Crazy Wanda Page 3

  Angela waited until Wanda had started her car and driven off down the alley before backing out into the street and turning around to go home.

  She was glad to be rid of the crazy lady so she could finally go home to peace and quiet and get some sleep.

  Home. It suddenly occurred to her why Bardolph the wolf had come around her house with his new mate.

  “I’ll be damned,” she said under her breath as she drove through the rainy night toward her remote house in the mountains where wolves lived.

  CHAPTER 5

  Wanda drove her small Chevy hatchback slowly down the narrow alley, navigating around tipped-over trash cans and junk appliances people had piled to the side. She watched in her rearview mirror, through the rain running down the back window, as Angela backed her truck out of the alley, swung around, and headed off in the opposite direction. As soon as the lights of Angela’s pickup were out of sight, Wanda turned right out of the alley and drove around the block to come back in the alley again.

  Angela was the one person Wanda trusted. Angela wasn’t like anyone else she knew. She was smarter than anyone else she knew. Not necessarily book smart, but life smart. It often felt like Angela could look into her eyes and tell what she was thinking, or even what she had done. Angela just seemed to know things right out of thin air. Angela always told Wanda the truth, but without bitching at her like everyone else. Wanda adored her like a big sister.

  Even so, Wanda could hardly tell Angela everything.

  She drove slowly, hoping not to make enough noise to wake anyone. She stopped in the same spot she’d just been parked in. She left the engine running and the headlights on. She got out and pushed the door closed without latching it so as to make as little noise as possible.

  She looked across the alley at Brad’s house. The lights weren’t on. She would have loved to have thrown a rock through his bedroom window. It would probably scare the crap out of whatever whore he was sleeping with.

  But she had more important things to do.

  She squatted down in the weeds beside three heavily dented trash cans. In the light from the headlights, she looked behind the cans, among scrap pieces of boards and old wood paneling. She found the small square of weathered plywood she was looking for. Its edges were delaminated, wrinkled, and cracking apart. Afraid of getting splinters, she lifted it carefully. With all the spiderwebs in the weeds, she was worried about spiders.

  There, under the pieces of plywood, was the zippered cloth gun case holding the .357 Magnum revolver and three full boxes of bullets. She reached in and quickly pulled it out, hoping not to give any spiders time to bite her.

  Once she had retrieved the gun, she hurried back to her car and put the gun case into the big, gray, sloppy handbag she was carrying that day expressly because it was big enough to easily conceal the gun. She smiled to herself as she put the car in gear and rolled slowly out of the alley.

  She had to smile, too, at having the forethought to hide the gun. She hadn’t known Brad would come home and catch her, much less call the police, but she had been concerned that he might see her and follow her, or even, once he came home and found his gun missing, go to her parents and break into her car looking for it. She’d hidden it so she could come back at a later date and retrieve it after things had cooled down.

  Since the police had already searched her car, that had convinced Brad, and the police, that she hadn’t taken his gun.

  She was smarter than both Brad and the cops. She’d told them when they cuffed her that it was a bad neighborhood. Anyone could have gotten in his house and stolen it. She’d even convinced Angela that she hadn’t taken Brad’s gun.

  She had to grin at the thought of police searching her car and failing to find the gun Brad had been yelling about, and at the look on Brad’s face when they came back and told him she didn’t have his gun. He’d been so sure she had taken it. It made him look stupid.

  Brad had told her once, when he was showing off the handgun, that a hollow-point .357 slug would go into a person like a nickel and come out the other side like a bag of quarters.

  He thought the gun made him tough. She wondered how tough he felt now. At first, she hadn’t really cared about the gun, she just wanted to take it away from him. Now, she was glad to have it. The gun made her just as tough as he was.

  Wanda’s mood darkened as she drove through the alley, envisioning blowing Brad’s brains out. It felt good thinking about it.

