No offence Intended - Barbara Seranella (15 page)

She snuck a look at the car seat with its terrible
cargo. The best thing to do would be to just get rid of it. Flush it
quick before she had a chance to think. But then again . . . That
much shit was worth thousands of dollars. Was it smart to just throw
it away? Was it smart to do anything else?

She could use that money to pay for Sleaze's funeral.
Surely that was only justice. What was left could help defer the cost
of a babysitter while she was at work. The beauty of dope money was
that it would be cash. Cash that wouldn't be figured into the
financial report for her probation officer. Maybe this was God's way
of helping. He did have a pretty weird sense of humor sometimes.

She stacked all the paperwork back together, stuffed
it back into the plastic as best she could, and stuck it under her
seat.

She drove home carefully stopping twice as long as
necessary at four-way stop signs. When she got home, she lifted the
car seat out of her car using only her fingertips, handling the thing
like it might turn around and bite her. Her phone was ringing when
she got to her front door. She answered it out of breath, holding the
car seat at arm's length.

"Yeah?" She noticed her voice had taken on
a suspicious tone.

"Will you accept a collect call from Lisa?"
the operator asked.

"Sure, why not?" She set the carrier on the
floor.

"Hey" Lisa said. "You coming over
tonight?"

"Yeah, I wanted to clean up first."

"I was thinking," Lisa said, "when you
were over at Sleaze's place, did you see Asia's car seat?"

"I did."

"Do you have it? 'Cuz I was thinking we should
have it here, in case we need it."

Munch closed her eyes and shook her head. Lisa knew a
lot more than she was saying.

"Yeah, I'll bring it over tonight," Munch
said. She heard traffic noises. "Where are you calling from?"

"The liquor store."

"Who's watching the kids?"

"They're okay by themselves for a little while."

Munch wondered how she'd arrived at that conclusion.
Lisa obviously believed in the hasn't-killed-them-yet parenting
method. "I won't keep you, then. You go on home and I'll see you
in about an hour."

After they hung up, Munch ran her bath. All she could
think about were the drugs in her house, singing their siren
promises.

Was she happily sober?

Jesus, where had that thought come from? Where was
her gratitude?
Thank you, God, for not making it heroin that
Sleaze was smuggling
, was the only prayer she could come up with.

She rushed through her bath and dressed quickly Still
barefoot, she grabbed the car seat cushion and took it into the
kitchen. Until she could decide the best way to handle this
situation, she needed to hide the dope. Too bad she couldn't figure
out a way to hide it from herself while she was at it. She picked up
the flour canister and then set it back down. Too obvious. She opened
the refrigerator and considered pouring the milk out of the carton,
but nixed that idea as well. You could always tell when they had been
opened. A message kept flashing in her brain: Should she sample the
merchandise?

Maybe she could hide it in the trash cans out in the
alley Pickup wasn't until Monday No, that wasn't good, either. What
if someone went through the trash? Kids, even, looking for
recyclables. She rummaged through her kitchen drawer until she
located a ball of twine. Unwinding six feet of it, she fashioned a
noose with a slip knot. She unzipped the car seat, lassoed the bag,
and pulled the twine tight around the center of it. The last thing
she did was wipe the bag clean of any possible fingerprints.

She walked outside to the
storm drain, lowered the dope down the gutter, and tied the other end
of the string to the grating. If the string broke, there were going
to be some busy rats tonight.

* * *

On her way to Inglewood, billboards along the freeway
invited her to fly to Hawaii. She thought about the thousands of
dollars that would be hers for the taking—just a few phone calls to
the right people. The battle raging between her ears gave her a
headache.

At Culver Boulevard, four bikers on Harleys thundered
past her single file, filling the car with the roar of their engines.
They pulled in front, and she saw that they were wearing Hell's
Angels colors. Why did the sight of them still thrill her? For the
briefest instant, she wished she had Harley-Davidson wings on her
back window instead of her rainbow-colored EASY DOES IT.

She got off at La Tijera and caught the red light at
the top of the off-ramp. While she idled there, the sheriff 's bus
groaned to a stop next to her. She stared so hard that the driver
waved to her. Smiling weakly at the private joke between her and her
maker, she waved back.

Point taken, God.

She stopped for gas at an independent station that
still sold 98 octane. While she waited for her tank to fill, she
stashed the packet of paperwork under the spare tire in her trunk and
stuck the picture of the tattooed man in her shirt pocket.

When she got to Lisa's house, she brought the
now-emptied car seat in with her. Lisa's eyes widened slightly at the
sight of it.

"Where are the kids?" Munch asked. The
question already felt part of her routine. Funny how quickly new
habits developed.

"In their room." Lisa said her line of
script over the sound of the TV

Munch walked over to the kids' room and opened the
door. Jill and Charlotte were drawing on each other with Magic
Markers. Asia, naked save for the indelible star now scrawled on her
chest in black ink, reposed on the floor next to them sucking on a
pen. It made a soft plopping noise when Munch pried it gently away
from her.

"Where's her diaper?" Munch asked.

"Mommy said to let her air out for a while,"
Charlotte reported.

Munch lifted Asia onto her hip and stepped back into
the main room. Lisa had her hand up the back of the car seat cushion.
She jumped guiltily when she saw Munch.

"Something wrong?" Munch asked.

"No. I, uh—"

Munch cut her off before she had a chance to come up
with any bullshit. Lisa had already answered the question Munch
wanted answered. "Have you guys eaten?" she asked.

"I was going to fix the girls some cereal,"
Lisa said. Munch reached for her wallet. "Why don't we get a
pizza?"

"Yeah!" the two girls shouted in unison
from their room.

"I'll go pick it up," Lisa said. "I've
been in this house all day watching the baby I could use a break."

