The Blue Shirt (10)
| Part 1|
| Part 2|
| Part 3|
| Part 4|
| Part 5|
| Part 6|
| Part 7|
| Part 8|
| Part 9|
Mama Stella has never really liked company, and for the past decade or so she's become even more of a recluse. Mr. Samantha drives her down to town ever Saturday to do her grocery shopping and make a token appearance at the market, but even then she barely says a dozen words. The only time she ever really socializes is when there's been a birth.
It's a tricky road to her house up in the mountains, and she likes it that way. Everyone knows how to get there, and the town always makes sure her drive is plowed in the winter and the dirt road is maintained in the summer. Otherwise, we let her be.
I was sitting in the passenger seat, combing the main road for any sign of Steven's car while Sam tried to navigate through the steadily worsening snow. The weather was practically guaranteed to clear at any moment, unless it turned into a full blizzard. That was the way of our weather. Until one or the other happened, though, Sam was determined to trace every road around Mama Stella's drive until he found Mickey.
Colin had taken control of my phone so I could concentrate on the road, and he was periodically dialing Mickey's number in the hopes he might pick up. It was the unanswered phone that was scaring me the most. That kid never went anywhere without his phone. It was just a simple flip phone that allowed him to text or call, but it was his lifeline to Sam and me. He once left it in a restaurant when he was out to dinner with me, and he almost hyperventilated for the twenty minutes it took me to retrieve it. He was convinced that in those few minutes something was going to happen to Sam, and his brother wasn't going to be able to call him.
We made it to the unmarked road that led up to Mama Stella's house, and Sam started the climb. He almost immediately swore softly.
"They better not have tried to get up here in that idiot van of Steven's."
I leaned forward to look at the ice and slush that was coating the dirt road and agreed. There was no way Steven's rear-wheel drive would make it far.
We were only half a mile up the road when it curved sharply to the right and Sam stopped the car as quickly as he could without skidding out. I caught the tracks he'd noticed already, and I was out of the car and running down the road immediately with Colin at my heels.
The edge of the road dropped off steeply for about ten feet before it leveled out into a gentler slope. Steven's van was lying at the bottom of the embankment, and it looked more or less undamaged. Sam was getting ready to throw himself over the side of road to climb down when Colin grabbed his arm.
"Wait. If you go down there you won't be able to get back up without a rope or something." He pointed to the loose, sandy dirt that dropped almost straight down. "You can't climb that."
Sam tried to pull away, but Colin shoved him backwards with surprising strength. "I'll go down and hand him up, okay? It'll just take me a moment."
Before either of us could say anything he was half scrambling, half falling the ten feet down to the van.
"I'm going to kill him," I said with vehemence.
Sam shot me a look, then knelt on his hands and knees and watched as Colin opened the van door and crawled inside. "Why? He's trying to help."
I shook my head. "Not Colin. Steven. I'm going to kill him. I'll vivisect him. I swear I'll rip him to pieces."
My tirade was interrupted as Colin reappeared with an obviously terrified Mickey. The kid seemed to be unhurt, but he was crying hysterically and clinging to Colin's neck.
Colin carried Mickey over to the embankment so they were standing right beneath us, then coaxed him into calming down long enough to stand on Colin's shoulders. Mickey dug his fingers into the soft dirt of the embankment to steady himself until Colin was standing high enough that Sam and I could reach Mickey's outstretched wrists.
It had probably been less than five minutes since Sam had pulled the car over, but it felt like hours. Sam and I sat in the slush and ice of the road for a moment and just wrapped ourselves around Mickey until he calmed down enough to breathe normally. Eventually, though, I remembered Colin stuck beneath us and I moved back to the edge of the road.
"If you follow the road back the way we came, it should even out and you can climb back up," I called down to him.
I turned to face the direction I was pointing and nodded, then walked back toward the van.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
He looked back up. "I have to get Steven out, too."
"Why?" I asked, surprising even myself with the vehemence of my tone. Still, I didn't see any reason why we had to help that man.
Colin stopped and looked at me. "Jess. He's a dick, but we can't just leave him here."
I felt my face twist, but I nodded and scrambled to my feet so I could help Sam get Mickey back to the car. I slid into the driver seat while Sam bundled Mickey into the back seat, and I carefully maneuvered the car so it was facing back down to the main road. It only took a moment to get the half mile to where the embankment leveled out, and I pulled over to wait for Colin.
