Ellie was trembling as she retraced their steps to her truck. This would all work out. It had to. Well, you wanted a life that wasn’t boring. She drove far enough away so Sludge couldn’t see her if he looked out the window. She stopped the truck and willed her hands to stop shaking as she dug out her phone from her purse. Why hadn’t Sludge taken it away from her? She could have surreptitiously stuck her hand in her purse and dialed 911. If she had thought of it. Sludge was a pretty crappy criminal, but she didn’t make a much better hostage, did she?
Okay, not helpful. Mind wandering again.
Fingers still shaking, she keyed in Bonnie’s number and quickly asked about Roger when Bonnie answered.
“He’s starting to complain, so I know he’s getting better.”
“I’m so glad. Listen, we’ve got a big problem. The brain trust needs to meet ASAP. It’s an emergency.”
“You’re in luck. We’re all in the hospital cafeteria. Well, except Roger.”
“Better to leave him out of this one. We don’t want to upset him. I’ll be there in about 10 minutes.”
It said something that Bonnie didn’t even question what the problem was. She wasn’t sure if that was encouraging or just sad. No doubt if you live long enough, you get used to the fires and floods of life.
She was already driving, a little too fast, hoping the inventive group of Full Court Press people she so admired could collectively figure out a way to thwart Sludge and save Muskman. God, now she for sure felt like she was in the middle of a comic book story. They would save Muskman. They had to. The alternative was unthinkable.
* * *
In the few minutes since Ellie had left, Sludge was waxing non-poetically and decidedly grossly about Ellie and her various body parts until Russell wanted to rip his lungs out through his nose. But there was the gun to consider, and not a moment went by that the creep didn’t have it pointed directly at Russell. Finally, sick of the man’s description of Ellie’s breasts as “bulging melons,” Russell smiled slyly.
“Yeah, Ellie’s great if you don’t mind the rash.”
Sludge’s eyebrows furrowed. “Rash?”
“You know.” Russell looked down. “Down there.”
Awareness dawned on Sludge. “So you got to third base?”
Russell decided if he couldn’t clock him, it might be better to change the subject with this cretin. He sat on the bed, propped up a couple of pillows and leaned back. “So what are you planning to do with the comic?”
Sludge pulled out the desk chair and straddled it, still pointing the gun at Russell. “Whatcha think, stupid? Sell it. My cousin Stewie knows a guy.”
Russell grabbed the pillows and put them behind his back. “It's already awfully well-known and will be even more so when this is over. It’s going to be really hot.”
“I’ll find a buyer. I have to.”
Russell studied him, not wanting to feel sorry for him, but he was obviously in a desperate situation and Russell and Muskman didn’t like to see anyone that desperate. Especially if he held a gun on him. “Why? Why do you need the money so badly?”
“My company…It’s none of your damn business. All you need to know is that your ass is mine, and you’re dead if Rash Girl doesn’t get back here with the comic in…” He looked at his cheap watch. “…forty-three minutes.”
The deadline and what would happen if it wasn’t met was bad enough. Things might get even worse, though, Russell thought, if Sludge greeted Ellie by calling her Rash Girl.
* * *
Ellie rushed into the hospital cafeteria, spotting Bonnie and the crew near the emergency exit, where they were dining on burgers, salads, fruit bowls and other offerings. She grabbed a chair from another table and sat, quickly bringing the others up to date on the abduction and Sludge’s threats.
Bonnie sighed and wearily started to rise. “I’ll get the comic.”
Ellie grabbed her arm. “No. There’s got to be another way. We can’t let him win. At least let’s try to come up with some kind of plan.” She pulled out her phone and looked at the time. “We’ve got about 30 minutes. That’ll leave me 10 minutes to get back to the sleazy motel.”
Bonnie sat back down. She looked dead tired, Ellie thought, and maybe a little older. Stark fear will do that to you.
“I know Roger’s doing better. How are you doing?”
Bonnie looked a little surprised and smiled. “I’m hanging in there. This has been so hard. He’s my rock.”
“And you’re his roll,” Ellie said.
