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We were all going to have to park on the street and then we would either have to pick our way through the debris or walk around the block. There was no parking on the side street. It wasn’t ideal but it wasn’t at the top of my list of things freaking me out.
I pulled the monstrous orange electric cord over the jumble of roof shingles and collapsed ceiling and plugged it into the bus.
“We got power,” Lula yelled. “It’s all good.”
I was glad Lula was happy, but I didn’t think it was all good. I was officially on overtime in my attempt to rescue Vinnie. He was being held hostage by men who were increasingly desperate, and I had two black eyes and a dubious future.
“That was fun, but now I need to get my groceries home,” Grandma said to me. “I was hoping you’d give me a ride. You need to pick up your laundry anyway. Your mom has it all folded and ironed.”
“She’s going to go nuts when she sees my eyes and the gash on my nose.”
“That’s a fact, but you might as well get it over with. Your face isn’t going to improve for at least two weeks.”
I drove Grandma home and followed her into the house. My dad was still out with the cab. My mom was in the kitchen knitting. She looked up when I walked in. She shook her head and threw her hands in the air, still holding tight to her knitting needles.
“You hit yourself in the head with your gun again, didn’t you?” she said. “Who did you shoot this time?”
“I think it was the kidnapper, but I’m not sure I shot him.”
“Omigod,” she said, “the kidnapper. He’s after you? How do you get into these situations? No wonder no one wants to marry you.”
“People want to marry me,” I said.
“Who?” my mom asked.
“Remember the butcher, what’s his name? He wanted to marry me.”
“You shouldn’t have passed him up,” my mom said. “He was a good man.”
“He gave us rump roasts and lamb chops,” Grandma said. “All the best cuts.”
A shiver ran down my spine, thinking about the butcher. He spent his day stuffing giblets up turkey butts and he had big drooly lips like a giant grouper.
“Anyway,” I said. “I’m fine, and I just came for my laundry.”
“You don’t look fine,” my mom said. “Did you put something on that cut? You should have gotten stitches.”
“I didn’t need stitches. It’s mostly a bruise.”
“This never happens to your sister,” she said. “She’s married. She has children. She lives in a house with two dishwashers.”
I loved my sister, but honestly, she was a baby-making machine. I had lost count of the babies. And what does a person do with two dishwashers?
I thanked my mom and carted my laundry out to my car. I put it in the backseat and returned to the office. My Whatever was small, and I was able to squeeze most of it behind the bus. As long as a garbage truck didn’t come down the alley, I’d be okay.
Connie was on her feet when I rolled in.
“I need to bail someone out,” she said. “Text me what you want for lunch. I’ll stop at the deli on my way back.”
“Did the kidnapper call?”
“Yes. Short message for you. ‘Tell Plum to live in fear. We want our money.’ And they sent a picture. I texted it to you and Lula.”
“It just came in. I haven’t had a chance to look at it.”
“It’s disgusting. And it brought the whole horrible ordeal back to me,” Connie said. “I hear that voice and I get heart palpitations. I’m having trouble sleeping at night. I sleep with the light on.”
“That’s terrible,” Lula said. “I tell myself not to hate anyone, but I hate these kidnappers. It’s hard to find my zen with all this going on.”