"That's fine," Munch said. "You go,
I'll watch the kids."

Lisa took off on her bicycle. Munch put a fresh
diaper on Asia, dressed her in a bright pink romper, and held her
until she grew limp with sleep. After settling the baby in her crib,
Munch went into the kitchen. She spotted the homicide cops' business
cards on top of the trash and retrieved them. After brushing them
off, she stuck them in her pocket and then rejoined the girls in
their room.

Miscellaneous game pieces ground underfoot as she
stepped across the stained carpet of the girls' room. A naked,
ink-stained doll sat propped against the bed frame. Wrinkled and
soiled clothing lay everywhere.

Jill, the younger one, was eager to show Munch her
treasures. She kicked aside a damp coat balled in the corner and
retrieved a rock with sparkling bits of quartz in it. Munch acted
suitably impressed, turning the rock in her hand so that it caught
the light. It gratified her that the two girls had warmed to her.
They had regarded her with some suspicion on her first visit, but now
seemed willing enough to include her in their world. She didn't kid
herself, the promised pizza didn't hurt.

"I tell you what," Munch said, "Let's
surprise your mommy and clean your room."

"Okay," Jill said.

"Everything is just how Mommy wants it,"
Charlotte protested.

"She won't mind if we hang up some of your
clothes, will she?" Munch asked, picking up a set of overalls
and shaking them out.

"Those go in the closet," Charlotte said
sullenly.

Munch opened the closet and found it filled to
overflowing.

"What is all this stuff?" she asked,
pulling out a cardboard box full of high-heeled shoes, brightly
colored scarves, and wigs. The ladies' footwear had been carelessly
stowed. Most of the pointed tips curled up and the patent leather
showed deep cracks.

"Those are for when we play dress-up,"
Charlotte said, trying to stuff the box back in the closet. But
whatever had been behind the box had shifted and the box no longer
fit. She let out a wail. "Now you mined everything."

'We can make it all fit again," Munch said. "We
just need to organize things a little better Let's check out your
dresser." She opened the top drawer of a large chest of drawers
in the corner."If we fold your shirts, they'll stay nicer."

"That's not how Mommy wants it," Charlotte
insisted, her voice rising in pitch.

"Do mine," Jill said.

"All right, which ones are yours?"

She pointed a chubby finger. "This ones."

Munch wrestled the lowest drawer open and found it
stuffed with socks. She dumped the drawer out at their feet, and
began to sort. "It's good to be orderly isn't it?"

"Yes," Jill said, snuggling into her lap.
"Very good."

Charlotte sat on the edge of the bed and watched
them. She sniffled loudly plainly perturbed at no longer being an
object of attention. "We're moving to the country" she said
abruptly

"You are?" Munch asked, surprised. Lisa had
said nothing about moving.

"My mom said we're going to get a house and, if
I promise to take care of it, she said I could have a horse."

The seven-year-old's declaration took Munch back to
her own mother and all the promises, especially when old mom had a
buzz on. Munch's early years had yo-yoed between feast and famine.
Nothing for breakfast, then Mama would spend fifty bucks on a pair of
patent leather shoes that Munch outgrew in a month. You're my little
princess, Mama would say her eyes ringed black with too much
eyeliner. Munch could still see the unearthly glow of her mothers
brown eyes, feel the flutter of her hands, and hear the lull of her
voice as she mumbled her crazy unrealistic promises.

Those promises were pipe dreams, Munch knew now, born
of opiates and good intentions.

"Daddy James said he'd come, too,"
Charlotte said.

"That's nice. Where's your real dad living now
Charlotte?" Munch asked. "Your Daddy Patrick?"

"Oh, he's dead," Jill explained with a
four-year-old's pragmatism.

"Like Uncle John," Charlotte said.

Munch nodded awkwardly fighting back sudden tears.
"And what about your real dad?" she asked Jill.

Both girls wrinkled their noses. "Daddy Darnel
talks too much and he gets all sweaty,"  Charlotte said.

"Yucko."

"Yeah," Jill joined in, giggling. "Yucko,
bucko."

"We don't like him anymore," Charlotte
said. "He's a zombie pig."

"Yeah, he's a loser," Jill added, making an
L with her thumb and forefinger.

Munch swallowed back a smile.

"Daddy James takes me lots of places," Jill
said. "Yeah, he's nice," Charlotte said. "Mommy says
that we'll all live together. "

"In your country house?" Munch asked.

"Well, maybe by the beach. We haven't decided?
Munch almost laughed. The kid might as well plan to move to the moon.

"That sounds great," Munch said. "Maybe
I'll come visit you there." She didn't see the point of spoiling
this kid's delusions. Let her believe what she could as long as she
could. It only got worse. "You know, when I was your age I used
to like playing lets pretend. I wanted to live in the Old West when I
grew up."

One day maybe not today the girls would need to sort
out what was real and what was not. " know"

Munch said, "Let's make a pact—just the three
of us."

"What's a pact?" Jill asked.

"A secret promise of something we'll do one day.
You want to?"

"Okay" Charlotte said, speaking for both of
them.

"Hold out your right hands," Munch said,
helping Jill. She dropped her voice to a whisper and the girls leaned
in close. "Ten years from this day when you're both grown up,
we'll all meet again on this very spot."

"That's it?" Charlotte asked.

"You have to cross your hearts and swear,"
Munch added.

The girls solemnly complied.

She pictured herself explaining to Charlotte and Jill
at that future date how their mother had been a flake and that all
her promises, though possibly made in good faith, had been bullshit.
She would tell the two girls that they were born into the family they
were born into and that was their fate. She would explain to them
both that they had only themselves to take care of themselves—that
they could count on no one. Well, maybe God, but even He had His own
agenda.