  By the time she reached her parents’ house she was exhausted from all the trouble Brad and the police had caused her. She wished she could somehow get even with him for cheating on her and throwing her out. She slipped her hand into her handbag and felt the gun case. She smiled at having taken the bastard’s prize handgun. It felt like she had taken his manhood.

  Wanda parked on the street in front of her parents’ house behind a car up on blocks. She was careful never to leave any valuables in her car because it was such a bad neighborhood. Even though her car was a piece of shit, it was better than most of the cars in the neighborhood. She hated the place.

  She had keys to the house, so she let herself in and then quietly closed the front door, hoping not to have to talk to her parents. When she turned around she was momentarily startled by the figure of her father standing in the shadows not far away at the bottom of the stairs.

  She put a hand to the top of her chest, catching her breath. “You scared the crap out of me!”

  His expression was grim. Standing there in her mother’s fluffy slippers, plaid boxer shorts, and an undershirt he looked silly.

  “I saw that you called from the police station,” he said. “What have you done this time?”

  Wanda’s temper heated. “Why didn’t you answer the damn phone and come help get me out?”

  “Your whole life your mother and I have done our best to raise you to be a God-fearing young woman. When you got into trouble we prayed with you to drive the devil’s influence from you and to guide you to the right path. But you always let the devil back in.

  “I work too hard for my money to use it to bail you out of jail when it could go to better use at the church. I’ll not steal from what should go to them to bail you out anymore. You don’t need bail money, you need the devil beaten out of you. You’re not too old for that, you know.”

  “Fuck you,” she snapped as she stormed past.

  Wanda had never walked the right path, as he put it. She had always pretended, but she never really cared about any of their religious nonsense. Once she had moved out, she thought she was finally free of it all, and now, because of that bastard Brad, here she was, right back in her parents’ house again.

  She slammed her bedroom door and then flopped down on the bed. She put her head in her hands. She was sick and tired of everyone causing her problems.

  She wished that she hadn’t given up her apartment, but Brad had wanted her to move in with him. She realized now that he had been playing her so he could have ready access to pussy.

  She needed to get a place to stay, but bill collectors were already after her and her credit was shot. Apartments checked credit records. She dreaded the thought of having to get a slum apartment, but things would get ugly if she stayed at her parents’ for long.

  She fished her phone out of her big handbag.

  sorry i missed u at the bar. my a hole x was causing me problems again.

  In a few moments he texted back. Sorry. I was asleep. You going to be at Barry’s Place tonight?

  Yes.

  Okay, I’ll talk to you then. Good night, babe.

  Wanda flicked the phone back on the bed. She was wired after confronting her father, as if he knew anything about life outside his stupid church. She had wanted to talk to Ricky. It irritated her that he would rather sleep than talk to her. She thought, then, that he probably couldn’t talk because he was in bed right next to his wife.

  Wanda was going to have to do something about that.

  CHAPTER 6

 
After a busy day with her messenger service, delivering packets for her lawyer customers, Angela finally made her way up her long drive, glad to be home if only for a little while. She always loved the solitude of her place in the woods among the mountains. She was hungry and looked forward to making herself some dinner before changing for work at Barry’s Place. The peace and quiet in the woods surrounding her house steeled her for the noise and all the people at the bar where she worked.

  It was tough having two jobs, but for the time being the work was there and the money was good. She missed not being able to spend more time at home hiking through the mountains, but there might not always be work. Growing up as she had had taught her to expect that bad times would always come around.

  She put olive oil in a pan on the stove and then laid in a chicken breast. She left the back door open so that the aroma of the cooking chicken would drift out into the woods while she went through the mail she had picked up from Mike’s Mail Service on her way home. She threw away the advertisements and set the bills aside on the kitchen table.

  When she leaned back to look out the open back door, she saw Bardolph not far away at the edge of the woods. He was pacing. Angela smiled at seeing him. As she had done every day for several weeks, she had taken two half chickens out of the refrigerator.

