Good morning and Happy Hump Day ! If it's Wednesday, then it must be time for more flash fiction from the Wednesday Briefers! We're a group of authors who bring you our finest flash fiction every week, 500 to 1000 words, inspired by one of our prompts.
While researching his roots, Char is annoyed at Tyrone's unexpected appearance at the library. But not as annoyed as when he sees a policeman who is heading right toward them! See what's going on in this week's chapter of An Unholy Alliance. Don't forget to visit the other Briefers and see what's up with them. Their links follow my tale! Enjoy!
Stay
calm, stay calm.
I forced myself to quell the rapid beating of my
heart. Such wild fluctuations would do me no good and could, in fact, be quite
detrimental to my well-being. I kept telling myself I had no real reason to
panic. Just because Tyrone said it, didn’t make it so. This could be a mere coincidence.
A coincidence of the highest order, I had to admit, but nonetheless a
possibility. Still, I had to be prepared for the worst.
“Just a county mounty,” Tyrone continued in a voice
barely above a whisper, probably assuming that I could easily hear him while
the approaching officer of the law could not. “Probably nothing to do with us. Don’t
worry, it’ll be all right.”
What reason did I have to believe him? And what did
he mean by us? There was no us.
I stiffened in my seat, my fingers quietly digging
into the flimsy material of the chair, threatening its integrity. A fight or
flight instinct was rapidly gaining ground within me. Fighting was entirely out
of the question since I knew, fully blooded as I was, I could do some serious
damage. My concern was for Casey. Also for the library and my access to it. I
couldn’t and wouldn’t do something like that to her. They’d been nothing but
nice to me and didn’t deserve to have their hard work destroyed so cavalierly
just to save myself.
On the other hand, I had no intention of submitting
to this newcomer’s so-called authority either.
As the man drew closer, I took the opportunity to
observe him more carefully. In particular, the weapon in its holster at his hip,
which his hand seemed to hover over like an overprotective parent. While I
didn’t fear being shot, I didn’t relish it either, and I had no desire to shed
any of my hard-earned blood, not for the likes of him. He appeared to be maybe
about forty, had a slight paunch and a thinning hairline. Nothing that overtly
labeled him as racist. Yet I could see the suspicious look in his eyes when he
glanced at me, and not for a moment did I believe my skin color had nothing to
do with the unease I saw there. Was he afraid of me, as a black man in a
redneck community, or was he afraid of becoming entangled in a racial issue he wasn’t
sure how to deal with. Either way, I had no intention of making the situation
easy for him.
Perhaps we could take this fight outside…
“Hey there!” Tyrone interrupted my internal reverie.
He’d risen from his seat, usual grin affixed to his face. But I sensed a deeper
purpose behind the façade. Something I’d never felt from him before in our
heretofore short acquaintance. Whatever it was, his tactic seemed to have
worked, as the policeman shifted his attention from me to Tyrone.
“Afternoon, sir,” he returned Tyrone’s greeting,
then a few heartbeats later made a minimal nod in my direction.
“Everything all right with the library?” Tyrone
continued. “No problem, is there?”
“No, sir. No problem with the library.” The man
paused just short of Tyrone, feet planted apart in a way that screamed he was ready
to spring into action at any moment before he blurted out what he’d intended to
ask from the moment he set eyes on us. Or me, actually.
“Do you know anything about that 1986 blue Chrysler
LeBaron settin’ out in the parking lot?”
“Do I know anything about the LeBaron?” Tyrone
parroted the question before he turned to me, faux excitement dripping from
every orifice, if you can imagine that. At the same time, he surreptitiously
motioned to me to stand as well, so I reluctantly acquiesced. “Didn’t I tell
you there was something wrong with that car? I told you, I did. I mean the way
those kids lit out of here, like they was headin’ to a fire ‘cause they had
some wienies they needed to roast.”
What did that even mean? I couldn’t help but notice
that the more he spoke, the thicker his accent grew.
“I heard one
of them say something like this here thing’s a piece of shit, and they could do
better. You remember that, don’t you, Gordon?”
It took a moment for me to assimilate the fact that
Tyrone was indeed addressing me by the fictitious name of Gordon (why Gordon?).
I had to hand it to him—that was some pretty quick thinking. He’d just earned a
bit of my grudging admiration for that.
The policeman eyed me somewhat suspiciously.
Probably because I hadn’t spoken yet. Time to remedy that. “You did, you did,
Earl (two could play that name game). I was wrong, I guess. You did say they
looked a mite suspicious.” I added a hoosier drawl to my words for added
authenticity. I could feel Tyrone stifle a giggle. “Looks like you was right.”
“Looks like you owe me lunch, sugar,” Tyrone added
with a wink.
The policeman’s expression instantly changed from
mild irritation to repugnance. No mind reader was required to know what he’d
inferred from Tyrone’s words, coupled with that saucy wink. I couldn’t care
less what he thought, to be honest. My own family could never decide if I was
gay or straight, and I had no intention of enlightening them that I was
actually ace. First, I considered it none of their business. Secondly, I was
still figuring out things in that arena myself.
“How many kids?” He barely listened to Tyrone’s
reply—“Two or three. Fast ‘uns, too”—before he lit out as though he was headed
to the same fire.
And didn’t Tyrone seem inordinately pleased with
himself? That grin just kept getting wider and wider as he turned to me, one
hand held up high. What choice did I have? I reluctantly returned his high
five. To give the devil his due, he had defused the situation rather handily.
to be continued
Now visit the other Briefers and see what's up with them!
Julie Lynn Hayes
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