Keep Calm and Kill Your Wife (13 page)

Anyway, when she mentioned the two strikes, I guess my face gave me away, and like any successful leech, Lulu seemed to smell blood.

“You know if you’d just give me the child support— the hundred thou—this would all be over,” she said, as if I could just write her a check.

“Where the hell am I going to get a hundred thousand dollars?”

She shrugged. “That’s your problem. Do watcha’ gotta do.”

“As always Lulu, it’s been a little slice of heaven.” I turned toward the door.

“See you in court,” she said.

When I reached the door, I almost collided with this wiry-looking guy with no front teeth who was on his way in. Without making eye contact, he swerved around me and planted himself inside the apartment.

“Hey, Lulu,” he said. He tried to sound sexy but failed.

“Hey, Chucky,” she said. “Wait in the bedroom, baby.”

I was only a few feet out the door when she called my name. I turned around.

She was holding up two fingers. “Two strikes,” she said, smiling. “Keep your eye on the ball.”

I could feel my nostrils flare as I turned and walked directly toward her. She looked a little surprised, then stuck her chest out defiantly.

“Go ahead, hit me. With a black eye in court tomorrow, your case would look even worse than it does now.”

With the back of my hand, I nudged her to the side as I re-entered her apartment.

“If I was going to hit you, it’d be in the stomach, where it wouldn’t leave a mark.”

Then I began to poke around the apartment.

“Well, get out of here already. I got company. What’re you doing?”

I reached down behind the television and grabbed a little beige teddy bear.

“Got it,” I said, as I walked past her, and out the door.

“Hey, Reggie!” she called after me. “When I’m done in here, Trevor better be out there or there’s gonna be trouble, asshole.”

As soon as Trevor was securely fastened in the back seat of my car, we began to roll, and I really began to think. Every few moments, I’d glance up into the rearview mirror just to look at him. He was sitting quietly, holding his teddy bear in one hand and a book in the other. What a great kid. Maybe I was asking for trouble. I mean, he was technically in her custody, and I was taking off with him, with my hearing the next day. And here I am trying to be a better person. I mean, I didn’t feel guilty, but I knew it wouldn’t look good in court. But I guess the bottom line was, I just knew I had to get Trevor out of that dangerous situation.

I decided to call my grandma and then my lawyer— in that order. My grandma is the greatest woman I’ve ever known, flat out. To me, no one is smarter or tougher. I was lucky enough to be raised by her.

Now I know some of you out there are probably thinking that she didn’t do a very good job with me from what I’ve told you so far. And I can understand people thinking that, but I’ll tell you, anything bad I’ve done in my life has been my fault, a hundred percent. I take full responsibility. My grandma did everything right as far as I’m concerned. Some people, no matter what, are just too stupid to listen. That was me. “Just because the milk comes out of the cow spoiled, doesn’t mean it’s the farmer’s fault—or the cow’s.” That was one of her little sayings. One of hundreds, I’m guessing, and it seems to be appropriate here. “You should write a book,” I used to always tell her.

Another thing I always admired about my grandma was her toughness. She was raised in the South, and her father insisted she always carry a gun. When she was in her late teens, she shot and killed a man who tried to rape her sister. She was finally acquitted in an unnecessarily long and traumatic trial. “What does a mother lioness protecting her cubs know about man-made laws? And what does she care? It’s instinct, and I’d do it all again, even if they had strung me up for it.” That’s how she always used to end that story.

“Now Grams, no matter what happens, you know nothing about me taking Tr—I mean, uh, my progeny. As far as you’re concerned, it was my weekend. You’re not getting in trouble over this,” I told my grandma over the phone as I drove.

“Baby,” she said, “we really gotta talk.”

“I know. We will. I already have a few ideas. But for now, listen, please.
She
knows where both of us live. So, I’ll meet you at the Van Nuys Glen Motel on Van Nuys and Chandler. Now when you get there—hold on.” It was my call waiting. Mr. Gonzalez. “Grams, I gotta take this. I’ll see you soon.” I clicked over.

“Yes, Mr. Gonzalez.” I listened to him talk and, under the circumstances, knew I didn’t have a choice. “Yeah, I got it. San Fernando Bank and Trust. I’ll be there.”

Lucky Stevens’ skill as a writer extends far beyond the text of this novel. He also wrote the dedication, the acknowledgments page and the very words you are reading right now at this exact second.
Keep Calm and Kill Your Wife
is his second, and some say greatest, novel to date.