  She picked up the chicken waiting on the counter and took it outside. Bardolph knew her, but he was still a wild animal and wary. She was well aware that he had the potential to be extremely dangerous. Both wolves were hungry. She didn’t want to end up being their meal instead of the chicken, so she always kept a gun on her just to be on the safe side.

  Standing out back, Angela heaved one of the chicken halves as far as she could. Bardolph paused, looking around briefly to see if it was safe. Finally satisfied, he came closer and snatched up the chicken. He carried it back in his mouth and placed it before the female wolf as she emerged from the shadows. Bardolph quickly returned to retrieve the second half when Angela tossed it toward him.

  Each holding a prize, the wolves quickly retreated into the edge of the forest. Angela was pretty sure Bardolph’s mate was carrying pups and that was why he had sought out her place. When he had been recovering from being shot, Angela had fed him raw chicken. Now he had a mate and she needed food.

  Although the woods surrounding Angela’s place were vast, food was still hard to come by. A pregnant female wolf would need to eat. When they eventually took a deer, or caught small animals, Angela knew they would stop coming around. Wolves would rather fend for themselves than have any contact with people. Until then, Angela was a source of food they could count on when they needed it.

  Watching them as they vanished into the woods, she marveled at the rare privilege of seeing such magnificent, wild creatures. Not many people would ever have the chance she did to experience such things. It was just one more reason her place was so important to her, and why she never let people come around. She wanted to keep her place wild and special.

  Angela stood in the doorway for a time, gazing off into the dark woods. She couldn’t see the wolves anymore, but she knew they were out there, somewhere. When she heard one of them let out a long, wild howl, she smiled and went back inside to finish cooking her own dinner.

  CHAPTER 7

  Angela looked up from mixing a couple of drinks and saw Wanda swoop in the door looking hurried. Angela sighed inwardly with relief that help had arrived. She had been wondering if it would. Barry had, too. He was on the edge again with Wanda.

  For the last several weeks she had been showing up when she was scheduled. Angela suspected it was because Ricky Sparling had become a regular on Wanda’s nights. When she missed the start of this shift, Angela had begun to worry that she had fallen off the “no drama” wagon. Thankfully she was only late.

  “Good,” Barry said as he passed behind Angela. “Crazy Wanda has graced us with her royal presence.”

  “She’s only a little late,” Angela said, wondering as she said it why she was defending her.

  Wanda came around behind the bar and put her purse under the counter. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, catching her breath. “I ran into Albert out in the parking lot.”

  Angela put the two mixed drinks on a tray. “Well, you’re here just in time to take this to table twelve.”

  Angela watched Wanda saunter among the tables to the calls and whistles of a few men. She swung her hips in a show as she lifted an arm and twirled a hand in appreciation of her fans. Wanda had arrived, the party could begin. She set the drinks down and whispered in the ear of one of the men. He laughed and swatted her bottom as she left.

  When she returned with the empty tray and a big grin, she handed it across the bar to Angela. “They said you might as well start making them a second round.”

  Angela smiled to herself at Wanda’s sales ability.

  Wanda leaned in to be heard over the music. “So, he said that you would give me the twenty back.”

  Angela collected an empty and quickly wiped down the bar as a man left. “What are you talking about?”

  “Albert,” Wanda said, as if that was explanation enough.

  Angela frowned as she pulled a couple of bottles from the cooler for an order. “Who the hell is Albert?”

  Wanda leaned farther in on the bar. “Don’t be silly.”

  “I’m not being silly. I don’t know an Albert.”

  “Albert,” Wanda repeated as if Angela was being dense. “You know, Albert. Your father.”

  Angela straightened. “What?”

  “Your father. Albert.” She flicked her hand over her shoulder toward the door. “I saw him in the parking lot.”

  “Old guy, leather ball cap? Riding a pink girl’s bike?”

