Chapter Twenty
I slung my tote bag over my shoulder and was out the door, in my car, and on the way to my apartment before anybody in Pilazzo's even had a chance to reach Ricky Ray.
I stopped at Kroger to get some milk, cat food, root beer, and a salad from the deli. I'd finally stopped shaking and was feeling pretty pleased with myself by the time I reached the checkout stand. I grabbed a handful of chocolate bars and scanned the headlines of the tabloids. Some woman in Alabama had given birth to an alien. And I thought my life was exciting.
Back in the car, I turned on the radio and listened to WRRR. "Bye-Bye, Baby…" was playing. Fitting. I flicked to the local rock station, pulled out of the grocery store parking lot, turned left, and drove toward my street. I was singing at the top of my lungs, sipping on a root beer, having a heck of a good time.
My road was dark because some kids thought it would be a lot of fun to shoot the street lights out with BBs. It was like being out in the country since it was so dark and quiet; I could hear the crickets singing. I was only about a mile from my apartment when I noticed the large dark car. It had pulled out of the grocery store lot right behind me and now it was following a little too close for comfort. I sped up. The other car sped up.
Uh, oh. It was right on my tail. I hate for people to play games like that.
I stuck my arm out and motioned for it to pass me. It rammed into my rear end, lurching me forward, and scaring the hell out of me. I hit the accelerator and cursed. My poor little Mustang hesitated for a second. The other car hit me again, harder this time.
What the hell? I gripped the steering wheel as hard as I could and floored it, trying to get away. The other car kept right on my tail, forcing me to drive faster and faster. Panic shot through me. I swung into a curve, going way too fast. I stomped down hard on the brake and steered into the slide, but lost control anyway.
The Mustang crashed into a tree. The front end crumpled in a sickening jolt. The seatbelt jerked me back, keeping me from slamming through the windshield. The radiator hissed and plumes of steam poured from the engine. I beat on the steering wheel and screamed.
Then I remembered the other car. What if they'd stopped and were coming after me? I peeled my hands off the steering wheel, unbuckled the seatbelt, and forced the door open. I shot out of the car, prepared to run. Whoever had hit me was long gone. My hands were shaking and I felt jittery, like I was going to faint. I sucked in some air and tried to stop trembling.
A vehicle appeared from the direction of the apartments. I whimpered, afraid that the person who had hit me was coming back to finish me off. Absolutely terrified, I hid in some bushes and waited. The car stopped on the other side of the street and the driver ran over to my car.
"Marty? Marty? Where are you? Are you all right?" He called out.
It was Zach. I almost fainted with relief. "Here, Zach, I'm over here. And I'm okay."
He came over to the bush. I was stooped down behind it, hanging onto it for dear life.
He looked puzzled. "What are you doing back there?"
I told him about the car running me off the road.
"Are you hurt?"
I shook my head. "No. I think I'm okay. Maybe a little bruised."
We went to check out my poor battered car. It was bad. I started to blubber. Zach put his arms around me and hugged me to him. I felt safe. Comfortable. Like I was home.
"It's okay, it's going to be fine," he whispered, stroking my hair. "I'll fix your car up good as new."
A car went by, its lights almost blinding me. "I guess we better call the police," I said. I'd almost stopped crying. Once we were inside Zach's car, he reached over and pulled me close to him, kissing me gently on the forehead.
After a couple of minutes of my crying and him consoling, I called the police. They told me to wait by the car.
The police officer pulled up a couple of minutes later. After I'd filled out the accident report and watched the tow-truck cart off the Mustang, Zach drove me up to my apartment.
Delbert was mad. Fortunately, Zach had rescued my groceries. I fed Delbert a can of Tuna-Liver Delight, then went in the bathroom to clean myself up a little. I almost cried again when I saw myself in the mirror.
My hair was a frizzy mess. My dress was streaked with dirt and other, unidentifiable, stains. And the worst thing -- I smelt almost as bad as the dumpster had.
I cleaned myself up as best I could and changed into a pair of shorts and a Glenvar Police Department t-shirt I’d stolen from Tim. Zach handed me a sandwich and a glass of milk when I walked back into the living room.
"Thought you could probably use this," he said.
I smiled gratefully at him. "Thanks. For everything."