It took him almost fifteen minutes to make it to the car with a limping Steven, and the first thing I did was punch the piece of shit in the nose.
I might have broken it.
I'm totally not sorry.
I didn't even bother to call him nasty names. The sight of his bloodied nose and twisted ankle gave me a sort of grim satisfaction, and I turned on my heel and opened the back of the station wagon.
"Put him back here," I told Colin, standing to the side so he could slide Steven into the back of the car.
"There's not a seat back here," Colin pointed out.
I shrugged and slammed the door shut. The bastard didn't deserve a seat in my opinion.
I drove him to the hospital in Vail because I didn't want him at the Blue Shirt and because I wanted someone to make sure Mickey was alright. It took over an hour for someone to look at Mickey for five minutes and declare him perfectly healthy, and by that time we were all starving and exhausted. We left Steven at the hospital, and I drove everyone else back to Sam's apartment.
I finally got to change out of my running clothes as Sam got Mickey changed and Colin called for a pizza. By the time the delivery guy rang our doorbell, the sky had cleared and Mickey was curled up next to Sam on the couch, watching a Doctor Who marathon on BBC America.
Colin and I got up to dish out pizza, and I pulled him into the kitchen with me to get plates. When we were around the corner and more or less out of site of Sam, I threw my arms around his shoulders. His arms came up reflexively to wrap around my waist, and we swayed back a little under the vehemence of my hug.
"Thank you," I said, tucking my chin onto his shoulder and closing my eyes.
"For what?" he asked, and he sounded a little breathless.
"For helping Mickey. He and Sam are the most important people in my life, and if something happened to them I don't think I could survive it."
He pulled away a little so he could see my face, and reached up to push a piece of my hair back. The cotton of his gloves caught in my hair, and my heart stuttered for a moment.
"I know. No worries. It's fine now."
I gave a little half nod and just stared at him. He stared back until Sam called from the den and we both jumped apart.
"I'll be right there," I called back, ducking my head a little.
"I'll just grab the plates, then," Colin said and moved to the cabinet over the sink. I nodded and retreated back to the dining room to grab the pizza box.
| Part 2|
| Part 3|
| Part 4|
| Part 5|
| Part 6|
| Part 7|
| Part 8|
| Part 9|
Mama Stella has never really liked company, and for the past decade or so she's become even more of a recluse. Mr. Samantha drives her down to town ever Saturday to do her grocery shopping and make a token appearance at the market, but even then she barely says a dozen words. The only time she ever really socializes is when there's been a birth.
It's a tricky road to her house up in the mountains, and she likes it that way. Everyone knows how to get there, and the town always makes sure her drive is plowed in the winter and the dirt road is maintained in the summer. Otherwise, we let her be.
I was sitting in the passenger seat, combing the main road for any sign of Steven's car while Sam tried to navigate through the steadily worsening snow. The weather was practically guaranteed to clear at any moment, unless it turned into a full blizzard. That was the way of our weather. Until one or the other happened, though, Sam was determined to trace every road around Mama Stella's drive until he found Mickey.
Colin had taken control of my phone so I could concentrate on the road, and he was periodically dialing Mickey's number in the hopes he might pick up. It was the unanswered phone that was scaring me the most. That kid never went anywhere without his phone. It was just a simple flip phone that allowed him to text or call, but it was his lifeline to Sam and me. He once left it in a restaurant when he was out to dinner with me, and he almost hyperventilated for the twenty minutes it took me to retrieve it. He was convinced that in those few minutes something was going to happen to Sam, and his brother wasn't going to be able to call him.
We made it to the unmarked road that led up to Mama Stella's house, and Sam started the climb. He almost immediately swore softly.
"They better not have tried to get up here in that idiot van of Steven's."
I leaned forward to look at the ice and slush that was coating the dirt road and agreed. There was no way Steven's rear-wheel drive would make it far.
We were only half a mile up the road when it curved sharply to the right and Sam stopped the car as quickly as he could without skidding out. I caught the tracks he'd noticed already, and I was out of the car and running down the road immediately with Colin at my heels.
The edge of the road dropped off steeply for about ten feet before it leveled out into a gentler slope. Steven's van was lying at the bottom of the embankment, and it looked more or less undamaged. Sam was getting ready to throw himself over the side of road to climb down when Colin grabbed his arm.
