The Last Stand of Haviland Dinwiddie

Chapter 5

By Dabeagle

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“Rigby! Yo!”

He whipped his head around, coming to a stop. He looked at me for a moment with confusion, glanced at the street corner behind him, and ran to the car door. He hopped in the passenger seat. “Go, bruh, go!”

Anxiety spiked in me as I wondered what was going on, but I figured moving was better than not, and I pulled back out. “What's going on?” I asked.

In my rear view I saw the swirling lights I'd noted before, and now it clicked – they were from a patrol car.

“Fuck!” Rigby groaned. “It's bad luck, E! I swear!”

I didn't know what to say to that, but the car let out a quick squawk on the siren, and I figured I needed to get out if their way. My anxiety hit the roof when the cop car pulled in behind me. I have a distrust of cops. Yes, the state police had helped me, but for too many years I was held in fear of my father's uniform, of the authority it seemed to carry, as if he could do as he pleased without consequence. My feelings hadn't changed; it was just the state police were bigger bullies than my father, and I think they relish keeping people like my dad down in their place.

“What did you do?” I asked quietly, almost as if the cops could hear. In my mirror I saw the cop get out of the car and start walking up.

“Bruh, I'll tell you everything, just not in front of him, huh?”

I glanced at him, his eyes wide and worried, and then the cop was tapping on my window. I turned and lowered the glass.

“Where are we off too, boys?” the cop asked, leaning forward to look at the registration on the windshield

That's easy, I thought. “I'm headed to the store for my mom. She's come down with something.”

The cop glanced at Rigby and back to me. “That a fact?”

“Yes, officer.” I had the grocery list in my pocket, but I wasn't going to pull that out unless I needed it.

“License and proof of insurance.” The cop looked back toward his car for a moment and then looked back to me. I pulled the insurance card from the glove box and pulled my license from my wallet. He took them and scanned the barcodes on both of them with some kind of hand-held device. It looked about the size of a phone, but thicker.

“I was a few blocks away and saw someone tampering with a vehicle. Two flat tires. Now...the law tends to go much easier on folks when they admit what they know.”

My heart hammered in my chest, and my anxiety level went into dangerous territory, but I don't think my voice shook when I replied, “We were doing our work for school at my apartment. Like I said, my mom isn't feeling well, and she asked me to get some things from the store, so we're doing that.”

The cop stayed silent, but I recognized the tactic. It had been used on me for a long time. My heart tripped over itself as he continued to wait.

“So you're maintaining you've been together today?”

I nodded.

The cop looked at us for a few moments more. “Okay. I'm going to go check out those tires.” He looked at Rigby. “Was pretty sure I saw you there, Mr. Chandler.” He grunted and handed my license and insurance card back to me.

“Trying not to fall behind in school,” Rigby said, lying very easily. “E's helping me out.”

The cop turned his gaze back to me. “E?”

I swallowed. “My name's Harvey. Rigby calls me E.”

The cop looked at me for a moment more, then tapped the roof of the car. “Have a good night, boys.”

He walked back to his car, and I let out a shaking breath. “Rigby, what the fuck did you do?”

“It wasn't that big a deal,” he said in a fierce whisper, as if he were afraid the cop would hear. Just to be sure, I put my window up and pulled back out into traffic.

“Enough that the cops are after you!”

“Bruh!” he replied. “It was just bad timing, I swear.”

I glanced in the rear view and saw that the cop car was two cars behind me. I swallowed. “The cop's following us. What did you do?”

He glanced behind us and then flopped in his seat, letting out a big breath. “So, you heard my ex cheated with my ex best friend.” A statement of fact, so I didn't bother with denying it. “I couldn't just let him get away with that.”

I put my turn signal on and pulled into the turn lane in front of the store parking lot. Knowing it sounded weak, I asked, “Isn't not being his friend enough?”

He snorted. “Nah. There needed to be some payback. I can't beat his ass straight up, and if I get a bat or something, then it'd be real trouble.”

“Okay, little violent, Rig,” I said, feeling uncomfortable.

“I wouldn't do it,” he said, sounding embarrassed. “I just needed to do something. For myself.”

I was finally able to pull into the lot and picked a spot to park. I looked in my mirrors but didn't see the cop car. I shifted on my seat to look at Rigby. “So?”

He held his hands out. “It wasn't a big thing, okay? I just took the valves out of two of his tires. I was just standing up and saw the cop car, and I panicked and ran. It's not like I put sugar in his gas tank.”

I relaxed a little. “Yeah, I guess, More of an inconvenience. I mean, if he gets it towed, that could be worse.”

