The Mover Ch. 07

Isabella De Carlo lay crumpled in a fetal position and tried to protect herself as Blackwell kicked her repeatedly in her ribs.

"What were you thinking? How could you be so foolish? You know how much I need her cooperation, and you tell the pigeon that you've been sleeping with her man!"

"I'm sorry, but I couldn't stand the look on her face! I couldn't just walk away, knowing Don still loved her more than he cares for me!"

"So you let your foolish pride compromise our mission?"

Isabella continued to fend off the blows to her body as Blackwell raged on. She stifled a cry as he grabbed her long raven hair and pulled her to her feet. He pulled her toward him, until she stared into his cold dead eyes. She could feel the heat of his breath as he seethed.

Suddenly, Blackwell's expression changed. He smiled at her, releasing his grip on her hair, and smoothed it into place.

"Such a beautiful face, such a beautiful woman you are. Are you aware of the power you possess in your beauty? Isabella, you have the power to bring the most pious man to his knees. Yes, you are really quite lovely."

Isabella had seen this side of Blackwell before. Terrified, she said nothing. His eyes captured hers, and there was no smile that could betray the malice in his gaze.

"But, you were born beautiful, were you not? You were Homecoming Queen, the cheerleader who all those randy high school boys lusted for and dreamt of, weren't you, my dear?"

"What a pity, you took your beauty for granted. You were the life of the party, the belle of the ball. And those high school boys grew older, and their parties grew wilder. And you indulged yourself, didn't you, Isabella? Soon, the alcohol wasn't enough, so you smoked the pot, and snorted the cocaine, until you grew bored with your life. Then one night, an older man with an expensive sports car and a luxurious home offered you a different kind of pipe, a different kind of smoke, and as you exhaled the smoke, your life changed, didn't it?"

"Oh! Those long nights you spent in luxury, allowing those wealthy men to provide you with the glass pipe in exchange for your charm and beauty. But something happened, Isabella, your beauty began to lose its luster, and soon, you found yourself asking, then pleading and finally begging for another taste of the pipe."

Isabella, in tears, opened her mouth to stop his tirade, but Blackwell grabbed her jaw and held her tightly.

"Things took a turn for the worse, didn't they? Soon, the men required more than the sight of your lovely body at their side. Soon, you found yourself in elegant bedrooms, using your fading beauty to pay for the pipe you craved. You were too interested in the next drag on the pipe to notice that the bedrooms were becoming less elegant, even shabby, as your beauty faded and your addiction grew."

"Please, stop! Isabella managed to gasp, please don't do this!"

"Perhaps it was you who should have stopped, Isabella. But you didn't, and when your beauty had deteriorated into the face and body of an addict, what did the men with their expensive cars do with you? They turned you out into the street. They pimped you out, as they say. They made you into a common whore, and when your beauty would no longer attract even the most desperate of men, you found that there were men even more desperate than they."

Isabella crumpled to the floor, where she listened to her own horrid biography.

"Where do you want to be, my dear? Shall you continue to be the ravishing Isabella De Carlo, personal assistant to Damien Blackwell, or would you rather return to being Lisa Carlton, and go back to the gas station rest room and the men who are waiting to be served?"

Isabella slowly raised herself to a sitting position on the floor.

"What do you want me to do?" Isabella asked, but she was already making plans of her own.

Isabella had changed. She'd changed when Blackwell recounted her past, and all of her mistakes. Isabella had realized that the biggest mistake of all was to fall into the hands of Damien Blackwell. In that lucid moment, she knew that there are worse places to be imprisoned than a filthy rest room.

* * * * *

"Don, listen to me. You and I have both made some terrible mistakes, but it isn't too late to make things right. You have a pretty, intelligent wife that you are going to lose if you don't listen to me."

"Say, what is this? I'm not sure, but it sounds like you've switched sides."

"Don, I'm telling you what's best for all of us. It's never too late for us to have a good, wholesome life. But you have to quit gambling and you have to stop using this."

With that, Isabella threw the glass pipe against the wall. Don got up, picked up the pipe and then began to get dressed.

"I don't know what's got into you, but I'm going home and tell that stupid wife of mine that she's not going anywhere until I say she can!"

"Don, don't do that, it will only make things worse. You know she has a restraining order. If you really want her back, you have to do it the right way."

"The only right way is my way!"

* * * * *

Mike was right, it wasn't even eight o'clock, and the temperature was already in the eighties. I'd been busy packing all night. I wanted Mike to say that I was the easiest person he'd ever helped move.

