Jericho Lott, Chapter 2 (Patreon)

We came through the door of Gran’s, and I breathed a little easier as the familiar noises of the place washed over me. The clink of utensils on plates, the sizzle of burgers on the grill in the kitchen, and Gran’s raucous laughter over one joke or another were the sounds of home. The bell over the door alerted her to our entrance and she glanced over. She gave me a big smile and then gave Gabriella a thoughtful look. I walked Gabriella over to the counter and put her on a stool. Gran looked to be deep in conversation with a woman I vaguely recognized as someone from her church. So, I took the initiative after depositing my coat and duffel in the back. I tied on an apron and went to work. I dished up a slice of Gran’s pie, along with a mug of hot chocolate topped with a heart-stopping amount of whipped cream on top. I deposited them in front of the silent young woman. She looked down at them but made no move to eat. I raised an eyebrow at the girl.

“I promise, it’s good,” I said.

“I can’t pay,” she said, as shame contorted her face into something heartbreaking for a moment.

I pointedly slid the plate closer. “It’s on me. Gran would skin alive me if I let you leave without trying the pie.”

She stared at the pie, frozen in indecision. I rolled my eyes, grabbed a fork, and took a bite for myself.

“There,” I said. “Now I have to pay for it, and I’m just not going to have time to eat the rest.”

I wandered away and did the work that is always waiting to be done in a diner. I wiped down the counter, rang people up, and then bused dishes from a few tables. When I looked over at the girl again, the pie was gone, and she was drinking the hot chocolate. She kept looking around the diner like she’d wandered into a mythical castle. So, she’s a little weird, I thought. It’s not like you can point any fingers. Gran wrapped up her conservation with a declaration that she’d come round and see what there was to see the next day. That got my attention. Gran wasn’t precisely sedentary, but she didn’t often find a problem that required her to disrupt her regular routine. Things that required her to “see what there was to see,” usually meant something had gone far more wrong than usual. Gran walked her friend to the door before she walked over to me.

Gran was a big woman, in every sense, and very comfortable with it. She was only a few inches shorter than I was, and I’m not particularly short, with long, iron-gray hair she kept pulled back into a ponytail. Her complexion was dark enough that she could probably have passed for a native in about half the world, but not dark enough to say just where in the world. She had moon-rim, wireframe glasses that were either perched on her nose or resting on the mountain range she kept in her shirt. She wore ankle-length skirts because she said she found them more comfortable, but I had a suspicion there was some religious or social reason buried deep in her background. Whatever mild conservative streak she might have harbored, however, was offset by the sometime eye-wrenching colors and patterns she opted to wear. She had wide hips, thick arms, and a steady stream of very dedicated men who wanted to marry her. I’d asked her once why she never took any of them up on it. A few of them had seemed okay to me. She’d smiled and shook her head.

“And why would I want to get married?” She asked in an odd accent that only told you she was from a place called Not Here. “I got my business and I got my lad. Husband couldn’t do nothing but complicate that.”

I was old enough by then to be acquainted with sex and, shudder though I did at the idea, it occurred me to me that Gran might want someone for that too.

“Don’t you get,” I struggled to find the appropriate synonym, “lonely?”

She gave me a knowing look. “Lad, if I want some sex, I can have it any time I crook my finger.”

I turned twenty shades of embarrassed red, but I believed her. When Gran said it was so, it was so. I never asked about it again. In retrospect, I think she had some lovers while I was growing up, but kept it discrete for my sake. I wouldn’t have thought one way or the other about it. I knew Gran loved me. She’d saved me from a life on the street, taken me into her home, and, most importantly of all, made me feel safe. She’d put up with the nightmares, the acting out, and the more commonplace teenage rebellions with a kind of Zen calm that monks only aspire toward. Nothing was ever going to change that or how she treated me. Suffice it to say, if any of those lovers had ever hurt her in any way, I’d have slit their throats without a second thought. Hell, I realized as she walked over and gave me a stern once over, I’d still slit the throat of anyone that ever hurt her. I’d do it gladly and pay good money for the chance.

“You don’t seem any the worse for wear,” she finally declared.

“Like I said. A hot shower, distance, and a slice of pie were all I’d need. Client angry?”

“No, much to my surprise. Disappointed the house couldn’t be saved, but not angry. Paid without blinking.”

I nodded and felt some tension go out of my shoulders. That’s what I’d been really worried about. I didn’t think Gran was in any financial trouble, but she took not getting paid seriously. Very bad things happened when people tried to stiff Gran for work she did and, oddly, even more so when I did the work. I looked over at the table where Gran had been sitting.

“Something come up? I’m always ready if you need help.”

She blinked at me and then she laughed. “Oh, no, nothing like that. Muriel’s granddaughter is getting married. They want my help sewing up the wedding dress. They think it’ll bring her good fortune in the marriage.”

I gave Gran a considering look. “Will it?”

She gave me an enigmatic wink. “You never can tell. Who’s the pretty girl? You bring home a stray for me?”

I frowned. “No. Couple fools were hassling her. I brought her in for pie and hot chocolate.”

“You gave her the good pecan pie, didn’t you?”

I smiled. “You know I did.”

She patted me on the cheek. “You’re a good lad. The fools going to be a problem?”

I shrugged. “I doubt it. The one recognized my name.”

“The other?”

“I showed him Larry.”

“Jericho!”

“Only for a second or two, just long enough to make the point that this was your block and shit won’t be tolerated here. I think they got the message.”

“Language,” tutted Gran absently. “Introduce me to your new friend, Jericho.”