“He's not towing shit,” Ribgy said with authority. “He thinks he's some kind of gearhead, so he's going to try and figure it out.”

I thought for a second. “What about a doorbell camera?”

He snorted. “His dad thinks all the cameras are tied into the government to spy on us, so he won't put one in.”

“Oh. Well, some of them are.”

“Yeah, he's not all wrong.” He shifted on his seat. “Thanks. For backing me up.”

I chuckled. “Daphne thinks you're okay; figured you're worth the risk.” I unbuckled and climbed out of the car, Rigby following suit. He walked with me into the store, and I pulled out my list.

“I guess I owe Daphne. So your mom's actually sick?” he asked.

“Yeah. It's why I was out driving.” I glanced at him and smiled. “I just didn't expect to see your ass running around the corner.”

“It didn't start out that way!” he said holding his hands up. “I was planning to get away clean, but I was also going to do all four tires. I stood up, saw the cop, and it was just instinct.”

As we started down the aisles to collect the items, I stopped and looked at him, smiling. “You got the idea from that cart the other day at work!”

He smiled widely. “Yep. Just had to wait a few days to swipe the tool. I'll bring it back tomorrow.”

I shook my head, smiling at the connection. Soon my mind went back to his grades and stuff, so I decided I should follow through on one of my flimsy justifications from earlier. “You plug your laptop in?”

“Ah. Um, you know...I'm not sure?”

“Rig. You want to graduate?”

“Not a lot of point,” he said dismissively. Before I could respond he continued, “My brother, Brock – who is a major league douche – was supposed to get out. It was a big deal, first one in our family. He cracked three girls open, fucked up his knee when he got drunk and went riding four-wheelers, and now he's here. With three hos chasing his one paycheck for child support.”

Putting the last of the items in my basket, I headed for the register. “Yeah. Heard something like that.”

“Well, not that you needed to know to back me up, but my ex started talking about these new public housing apartments they're building, and she told me we could apply early if she was pregnant.”

Even though I'd known why the breakup happened, the details of how scheming she was still surprised me. “Having a baby for a cheap apartment? Where did you find this girl?”

He snorted and fell silent as I checked out, and we got back to the car. Once inside, he picked up the conversation. “My father was working a job to clear brush and hauled me in to help him one day.” He looked at me. “I thought I was getting paid, but that never happened.”

“Shitty,” I commented.

“Her dad was doing work there too, and she brought him lunch or something. We talked for a hot minute, and we talked a little through text. Everyone knew my brother, so half the time people ask me about him or some shit. We hung for a month or so, but there wasn't anything happening there. Plus, maybe I get stuck here, maybe I don't – but it's not going to be for public housing.”

“Right,” I agreed and headed for home.

“I mean I should be happy, I guess? I dodged a bullet, right? But still. Supposed to be my friend, you know?”

“Totally.” I glance at him and back to the road. “Like, you should be able to rely on them to lie to the cops for you.”

“Bruh!” he said, groaning and laughing all in one. “Exactly!”

I couldn't help but laugh at him. We got back to my apartment, and I told him I'd run him home in a minute. “My mom isn't well, so can you wait here?” I asked.

“Yeah, all good.”

I took the groceries inside and brought things into the kitchen. “Hey Mom? Did you want me to cook this stuff?”

“Who taught you to make chicken soup, huh?” she asked, smiling a little. “No. Thank you for offering.”

“Okay. Uh, I have a friend downstairs. He was walking home, and I picked him up. Okay that I bring him home?”

She looked up and smiled. “Sure. Not ready for him to meet your mother?”

“A friend,” I said. “It's Rigby. And you're typhoid Mary right now.”

“Get outta here,” she said, smiling and waving at me.

Back in the car, Rigby directed me to his house. I took the opportunity to critique his dating choices. “So how did you not figure out this girl was some kind of gold digger?”

“Because not many people would think of my cum as gold? Duh?” He laughed loudly, and I couldn't help but join him.

“But really. No clue she wasn't worth it before that?”

He laughed some more and then just shrugged. “Nah, Bruh. I mean, sure, to a point. I wasn't in love or anything. It's just nice to be in a relationship sometimes, or think you are.”

That hit me in the feels. “Uh, yeah. I guess.”

“That's it, there,” he said, pointing.

I'd seen houses like this before, but seeing them in person is really, really different. From top to bottom the place was a dump. The roof was bare in places, just smooth paper left on the shingles. The yard had random objects littered everywhere, ranging in size from full cars that had sunk into the dirt with weeds growing up around them to appliances to old tube TVs with the glass smashed out. There were a couple of big black garbage bags with closed tops; I have no idea what was in them.