I had everything boxed and ready to go when I heard the sound of his truck in the driveway. I went out to meet him, not before making a quick check in the mirror. I looked ghastly, even worse than I'd imagined. I hadn't eaten in twenty four hours and hadn't slept in thirty. I told myself that I would be out of this house in a few hours. I'm not prone to tears, so I pushed aside the thoughts of leaving my home behind and everything Don and I had worked so hard for.

Mike's truck was old, the tan paint faded. He'd put boards on the sides of the bed so it could hold more cargo. He climbed out and waved.

"Good morning, Penny Collins-Lynch, are you ready to go?"

"I think so, come in and have a look. I've got all the boxes sitting in the living room."

There was something different about Mike. He didn't look the way as I was accustomed to seeing him. Perhaps it was the shorts and tank top, but Mike didn't appear nearly as skinny as usual. Not that he was buff, by any means, but I'd never noticed how toned his muscles seemed. I couldn't help staring at him.

"What's wrong, sweetie, you look like you've seen a ghost?"

"Mike, you look so different, I can't quite put my finger on it."

"Well, duh! He snorted, "You don't suppose that I'm not wearing my glasses and I'm wearing a baseball hat instead of a ponytail would have anything to do with it? When was the last time you got some sleep, sweetie?"

"I'm okay; I just want to get this over with. Here are the boxes."

Mike took a quick inventory and said, "Piece of cake, we can get all of this in one load. Where are you clothes that go on hangers?"

"Oh my God, I forgot all about them! They're still in the closet. I'm so sorry, Mike, I can't believe I forgot to check the closets."

"It's cool, sweetie, that happens all the time. Once we get the boxes loaded, we can lay the clothes on top. Now, how much of this furniture is going with you?"

He had me there, I'd been thinking about that all night. I'd never left my husband before; I wasn't sure what the protocol called for. I told him as much.

"Well, Mike said, "Is there a bed in your new apartment?"

"No, Mike, there isn't a bed."

"Okay, then, we'll take the bed. How about a sofa, have you got something to sit on?"

"I don't have a sofa, either."

"Well, now you do. I suspect you're going to need the fridge, too?"

I was beginning to panic. All I could think about was how angry Don would be when he came home to find that we'd raided his home.

"I don't think Don will be happy about finding the house empty."

Mike laughed, "Don't worry about Don. When this is over, you'll be back in the house with all this stuff and he'll be living in a trailer so he can pay for it. A couple more trips, we'll have this done before dark."

So, we loaded the boxes and piled the clothes on top. I kept looking at Mike as he drove I could barely hold my head up, I was so tired, but I just couldn't shake the feeling that he'd changed, somehow. I'd never seen his legs in shorts before, but his calves couldn't be that toned. His biceps were those of a gymnast, not an old hippie janitor. Even his hair seemed thicker and blonder.

"Is this the place? It's nice; a lot better than I'd imagined. It's close to work and even has a swimming pool."

After a quick tour of my humble abode, we unloaded everything and I climbed into the passenger's side. Mike wanted me to stay at the apartment.

"Come on, sweetie, you are one tuckered out little girl. Get yourself a Coke and lay down by the pool; I can take care of the rest. Besides, there's nothing left but the big stuff. There isn't much you can help with, anyway."

I climbed in, anyway. I was afraid Don would show up at the house, and I didn't want Mike to face him alone. Don is a big man and I've seen him when he's mad. He fights dirty, too; He loves to sucker punch his opponent. Mike looked fitter than I'd imagined, but he was still no match for Don. By the time we pulled up to the house again, I was so lightheaded that I was seeing those little pinwheels before my eyes. We were almost done, I said to myself, just two more loads and we would be out of harm's way.

"Penny, dear, I wish you'd go sit in the shade, but if you must help, you can start bringing the cushions from the sofa and set them on the lawn. I have to untie the hand truck."

I was making my second trip with the cushions when I heard voices outside. I ran out onto the front lawn, still clutching two cushions. Just as I feared, Don was there. He looked like he was ready to blow, when they both turned and saw me standing on the walkway.

"Go back in the house, Penny. Don was just leaving."

"Like hell, I am! He said." He turned to me and said in a voice so saccharin, it was almost funny. "Come on, babe, can't we talk about this? I just want to talk; can't you give me five minutes? Come on, babe, after five years, can't you give me just five minutes?"

"They'll be time enough to speak with your wife later. But right now, she's moving out. You aren't supposed to be here, so why don't you just leave and save everyone a lot of trouble?"

"Listen, hippie, this is my home and this is my wife. Where do you get off, trying to tell me what to do?"