“This latest crisis can’t be good for his heart,” Chantella noted.
“No,” Bonnie agreed. “We’ll figure this out on our own.”
They quickly tossed out ideas and just as quickly rejected them. Giving Sludge the comic wouldn’t guarantee Russell’s safety—Sludge had definitely gone ‘round the bend, and there was no telling what he would do. How could he think he could get away with this when they knew who he was? It didn’t make sense, and that was the most troubling aspect of all. Maybe it was less about the comic and more about revenge. Could he really be planning to kill them all along? In any case, he wasn’t thinking or acting rationally and that was downright frightening. That made him totally unpredictable.
The guys favored a frontal assault (no surprise there), and the women counseled caution. While Bonnie was thinking they could really use her brilliant husband’s input, Roger was chafing in his hospital bed. Like Bonnie, he had always been intuitive, and as he propped himself up on the pillows and picked up a dish of applesauce, he had that nagging feeling he got when something bad was going to happen. It was becoming almost as unbearable as his catheter was until they had finally removed it.
He didn’t think he was about to die, not after surviving the heart attack and surgery, although he knew God had a good sense of humor. Of course, he could be wrong about not being at death’s door, but he was pretty much a fatalist anyway. If it was his time, it was his time. Although Bonnie would kill him if he died. Ha!
Roger put down the spoon that held a blob of applesauce he just couldn’t make himself eat and reached over to the side table for his cell phone. They had just moved him from the ICU stepdown unit earlier, or the phone would have been off-limits. He speed dialed Bonnie.
“What’s wrong?” she said when she saw his name come up.
“I was going to ask you the same thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t start playing me now, Bonster.”
And that’s how Roger, on speaker phone, came to add his two cents to the discussion. He agreed that leaving Russell to fend for himself was never a consideration. Giving Sludge the comic was again debated and rejected. Calling the police was also discussed and thrown out. The consensus of opinion was that either the cops might suspect Bonnie and Roger were trying to pull a fast one or that the police department might be too gung-ho or not gung-ho enough and it might get Russell injured or killed.
Ellie had a lot more faith in law enforcement than the rest of the group, but she recognized there wasn’t enough time in this instance for bureaucracy.
“And Sludge might be crazy enough to kill Russell—or Muskman—out of spite if he’s cornered,” she pointed out.
They had just about run out of ideas when Roger had a thought. “Remember “Muskman” #4? The showdown with Dex Druther?”
“Who’s Dex Druther?” Tiffy asked.
Bonnie explained he was one of Muskman’s arch enemies, a man as ruthless in his personal life as he was in business. Dex Druther didn’t even recycle, for God sakes. In the pivotal scene in issue 4, Muskman had faced down Dex, who held Penelope and him at gunpoint.
Wesley perked up. “I know that issue. Penelope pretended to faint.”
“Right,” said Spencer. “It distracted Dex just for a split second, and Muskman was able to jump him.”
“I can fake faint,” Ellie said. “Piece of cake.”
“Wait a minute,” Bonnie chimed in. “Didn’t Muskman get shot in that issue?”
“Well, yeah, there was that,” Spencer admitted.
“What?!” Ellie felt all the blood leave her head and pool in her stomach. If anything happened to Russell…
“This is different,” Roger pointed out. “Dex Druther was an evil guy who broke girls’ hearts and defiled compost heaps.”
“The bastard,” Wesley said.
“Aren’t compost heaps already defiled?” That was from Chantella.
She’ll make a great mother.
This was all starting to feel surreal again to Ellie, who looked at her watch. “Eighteen minutes.”
“Sludge might be nuts, but he’s also greedy, as we’ve established,” Roger said. “We just have to knock him off his game enough for Russell to jump him and Wesley and Spencer to rush in.”
Ellie was still skeptical. “Do you think Russell will remember that issue and know what to do?”
Tiffy burst out laughing. “Hashtag, Russell could probably recite every issue of Muskman backwards and play all the parts.”
“We have to make Sludge think I’ve brought the comic, or there’s no telling what he’ll do.”
“Oh, no,” Bonnie said. “The cops still have the fake cover that was on display.”
