Ice Heart Ch. 02

Suddenly the driver's window shattered and Zack choked and gagged on the lungful of marijuana smoke. A large black hand reached in, turned off his stereo, then grabbed him by a handful of his long red hair and pulled him out of the car through the broken window.

"Hey, hear you like slapping little girls," the masked man said. "Guess what? I like slapping punk ass little white boys. Guess it's our lucky day, huh mother fucker?"

The giant held Zack by his hair, dangling his feet a good two feet off the ground and slapped Zack with his free hand. Zack saw stars from the force of the blow and could taste blood as his lip split open.

"Yeah, slapping little girls is fun, huh, Zack?" the man asked and backhanded Zack. "Oh yeah, it's fun, but not as much fun as slapping a little punk ass white boy thinks he's all bad ass and shit. Now that's some fun. How you like it, huh? You like being slapped around like a little bitch? It fun for you, Zack?"

Zack was sobbing as the man slapped him twice more, then let him fall to the asphalt.

"So which hand, huh? Which hand you use when you teaching them little bitches you the man, huh?" the man asked and opened Zack's car door. "I bet you right handed, ain't you?"

Zack screamed in pure agony as the man slammed his hand in the heavy car door.

"Oh, and don't be blasting that sad ass shit you call music no more; shit gave me a fucking headache following your punk ass around," the man said as he walked away. "Next time, better be playing some Aretha Franklin or Roberta Flack; now that's some music!"

The police officer wasn't all that sympathetic to Zack's complaint; Zack had a few run INS with them over his twenty years. Besides that, the story that some 'masked man' just started slapping him around, with no provocation whatsoever was highly implausible. Plus, he could distinctly smell marijuana smoke coming from the Camaro, but He promised they'd 'look into it.' The police officer gave Zack an affidavit for his insurance company.

"How much is the deductible?" the officer asked.

"A thousand," Zack said. "Why? I'm legal, dude."

"I wouldn't call them, then," the man suggested. That window ain't going to cost no thousand and they'll just jack up your premium."

"Aw, God damn it," Zack yelled and hit the roof of the car with his right hand.

The police officer shook his head as he got back into his cruiser, watching the boy hop around, clutching his broken hand.

****

Cris was highly agitated as he was asked to come down to the Lafayette Sheriff's office for routine questioning.

"Who's, I don't even know any Zack Wrights!" he protested.

"Zack Wright, your daughter's boyfriend?" the officer asked, skeptical of Cris's claim.

"I haven't seen her in almost a year," Cris admitted. "I didn't even know she was dating anyone; she's an adult, you know?"

The last question had nothing to do with Zack Wright.

"So, where in the hell did you get that bike?" the officer asked. "Man, I would give my left nut to have one like that!"

"That, my friend is a piece of American history," Cris smiled. "Rebuilt it myself, all original parts."

"Too sweet," the officer said and watched in envy as Cris stomped down on the kick start.

****

"Do you think, for one God damned minute, you could get off your fucking ass and do SOMETHING around here?" Ann Marie screamed at Nicole.

"Mom, I think, Mom, I'm pregnant," Nicole admitted and burst into tears.

"Aw Jesus Christ!" Ann Marie screamed. "That's just fucking great!"

Mother and daughter sat at the small dining table and made their plans. Abortion wasn't even discussed; abortion was a sin in the eyes of their Church.

Finally, they agreed; Nicole would stay at home and care for her sister while Ann Marie went and got a job. Mr. Trapani, Hank's former friend and financial backer had hinted that Ann Marie would be perfect for the position of receptionist.

"And I mean, take care of her," Ann Marie said tersely. I don't mean stick a bottle in her mouth and walk off and leave her there. You got to really take care of her."

"Fine, fine," Nicole whined.

****

"Hello?" Cris said, barely holding back his anger.

It had been a bear of a day. First, the old man that lived in Apartment 4 had let him know that he was moving out at the end of the month; moving to an assisted living building near his daughter in Jackson, Mississippi. Then, as he had on several occasions, he could swear he saw April on her BMW, but when he turned to look, she was gone. Then he'd been 'asked' to come down to the Lafayette Sheriff's office. There, they reminded him about a daughter he had successfully pushed to the farthest corners of his mind. There was a mountain of plots that David, his vice-president of the Louisiana division had neglected to look at and Norman James wanted them by the end of the day.

And now, his ex-wife was on the inside line. She had tried twice to call through on the regular switchboard, but Sandra had refused to patch her through.

"I know you don't want to talk to me," Ann Marie hissed, angered as well. "But I just thought you might like to know, your daughter's pregnant."

