Darkness Descends (The Silver Legacy Book 1) (7 page)

“That’s just it. He didn’t ask anything from me.” Denny stared at Rush. “And if I’m not mistaken, this is the first time you and Sterling have agreed about anything. That alone makes me nervous.”

Rush faded in and out. “He already has you spinning donuts trying to figure out a way to speak to a comatose woman. Sister Hard-Ass isn’t wrong this time, love. She is just looking out for you because you tend to have blinders on where Quick is concerned.”

Denny rose and stared at Rush. “I don’t have blinders on, but I wish I did right now. What in the hell are you wearing?”

Rush stood up and twirled. “It’s the work outfit Shirley wears.”

Denny groaned. “I’m afraid to ask which Shirley.”

“Oh please. I would never wear anything Shirley Partridge wore. Maybe something Susan Dey wore, but not Shirley. That Susan Dey was hot in her day.” Rush laughed. “Get it?”

Denny waited.

“You’re so not fun when you get like this.
Laverne and Shirley
. You know––schlemiel, schlemozzle––”

Denny held her hands up. “I’m going to disconnect the cable if you keep this up.”

Suddenly, Rush wore tight-fitting skinny jeans and a Georgia Bulldog sweatshirt. “Gee, you do get grumpy when you’re wrong.”

Denny stared at her. “I’m so not wrong. I can’t even
believe
you’d side with her.”

“Me, neither, but I do. She’s a pain in the ass most of the time, but in this instance, you oughtta listen to her. What you are thinking of trying is dangerous for all involved. Trust me on this, baby. There are...things you should just leave be.”

“I can’t believe this.” Denny grabbed her sweatshirt as she started for the door.

“Where you going? You just got home.”

“I don’t want to hear anymore shit, Rush. I need some fresh air.”

“Don’t get all huffy...”

Denny didn’t hear the rest. Sterling’s words banged at the door of Denny’s mind like an unwanted salesman. Something she’d said...something that wasn’t right, and it niggled at the back of her mind poking at her.

Denny walked for several blocks when a red Camaro roared by her before slamming on the brakes.

“Shit,” Denny muttered, picking up her pace and looking for some place else to walk.

The car whipped around and stopped in front of her, tires skidding on the road.

She knew exactly who was driving and what he wanted.

“If it ain’t the witch-lovin’ dyke,” said Pat Patterson, the football player who’d been harassing the Wiccans. His lips were swollen and his cheek bruised from Victor’s massive fist. “Where’s your homo body guard?”

“Fuck off, douchebag.” As Denny walked around the car, she heard the door open and turned to face him. “Nice face.”

“Your fag buddy got off a cheap shot.”

Denny looked over his shoulder, hoping someone would come along, but the street was deserted. “Who gives a shit? You’re a fucking bully harassing a group of people simply because you’re a jackass.”

“You know, those are big words for a dry cunt.”

Denny shook her head. “It’s guys like you that make women choose other women. Or death. Fuck off and leave me alone.” Denny turned her back on him and realized she was walking toward a part of the neighborhood where the streetlights had been shot out and never replaced. But it was too late to turn back now.

“Making an enemy out of me is a bad idea, Silver.”

Denny stopped and turned back around. “Look. You and I both know if you lay a hand on me, your football career––as lackluster as it is––will be over. I will destroy you and any chance you have to play again. So do us both a favor and go fuck your mother.”

“You got a mouth like a sailor.”

“And you’ve got no neck and a pencil dick. So what? I won’t tell you again, butt-munch. Leave me the fuck alone.” Denny turned and started to walk into the darkness, hoping like hell he wouldn’t follow, and slightly surprised by her own brash words.

“Why aren’t you afraid of me?”

Denny slowed, then stopped. “Are you joking? Go away little boy and threaten someone else.”

Pat lumbered up to her. He really did remind her of a bear. “I said why aren’t you afraid of me? You should be scared as shit.”

Denny looked around him. Was she being punked? “You’re kidding me, right? You want me to be afraid of you?”

“No. I mean...not really. Everyone with half a brain is afraid of me.”

“Well, there you have it. I have a
whole
brain and it tells me you’re smart enough to know that harassing me is only going to fuck up your life. I’ll bury you, your team, and your future if you mess with me, and that’s no idle threat.” Denny waited for him to respond. When he didn’t, she frowned. “What is it you want, Patterson? Why are we standing out here?”