Following a long silence, Roger spoke up. “Head over to the Farm Out booth. I’ll call Jasper. He has a printer there, and he can whip you out a copy from our website.” He was breathing heavily and had to catch his breath. “Put the cover on a copy of issue 2. The two issues started out similarly.”
“All my comics are originals,” Spencer said, a little bit miffed.
“He’s going to know.” Ellie couldn’t seem to tamp down her feeling of panic.
“Not until he has it in his hands,” Roger said. “You need to faint before that happens. If you fall with it in your hands, he’ll for sure be distracted.”
“Right.” Ellie could see that. Who do you think you are, Penelope?
“Okay, let’s go,” Spencer said and they all got up.
They all looked at one another, nodding their heads. Spencer put his hand in the middle of the table. “All in?”
One by one, they placed their hands on his and said together, “All in.”
“One more thing,” Roger added. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but at the designated time to meet Sludge, I’m gonna call one of our detective friends. Hopefully that will get the cops there a few minutes later, but not in time to mess up our plan.”
Ellie gave him the motel name and room number and they all started off.
Are you out of your mind? You’re Holly Happy. You should be terrified. You can’t do this. Run! Run like the wind! Ellie had never thought of herself as particularly brave. This was Russell, though, kooky, funny, adorable, irksome Russell, the man she loved…
Not that again.
Good lord, did she honestly, for absolutely sure, love him? She hadn’t even slept with him. Okay, that was kind of a shallow thought, like you can’t love someone for his character. Brian was so perfect, especially on paper. Then again, paper didn’t verbally spar with her so artfully or tweak her conscience. Paper didn’t somehow make her believe in romance and love again. Now that’s just silly. He doesn’t love you. He’s a fly-by-nighter if ever there was one.
Okay, she’d had the love thought three or four or five times now and knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she did love him. And Head Voice could bite her. The fact that he didn’t love her should have been a deal breaker, especially for a relationship and romance wuss like her, but it wasn’t. Love was selfless. She was going to save Russell or die trying. And if he thought she was an idiot for doing it, or if he treated her like his annoying sister, then so be it. Just having the ideal again felt positively renewing. But he better not pat her on the head or she’d deck him.
“You really should be a creative writer.
They got back to the convention center in record time. Bonnie got the fake cover from the Farm Out booth and at the Full Court Press booth stapled it onto a copy of issue 2 that she’d removed the cover from just as Ellie’s phone rang. Ellie pulled her phone out of a pocket, looked at it and ended the call. Bonnie raised an eyebrow.
“It’s Toni. I don’t want to talk to her because I know she’ll try to talk me out of this.”
Bonnie nodded. She understood. Some things you just had to do.
“Group hug,” Tiffy said, and surprisingly, perhaps, everybody crowded in and squeezed. God, Ellie loved these people.
A moment later, Bonnie handed her the comic and squeezed her hand, boring into her face with a look that said “be careful, we love you, bring Russell back, don’t do anything crazy.”
Chantella hugged Wesley like there was no tomorrow, and both Bonnie and Ellie understood her added concern for his safety. He was going to be a daddy.
Ellie took off, moving through the crowd as fast as she could without drawing attention to herself, with Wesley and Spencer on her heels. On the way, she reminded herself that bravery wasn’t the absence of fear; it was moving forward despite nearly paralyzing fear. When they got to her truck, they synchronized their watches, which for two of them was actually the times on their phones. Are watches becoming obsolete? She really needed to shut Head Voice down for a while. An extraneous thought could get her killed.
“I know this’ll work,” Wesley said. Ah, the confidence of youth, my young knight.
Now there was an extraneous thought that made her smile, even in this direst of situations.
She told them where the Conchita Motel was located in case they got separated in traffic and hopped into her truck with a determination that surprised her. Penelope wouldn’t let Muskman down, and she wouldn’t let Russell down. She could do this. The men parked in the strip mall parking lot and would surreptitiously head toward the motel and Sludge’s room. Ellie parked at the motel, gave them a few moments to get closer, grabbed the fake Number One and, her heartbeat escalating—she surely must have used up a year’s supply of adrenaline since she’d arrived in Las Vegas—she headed toward the climax of this frightening drama. However it turned out, she swore she’d protect Russell. Ooh, love is good. It makes you courageous. Even if it makes you stupid, too.