“Want to come in?” he asked.

I really, really didn't. “Sure. I have time.”

I followed Rigby, but we didn't head for the front door. I noticed, as we got closer, that the front steps were missing, and the front door looked like it hadn't been opened in a while. Instead Rigby went to the side of the house and opened a sliding glass door. The door had a long, awkward piece of duct tape on it, probably over a crack. The door let us into the dining room, which opened into the kitchen. There were five people around the kitchen table, smoking, drinking and playing cards. There were some bills on the table. One woman, wearing a brownish dress that fooled me for a moment into thinking she was naked, turned toward Rigby and smiled, showing a few blackened teeth, with several on the right side absent.

She made me think of a potato with a head.

“Where did you go? Who are you?”

“That's E,” Rigby said, not answering the first question. He opened the freezer, grabbed something and then headed deeper into the house. His mother smiled at me, and I felt distinctly uneasy. I nodded and followed Rigby. The house was making my skin crawl. The carpets were stained, the walls looked a bit warped in places, and there were brown stains on the ceiling. He opened a brown, hollow-core door that had several dents in the outer skin, kicking it closed once I was in the room with him.

“Want one?” he handed me an ice cream sandwich, probably what he'd gotten from the freezer. I saw he had two, and I didn't want to be rude.

“Oh, thanks.” I accepted the bar and looked around the space. As expected, his room wasn't an improvement on the rest of the house. There was an unmade single bed against the wall and a dresser with two of the drawers hanging out and a third missing the front cover. There was an electrical outlet with the cover and outlet missing, just wires sticking out with wire nuts on them. That was about it, besides the clothes on the floor.

He kicked his shoes off, pulled the wrapper from the end of the ice cream, and took a bite. “I love these,” he managed to say around the treat.

“Ice cream in general?” I asked, slowly peeling the wrapper back.

“It's the mix. The chocolate and the vanilla. The cookie and the ice cream; different textures, you know?”

I felt bad then. I don't know how often he got these treats, but I was taking one from him – or he was sharing with me. Sharing the little he had.

“Uh, where's your laptop? You wanted to plug it in, right?”

“Oh, damn. Glad you reminded me,” he said. He wolfed down the rest of the melting treat, and I started to eat mine. He licked his fingers and then went to the floor near a closet that had no door. He retrieved an extension cord and climbed up on his bed, reaching for the light fixture and poking the end of the extension cord around.

“What are you doing?”

He glanced at me and went back to reaching around behind the plastic light shade. “Something's wrong with the electric in the house. My step-dad took the electric plug out and capped it, because if you plugged anything in, it blew a breaker. So now-” He stretched out, and his shirt rode up, showing off the skin of his stomach. “I got this thing that plugs in like a plug, but it also has a spot for the light bulb.” With a grunt he pushed the end of the extension cord into place and climbed down. “That's how I charge my laptop. But if I leave the cord hanging, someone usually takes it for something else.”

“Like your brother?”

He shook his head and flopped onto the mattress, pulling his phone from his pocket and laying it on the floor. “He doesn't live here. He just stops by to be a douche sometimes.” He ran a hand over his fuzzy hair. “Like, I had hair, but he cut a chunk out with scissors when I was asleep, and I had to buzz it off.”

I frowned. “Is there anything good about him?”

“Missed the part where he doesn't live here?” he asked with a grin. “You can sit,” he said and pulled his feet back to make room. I stepped around the things on his floor and took a seat, scooting back to lean against the wall.

Not sure what to say and desperately not wanting to screw up and say something about this disaster of a house, because he already knew about that, I asked, “What sort of card game were they playing?”

“No idea. I'm just praying it's not strip poker,” he replied, laughing at my expression.

“You have any other brothers or sisters?”

He nodded. “One sister, lives with her father and his girlfriend. She's never leaving town; drinks, parties, sleeps around.” He shrugged. “I'm pretty sure she either can't get pregnant or she's had an abortion. I have two others. One's probably in the back room, plugged into a tablet, and the other lives with his dad.”

“Damn. You have a lot of family going on.”

“Not really.” He brought his knees together and then let them slowly fall to either side, which was weirdly erotic. “They're all half brothers and sisters. My mother sleeps around like my sister does, but she's what you'd call fertile as fuck.”

I blinked a few times. “Uh, wow.”

“Yeah,” he said, digging his toes into his mattress.

I glanced around for a moment and my eyes settled on the extension cord. “Hey. Weren't you going to plug your laptop in?”

