Chapter 39 #3
With all the composure of a qualified, seedy mail clerk, he nods once and shuffles over to another area behind the counter.
Using a key adhered to his wrist coil, he opens a locked cabinet to reveal a collection of black boxes, each with a small padlock.
He removes one of the containers before walking back to the counter, opening the lid for me.
“Place item inside.” He closes his eyes and turns away in succession.
Okay…? We’re the only two people in the shop, but I appreciate the notion.
I place the microSD card into the black box.
“Done?”
I nod before remembering his eyes are closed like a child playing hide and seek.
“Yes,” I announce.
He snaps the metallic box lid shut. From his back pocket he places a worn spiral notepad on the counter between us. “Write name and address here.” He taps his finger on the lined paper next to a pen on the counter.
Not much for small talk I see. I bet Dax would get along great with him.
“I can do that. Thank you.” I wrote down the address of the house I stayed at, when I visited the Catskills.
My parents need to see this. I know they’re still residing there.
This card should be kept safe, especially if my uncle, half the Murrays, and maybe even Officer Kent may pose a threat.
The man hastily puts on the readers which hang from his neck. Reviewing the addressee, then glancing back at me, “Lombardi?” His once neutral expression softens, eyes widen, as the corner of his mouth raises gradually. A “hmm” sound escapes him despite his tight-lipped expression.
In the blink of an eye, he slips the paper with the address into the box, shuts, and locks the box with an even smaller key in his collection.
That’s it?
He migrates over to some kind of label maker and begins changing over to a fresh roll.
Do I not pay because my family is a known Mafia name around these parts? Okay… this is awkward. I feel like I’m taking advantage. I should buy something. Clearing my throat, I pull out my wallet. “While I’m here. Could I purchase a book of stamps, please?”
He nods a few times and proceeds to the adjacent counter to retrieve the item. Giving him my card, he hands me a strip of forever stamps with festive Christmas trees. His face naturally creases when he smiles, nodding once again.
“Thank you.” I leave with the stamps, feeling as though the universe is giving me the middle finger. I really fucking hate Christmas. Now all my outgoing mail will be christened with holiday cheer.
Outside Mail Haven, I finally have a moment to text Dax, but I find he’s already sent me a message instead.
Dax the Friendly Stalker: Don’t go home.
I type back.
Cindel: I figured as much.
A few dots dance at the bottom of the thread, just ahead of another message.
Dax the Friendly Stalker: Where are you? You’re not wearing your present.
Is he for real? I’m not wearing a plug whenever I’m not in his presence.
My phone buzzes,
Dax the Friendly Stalker: Do you like being punished?
Christ… between him, my family, and the Murrays, I’m going to have a head full of gray before thirty! I look down at the taunting stickered trees in my hand. Punishment does seem to come naturally to me, as of late.
Dax the Friendly Stalker: Don’t worry, Princess… I’ll always find you. I have to run a quick errand, then I’ll pick you up.
I began wandering, not sure where exactly, since I can’t go home and I wasn’t on the schedule. About three blocks from the mail store, I stop walking. Right in the middle of a crosswalk, people part trying to avoid running into me; I realized I forgot to get my credit card back.
“Fuck. Me.” I turn on my heel to high tail it back to the store, before I’m forced to report the card as lost or stolen. Ugh! Can the cosmos please cut me some slack?!
I arrive back at Mail Haven, rather quickly. Out of breath, I push the shop door open, causing the little bell to ring overhead. The once well-lit store now has its front blinds drawn and half the lights out. Do they close for lunch?
“Hello?” I move toward the counter, finding no sign of the shop owner who helped me earlier. “I left my card here, by accident!” I call out, just in case he is in the back.
In a flash, the back door swings open, and the man comes out. He looks different... Wide eyes that bounce everywhere, damp under arms, and paler skin than earlier. “We closed!” he proclaims.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I just left my card here by mistake.”
He shakes his head feverishly, “No. No card here! You leave.” The once adept shop owner seemed dismissive, even aggravated that I am in the store again.
“Please, I was just here. Could you take a look?” I insist, with a service smile that has been perfected after many jobs in the industry.
The same door swings open from behind the counter, the man recoils just as a gum popping Jada walks into the room with us. “Is this what you’re looking for?!” she asks, holding up the microSD card I just dropped into the pitch-black box, not ten minutes ago.