Jamming his hands in his pockets, he sighed. “’Cause I got nowhere to go, I guess. Do you know why I was being such a jerk with those witches?”

Denny could not believe she was having this conversation. “Uhh...because you’re a jackass?”

“‘Cause I...I like one a them and I didn’t know how to get her attention.”

Denny looked around again. Surely someone was videotaping this weird moment. “Gee,
talking
is usually a good start. You know, maybe being a nice guy instead of an asshole?”

Denny turned and started walking again, motioning for the big lug to join her. He was, after all, harmless, and she could tell he wasn’t going to go away anyway.

He hustled up next to her. “I tried that. She won’t have nuthin’ to do with me. She thinks I’m a jerk.”

“Well, there you have it. You showed her just how right she was. Move on.”

“That’s just it. You ever been forced to be a way in public that wasn’t who you were?”

Denny half-turned her head. He wasn’t kidding. “Patterson, I’m a lesbian in the deep south with a best friend who’s a gay black man. I live in a haunted house and my brother just went to prison for murder. What do
you
think?

“Then how come you’re so...together?”

Denny stopped. They were in near total darkness now. “Together? You think I have my shit together?”

“Yeah. All that shit going down with your folks, your brother, and still, you’re like the most normal person I ever met.”

Denny chuckled. She doubted making love to a ghost would rank anywhere near normal. “I just put one foot in front of the other every day just like everyone else.” She kept walking. “There’s really nothing special about me, except maybe my name and even that wasn’t my choice.

Pat Patterson walked with her. “Some days, I feel like I don’t even know who I am. Like I’m supposed to be this big jerk who bullies people.”

“Ah yeah, I’ve been there, more times than you can––” Suddenly, Denny looked over her left shoulder and saw the very faint outline of Rush.

Rush?

What was
she
doing here?

Denny stopped walking. The hackles on her neck rose. Rush was trying to tell her something.

A screech of tires, a flash of bright lights, and Rush faded from view as a car came barreling toward them.

Denny couldn’t move. The headlights bore down on her and there was yelling and what sounded like gunfire. The car slowed to a stop.

Pop! Pop! Pop!

Everything slowed down as she looked over her shoulder and saw Pat slowly spin around. He fell face-down on the sidewalk, his head bouncing like a ball.

“Patterson!” Denny ran back to him. He lay sprawled on the pavement, blood blossoming on his letterman’s jacket.

“Patterson? Patterson, get up!”

Denny glanced up and saw the headlights bearing down on them. Without thought, without wondering at the improbability of it, Denny rolled Pat Patterson on his side, grabbed an arm and leg, and with one deep breath, she flung him twenty feet away. He landed with a thud on the side of the road. Then she faced the car, fists at her sides, chest heaving, ready for whatever was coming next.

The car passed her, the hoodlums staring open-mouthed. She heard one of them say “
Has visto sus ojos rojos
?” But she was so angry, so pumped up, she wasn’t sure what it meant.

She didn’t care.

Suddenly, something happened inside her. She felt bigger...stronger. Her muscles seemed to expand, as she walked out into the middle of the street and watched the car speed away.

“Come back here you fucking cowards!”

“Umm...Baby?”

Denny wheeled around toward the disembodied voice. “What? I can take them!” Her voice was hers but not hers. “Mother-fucking-drive-by-cowards. I could kill them all.”

“Denny? Baby? What are you doing?”

Denny blinked a couple of times until Rush came into view. “Rush?” Denny was surprised to find herself standing in the middle of the street. “Patterson? Where...what happened?”

“Umm...you threw him over there, remember?”

“I did what?” Denny ran to him and gently rolled him on his back “He’s been shot.” Denny whipped out her phone and dialed 911. “Stay with me, man. You got this, Patterson. It’s just a flesh wound, right?” He probably didn’t even hear her, but she said it more to calm herself anyway.

Denny applied direct pressure onto the wound with one hand while juggling the phone with the other.

After she reported the shooting and requested an ambulance, she stuck her phone back in her pocket and used both hands to put pressure on the wound. His blood was warm as it oozed through her fingers. “Patterson, talk to me, man. Come on, buddy. You are not going out this way.”

