Boulevard. Munch had to park in
front of a florist two stores down. As they were getting out of the
car, she noticed that Asia's leotard was on inside out. In remedying
that situation, Munch discovered a run in Asia's tights. "Great,"
she said, twisting the tights around so that the run was along the
bottom of Asia's foot. "Let's go. I hear the music 
starting." They trotted to the entrance of the studio. Asia
skipped onto the wooden floor while Munch waited with the other
mothers by the door.