Chapter 8

Magilla pulled his gun and came towards me.

“I told you not to get involved.”

“And I told you bad things happen to people who hurt my friends and family.”

“Are you going to hurt me?”

“If I can.”

Magilla got too close and I grabbed his gun hand and pointed it up in the air. He was stronger, but I was dirtier. Suddenly, he was the Viet Cong regular that had over run our position. I was protecting my wounded.

My other hand went to his eyes, digging and clawing at the steel gray orbs. He kept pulling them away and when he did, I put my teeth to work on his nose and cheek and ears. He dropped his gun and screamed as I ferociously attacked everything I could touch.

One of the first things I learned in hand-to-hand combat was that once you got the enemy in your grip, there were no rules. There were no geographical parallels. Everything was a weapon. No judges score. No points. No disqualifications. Only stay alive.

After taking as much damage as he could take, he finally rallied himself and pushed me off. I stayed low on the ground as he found the pistol.

“Are you still going to hurt me, motherfucker?”

“Nope.”

Two loud commanding voices enunciated very clearly from behind him.

“Freeze!”

“Drop the weapon!”

“NOW!”

“NOW!”

I looked at Magilla and chuckled.

“The police will.”

Magilla turned and froze. Two police officers had their gun on him and sounded very aggressive. Two other officers had his partner in handcuffs already and laying on the ground, as he bled freely from his head wound.

Who knew that the rubber on a tennis shoe could rip open the skin like that?

Magilla immediately dropped his gun before going to the ground and as he was being cuffed, he yelled.

“We want our lawyer.”

The officer then looked up at a shaken Kendi.

“What is going on?”

“These two men grabbed me and were going to take me to their boss. He is a child molester and came to get me from another state. He was going to rape me.”

“And you?” Looking at me.

I was a horrible sight. Blood all over my face and my bald head, still looking a bit wild.

“Kendi is my girlfriend. I was trying to protect her and was making as much noise and ruckus as I could, hoping people would hear me and see that there was a problem.”

“Both of them were holding me until Mick ran up and saved me. That guy attacked him and when this guy was the only one holding me, I kicked him in the balls and then in the head.”

“Then Magilla here pulled a gun on me.”

Just then a couple of police cars pulled up and the two guys were put in the back of each one. The police then went around and talked to witnesses, including the nice old lady that sold Kendi some peppers. She was the one who called 9-1-1.

I held my girl in my arms as the police asked their questions.

“You OK?”

“You saved me again.”

“Yeah. It seems that way.”

“Am I really your girlfriend?”

“Well, you are a girl and you are my friend, so it seems to fit.”

“Word play.”

“YES KENDI, YOU ARE MY GIRLFRIEND!”

‘She’ was speechless. I stood there and looked around to see that everyone in the vicinity had heard me and I waved to them and they all smiled and waved back. Then I kissed Kendi on the lips and hugged her tighter.

“Girlfriend?”

“Girl that is a friend.”

“Not a girlfriend as in, when we get home, I am going to make love to you because you were almost kidnapped?”

“I need to pay for those peppers, and we need to see if there is anything else we might want to buy.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Kendi, don’t push it right now, please.”

“OK.”

I was expecting a thank you kiss.

“So, for now I will just accept that you are my bloodied and battered hero and leave it at that?”

“Bloodied?”

“Mick you are a mess.”

‘She’ ran her finger across my forehead and showed me Magilla’s blood. I hoped.

“My bloody boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?”

“You are a boy and you definitely are my friend.”

“Word play!”

The first officer came back to us and smiled.

“OK, your stories check out. I need to get the contact info for both of you, so the DA can get with you. It looks like these two will be having to answer a lot of questions.”

“What about the guy who hired them?”

“Do you know who hired them?”

“I know who they work for. Mr. James Riker. He is a sex offender and is in this state without being registered. One of these gorillas should be able to tell you where they were taking Kendi.”

We each gave our names and phone numbers and Kendi gave her address and I gave mine.

The EMT’s had now arrived and one came to me since I was as bloody a mess as Magilla and his friend. They cleaned me up and finding no cuts, asked how I was feeling.

“I could use a margarita.”

“Couldn’t we all. Who did a number on the other guys?”

“My girlfriend split open the one guy’s head. I did the damage to the other.”

“Lots of bite marks and scratches.”

“He had a gun, I didn’t. I used what I had.”

“Get checked out for blood borne diseases as soon as you can. I don’t know what might have been in that guys blood and you look like you got some in your mouth.”

“But I don’t swallow!”

He laughed.

“Please, do it. OK?”

“Yes. Is Monday soon enough?”

“Sooner is better.”

“OK.”

