More Poison in Your Coffee?

Chapter 3

        In the sanctuary of the alley, my heart racing from almost getting caught, I thought on all I'd just heard. So the man with the mustache was Bo Conway's brother. Bo's got a weird way of treating his kin.

        I was leaning against the door, wasting time before I had to return to the hell inside and trying to ignore the rancid smell of week old garbage when I was startled from my thoughts by the loud clattering of a garbage lid.

        Leaning against the back of the tattoo parlor was a man. I'd seen him around the neighborhood after he'd moved into the Gregson's boarding house a few months ago, but I'd never met him until now.

        "God, you scared me!" He just stared at me, smoking a cigarette and not saying one word. Creepy. "Hello. I'm talking to you." I put my hands on my hips, my manner all bark and no bite.

        His face was shadowed in a curtain of silky unkempt black hair. Looking at him harder, I realized he wasn't much older than me; twenty-six maybe twenty-eight. His dress was ratty; tee-shirt ripped and wrinkled, jeans grungy. Tan skin layered with sweat and grim. In other words, he was looking raggedy.

        "Aren't you going to answer me." He inhaled, savoring the taste then exhaled, turning his face in the direction away from me. Subtle.

        "Whatever. It's not like I needed to vent or anything." I crossed my arms over my chest.

        I had intended to stay outside as long as possible, but the dry Florida heat was burning me so fast if I stayed out much longer I'd be extra crispy by the time I walked back inside. Might as well entertain myself.

        "So Mr. Raggedy, you work here now?" I gestured toward Prick Pro, our friendly neighborhood tattoo shop.

        He didn't answer me. I don't like being ignored. And if I'm being honest, I was having a little fun with him. He looked like a high strung kinda guy and those are some of the funnest to play with.

        "Excuse me, don't you know it's rude not to answer when someone's talking to you?" His shoulder tensed and I knew that under that cool exterior I was starting to annoy the ever loving hell out of him.

       "Fine, I don't need you to have a conversation." I started talking rapidly to myself. "God, what a day. I can't wait for the misery to end. Why are people so awful? Why can't they just be nice and respectful and keep their problems to themselves? And why can't people control their kids, which reminds me I should find the duct tape later. You ever just feel like taping someone's ass to a chair. How about taping someone's mouth shut, huh." I heard him take an impatient breath. "So, you got a name?" Silence.

          "Helloooo-"

        "WHAT? What do you want from me?" His face was cloaked with annoyance. He dropped his cigarette and crushed it under the toe of his shoe.

        "Nothing, geez. Just saying hi." My welcome long overstayed, I turned and walked back into Taste Tea's, leaving him shaking an exasperated head. I nodded in his direction. "Later, Raggedy Man."

        Inside Bo had finished up his speech and was allowing the public to ask him pointless questions about his stupid book. The crowd had calmed down as everyone sat with rapt attention, waiting on Bo's every word.

        "No more questions." Earl had shanghaied the mike and was leading Bo toward his seat to sign autographs.

        I stepped into the kitchen where Jackson was cutting into his famous Blueberry Icebox cake. It was one of his most delicious recipes. A crumbly graham cracker crust topped with layers of blueberry filling and a cream cheese/whipped cream mix. He then finished it with a thin sprinkling of powdered sugar.