"Well, la de fucking dah!" Cris said. "Ain't my problem, though; she's an adult."

Ann Marie bit back the scream of rage when Cris hung up on her.

"What'd did Daddy say?" Nicole asked when Ann Marie stomped past her.

"You don't want to know," Ann Marie snapped.

****

"Ain't my fucking kid," Zack immediately responded when Nicole called him and told him she was pregnant.

"The fuck it ain't!" she screamed. "Who else's could it be, huh?"

"Hey I don't know who you been fucking," he said and smiled in satisfaction when she hung up on him.

****

"Cris smiled in appreciation as Sandra put the cup of coffee down on his desk.

"I'll stay if you want me to," she offered. "I mean, it's either stayed here and baby-sit you, or go home and baby-sit all of my kids and Sherri and Ronnie's kids."

"Uh huh and how is Andrea?" Cris asked as he sipped the hot beverage.

"Cute as a bug," Sandra smiled. "She's going to be a real heartbreaker when she gets older."

"Spitting image of Ronnie, right?" Cris pumped.

"No, Cris, I really don't think you're the daddy, is that what you want to hear?" Sandra said tightly.

"And I say 'Thank you Jesus!'" Cris said.

"Uh huh, all men are pigs, you hear?" Sandra said. "Y'all all hot and bothered until all of a sudden there might be a price to pay."

"Hey, I did not go chasing after that," Cris defended.

"Uh huh and you didn't say 'no' either, did you?" Sandra asked.

"Uh huh, got me there," Cris admitted and bent over the sonar reading.

****

Ann Marie sat in the Cadillac Seville and sobbed. The car had been her mother's car; Dad had given it to her to use.

Mr. Trapani hadn't needed a receptionist; what he wanted was a whore. Her skin felt dirty where he had pawed at her with his gnarled old hands and her ears till burned from the filthy, degrading things he said to her.

She quickly opened the door of the car and vomited onto the dirty asphalt of Trapani's parking lot.

"Two choices," she thought bitterly. "I can either be a fucking whore or I can kill myself."

She happened to see Sophia's car seat in the rearview mirror and set her jaw firmly.

"Whore. I'm a whore. I'm a cheap, two-bit fucking whore," she decided and started the car.

****

"I get off at..." the girl excitedly said and glanced over her shoulder at the large digital clock. "Ooh! I get off in ten minutes! You be here?"

"Sure, I'll just run home, get the spare helmet" Cris smiled and pulled away from the McDonald's drive-through window.

The cute blonde had jokingly asked him for a ride when he pulled up to the window to pay for his meal.

He parked the bike, killed the engine, and ate his Big Mac and fries. The soda was watered down, and was too large so after a few sips of it, he threw everything into the large garbage can and rode the mile to his apartment building, grabbed the spare helmet then raced back to the McDonald's. He pulled up so that he was visible from the drive-through window and waited for the girl to come out.

"Hi," she bubbled as she ran up to him.

Behind the window, he had seen the pneumatic breast the girl sported. Out in the parking lot, he could see that the breasts were large because most of her was large. She was only five feet, four or five inches, but was easily seventy to eighty pounds overweight. Her blonde hair, he had assumed was either in a pony-tail, or tucked up under her uniform's cap, but he could see that it was cut severely short.

He shrugged and smiled. Fat or not, bad hairstyle or not, she was cute and the tits were a definite attraction.

"Hi, I'm cris," he said and handed her the helmet.

"I'm Nickie," the girl said and strapped the helmet on. "I mean, it's Nicole, but everybody just calls me Nickie."

"Good one, God," Cris thought dourly. "Three times in one day, huh?"

"You know, I'm old enough to be your father," he said to her as he kicked the bike into life.

"My daddy's a pretty sexy old guy," Nickie admitted as she pressed against his back.

"So where to?" Cris asked.

"I don't care, just ride," she yelled excitedly.

Cris checked around carefully, then pulled out of the parking lot at a high rate of speed and pulled onto Highway 52.

There were very few cross streets and even less traffic lights between the McDonald's and the Atchafalaya Basin so he steadily increased the speed.

"Mother fucker!" Nickie laughed as he killed the engine at Huvall's Levee. "My legs are weak!"

To demonstrate, she staggered around laughing.

"How fast were we going?" she asked breathlessly.

"I have no idea," he smiled. "I was kind of hoping you could tell me."

"Real fast!" she said and kissed him hotly.

She moaned into his mouth when he hefted one of her heavy breasts.

