Ariel slid down his black leather rope from the security flat, one floor up from Treen’s office. Sure, he could’ve climbed down the fire escape ladder attached to the building, but that took too long — and it was boring. He reached the opened window, put his hiking boots against the frame, then pushed off.
Ariel soared through cleanly, landing boots first on the floor. He reached down to pick up his well-worn leather Stetson, then moved his long reddish hair from his ill shaven face. His faded jeans and Smile Center T-shirt looked too small for his tall muscular frame. He donned his hat, grinning as he walked toward Mr. Wellbay.
“Got two seconds to let ‘er go,” said Ariel.
“Who the hell are you?” fired Mr. Wellbay. “Sir, I done asked you politely. I ain’t askin’ again,” he said, standing as if he were about to draw from holsters. Mr. Wellbay released her. He walked up to Ariel, inspecting his appearance.
“What are you, twenty-five? Still mowing lawns for a living?” Ariel chuckled.
“Well, you’re right about one thing; I am twenty five. But when I visit my folks in Missouri, they don’t pay me to cut the grass. Now, I have to ask you to leave.”
“That’s exactly what I intend to do. Russell, get up and let’s go.”
“I ain’t goin’ nowhere ‘til Mom gets here,” he moaned.
“Mr.Wellbay, please go and find your wife,” said Treen. “Didn’t I tell you to butt out?” he shouted.
“Sir, come on downstairs ‘til you calm down,” said Ariel, lightly grabbing his arm.
“Keep your hands off me!” he shouted, jerking away from him. As Ariel moved towards him again, Mr. Wellbay hurled an unexpected punch. The blow knocked Ariel back; he rubbed his jaw for a moment then sank a punch into Mr. Wellbay’s gut. Russell’s father slowly sank to his knees — just as Mrs. Wellbay’s high heels clicked down the marble outside the door. As she walked into the office, she covered her mouth and scanned the roughed up room.
“What on earth is going on in here?” she demanded, glaring down at her gasping husband. Russell lay tipped over like the furniture while Treen and Ariel stood there like two unscathed bullies. “I’m sorry Mrs. Wellbay, but your husband attacked Russell — and Ariel here, who happens to be in charge of security. You’re welcome to stay, but Ariel will escort your husband from the facility,” Treen said firmly. Ariel helped Mr. Wellbay to his feet.
“Walter, is this true?” She pointed towards the hallway; “Did you also push that woman down the stairs?”
“What woman?” Treen asked loudly.
“I believe her name is Samantha.”
“Ariel, keep Mr. Wellbay right here until I find out what happened,” Treen scorched before storming out. Russell rose slowly, glared at his father, then followed her into the hallway.
Downstairs, Samantha was stretched out on a couch in the foyer, slowly wiggling her spine. The women who’d found her crumpled near the stairs surrounded her; they cleaned the scratch on her fore-head and cheered her up. Samantha gleamed even more when Treen jogged into the circle. Shortly after, Russell joined them.
Except for the scratch and sore back, Samantha felt fine, sitting up to thank the women before they returned to the barbeque. Afterwards, Treen sat next to her, but Russell seemed embarrassed by it all, mumbling a cuss word as he marched towards the exit with a cigarette in hand.
“Mr. Wellbay did not push me down,” Samantha explained. “He was angry going up the stairs and I try to stop him before he reach your office. He pull his arm from me and I lose my balance.” Treen stood and fiddled with her earring. “You wouldn’t have fallen in the first place had he controlled himself.” Her angry tone softened; “I’m just happy you’re okay.”
Treen helped Samantha to the Info Office then headed to confront Mr. Wellbay. Before she could reach the stairs, the sound of sneakers squeaking across the floor stole her attention — as did the whiny voice that began shouting, “Miss Treen! Miss Treen, wait for me!”
The small boy moved so fast that he probably would’ve sped by and smacked into the wall if Treen hadn’t grabbed him. He’d obviously come from the barbeque because he had ketchup smeared across his cheek and he gripped a half eaten burger that still looked too big for his tiny hands.
Treen knelt and took his hand. “What’s the matter, little man?” she asked joyfully, as if her entire day had been wonderful.
“He told me to give you this,” said the boy, breathing hard as he handed her a folded piece of paper.
“Who?”
“Don’t know but he said you’d give me a dollar.”
“Right,” she said, reaching into her pocket. “Since you’re so nice, here’s five.” After a stuttering thank you, the boy ran off. Treen quickly unfolded the ketchup-stained message, which read:
Treen,
Sorry about what happened in your office and about Samantha. I don’t know where I’m going but I’m never going back home. You’re the only person I can talk to so maybe I’ll call you someday. Thanks for giving that kid a dollar.
Russell
Treen sprinted through the foyer and burst out the front door. She ran down the cobblestone walkway, out into the street, then scanned every direction.
Russell Wellbay was gone.
“How could you treat Russell that way? You don’t know if Gail Blue was telling the truth,” shouted Mrs. Wellbay, standing near Treen’s desk.
“It is the truth,” her husband fired back. “She’s probably crying to her father about this as we speak. You just keep quiet when we get home and I’ll deal with Russell.”
“No you won’t,” said Treen, walking in.
“What’s happened? Where’s Russell?” asked Mrs. Wellbay, voice quivering.
“Your son has run away.”
“What did you fill his head with downstairs?” Mr.Wellbay hollered.
“You should be worried about what you filled his head with,” said Treen handing him Russell’s goodbye letter. “You have no idea how badly you’ve hurt him.”
“I’ve had it with your views concerning my family. It was a bad decision coming here. Come on Catherine, let’s go find Russell,” he said, storming out.
Mrs. Wellbay walked over to hug Treen. “This is not your fault, she whispered,” before leaving.
Treen shut the door and snatched off her headband. She marched over to the swivel chair, threw herself down, then stared at Ariel who sat in front of her.
“Jazz, you ok?” asked Ariel.
She exhaled. “I’m worried about Russell. He doesn’t have any money or friends around here. There’s no telling what he’ll do now.”
“Listen, I didn’t say nothin’ to the Wellbays, but Gail Blue phoned up when you were downstairs.”
“What did she say?” she asked, leaning forward.
“Strange. Gail said her father is the person who told her about Russell’s Grevelton girlfriend.”
“But that means Garrison Blue already knew about Russell and Gail.”
“Sure does. Mr. Blue was in Grevelton last night makin’ sure his donation of computers made it to Bookvilla. Guess that’s when he saw Russell with the other female. Like any decent father would do, he told his daughter about it.”
“But why didn’t he tell Mr. Wellbay?”
“Good question.”
Treen managed a smile. “Ariel, you’re pretty good with people. Maybe you should become a counselor.”
“Right, and folks’d come out my office crazier then when they came in.”