Chapter 39

 

 

Ron felt like a prisoner. Yesterday, he’d pulled into the garage and gone inside for a shower, intending to head out to his favorite sushi place immediately after. And then she showed up—the slightly heavyset blonde woman from the shelter, the one who’d shocked the hell out of him by appearing at the driveway before Christmas.

When he picked up his keys to go to Zushi, he’d spotted her blue Mazda cruising slowly down the street. As if a jolt of electricity had shot through him, he backed away from the windows and saw that she stopped in front of a house three doors to the west. She’d sat there several hours. And, damn the luck, Zushi didn’t offer delivery. He’d dined on cold cereal and kept to the back bedroom where he pulled the drapes and only turned on the TV set and one small lamp. He thought she’d believed his story about the house and car belonging to a friend but, if so, why was she watching?

Now, since six o’clock this morning, there was a compact Ford in the same spot. He could tell the driver was a woman, but not much beyond that.

What the hell?

He was missing some of the best traffic days of the year. Somebody else would start working his corners, especially the one near Superstition Mall. Damn! It was one of his best locations, especially when all those mooches headed out to exchange their Christmas gifts for whatever they really wanted. People always felt generous at the holidays. Plus, they somehow thought giving away some cash would help them on their taxes. He knew better, but he wasn’t about to set them straight.

He really needed to get out there by noon, work the lunch hour crowds, and then again in the early evening. He paced from room to room, deciding what to do.

“Oh, come on,” he said to the four walls. “Just do it. Get out there and lose the bitch in traffic.”

He went into the bedroom where his grubby clothes lay across the back of a chair. Slipping on the grimy chinos, stained shirt, and filthy jacket always took a force of will. He chose to think of it as if he were an actor putting on his costume. His role was to be a homeless street person, and it was a part he played well. Dirty white socks and ratty boots completed the outfit.

Then he went to the bathroom mirror and pulled out his ‘makeup’ which consisted of an oily lotion he rubbed over his face and hands and a bucket of greasy soil he had scraped from the back lot of an oil-change shop. He ran dirty hands over his face to create the look. Trying not to flinch, he rubbed some of the mixture into his hair, making sure it stood out in clumps. The final touch was to pull on a tattered watch cap.

He turned away from the mirror for this. The one thing he admired about himself was his luxuriant hair. Even worn longish, when clean his hair was a source of pride. But he had to put that aside when he went out in costume.

With a final peek through his window blinds, he saw that the Ford was still there. Okay, this was it. He hoped knowing the neighborhood would give him an advantage.

Jamming a few essentials into the jacket pockets he went through the kitchen and into the garage. He started the car and pressed the garage door opener, putting the vehicle in gear as soon as the door raised high enough to clear. He backed out and swung the car to face his stalker, although he was careful not to make eye contact with the woman in the driver’s seat. The moment he passed her, he sped up and took the turn at the corner pretty fast. She would have to start her car and turn around in order to follow.

He wove through the residential streets, frustrated because so many people were still off work and way too many kids were playing with the big plastic toys they’d received yesterday. But his chaser would have the same obstacles to negotiate. He caught a glimpse of her two blocks behind, and lost her again when he turned right onto Power Road.

It was a thoroughfare where no one obeyed the forty-five speed limit; he was able to get up to sixty without attracting attention. But apparently the Ford driver was willing to do the same. She was only a block behind as he raced toward the light at University. It turned yellow and he blasted through the intersection. She didn’t.

Free at last. Just to be sure, he took a series of turns through some parking lots and then a couple of residential areas. She never showed up.

At his favorite supermarket parking lot, he chose a crowded section and watched until no one was walking nearby before he got out of the car and walked away. Three blocks later, Ron was settled at a corner, cardboard sign in hand.

He murmured the appropriate “God bless you” to each person who dropped money in his coffee can, but his mind was elsewhere. Who the hell were these women?