He smiled back. We stood there, grinning at each other while I ate my sandwich. "I'm so glad you came along when you did. I don't think I could have walked up here," I said.
"I'm glad too. I was worried about you after you kneed Ricky Ray and stormed out of Pilazzo's. When you weren't home, I got even more worried. And when I heard the squealing brakes and the wreck, I damn near panicked."
"I stopped at Kroger to get some cat food and stuff. I'm glad you decided to check out the accident."
"I had such a bad feeling when I heard all that racket. And when I saw your car up against that tree, it scared me half to death. Thank God you weren't hurt."
"By the way, how is the creep?"
"Ricky Ray?" He chuckled. "Well, let's put it this way -- I don't expect he'll be doing all that jumping around he usually does on stage for quite awhile and he'll definitely be able to hit those high notes."
His eyes were twinkling away. "Guess what else? After you left, that bimbo he was with dumped a beer over his head and left with some other guy. Ol' Ricky Ray looked like he was about to cry. He slunk out of there pretty quick."
I suddenly felt much better. I finished my sandwich and stuck the plate and glass back in the kitchen.
Zach was on couch, scanning through his I-Pod. I grabbed a couple of beers out of the fridge and took them in to him.
"Can I play this?" Zach held up his I-Pod.
"Sure." I took a sip of my beer and showed him my speaker dock. Billy Johnson’s latest song, “Livin’, Lying, Leaving” came on.
Delbert finished his supper and came out to visit. He eyed Zach suspiciously. Zach bent down and scratched him behind the ears.
"Hey there, Kitty," he said, "aren't you a handsome looking fella. What's your name?"
"That's Delbert McClinton Sheffield. Ricky Ray gave him to me for a Christmas present a couple of years ago. He's my best buddy."
Zach evidently passed Delbert's test. When we sat down on my skuzzy sofa Delbert hopped up into Zach's lap and settled himself down. I reached over and scratched Delbert's neck. His motor was revving.
"This has been the worst week of my life," I said. "I can't imagine what else could possibly go wrong. First the thing with Wart, then Ricky Ray, and finally, someone made me wreck my car! I think I'm just gonna stay in bed until Monday."
"I can't say I blame you. Do you know what kind of car it was?"
"No. Like I told the policeman, I wasn't paying much attention when I pulled out of Kroger's and our streetlights are out. All I know is that it was big. Dark colored. Maybe brown."
"Does anybody have a grudge against you?"
"Not that I know of. I guess it could have been Ricky Ray's bimbo or some deranged fan or something. Or maybe just some crazy who gets his kicks out of ramming into people and running them off the road."
Zach was looking at Delbert. "Or Ricky Ray himself," he said quietly.
"No way. Ricky Ray might get mad at me, but he'd never try and hurt me. Least-ways not physically. He goes in for the mental pain."
Zach put his arm around me and bent down to kiss the top of my head. "Okay. You know him better than I do."
He sat back up, pulling away from me. "Uh, Marty, I hate to ask this, but, um, well, did
you by any chance get some of Delbert's cat food in your hair?"
I jumped up. "Oh God! Does my hair stink?"
He made a face. "Just a little."
"I bumped up against that nasty dumpster at Pilazzo's. I must have got some crud in my hair. Listen, you sit here, enjoy the music or watch TV, and I'll be right back. I'm gonna take a quick shower and wash my hair. It'll only take ten minutes. Fifteen tops, okay?"
The shower felt great. When I'd finished, I slipped my clothes back on and went into the living room. Something smelled delicious. Zach was in the kitchen talking on his cell. He hung up quickly, looking guilty.
"I hope you don't mind. I called to check on Mom. Dad wasn't there when I dropped her off from the funeral home and I worry about her. She gets real upset if she's alone for too long. She said to tell you hi."
"I don't mind a bit. What is that delicious smell?"
"I made some omelets. My specialty. I figured we could both use something else to eat." He handed me a plate filled with a huge omelet and two pieces of toast.
The omelet was wonderful. We cleaned up the dishes and went back in the living room. Zach fiddled with his I-Pod, found a playlist he liked, and we sat on the couch again. He leaned back with one leg up and pulled me in so that I was leaning back against him. We sat like that for a long time, talking about our hopes, dreams, and fears. It was very nice.
At two o'clock, I woke up. I covered Zach with a quilt, kissed him gently on the cheek, and went to bed.