"I like them kind of mashed, you know, like this," she said and pressed his hand into her chest. "I mean, most mother fuckers just grab them and squeezed the shit out of them, hey, want to go get some coffee? There's this place right there on nineteen, Jitters?"

"Come on," Cris smiled.

She excitedly squeezed herself to him as he barreled down Highway 52. He then turned onto Highway 19. And raced up to the small coffee shop.

"You have to pick me up tomorrow morning; I work the lunch shift, I got to get there at ten thirty, okay?" she babbled as he ordered a decaffeinated for himself and a regular coffee with both chocolate and raspberry syrup for her.

She kept up a babbling monologue as she stirred in three packets of raw sugar and drank the hot liquid.

Yeah, you need sugar and caffeine," he thought to himself as she continued babbling incessantly, often switching to a new topic of conversation before finishing the old one.

"Hate to piss in your corn flakes, Nickie," he said when she again brought up the demand that he pick her up for work the next day. "But by ten thirty, I will be neck deep in drilling permits and grade specifications. You'll have to get Daddy to give you a ride."

"Don't you want to see me again?" she asked, pouting playfully.

"Yeah, want to see you, but that doesn't mean I got to drop everything and come running, huh?" he smiled.

"Yes it does!" she laughed. "In Nickie's world it does!"

"Uh huh," he smiled and finished his coffee.

The house Nickie and her father lived in was just down the block from Jimbo's trailer and Cris entertained the idea of 'dropping in, just to say hi' but knew it was just an excuse to see April again.

"Come in, meet my daddy," Nickie excitedly demanded.

Cris felt pretty nervous as he walked up the steps to the front door of the run-down house. How would he feel if his nineteen year old daughter brought home a forty one, almost forty two year old man?

Harold was obviously used to it; he was polite but not warm to Cris.

"No, Nickie," he smiled. "I already told you, I'm not picking you up tomorrow; I'll be at work."

"Then pick me up after work," she demanded.

"Fine, what time you get off?" he asked.

"Four," she said and disappeared before he could object.

"Hey," Harold smiled sadly as he walked Cris to the door. "Listen, um, my Nickie, she's um..."

The two men walked outside. Under the harsh light from the carport, Cris could see that Harold was at least sixty years old if not older.

"My Nickie, she's not normal," Harold admitted, embarrassed. "I mean, she's not, it's not like she's retarded or anything, but she's, well, I mean, she's twenty four years old, and working at McDonald's is about the best she'll ever do."

"She's twenty four?" Cris said aloud, relieved that she was older than he'd thought.

"And, man, listen, if you're just fucking with her, do me a real big favor and get lost, okay?" Harold went on. "I mean, right now, right now, she's in her room planning her wedding and planning how many kids y'all have. Y'all break up, it'll take her at least a month to get over it."

Cris looked at him and slowly nodded his head.

****

Ann Marie finished the second cup of coffee and looked around the diner. The lone waitress looked haggard, like it had been a long day for her. There were five tables including hers and the woman was doing her best to keep up with it all, to keep everyone's orders straight. She looked over at Ann Marie and smiled tiredly.

"Want some more coffee, Honey?" the woman asked.

"Looks like you could use an extra hand or two," Ann Marie said.

"You don't know the half of it," the woman agreed. "Damned kids, come in, work two or three days, then up and quit," the woman complained. "Was supposed to be here two hours ago so I can get home. Now I'm be here until God knows when."

"Well, I ain't no kid, but I could use a job," Ann Marie said.

Being a waitress might not pay as much as sucking Mr. Trapani's cock, but was a lot more dignified.

****

Zack finished pumping the gas and replaced the cap on the gas tank. He got into his car and almost screamed as the large black man tot into the passenger seat.

"Man, what the fuck I tell you about listening to that shit you call music, huh?" the masked giant asked. "Drive, punk ass white boy, just drive."

"Where we going?" Zack choked out.

"Fuck, I don't care," the man said, turning off the stereo. "Tell you what, take me out to the Zip, and know where that is?"

"Uh huh," Zack quavered.

"Aw don't tell me a bad ass white boy like you all scared of the Zip, huh?" the man laughed. "Just take me out to Gerard Park, then."

"Here's good," the man said as Zack pulled up to the parking lot. Get out, we need to talk."

Zack contemplated running as he got out but realized that the huge man could easily outrun him.

"You run, you just going to be that much tireder," the man said as he got out of the car.

"I ain't running," Zack said, trying to appear brave.

"Now, what's this shit I hear you calling my little girl a slut?" the man said as he approached Zack.

"I didn't, I don't even know who your little girl is," Zack said, noticing the large bolt cutters the man held.

