Nowhere Fast (A Mercy Watts Short) by A.W. Hartoin Read Free Book Online

from behind me.
    “Let go of that little girl!”
    I turned. An enormous woman in spandex and a poncho ran towards us.
    “I’m calling the cops. I mean it. You let her go.”
    “Wait…”
    Before I could finish she swung her giant handbag at me. I ducked, it biffed Charley upside the head and broke Morty’s window. Charley fell on her butt and Morty charged over.
    “Are you crazy? You broke my window,” he said.
    “She was kidnapping that girl!” the woman screamed.
    Morty gave himself a good head slap.
    “You should’ve helped me,” I said.
    “Pipe down. Here they come,” Morty said as two squad cars squealed into the lot and stopped five feet from us. My cousin Chuck wasn’t in either. He couldn’t be bothered on a Saturday night. I pulled the ranking officer aside and told him my theory that Charley killed Jamie Crane. He looked at Charley in her pigtails and sparkly tights and laughed in my face. I couldn’t blame him. It did seem pretty ridiculous. Her looks were deceiving. They’d be getting her in and out of a lot of trouble. I had the sneaking suspicion that I hadn’t seen the last of her.
    After we’d all made our statements and the big lady was given a Yoo-hoo, Charley finally understood she was going.
    As she got into a squad car, I said, “See, you should’ve gone with me. Now you have to spend the night in juvie.” She probably should’ve been spending the next five years, but there didn’t seem any point in saying it.
    “I hate you!” she yelled.
    “You’re welcome.”
    That got a nice laugh from the group. The big lady kept apologizing to me and trying to wipe Charley’s snot off her bag. Morty couldn’t stop grousing about the window until I offered to pay for it. Fat chance. Steve and Rodney said it was the most exciting Saturday night of their lives and so did Aaron after his breathing normalized. Morty turned purple and said he’d blow them away with next Saturday’s game.
    I was going to drop Aaron off at home, but after he spent the ride trying to peel his socks off his toes, I took him to my apartment. I soaked his feet in acetone, repainted his toes, and put him in my bed. He snored while Skanky clambered all over him, giving him a good sniff and finally settling on his chest. I slept on the couch, only to wake up when Pete came in at eight in the morning.
    “There’s a nerd in your bed,” he said.
    “It’s not permanent.”
    “If you feed him, he’ll never leave.”
    “I’m definitely not feeding him.”
    Pete curled up with me. A couple of hours later, we awoke to the smell of chili and tater tots. Aaron was sitting cross-legged in front of the TV like a five-year-old, eating chili out of the can and watching The Wrath of Khan .
    Pete sat up and stretched. “Now you’ve done it.”
    “I didn’t do it. I don’t have tater tots, canned chili, or that movie.”
    “That movie is a classic.”
    Aaron jumped up. “You’re awake. You want an omelet? I can make omelets or a quiche. You want a frittata?”
    “If you can make a frittata, why are you eating chili out of a can?” I asked.
    “Tastes good,” he said.
    “What’s a frittata?” asked Pete.
    “It’s like a quiche but without the crust,” I said.
    “I could go for that.”
    Aaron trotted into the kitchen. Within two minutes, the smell of peppers, onion, and garlic sautéing in butter filled the apartment. Then Aaron trotted back out, gave us coffee, and restarted the movie.
    “I like your new roommate,” said Pete.
    “I’m never painting anyone’s toenails ever again.”
    “What does that mean?”
    Before I could answer, the doorbell starting ringing. One solid ring. No pauses. No escape.
    Aaron peeked out of the kitchen. I shook my head and mouthed, “We’re not here.”
    The doorbell kept going. It started to sound angry and familial.
    “Mercy, I know you’re in there!” yelled Aunt Miriam. “I can smell the peppers and onions. Do you know the Samuelsons?”
    Unbelievable.

    The