Her chest tightened as she sucked in air while she was lifted off the ground. Big arms and hands embraced her body and carried her away, slow and easy, until she was once again bathed in light.
Martha rushed to her as the man who still read newspapers and had ordered a sandwich with no pickle but ate it anyway the other day placed her down gently in a booth. He set her purse, covered in snow, beside her.
“Jack…” someone called to him.
“Martha.”
“Thank you.” Kim managed, then flinched as the muscles in her face heated with a new swell of agony.
Jack didn’t respond to her words of gratitude. He just stared at her. Her body ran cold and hot as their eyes locked. Perhaps he didn’t stare at her after all. He stared through her.
“God. Your cheek, honey… it’s swelling up like a balloon. Ice. I need some ice!” Martha sprinted away towards the kitchen. People stood around gawking—not at her, but at Jack. Martha returned with an ice pack, and gently, like a loving mother, placed it against Kim’s cheek.
“Thank you, Martha.”
“Shhh, Kim. Don’t move. Don’t speak, either.”
“Jack, if you want dinner, and I assume you do because you’re here, it’s on the house. Order whatever you want,” Martha offered without looking at him, still patting her cheek gently with the ice pack.
“I wasn’t here for dinner, Martha. Just to drop off a few flyers.” He unzipped his coat, reached into his inside coat pocket, and pulled out a bunch of rolled and tightly bound documents. Slipping the thick red rubber band off them, he held onto the stack of printouts. His gaze trained on them as if he, too, were seeing them for the first time. From Kim’s vantage point, she couldn’t make out much of what was on them, except one sentence: If you have any information, call 907-521-5555.
“Hey, Jack,” Frank said with a heavy sigh. When the two faced each other, an inexplicable tension filled the air.
“Frank.”
The crowd finally dispersed during the awkward silence. Some left the eatery, and others returned to their seats to finish their meal.
“Can I help ya with something?” Frank questioned.
“Yeah, if you don’t mind, I’d like a couple of these flyers placed in here.”
Frank drew closer as Jack extended his arm, gesturing for him to take them. It was then that she noticed a black and white photo of a young man that looked to be in his early 20s at the top of the handout. Without looking at the papers, Frank gave an awkward nod and half-smile, took the leaflets, and tucked them under his arm.
“All right. I can do that for you, Jack. Also, I thought you should know that I already called the police. They’re on their way, and so is Teddy.” Frank patted Kim’s shoulder. She sneered when he touched her. It felt more for show, than concern. Teddy was the owner of the restaurant. He was rarely there, but due to the circumstances, it made sense they’d summoned him. “I take it Sonny is resting, so to speak?”
“Sonny’s unconscious.” Jack reached into his big fur coat’s outer pocket, placed a gun onto a nearby table, then let several bullets drop. One by one. Plop! Plop! Plop!
They rolled across the surface for a bit, then stopped at the edge. He produced a set of keys. “Those keys are Sonny’s. The gun and bullets are his, too. He pulled his revolver out on me. I managed to take it from him, then removed the bullets just to be safe.”
He shot a razor-sharp glance at Kim, and her insides froze. He had a gun… What if I had pepper sprayed him and he got angrier? What if I hadn’t fallen and chased after him like I tried? I’ve been mugged before—this isn’t my first time dealing with this sort of shit, and it could have ended up worse.
“Where’s Sonny havin’ his nap at?” Frank questioned after a long yawn.
“In the trunk of his car.”
He’s in the trunk?! He put that man in the trunk of his car?! I am living in the wild, wild west…
She grabbed the bag of ice from Martha and pressed it against her cheek, motioning to the woman to have a seat across from her and rest. Martha sauntered just a few feet away but stayed close by. She and Frank were standing around as if nothing was out of the ordinary. As if this was everyday stuff.
I feel like I am caught up in some dream, only I’m fully awake with a bruised ego, leg, and sore face to prove it.
“Better call the paramedics, too, just in case he doesn’t wake up.” Jack slowly rolled the remaining flyers up and slipped the rubber band back down the tube of papers. “I’m headed out. If the police need a statement from me, Frank, they know where to find me.”