"You what?" the man asked, stopping in front of Zack. "You going to stand there and tell me you don't know who Nicole Ann Dumas is?"

"Well, yeah, I know Nicole but," Zack sputtered.

"And she said she called you to tell you the good news and you saying the baby ain't yours," the man went on.

"Well, yeah, I mean, how'm I supposed to know if she's fucking around on me or not?" Zack shrilled.

"Aw, now that ain't right," the man chuckled. "You know you wrong for that; saying she ain't a good girl, saying she fucking around."

The man grabbed Zack's baggy jeans and shoved them down to Zack's knees.

"But we both know all it take is some of that D.N.A. stuff prove you the daddy," the man said and slapped Zack's hands away from the waistband of his jeans. "So, I'm cut off your little white boy pee pee and we run the D.N.A. off that and if you ain't the daddy, then you ain't got shit to worry about, right?"

"I'm the daddy, all right?" Zack screamed as the large man grabbed the bolt cutters with both hands and approached Zack's penis.

"Aw now, see?" the man laughed. "Now, what you going to do about it?"

"What you mean?" Zack sniveled.

"I mean, it's your baby, what you going to do about it?" the man repeated.

"I don't know," Zack whined.

"Man, you all big and bad when you tapping that ass of her. You all big and bad when you slapping her around, but you don't know what to do about a baby?" the man asked.

"I mean, I suppose I could pay some you know, some child support or something," Zack whined.

"You suppose. You SUPPOSE?" the man bellowed, face millimeters away from Zack's pale face. "Mother fucker, you are one dumb ass white boy, you know that? Ain't no 'suppose' to it? You paying, mother fucker, you paying."

"All right, all right," Zack screamed.

"Now, how you suppose you going to pay, huh?" the man asked.

"Well, see, I'm in this band and..." Zack said.

The man laughed out loud, a harsh, scornful laugh.

"You in a band, huh? And what y'all called? The we sound like shit band? The ain't a single one of us know what the fuck we doing band? The we need to grow the fuck up, cut our fucking hair, and get us a real fucking job band?" the large man asked mockingly.

"No, we're..." Zack said, defensively.

"Shut up," the man yelled and slapped Zack hard enough to cause his nose to start bleeding. "You ain't shit, hear?"

Zack fell to the ground, his jeans still bunched around his knees.

"Aw, get the fuck up and pull your fucking pants up," the man spat. "Such a fucking stupid fashion, wearing your pants all baggy and falling off and shit; know where that shit got started, huh?"

Zack got up, trying hard not to cry in front of the large man.

"Bunch of faggots in prison; that's where that shit got started," the man said, contempt thick in his voice. "See, they ain't got titties let you know they a bitch, so they wear their pants all loose so you know they got a pussy. That what's up with you? Huh, Zack? You got a pussy?"

"No," Zack whined.

"Then pull your fucking pants up before I make you a pussy, hear me, bitch?" the man threatened.

"Yes sir," Zack sniveled.

"Good, good, like that, 'yes sir,' like that a lot. Now, this is what's going to happen. You going to go down to PPEDI and you going to ask Nicole's daddy if you can have a job," the man said, punctuating his words with a jab in Zack's chest. "Then when you get a paycheck, you going to send Nicole some money, what you think is fair?"

"I don't know, about fifty bucks?" Zack asked.

"Fifty bucks?" the man screamed. "Mother fucker, it's a baby! Not a fucking dog! A baby! Take a shit load more than fifty bucks! Let's say two hundred a week, got it?"

"Two hundred!" Zack shrilled.

He came too and remembered the giant's fist coming at his face. The man was nowhere around. He picked himself up from the dirty parking lot and got into his car. He drove home in silence, cursing Nicole Ann Dumas for ever being born, for ever coming into his life.

Chapter 7

He looked at the scrawny kid that stammered and whined as he asked for a job and shook his head.

Zack Wright. That was the name of Nicole's boyfriend, the one the Lafayette Sheriff's office had asked him about.

"Son," Cris finally said, cutting off the pathetic attempt. "Do you even know what Pilot does?"

"Um, no, not really, I mean, y'all in the oil field, right?" Zack said.

"Uh huh, we're in the oil field; we do exploration, locating oil deposits for drilling. Then we do the mud logging, analyzing the sludge that comes up for trace deposits," Cris sighed. "It's dirty work, its hard work, and I'm looking at your application and you don't have a single qualification tells me you can do any of this. What it does tell me is I'm take the time train your ass and you'll decide 'it's too hard,' and quit on me."