If Mike was frightened of Don, he sure wasn't letting on. In fact, Mike stood his ground. Even when Don snatched his baseball cap, Mike never flinched. Then, I saw it coming. I know my husband and I've seen him do this more than once. He pretends to be disgusted and begins to turn away, only to come back and slug his victim, right between the eyes. I tried to warn Mike, but I was too weak to call out to him. Dan reared back and hit Mike with everything he had.

But Mike didn't budge, he didn't even flinch. I looked at Don, and he was more amazed than I. Not only that, but to my tired eyes, Mike seemed nearly as tall as Don.

Don hit him again, and Mike made no attempt to dodge the punch. My head was spinning, for this couldn't be happening. Mike was now as tall as Don, his arms were massive, and his legs were thick and sturdy as tree trunks. His tank top, which only moments before had hung on his body like a drape, now stretched to its limits across his chest. Suddenly, Mike slapped Don with his open hand, and Don fell in a heap at Mike's feet.

"Is that how you do it, man? Is that how you hit defenseless women?" Mike's eyes blazed with anger and retribution.

Don climbed to his feet. He wasn't used to losing because he'd never been in a fair fight. He put up his hands to defend himself, but Mike slapped him again, and Don sank to the grass that we pay the gardeners to keep so lush and green. In my fugue I wondered why the gardeners would come to mind while I heard Mike speaking to Don.

I knew that I was about to faint. If you've ever fainted, you know that there is an instant before the lights go out when your mind becomes overwhelmed with information. Like a dream, you can't be sure if what you are seeing is real.

"Get up, you worthless creature! Get up and defend yourself!

But it wasn't Don who Mike reached down and picked up by the neck. Before the cushions and I sank to the lawn, before I collapsed into a dead faint, I watched as Mike's thick golden mane blazed in the hot summer sun. I watched his biceps ripple, his bulging quads and the beauty of his magnificent golden wings as he held the writhing snake in his viselike grip.

* * * *

Don awoke on the lawn stunned and exhausted. He must have been hit from behind, he thought to himself. One minute, he was about to clock some old freak and the next moment, the lights went out. He must have been hit from behind.

As he slowly picked himself up, he saw something lying on the lawn. He reached down to pick up what he thought to be a branch from the elm tree. "Someone must have hit me with this." As he was about to pick up the weapon, the snake twisted itself and sank its fangs into his wrist.

* * * * *

When I came to, I was lying in the shade of the elm tree. Mike was hovering above me, smiling his crooked grin. I knew that I was not in danger, because his eyes peered through his spectacles with kindness and compassion.

"Hey, sleeping beauty, are you going to sleep all afternoon, or would you like to get up and have some more pizza and Pepsi?"

"I, I must have fainted," I said. I was trying my best to clear my head.

"Sweetie, that was hours ago. It was a good thing you had those cushions to fall on. You could have been seriously injured. Honey, next time you try to move on a summer's day, make sure you drink plenty of liquids. You were so dehydrated; you drank two sodas and nearly a quart of water."

I had no memory of drinking any water, or even waking, but my main concern was the fight.

"Are you alright? I can't believe how you stood up to Don. You looked so courageous. You looked like a warrior!"

"Sweetie, I've dealt with more than my share of bullies. The one thing bullies have in common is that they all think they have the upper hand. I just explained to Don that he wasn't welcome and that you would speak with him with a marriage counselor after he'd received some professional help on his own.

He brought me another slice of pizza. I don't remember having pizza at all, but I could taste the pepperoni on my tongue. I must have suffered a case of sunstroke.

I was standing alongside Mike's truck as he prepared to leave. He looked as tired and dirty as I felt, and I told him so.

"It's all a part of moving, dear. It comes with the territory. The good news is that my work is done. The bad news is that you've got a lot of unpacking to do."

"Mike, there aren't enough words to convey my gratitude. I can't thank you enough. I'd like to be the first one to make good on that offer of a nice meal in a fine restaurant. Could you possibly come in to work a little early on Monday? I'd love to take you to lunch. You wouldn't even let me pay for the pizza, so what do you say?"

"I'd say that I'll see you at one o'clock, sweetie."

* * * * *

The alarm clock woke her at four-thirty on Monday. She'd spent her Sunday unpacking her belongings and doing all of the things needed to make a home. Her neighbors were Gene and Donna Hill. Gene was a paramedic and Donna worked for The Company. She was kind, helpful and fun to be with. Penny was confident that they would become very close.

She reveled in the luxury of not having to make the long drive on the freeway. She looked forward to beginning and ending her day at reasonable hours.

She'd slept well, safe in her new home. She dreamt of serpents, villains, gardeners and knights in shining armor.