Mabsy looked up with a purring meow, then walked over to her bowl and sat. “All right. Here go, girl.” The clattering of dried food in the bowl made her tail shoot up straight and flit as she settled in.
Her frisky friend sorted for the moment, Sally settled at the kitchen table and began scouring Clay’s design proposal for something else to complain about. Brickbatting him had been a bit of sport in an otherwise dull life and she planned on prolonging the game. Sally sat back and rubbed her thighs at the thought. “So handsome. So... patient.” The combination fascinated her like the shades of blue in a black opal might if she were to hold it in her hand and stare into its depths.
“But not perfect,” she cackled. The sharp laugh caused Mabsy to look up from her bowl. They made brief eye contact before returning to business. Seeing Clay’s typically calm demeanor waiver this morning, after two weeks of giving him a hard time on a daily basis, only compelled her to push harder.
“I can crack any man,” she murmured as she flipped through pages with an air of self-satisfaction.
𓂓
As the rising sun burned away the last of the early morning mist still clinging to Haynesville Woods Avenue, John the driver stood in front of his truck, unsure how to react at the sight of Jacquelyn clutching Elena and Sean hovering over Clay’s fallen form.
“Hey!” he shouted. “What the hell is going on here?”
Jacquelyn stared up in disbelief.
Sean, who kneeled by Clay with his hand on his shoulder, talking to 911 dispatch, looked up but ignored the driver. “Yes, he’s unconscious. No, we won’t try to move him. Please hurry, he just saved a little girl from being run over.” Sean returned his attention to Clay.
Sean’s words didn’t register with John. “I said, what the hell is going on!?”
Jacquelyn stood and assessed the driver. Elena looked up and took her mother’s hand. She made brief eye contact with Sean before turning to walk her daughter further back into the safety of the front yard. She bent down and kissed her forehead. “Please don’t move, honey. We’ll go inside in just a couple minutes, okay?”
After a brief smile, Elena gave a quick nod. “Okay, Momma,” she said with a look of earnestness on her tear-stained face.
Jacquelyn turned and absorbed the scene. Years of training took over. The shock of the moment evaporated along with her motherly tenderness. She narrowed her eyes as she looked the driver up and down, shook her head once to the side but kept an eye on him as she took measured steps back toward the street to have a look at Clay. “How is he?” she asked Sean.
“I don’t know, ma’am. Ambulance is on the way. I think the police are too,” Sean replied.
John started pacing back and forth. Rubbing a sweaty paw over his shaved head, he glanced down to his phone. “I have got to get out of here.” The last word vibrated with nervousness. He shoved his phone in his pocket and took a step toward Clay. Pointing down at him, face reddening, he shouted, “That guy’ll be fine! Just move him outta the way so I can git!”
Jacquelyn looked up, mouth agape. “Wait, what?”
“You heard me lady. I wadn’t barely goin’ 20 mile-an-hour, maybe 30. He ain’t hurt.”
Outrage distorted her face, eyebrows tightened, upper lip curled back baring her teeth like a lioness protecting her pride. “Sounds like you don’t even know how fast you were going.” Her voice louder now.
“He’s still in one piece.” John put his hands on his hips, his brain finally getting into gear. “Probably layin’ there playin’ it up to get insurance money. Well, I ain’t gonna stand for it.”
Jacquelyn’s expression hardened. Flinty inner strength struck an instant flame—intense and sharp like an acetylene torch. She took two quick steps into the street and jabbed her finger downward several times, focusing the cutting flame behind her tone. “You almost ran over my daughter,” she said with a deepening voice.
John leaned back slightly, surprised by her aggression, and blew a spittle-fused raspberry into the air. “What’re you talkin’ about lady? Ain’t my fault your kid wandered off.”
Jacquelyn shifted in her stance and crossed her arms. “Not your fault?” she mocked. “How about the fact that—”
John decided to plow forward with the only thing that came to mind. “Don’t you know where you’re standing? This is Haynes-ville-woods.” He drew the name out, emphasizing each syllable.
“So.” Jacquelyn replied. “I don’t give a—”
“So, a long time before these houses was built, a drunk driver ran over two kids, sisters, on this same road. Killed ‘em both,” John said with that sharp southern condescension ingrained into his manner.
Jacquelyn’s expression hardened. “What does that have to do with—”
John gave Elena a menacing look. “People say their ghosts wander this neighborhood tempting little girls and boys.”
Elena only stared at him from the safety of the front yard. Jacquelyn tightened her crossed arms, tilted her shoulders, and gave John a doubtful look. “What the hell are you talking about? You can go—“
Before she could finish her thought, her senses tingled, like someone or something lurked behind her. She turned her head just a little, caught blurred movement in the corner of her eye.
John noticed her falter and decided to close the deal. “So, you see,” he said, turning his hands up and shrugging. “This ain’t my fault.” He pouted his lower lip as if to punctuate the statement.
Jacquelyn turned back to the driver. “You are an idiot.”
John stepped forward. “You know what lady, I’ve had bout-nuff-a-you.”
Jacquelyn’s arms shot straight to her sides as she firmed her stance. “And do not speak to my daughter.”
Sean straightened his wiry frame up and away from Clay, his upper lip contorting in disgust, eyes bulged slightly, head tilted. Large, scarred hands brushed off his ripped jeans and t-shirt. He stomped his oversized work boots on the pavement to settle his feet, catching John’s attention as he pushed back his dreads. “Enough of your nonsense. You didn’t see the little girl in the street getting her soccer ball? See it right there under the truck?” Sean said as he pointed toward the ball.
John looked at the ball and kicked it out from under the front end as he stepped toward Sean. “There, you got your ball back. Now get your black ass moving and get that guy out of my way.”
Her patience spent, a knee-jerk reaction spurred Jacquelyn into motion. She took two swift steps forward, cocking back her right hand to slap the driver as she moved. Stifled, John could only watch in disbelief as her open hand formed a perfect arc, smacking him on the cheek. He cowered backwards, turning his head away after the blow struck. Jacquelyn pointed her finger at him as she howled, “You bastard! I ought to kick your fat ass right here in the street!”
John stumbled back several steps. “Damn woman!” Then a curtain of rage descended on his face. He took a step forward and started to lunge toward her. “Bitch, I’ll show you...”
𓂓
Before John could close the gap between himself and Jacquelyn, Sean’s deep voice boomed, “NO.”
John stopped in his tracks—an instinctual response to a dominant male voice.