When she knocked on the door, even her knuckles were trembling. Let the play begin. If Sludge had opened the door, maybe she could have shoved it in his face or done something else to disarm him or throw him off balance. But he just moved a curtain aside to peek out the window and then shouted for her to come in. The man has no manners at all. What a lout. As she entered the room, she made sure she held the comic on the side away from him so he couldn’t grab it. Russell, who had been sitting on the bed, stood. To keep Sludge from asking for the comic immediately, Ellie started blabbing as she neared Russell.
“You can’t believe how hard it was to talk Bonnie into giving up the comic. They had it in a safe deposit box at the bank. At first I thought it was Issue Four,” she said, trying to give Russell a look without Sludge seeing that she was giving him a look, but it’s for sure Number One, not Number Four. I hurried as fast as I could, and I thought for a while there I wasn’t going to…”
“…Just shut up and give me the comic,” Sludge ordered, taking a step toward them.
It was now or never. “Oh…of course…here it…oh, dear…I can’t breathe…I’m…” She looked at the comic almost in slow motion and released it. As it fell to the floor, Sludge lurched toward it and Ellie crumpled with an “oh,” falling on the comic as Russell lunged at Sludge. Everything was going according to plan, except the door was locked and Wesley and Spencer couldn’t get in.
She could hear them kicking it or lunging at it or something. Ellie started to get up to help Russell. Now was her chance to wail on Sludge and she wasn’t about to miss it for anything. And then the gun went off and she was back down again. Ow! That hurt. Her breathing became labored. She struggled to get up, but that wasn’t working so well. What was up with that? She looked down and saw blood spreading across her chest. Uh-oh, that can’t be good.
Just then the door crashed open and Wesley and Spencer burst in. Russell had pounded Sludge’s hand on the floor until he had finally dropped the gun, but they were still going at it, rolling around and getting in blows where they could. Spencer picked up the lamp off the nightstand, jerking the cord from the wall, walked over and waited until Sludge was on top. He clunked him on the head with the lamp as Wesley knelt by Ellie. He took off his t-shirt and pressed it to her wound.
She gasped and her eyes fluttered open. “Is Russell okay?” she asked weakly.
Wesley looked over his shoulder. Sludge was out cold, Spencer looked very satisfied and Russell was struggling to his feet. “Although he’s a little beat up, he’s fine.”
“I think I’m lying on the comic,” she said before he started to fade away as the blackness overtook her. She was out cold before Russell rushed to her side. He took one look, pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911.
About that time the cops burst in and put everyone except Ellie in handcuffs until they could sort out the situation.
* * *
It took nearly four hours at the police station to untangle the day’s events, which entailed starting the story in the 1970s, when four friends put their heads together and created a company to publish underground comix. The process involved separate interviews of Russell, Spencer, Wesley and Sludge, who had regained consciousness in the hospital but had a concussion. He was lying anyway, so the Full Court Press guys couldn’t see why that interview even mattered. Fortunately, Sludge’s cousin Stewie sang like a canary, and the police bought the true version of what happened.
Russell had checked in periodically with Bonnie to see how Ellie was doing and was relieved to hear the prognosis was good. She wasn’t out of the woods yet, but doctors had removed the bullet and sewn her up. She was still unconscious from blood loss but, barring complications, she was expected to make a full recovery. She had risked her life to save him. He was humbled by that. What a woman.
When the cops released him, he headed straight for the hospital, not bothering to stop at his hotel to change out of the costume. If he got strange looks anymore for wearing it outside the convention hall, he didn’t notice. Come to think of it, he never had. He just needed to get to Ellie and see for himself that she was all right. She had somehow broken through his defenses, and he was through pretending she hadn’t. Funny, he hadn’t thought about Tiffy in ages. Tiffy was a great girl. But Ellie was…Ellie. Mine, he thought.
