“I don’t really have ten dollars to spare.”
“Oh, Margaret. I think you could afford ten bucks. I don’t think anyone would miss ten bucks. What do you say, Margaret? Can I put you down? We can do the paperwork over the phone, right now. Come on, Margaret,
what do you say? What do you say?”
The telemarketer offended her by trying to manipulate her just for the sake of his commission. Surely
these people are answerable to some government department, she thought. She had a good mind to contact someone.
“No, I’m sorry, I’m not interested,” Margaret said, her tone abrupt.
“Not interested? Not interested! You selfish bitch.”
Bile replaced the telemarketer’s sickly sweet demeanor.
Her breath caught in her throat. It took a moment before she could speak again. “What?”
“No wonder your daughter lives in New York. She
probably can’t stand being near a twisted old bitch like you. Why don’t you just die? You’d be doing the planet a favor. You’re only taking up oxygen good people like me need to breathe.”
The vile words burned the inside of Margaret’s head.
People didn’t speak to people like this. She wanted to hang up, but her shock kept the phone pressed to her ear.
“How dare you talk to me like that. I’ll report you to your superiors.” Margaret’s voice broke and tears built up behind her eyes.
“Oh, but I do dare, Margaret,” he said, his voice controlled and level. “I’ve been watching you, Margaret.
Oh, yes, I’ve been watching you for awhile now.
You live in that shitty little house of yours. God knows what you find to do in there. You only ever go out to go to the store. I’ve seen you waiting for the bus, hunched up against the bus stop. Have you ever noticed how the people on the bus look at you? They see you and they think, Christ, I hope I never get to be like that. I hope someone will kill me first.”
“That’s not true.” Margaret struggled to speak
through the sobs that shook her body. She wanted to put the phone down, but she was too frightened of what the telemarketer would do if she hung up.
“How’s that heart of yours? When’s it going to give out? I do hope it’s soon.”
“Who are you?”
“Maybe you should be asking where am I?” He let
that sink in before he broke into laughter.
Margaret leapt from the chair and tottered over to the window, receiver in hand. The telephone cord
stretched to its full limit, sending the table with the phone on it crashing to the floor.
“Was that you, Margaret?”
She sniffed. “No, I’m still here.”
“What a shame. I’ll be coming to see you. I want to see the look on your face when you die.”
“I’m going to call the police.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. I’ll know when they come and I’ll take action if you do.”
“What action?”
“Deadly.”
Josh crossed the yard to where Bob stood. His overweight friend was the center of attention in a circle of five people. He’d tried to talk to Bob right after Bell left him, but two colleagues interrupted him to introduce their wives.
Josh arrived to find Bob at the tail end of one of his jokes. He was a good joke teller, although not all of them were in good taste. In his hands were the
weapons of a good partygoer—a beer and a burger.
Bob gesticulated with the booze and food to enhance his performance.
“When I go down, I go down in flames,” Bob said in a bad French accent.
The group laughed loudly at the joke. Josh smiled.
He’d heard that one before. He placed his hands on Bob’s fleshy shoulders. “Can I relieve you of this very funny man?”
The people agreed on the condition that he brought him back. Before he could take Bob away, the group engaged him about his recent accident. Josh underplayed the magnitude of the event and the fear he had
experienced. He didn’t want to talk to them. He had bigger problems with which to deal.
As they walked away from the crowd, Bob asked,
“What did Bell want?”
“She wants to mess with my head. A little reminder of what will happen if I don’t play by her rules.”
They stood against the fence and watched the people enjoying the party.
“Jesus, what a mess,” Josh said.
Bob felt Josh’s despair spread across his friend like an approaching storm front. He wanted to tell Josh everything was going to be okay. But he wasn’t sure that was the case.
“Let me talk to her,” Bob said.
“There’s no point.”
“There isn’t if you talk to her. She’s knows exactly how to yank your chain. It’s not like that with me.”
“I don’t think you’ll get anywhere.”
“That’s my problem. You go out there and talk to
your friends. This is meant to be your party.”
Josh looked at the crowd. It didn’t feel like a birthday.
Well, not a good one at least. He wasn’t much in
the mood for fun.
“Put on a good show for everyone. Let them know
everything is cool and show that bitch she isn’t getting to you.”
“You’re a good friend, Bob.”
“That’s nice. Now get out there, tell some jokes and for God’s sake, cheer up.” Bob shoved Josh in the back with both hands.
Bob watched Kate and her friends welcome Josh and draw him into their discussion. He scanned the partygoers for the blackmailer. Alone at the drinks table, she was pouring herself a glass of wine. Bob appeared at Belinda Wong’s side and cracked open another beer.
“Hi there,” Bob said.
“Hello,” Bell replied.
“I’m Bob Deuce, a good friend of Josh Michaels, and of Kate and Abby, of course.” Bob smiled and offered a hand.
“Of course. I’m Belinda Wong. A pleasure to meet
you, Bob.”
Bob saw the coldness in her eyes. “Yes, I’m sure.”
“Josh has mentioned you before.”
“Yeah, I think we met a long time ago. You used to work for Josh.”
A middle-aged couple arrived at the drinks table to interrupt Bob’s conversation. Bob and Bell moved out of their way.
“Shall we?” Bob indicated they should move on with a swing of his arm, bottle in hand. He needed to get Bell alone. “Are you enjoying yourself?”
“Yes, it’s a nice party, and you?” Bell gave him a hint of a smile, but her eyes were filled with suspicion.
Bob took a swig from the bottle. “I wasn’t talking about the party.”
Bell narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know what you
mean.”
“About you … coming here… uninvited. I know about you and Josh, and the money you extorted.” Bob
