Читать книгу Rita Royale 2 (The Beach House) - Terry JD Anderson - Страница 5

The exhaust note from Rita’s motorcycle caused Robert Racine to leave the sofa and open his front door. He stared at the blonde woman with the buzz cut hair, at his kid on the back of a motorcycle. He waited on the front step, feet bare, white t-shirt stained with mustard from yesterday’s hot dog, gut sticking out enough to be obvious.

Rita studied the man as she walked up close to the steps, her sunglasses shading her eyes. “Mr. Racine. I’m Major Royale. I was wondering if Alex was welcome here.”

He looked at her uniform, her leather jacket, finally her face. “Why does an Army woman care?”

“Alex is a minor, Mr. Racine. I’m the Liaison Officer for Sidney.”

“He’s sixteen. When I was his age I was out working for a living. He can too.”

“So you don’t want him living here?”

He looked at his son. “Little thief stole some money.”

Alex stared. “I did not.”

“Mr. Racine. May Alex go and get his clothes from his room?”

He looked at her. “What are you going to do with him?”

Rita removed her sunglasses, looked straight into his eyes. “Does that matter to you?”

He laughed a little, looked at Alex. “Go get your things. And be quick about it.”

Alex ran past him into the house. Rita stepped back a foot.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

Rita squinted. “One of what?”

“Lesbians. You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

“My sexual orientation is none of your business.”

He laughed. “You putting the kid in a home or something?”

“We’re not sure yet where Alex is going. He wants to join the Army.”

“Good. Make a man out of him. He’s too much like his mother though. A loser.”

Rita just looked at the ground, blew out her breath. Glanced at her bike. Looked back at this slob of a man. At least that’s how Rita saw this guy. “Where is his mother?”

“Vancouver probably. Just go look where the hookers hang out.”

Alex walked onto the step at that moment holding a small travel bag, jumped down beside Rita. He looked at his father. “My mom’s not a hooker.”

“Go on kid. Join the Army and learn something.”

“I’ll come back and kick your ass one day, too.”

He glared at Alex. “What did you just say, boy?”

Rita pushed Alex toward the motorcycle, stood between them. “We’re leaving now, Mr. Racine. Have a nice day.”

He stayed on the front step, looked at his son now near the motorcycle. “You watch your mouth, boy.”

Rita walked to her bike, looked at the kid and his one bag. “That’s all you have?”

He nodded.

“Carry the bag on your lap.”

The Army private in the van followed the motorcycle to a mall, Rita talked to the soldier briefly, then she and Alex went inside, followed by the private a discreet distance behind. Rita walked quickly, Alex walking fast to keep up. She spotted a sign, walked into the open doors of the clothing store. Forty-five minutes later, three full bags were loaded inside the van and Rita rode back to the beach house, it was time for lunch. Shopping always made her hungry.

She made up a plate of cucumber and tomato sandwiches, grabbed some milk from the fridge and led Alex across the road onto the beach, where they sat on a large piece of driftwood, the waves rolling slowly to shore.

He looked at her. “Do I really have to wear a sports jacket to school?”

She nodded. “If you want to live here you do.”

“I’ll get beat up.”

She grinned. “You want to a Badger?”

“Yeah.”

“Stop dressing like a punk and start dressing like a man. You may find the girls look at you differently too.”

He looked at her face closely, he liked her face. “Okay, Rita. I hope the ambulance gets there before I bleed to death.”

She grinned. “Yeah, so do I.”

“You don’t wear a sports jacket.”

“Sometimes I do. And a tie too. Don’t worry. You have some nice shoes, jackets, pants and shirts. You’re supposed to go to school to learn, not be a punk. Punks are stupid. Don’t be stupid, Alex.” Rita looked at him. “Close your eyes.”

After a brief pause he did as she asked.

“How many people walking on the beach?”

“Four.”

“Six. Two arrived and you didn’t see them. When you enter a place, or a situation, you have to see everything and remember it. It takes practice.”

“Will you teach me to be like you are?”

“It takes discipline. Up for that? No more hanging out all night, or being stupid. I want to know where you are at all times, and you have to practice. That’s the big thing.”

“I will, Rita.”

She nodded. “Okay. Eat your sandwich.”

“My mom’s a drug addict, but she’s not a hooker.”

“I know.”

Alex took a bite from his sandwich, looked up and down the beach, looked up at the afternoon sky. He said, “There’s an eagle circling above us.”

“Yes. What do you sense?”

“Its something good, I think.”

She smiled. “Yes, the bird is calm now.”

He just looked at her, ate his sandwich, glanced up at the bird, along the beach. Two more people were now walking on the rocky shoreline.

That same afternoon, Rita heard from Colonel Robinson at the Sidney Army base. The four men who attacked Rita at the beach house were local Muslims, no history of previous violence. Rita guessed that’s why they were amateurs and not professional killers, but something set them off. It must be tied to the thing on the pier, she thought. The identities of the men who had the drugs on the pier were still unknown.

Dixie and Cathy also called, worried, sorry they were out of town when the trouble happened at Rita’s house. Rita said everything is calm and the Army had men watching her residence. She would see them at work in the morning.

Stella came for a visit, met Alex. She liked the handsome young man, as she referred to him. Alex didn’t seem to mind being called handsome. The three had supper together, chatted until the sun went down.