As Ellie struggled to open her eyes the next day, it took her a minute or two to realize she was in the hospital and to remember what had happened. Muskman was the one who was supposed to get shot, doofus.
“Hashtag, you look awful.”
She slowly turned her head, knowing she would see Tiffy, who was wearing a cute little orange shorts outfit and looked like she had just stepped out of a teen magazine. She had her hair in a side ponytail and was filing her nails.
“What are you doing here?” Ellie said weakly. “You don’t like hospitals.”
“I told Russell I’d sit with you until he got back. He was here all night, you know. Hashtag, I know I hate hospitals, but I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“Thanks, Tiffy.” Why did it hurt to move? God, even her hair hurt. “I really appreciate it.”
“Do you want some water or juice?”
She started to shift her position and grimaced. Must remember not to move, she noted. “Maybe just a chip of ice.”
Tiffy used tongs to place a few ice chips from an ice bucket into a glass and hand it to Ellie. It took a surprising amount of effort to get one of the chips into her mouth. She sucked on it gratefully and waited for it to melt.
“How long have I been here?”
“Since yesterday afternoon. You got shot.”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
“Tell me.”
Just then the door opened and Russell walked in carrying a white bag. “I got your jelly donuts,” he said to Tiffy, then looked at Ellie. “You’re awake.”
She smiled. He was still dressed as Muskman. But of course. She wouldn’t be surprised if the costume was starting to get a little gamey, but he sure looked good to her.
Tiffy grabbed the donut bag. “Ooh, I love these. Thank you, Russell. I’m going back to the hotel. I told Spencer I’d meet him at the pool.”
“Thanks for coming, Tiffy,” Ellie said. “It means a lot to me.”
She waved and headed off, her jaunty ponytail bouncing along beside her. By that time Russell was leaning back in the chair, his head to one side, watching Ellie. She smiled. If she saw him 30 years from now, she would still picture him in this ridiculous costume. He’d finally convinced her. He was Muskman. She inhaled a bug or something and started coughing. Ow! That hurt. It also concerned Russell, who leaned forward.
“Are you all right?”
“I will be,” she said, taking in a ragged breath. “Tiffy said you’d been here all night.”
“Well, somebody had to make sure you didn’t fall out of bed.”
She looked down at the bandage on her left side.
“The bullet lodged in your shoulder, but it missed the bone.”
She tried to sit up but it hurt too much. “Feels like it’s still there.”
He fluffed a couple of pillows behind her and helped her sit up. “The doctor said you’ll make a full recovery. You want some water?”
“Please.” She didn’t really, but she thought he needed to feel useful.
Why does everyone try to give patients water?
Good to know Head Voice was still working. That was odd. Normally she wasn’t crazy about the little annoying voice in her head. She could see a parallel with Russell. Maybe the things that annoy you are reality checks and the things you need the most. She watched him as he poured a glass from a pitcher and added a straw. He helped her hold the cup as she drank.
“Thanks.” She shifted uncomfortably. “Um, how are you doing?”
“You saved my life.”
“I don’t know about that. I think maybe you saved mine.”
He shook his head. “I got you shot.”
She looked at him, astounded. “Now that’s just ridiculous, like you’re omnipotent or something. Of course you would think that. Only one person is responsible for my shooting, and that’s Sludge. What happened to him? Where is he?”
“Spencer clobbered him with a lamp. He was handcuffed to a hospital bed overnight and then transferred to jail. He’s going to be charged with the theft of the comic, kidnapping and assault.”
“Not attempted murder?”
“I think they think they have enough to put him away for a really long time. I don’t know if he was trying to actually kill me, but he definitely wasn’t trying to kill you at the time. The gun just went off.”
“You remembered Issue Four.”
“Of course. That was a pretty good faint.”
“Yeah, for a crummy actress like me. Apparently I did one for real after that. I don’t remember much after I got shot.” Her voice was starting to fade. She was getting tired.
He moved his chair closer to the bed and placed her hand in his. “You took a lot of years off my life, Ellie.”
“Really?” she squeaked.