I couldn’t form words nor coherent thoughts. What is she doing here and why the hell does she have that in her possession?! Too shocked by her sheer presence, I don’t even notice the gun in her hand, pointing haphazardly at the shop owner. Now that he’s turned, I spot his bound hands.
“Jada…?”
Her gum crackles between her teeth. “The one and only.”
I’m confident that’s not true, but her ego never could handle reality.
Removing the gum from her mouth, she saunters over to the shorter man, pressing the pink wad into his neatly styled hair. She then proceeds to drape an arm around his neck, positioning the weapon just under his chin. She looks too casual, as if she does this all the time.
“What are you doing here?!” I rush out. Too lost as to why this crazy bitch has a weapon; when I know for a fact, she mixes up whiskey versus rum, stating, “Well, they're both brown.”
Jada tilts her head, in sync with pouting lips. “I was sent here. For this.” She waves the tiny drive in her hand.
How… who? I final speak, “who sent you?”
She begins to laugh maniacally. Like, way too long.
The poor store owner looks terrified. I’m unsure if it’s the gun or the gum, lodged within his thinning hair, that has him more upset.
Stepping back from her hostage, she gives me a wink right before she places the microSD card into her wide-open mouth. Positioned just between her molars, she crunches down like it's another stick of gum.
“NOOOO!!!”
The gun pivots from the man to directly at me.
I freeze.
The sound of cracking plastic between her teeth fills the space. Puffing out her cheeks, she spits the pieces to the ground.
More than wanting to cry out, I want to bash her face into the countertop.
A smirk blooms on Jada’s face, in parallel with her eyes fluttering in triumph. It’s more obvious than ever, the disdain she has for me. The way her misplaced feelings have grown into something equal to loathing.
“I think you know who sent me,” she says, each word clipped.
Do I? At this point I believe anyone could have some kind of hand in this.
The once subdued man moves swiftly, like someone half his age, he moves toward Jada, drawing back his leg and kicking her hard enough to make her fall back onto a display of assorted boxes.
I dive for the counter, hopping over and down on the other side. It can’t be lost! Maybe the microSD card can be fixed? The drive… it’s not only crushed, but broken into pieces. I look to Jada who is already managing to right herself, then I realize the gun is on the floor.
Straightaway, I attempt to reach for the weapon, but she gets to it first. She raises her arm, barely aiming.
I cover my ears ahead of the thunderclap of the bullet being released from its chamber.
I don’t feel hurt. I check myself; no blood. I turn. The target wasn’t me, but the shop owner just behind me.
His once orange shirt now has an expanding crimson blot across his shoulder.
Ultimately the red cascades down to his chest; red complimenting the orange.
I watch in horror as he falls to his knees, unable to catch himself due to his tied hands.
The wounded man lays face first on the floor. Unmoving.
“Is he…?”
Jada snickers.
Red fills my vision and I lunge for Jada.
I don’t know what’s come over me. Maybe I am through feeling defenseless in every situation, or perhaps it’s the way I just witnessed an innocent bystander get shot…
but I am done being perceived as a broken girl, too fragile to handle anything.
Driven by my pursuit for answers, regardless of how ugly this world can be.
Theo taught me that life is precious, and I’ll be damned if I let this crooked bitch fuck with mine!
We wrestle for the gun. Jada may me strong but I had an older brother who tussled with me, just for shits and giggles.
She pushes me and I push back, causing the gun to spin away from view as we both battle for it. On our feet, she turns to pick up the weapon, right before I grab a handful of her braids and pull.
She smiles, barely able to perceive me from the awkward angle I have her; somehow the gun is in her hand!
I let go of her hair and step back, hands raised.
The part between her eyes wrinkles as we stand facing one another. I used to think of her as confident and sexy. Now, I see the real Jada. Cold-hearted with nothing but heinous intent.
I turn and gasp at absolutely nothing.
Using the moment from the diversion I created, I step forward, thrusting my leg between her stance. I curl my calf behind her knee and push on her chest.
Jada loses her balance, tumbling backward and dropping the gun on impact.
Instinctively, I kick it away. I’ve never held a gun in my life, let alone used one before.
I lower myself onto her legs, pinning her in place. One arm secured beneath my weight while the other is caught behind her own body.
“You destroyed the only proof I had!” My teeth hurt with how hard I was clenching them.