  “That’s him. Looks like he’s down on his luck. He asked for a twenty. Real nice like. He said that he didn’t want to come in and bother you while you were working and that you would pay me back.”

  Angela was instantly fuming. “You gave him money?”

  Wanda looked puzzled. “He’s your father, isn’t he? He looked like he’s run into hard times. He said he knew you were busy and asked if I could give him a twenty. He said, ‘My daughter will gladly pay you back.’ “

  Angela could feel her face heat with anger. “You gave that junkie money?”

  “Well, yeah. Like I said, he told me he was your dad.”

  Angela threw the towel down beside the sink. “I’ll be right back.”

  Angela hurried through the crowded bar and raced out into the parking lot. She stopped and looked around. She spotted him leaning against her truck, smoking a cigarette. His bike was lying on the ground.

  As Angela marched toward him, he saw her coming and quickly picked up his bicycle. He put the cigarette between his lips and hopped on his bike. Angela raced across the lot, but he was already pedaling away. He glanced back over his shoulder once, lifted his arm high to give her the finger, and then was gone down the road, happy that she knew he’d gotten back at her.

  Back inside, Wanda returned to the bar after delivering drinks. “What was that all about?”

  “That bum isn’t my father.” Angela pulled four five-dollar bills out of her tip pocket. “Here. He conned you out of this. It’s not your fault. You were just being nice.”

  Wanda looked a bit confused. “He said he was your father.”

  “I know, but he was only saying that to get money so he could get himself some booze or maybe some arm candy.”

  Wanda shrugged as she stuffed the cash into a pocket. She looked a bit confused. “Are you sure?”

  Angela let out a deep breath. “My mother’s a drug addict. Whoever got her pregnant with me could be any one of the other addicts she slept with. There were plenty of possibilities. I suppose it’s not out of the question that he could have been the one who got her pregnant.”

  “Oh. Well, sorry.”

  “Not your fault, but don’t give him money anymore unless you don’t expect me to pay you back. I work too h
ard to throw my money away on panhandlers.”

  Wanda turned when she saw Ricky Sparling coming in the door. “There’s my guy.” She was suddenly all sparkles and grins. “I have to go say hi.”

  Angela caught her arm. “Your guy? Wanda, have you forgotten? Ricky Sparling is married.”

  “I know. But he’s taking care of that.”

  Angela let the woman’s arm go. “You’re just asking for grief.” Even as she said it, she knew it was wasted effort.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll be able to be together soon.”

  With that she hurried off to sit on Ricky’s lap as she gave him a big kiss that earned a scattering of applause. Ricky had taken a table in the corner where he could watch Wanda go about her job. Angela thought he looked like a lost puppy waiting patiently for affection. Little did he know exactly what kind of woman had a leash around his neck.

  Later that night, when the crowd had thinned, Wanda came up to the bar and leaned over close. “I’m going to take a short break. Cover for me, okay?”

  Before Angela could agree, Wanda had already danced over to Ricky and grabbed his hand. She pulled him outside with her.

  Angela forgot all about it until twenty or thirty minutes later when Wanda floated back in. All smiles, she leaned over the bar toward Angela to be heard over the music.

  “I’m back,” she said, still catching her breath. “I had to take care of my man.” She winked at Angela as she reached for a tray of drinks that needed to be delivered.

  Angela put a hand on her arm to stop her. “You better go fix your lipstick, first. It’s all over your face.”

  Wanda giggled as if embarrassed, which she was not. “Oops. Thanks.” She left the tray and hurried toward the bathroom.

  CHAPTER 8

  Wanda breathlessly pulled Ricky’s hand out from under her tank top.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, equally breathlessly.

  “I have to get home to bed.” That was a lie, of course, but she was growing irritated with the stalled progress of their relationship. She had thought that by now he would have rid himself of his wife and they would be able to move in together in his nice house in a nice part of town. She’d driven past it a number of times, dreaming.