When we were done, the police released us, and we went back to the market to be surrounded by people concerned about Kendi and wishing us well.

Kendi and I went back to the pepper lady to buy the peppers and thank her for calling the police. She tried to give us the peppers.

“It was what anyone would have done. Besides I couldn’t take any money after what you and your daughter have been through.”

Don’t go there! Don’t do it!

“Ma’am, you saved Kendi from a lot of trouble. I am not going to take your livelihood too. You saved my girlfriend.”

“Your girlfriend?” The lady seemed surprised.

“We are not married ... yet.”

‘She’ had THAT smile again.

“Kendi, do we want anything else before we go?”

“Yes, I would like to buy one of those clothe bags to carry our stuff home in.”

“I would be happy to do that.”

We thanked the lady and paid for the bag.

“Anything else before we go home?” I asked.

“Home?”

“Yes.”

“Our home?”

“Maybe.”

“Dear?”

“Yes.”

“Us?”

“Yes.”

“We?’

“Yup.”

“I love you?’

“Hold my hand.”

I pulled her with me towards our home. I was teetering on the brink. But I still could not drop the ‘L’ word on her.

Our return trip was quiet as we walked hand in hand, sometimes swinging them wildly between us.

Us.

We.

Dear.

Married yet.

Daughter.

Girlfriend.

Our home.

It hit me like a 20lb hammer. All possibilities of any and all of those would have been gone if her fathers’ gorillas had gotten to her.

All gone.

‘She’ ... gone.

Jean ... gone.

I opened the buildings front door and pushed the elevator call button. We got on the elevator and Kendi pushed the button for the sixth floor. We walked to our door and when Kendi used her keycard, the door popped open and we walked in. I went straight to the kitchen and set the bag full of meat and vegetables on the counter and turned.

Kendi was gone.

“Kendi, where should I put the meat and peppers?”

Nothing.

“Kendi?”

Louder.

Nothing.

I went to her bedroom.

Nothing.

I went to my bedroom.

Nothing.

I checked the bathrooms and found nothing.

Just as I was about to panic that someone had been in the condo waiting for us, I heard a voice.

“Did you miss me?”

I turned to see her hiding behind the drapes next to the patio door.

“Don’t ever do that to me again. It felt like I had lost you. Like I felt when those men had you.”

I took her into my arms and kissed her and let loose my passion. We went at it full on with tongues and sound effects and everything.

“Girlfriend?”

“Yes, and damn proud of it.”

“Finally!”

“I still don’t feel comfortable, totally.”

“You’re off to a good start.”

“I need a shower after all of the drama.”

“Me too, I have been sweating like a girlfriend.”

“Eeeewwww. Girlfriend sweat!”

“Come on my savior, I’ll let you wash my feet.”

“Feet?”

“Yeah. It is a stinky job, but the view is great.”

“Oh.”

Here I go. We went to her shower because it was bigger than mine.

Ours.

The one in the room I slept in.

‘She’ stripped off and stood waiting.

How does an old man feel when a 28-year-old woman gets naked and waits for him to shower with her?

Fat.

Old.

Scared.

Scarred.

Yet for the first time in forever I felt something else. I felt not burdened.

“Mick?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t see the fat.”

“No? But you are going to feel it,” I said squeamishly.

“I already have when we cuddled in the chair.”

“That seems different.”

“Come on, I have some dirty spots I need you to soap up.”

Aaaaaarrrrrggggghhhhhhh.

Hell of a time to ask, ‘What would Jesus do?’ I took a breath. Come to my shower said the spider to the fly.

“Start the shower. I will be right there.”

Kendi smiled and knew.

She went to the bathroom and started the shower and I had a talk with myself.

“OK, Mick! Time to drop the fear and the pretense and your pants.”

“But I’m scared.”

“Me too.”

“She is going to touch me.”

“And you are going to touch her.”

“Yeah, there is that.”

I stripped off and walked to the shower with the resolute calm of a man going to the gas chamber.

Last meal?

Check.

Last rites?

Check.

Lastly.

Step inside, walk this way, you and me babe, hey hey.

“Took you long enough.”

“Had to talk myself into it.”

“I’m happy that you won.”

“Did I?”

“If you are here with me, yes.”

“What did I win?”

“The smart-assed answer would be ‘this’.”

She smiled as she used her hands to present her body like a game show hostess.

“I don’t deserve all of that.”

“Let me know which part you deserve, and I will get it for you.”

Watch it, Mick. You seem to be falling.

I can’t stop.

I know. Kewl ain’t it?”

“Your lips.”

“They’re yours.”

‘She’ was back and wrapped her arms around me and pressed her wet body against mine. She gave me her lips, just as promised.