He looked like he was about to say something important…Don’t you wish…but the door opened again and who should rush in but her mother and Dale.
“Eleanor, you’re awake! We were so worried.”
“It’s just a shoulder wound, Mom,” she said, trying to sound better than she felt.
“Just a…you were shot. What are you doing in Las Vegas anyway? You were supposed to be in California. You’re coming home with us and I don’t want any arguments.”
“It’s nice to see you, too.”
“Your mother and I were really concerned,” Dale said in a way that made her feel two inches tall.
While this drama played out, Russell assessed Ellie’s parents. Her mother had Ellie’s light complexion, or he supposed it was the other way around, and blond hair, probably out of a bottle. She looked to be in her mid to late 50s and was still attractive, or she would be if she didn’t have that frown on her face. She was dressed like he thought a 50-year-old Nancy Reagan would dress, in a perfectly matched salmon-colored suit with an off-white blouse and a coral beaded necklace and earrings. Her tan heels matched her blouse.
Dale wore a sport coat and collared blue shirt with gray slacks but he somehow looked like he’d be more comfortable in a plaid flannel shirt and jeans, like he should own a hardware store or something. Russell had no idea what the man did for a living. He held his hand on her mom’s shoulder possessively and seemed content to let her do the talking.
Ellie looked a little overwhelmed. “How…how did you even know I was here?”
Her mom looked at Russell. “Your…this…he called us.”
“His name is Russell Owens.”
“Yes. He called us.”
Ellie looked at Russell accusingly. “You were unconscious,” he said. “I thought you’d want them to know.”
He meant well. Cut him some slack.
“What?” If Head Voice was going to start taking Russell’s side, she’d be really confused.
“I said…”
“No…I mean, how did you get their number?”
“Oh, it was in that little black book in your purse.”
She leaned forward but collapsed from the effort, groaning. “My purse!”
He fluffed her pillows again and patted her hand, which apparently caused her mother to give him a nasty look. “Don’t worry, I have it.”
“Well, you’ll bring it to me,” Mom ordered.
He resisted the urge to salute.
Dale shifted from one foot to the other. Maybe he was impatient to leave. Or maybe his wife’s high-handedness made him uncomfortable. “Tell her about the job,” he urged her.
“Yes, Dale pulled some strings for you. One of his customers is a vice president at Hardie-Gage, and you have a job there in communications. It’s entry level but you’ll move up quickly.”
“A…job?” She looked at Russell. His expression was blank.
“Don’t worry, you won’t have to start until you’re feeling better. But the doctor said they’ll release you in two days or three, if there’s no infection or other complications. Our flight is booked for Thursday.”
“My purse…”
“We’ll get your purse.” She looked at Russell as if he were a purse thief.
“I…I can’t keep my eyes open.” She couldn’t deal with this now. Pushy people shouldn’t be allowed in patients’ rooms. Her eyes fluttered and close as she nodded off.
Russell was blindsided. She was leaving? He had finally let his heart open again to the possibility of a love like his parents had and she was leaving? Unbelievable. But maybe not, considering his track record. Christ. Now he had no home to go to…not counting his apartment...no Ellie. Not even Tiffy. Nothing. What a dummy he was. Well, it was probably all for the best. He had almost gotten her killed.
“Where is her purse?”
It took everything he had not to tell her he’d get the fucking purse already. “It’s locked in my truck,” he said, already resigned to his fate.
“Oh, good. Bring it here now, if you wouldn’t mind, and we won’t have to think about that anymore. Thank you for your help, Mr…er…”
“Owens.”
“Yes, Owens.”
He knew a dismissal when he heard one. He got up, looked at the sleeping Ellie, who exuded goodness and youth and vulnerability. He doubted she was any match for her parents in her current condition, which meant she’d be moving back to Chicago. Sigh. Sometimes life just sucked bigtime and there was nothing you could about it but deal with it. He had promised Brian one more night at the casino, and then he was so out of here. Never again. Nothing but big-boobed airheads for him in the future. The bigger the boobs and airier the heads, the better. He was done with sharing his heart. The walls were back up.