"Wait. If you go down there you won't be able to get back up without a rope or something." He pointed to the loose, sandy dirt that dropped almost straight down. "You can't climb that."
Sam tried to pull away, but Colin shoved him backwards with surprising strength. "I'll go down and hand him up, okay? It'll just take me a moment."
Before either of us could say anything he was half scrambling, half falling the ten feet down to the van.
"I'm going to kill him," I said with vehemence.
Sam shot me a look, then knelt on his hands and knees and watched as Colin opened the van door and crawled inside. "Why? He's trying to help."
I shook my head. "Not Colin. Steven. I'm going to kill him. I'll vivisect him. I swear I'll rip him to pieces."
My tirade was interrupted as Colin reappeared with an obviously terrified Mickey. The kid seemed to be unhurt, but he was crying hysterically and clinging to Colin's neck.
Colin carried Mickey over to the embankment so they were standing right beneath us, then coaxed him into calming down long enough to stand on Colin's shoulders. Mickey dug his fingers into the soft dirt of the embankment to steady himself until Colin was standing high enough that Sam and I could reach Mickey's outstretched wrists.
It had probably been less than five minutes since Sam had pulled the car over, but it felt like hours. Sam and I sat in the slush and ice of the road for a moment and just wrapped ourselves around Mickey until he calmed down enough to breathe normally. Eventually, though, I remembered Colin stuck beneath us and I moved back to the edge of the road.
"If you follow the road back the way we came, it should even out and you can climb back up," I called down to him.
I turned to face the direction I was pointing and nodded, then walked back toward the van.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
He looked back up. "I have to get Steven out, too."
"Why?" I asked, surprising even myself with the vehemence of my tone. Still, I didn't see any reason why we had to help that man.
Colin stopped and looked at me. "Jess. He's a dick, but we can't just leave him here."
I felt my face twist, but I nodded and scrambled to my feet so I could help Sam get Mickey back to the car. I slid into the driver seat while Sam bundled Mickey into the back seat, and I carefully maneuvered the car so it was facing back down to the main road. It only took a moment to get the half mile to where the embankment leveled out, and I pulled over to wait for Colin.
It took him almost fifteen minutes to make it to the car with a limping Steven, and the first thing I did was punch the piece of shit in the nose.
I might have broken it.
I'm totally not sorry.
I didn't even bother to call him nasty names. The sight of his bloodied nose and twisted ankle gave me a sort of grim satisfaction, and I turned on my heel and opened the back of the station wagon.
"Put him back here," I told Colin, standing to the side so he could slide Steven into the back of the car.
"There's not a seat back here," Colin pointed out.
I shrugged and slammed the door shut. The bastard didn't deserve a seat in my opinion.
I drove him to the hospital in Vail because I didn't want him at the Blue Shirt and because I wanted someone to make sure Mickey was alright. It took over an hour for someone to look at Mickey for five minutes and declare him perfectly healthy, and by that time we were all starving and exhausted. We left Steven at the hospital, and I drove everyone else back to Sam's apartment.
I finally got to change out of my running clothes as Sam got Mickey changed and Colin called for a pizza. By the time the delivery guy rang our doorbell, the sky had cleared and Mickey was curled up next to Sam on the couch, watching a Doctor Who marathon on BBC America.
Colin and I got up to dish out pizza, and I pulled him into the kitchen with me to get plates. When we were around the corner and more or less out of site of Sam, I threw my arms around his shoulders. His arms came up reflexively to wrap around my waist, and we swayed back a little under the vehemence of my hug.
"Thank you," I said, tucking my chin onto his shoulder and closing my eyes.
"For what?" he asked, and he sounded a little breathless.
"For helping Mickey. He and Sam are the most important people in my life, and if something happened to them I don't think I could survive it."
He pulled away a little so he could see my face, and reached up to push a piece of my hair back. The cotton of his gloves caught in my hair, and my heart stuttered for a moment.
"I know. No worries. It's fine now."
I gave a little half nod and just stared at him. He stared back until Sam called from the den and we both jumped apart.
"I'll be right there," I called back, ducking my head a little.
"I'll just grab the plates, then," Colin said and moved to the cabinet over the sink. I nodded and retreated back to the dining room to grab the pizza box.