Buddy
?

Patterson’s eyes fluttered open. “Fuck me, that hurts. Who...”

“Shh. For once, be quiet. Hang in there. The ambulance is coming. You’re going to be fine. I promise.”

He closed his eyes and nodded. “You’re not leaving, right? Don’t let me die in the street.”

“Nah. I think I’ll stay here and keep you from bleeding out, if you don’t mind. As much as I hate to say this––and I’ll deny it if anyone asks––the football team needs you.”

Patterson started to chuckle, but winced when he did. “Damn, that hurts. Was I...Did somebody
shoot
me?”

“Yeah. Looks like you make friends everywhere you go. Now, stop moving, nimrod.”

“What...happened?”

“Gang bangers. Did you piss them off, too?”

“I...don’t know any.” His voice started to fade.

“Well, either bullets passed through me or they were only shooting at you. I’m thinking it was the latter.”

Patterson nodded. She heard the sirens in the background.

“Thank you...for staying with me. You didn’t...have to.”

“Not bad for a dry cunt, huh?”

He winced again as if she’d slapped him. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. Mama says I lack stoplights between my brain and my mouth.”

“You’ve got a smart mama. It’s an ugly, ugly word, Patterson. Don’t ever use it again and we can call us even.”

“I won’t say it again, man. I’m really sorry.” He flinched. “My folks? Please call them.” He pushed out the numbers to her as if speaking hurt. “And Golden...man...I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you. How about we start with a clean slate? You live and stop acting like a horse’s ass and I’ll...well...I’ll be the heroine of the day. How’s that sound?”

The sirens drowned out his response.

Once they loaded him into the ambulance, Denny told the EMTs she would meet them at the hospital after she cleaned up.

As the ambulance drove away, Denny called Patterson’s family and told them what had happened, assuring them he would be fine. They were nice people who thanked her profusely before hanging up.

“Rush?” Denny said, feeling Rush’s presence more than seeing her.

“Yes, Baby?”

“Let’s go home.”

“I’ll see you there.”

***

R
ush was waiting for her when she came up the stairs, a fearful scowl stamped hard across her face.

“Baby? That’s a lot of blood. Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. I need to––”

“Pure is home. If she sees––”

Too late. Pure came down the stairs, saw her bloody sister and screamed. “Denny! Oh my god, are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?”

“I’m fine. There was a drive-by and Pat Patterson was hit. He’s okay but––”

“Wait. Pat Patterson the football player? What were you doing with him?”

Denny pulled off her shirt and threw it on the floor with the rest of her dirty clothes. “You know, I’m not really sure.”

“I am.”

Rush.

They both turned to her.

“He came after her for advice on girl issues or some such nonsense. Your sister saved his life. His big, dumb, pathetic life.”

“Rush,” Denny admonished her, knowing full well Rush would do or say whatever the hell she wanted.

“At first, I thought he came to beat her up. He’s such a bully. You know, in the seventies there was this WWF fighter named Pat Patterson. He wore this mask and was––”

“Thank you, Rush. Not sure that is important or relevant right now.”

Denny stood next to Pure. “Look, I’ll fill you in later. I have a couple of calls to make and then I need to get to the hospital. I need to fill out a police report or something and I want to make sure he’s okay.”

“Want me to go with you? I can go with you.”

“Is your homework done?”

“Jesus, Den, someone we know was shot. You were there. The least you can do is let me stay with you.”

“Done or not?”

Pure shook her head. “Not done. But––”

“Then stay and finish. I’ll be home soon.”

Thirty minutes later, she was in a hospital waiting room suffering through an interview by the police. She waited two more hours before Pat’s parents found her and told her Pat was asking for her.

“Me? Are you sure?”

“You’re Golden Silver, right?”

“I am.” She rose and took two steps before Mrs. Patterson wrapped her arms around Denny and crushed her to her bosom.

“Thank you so very much for saving my boy. He told us what you did. Thank you so much.”

“Miriam, let the poor girl breathe.”

“You’re welcome, but I didn’t really do anything.” Denny extricated herself from the embrace before continuing into the room.

When she approached the bed, Patterson slowly opened his eyes. He had a half grin on his face, seeming loopy from the pain medication. “Hey.” His head lolled to one side. “It’s you.”