Page 59 of Half Blind

“My cousin is, or rather was, The Cherry on Top,” she told him, uncertain why she felt the need to share the information, but something in her spirit told her he needed the reassurance. “She retired her handle since she'd married to Mr. Slow.”

“Your cousin is married to Michael?”

“Yes, I see you know the family,” Helen said.

“Archangel and I were roommates at Langley. I assume you know him through Mr. Slow,” Jared said.

“I know him by the activation of the Mustang who helped The Cherry on Top rescue me from The Collector, whom I put a knife in once I went back and found that fucker,” she said. “On my way to taking care of that weirdo bastard, I took down two kiddie sellers, which gave me first dibs on replacing my cousin.”

“You took down two?”

“Yep, and last month—was it last month—I shut down three Field of Flowers warehouses in Milwaukee. I have a lead on maybe two in the area, but I'm here to learn chemistry, but I think my specialty is not going to be this shit,” she said, holding out her arms. “That ergot fungus has broken me out. My arms are covered with this crap.”

“You're disconcerting,” Jared said, blinking twice.

“No, I'm not. Men say that when they can speak to a woman as they would a man,” Helen clarified. “You think I'm scary because it feels weird to have a conversation with a woman without having to hide your emotions or an agenda. Fucking me is not an option, and friending me feels odd; therefore, you deem me as scary because your man brain can't compartmentalize me.”

“Yep, scary. Discombobulating? Befuddling. There’s a way to describe you. Coffee?”

“Coffee sounds good,” she said, looking at her watch. The hour struck 6 a.m., and Lemon had gone to work.

“May I ask, Cranberry, why you shared all of that with me?”

“Because you're her man and are scared, you didn't know what was happening or what to do to help her,” she said. “If shit goes sideways, I am here and will serve as backup. However, Lemon is a hell of a lot scarier than I am and will be home by dinner.”

“Dinner,” he said, the unsettled feeling hovering around him. “I have an uneasy feeling that is not just about her. Help me prep the home for the arrival of guests this evening. I have no idea who or what is coming, but I want to be ready.”

“Then ready we shall be,” Helen said, starting the coffee maker.

****

THE ENTIRE DAY WASa shit show. Although the backhoe had arrived on Wednesday evening to dig out the foundations and tanks for the septic and propane for his work pod and man cave, Jared didn't expect for the foundations to be placed on Thursday. He expected a concrete truck to arrive, versus cinder blocks encased in cement structures and placed on a flat bed. The explanation given was since the cinder blocks were not permanent; they would not add to the tax cost of the home.

Much to his shock, at ten in the morning, what looked like half a house arrived to be seated on the cinder blocks. He stood in the kitchen staring at the room addition, complete with a wood-burning fireplace, a walk-in storage closet, and a bathroom. The addition appeared to get nailed to the side of the farmhouse. The side door, which once lead to another area of the backyard, became the entrance to his new man's space. A space that was physically, damned near stapled against the house and functional. All that was needed was tying in the power and HVAC units.

“I see it, but don't believe it,” he said.

Jack, the contractor, waved at him. He tapped on his watch, waved again then left. Jared had no idea what any of it meant. However, at two in the afternoon, Jack returned with a 16x40 utility cabin, complete with bathroom and kitchen cabinets which he maneuvered onto the cinder block base behind the barn. The placement of the work pod could not be seen from the house, street or when parked in the yard. Jared knew this because he checked it all.

At five in the afternoon, Lemon returned in a black Ford F-150 that neither Helen nor Jared knew she had. They watched her park the vehicle in a garage they didn't know existed in the wood line behind an additional building they also were unaware existed. He wanted to say something to his wife, but Helen touched his arm.

“She needs to shower and shake it off,” she cautioned. “When she arrives in front of you, simply open your arms to hold her. Whatever she had to do, she doesn't want to talk about it or relive the situation.”

“You seem to know these things well,” Jared said.

“The hardest thing in this life is to be of use,” Helen said. “I wondered how I would be of use here as I learned, but maybe why I'm here isn't to learn how to poison people.”

“Why then would you assume you are here, Helen?”

“To serve as a balm,” she told him. “You've spent years with a weapon in your hand like a dog on a leash. The leash comes off, you bark, bite, and attack. Now you have no leash, a regular woman to love on at night, and three daughters by proxy. In your heart you want a son, but today you found out your wife goes to work as a Technician when she gets a fax in the middle of the night. Now, your plan to knock her up has to be postponed. That's a lot for anybody to deal with it.”

“You're creepy,” he said, “and get out of my head. I'll deal with it just fine.”

“Okay, but are you ready to deal with him?” she asked, pointing out the window.

Arriving in a rental car along with his silent assistant, Alita, was Micah Delgado. Jared's eyebrows arched with a clearer understanding of what the Archangel meant about assistance arriving in U.S. Airspace.

“Sometimes, I just don't like that man,” Jared said.

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