He blinked. “Oh, damn it, I forgot already.” He scooted off the bed, and I watched him root around until he pulled a bag out and retrieved the laptop and charger. He got it plugged in and set it atop the dresser. It was odd to see the cord coming down from the ceiling, stretching over to the dresser.

“So.” He settled back onto his end of the bed, knees together and leaning against the wall.

I tilted my head. “You sort of look like Brock.”

He nodded. “It's because my mom slept with two brothers. Brock's dad is out there at the table now, but I'm pretty sure my mom's banging my sister's dad again.”

My mouth dropped open, and I shook my head, not sure what to say.

“Yeah, I know, it's fucked up,” he said, his voice sounding tired.

After a moment I closed my mouth. “Well, at least you're normal.”

He snorted, grinning at me. “Says the guy that lied to the cops for me.”

I chuckled. “I'm not a big fan of cops.”

“Oh yeah? You got a record? That why you moved here?”

I shook my head, my smile melting from my face a degree at a time. I looked down at my hands and felt a sudden itch under my right eye. I shouldn't. I felt a tightness in my chest, and my heart actually felt like it was slowing down and I shouldn't. Then my mouth started moving.

“No. My dad was a cop, and he...used to beat me and my mom.” Silence surrounded us, feeling like a physical thing. I shifted my gaze a little at a time to where he sat. From the thin socks to his off-brand joggers, which were pilling. His hands were wrapped around his knees and his fingers laced together, not long and thin like a pianist nor short and thick. They looked strong, and also soft. To his faded tee shirt and finally to his face.

It was a nice face. Undeniably pretty. His cheeks were full, and his cheekbones flowed as part of his face rather than towering over his cheeks like scoops had been taken from his face. His lashes were long. He had tiny spots of color on his cheeks, balanced in the middle by a nose that wasn't large and long, nor short and upturned, just a regular nose on a regular, pretty face. His lips were full, but proportional to his face. His light brown hair looked like it would be soft to the touch. His eyes were bright, hazel pools that could drown a person.

“Where is he now?” he asked quietly.

I swallowed. “Back home. He's got, um, an ankle monitor. Not allowed near us.”

“Yeah. 'Cause cops always follow the law,” he said with an edge to his voice. I merely nodded slowly. “Well you can always hide here, if you want,” he said, waving a hand around at the mess around us. “Pretty sure this place is listed as condemned, so they won't even think to look here.”

I snorted and then laughed, and he grinned. I needed to change the subject. “So how do you know Daphne?”

“Just from school. Little more now from work. She was always okay. You know? Some people you pick up on it, they're just shit?”

“Like Brock?”

“Yeah, but see, people like Brock still manage to fool people. Mostly girls, because he looks okay, but for some reason hos still think they can tame him, and all I can think is...why? He's a man whore with three kids and a bum knee. What could you possibly want him for?”

I shrugged. “One night stand?”

He mimed puking, and I laughed at him.

“So you're done getting even with your ex friend?”

“Eh. I mean, if I get a chance to do him wrong, I will. I'm not going to go out of my way, though. Running from the cops is probably in my genes, but it wasn't fun.” Before he could say more, his door drifted open, and a kid of about six appeared.

“What are you doing?” Rigby asked the kid.

“Momma said you'd make me grilled cheese.” He squatted and hopped a little like he was both going to shit on the carpet and be excited all in one.

“Grilled cheese?” Rigby asked, his tone teasing. “I thought you liked grilled mice?”

“Noo!” the little kid said, laughing and stomping a foot. “Grilled cheese!”

“How about grilled cat? Did you catch a cat?”

“Rig-by!” the child whined. “I'm hungry!”

“Okay, okay,” he said, climbing off the bed. “Want me to cook for you too?”

“Nah, I'm going to head home.” I paused, thinking of the environment I was in and the connection I felt to Rigby. “What's your number?”

“Oh! Damn, bro! How did I forget already I don't have your number?” He shook his head as he bent to retrieve his phone from the floor.

“You coming to cook?” the kid asked.

“Yeah. Go get the bread, butter and cheese. I'm coming,” he said.

“Okay!” the kid said happily, running off.

We exchanged numbers, and I followed him back through the house to the combination dining room and kitchen. “Oh, hey, want me to pick you up in the morning?”

“Bruh, yeah, that'd be fire. Thanks!' he said, grinning.

“Oh, are you leaving?” a loud, female voice asked. I turned to see his mom turned in her chair to look at me. Definitely a potato with a head.

“Yeah. School tomorrow.”

She scowled. “School. What for? They want you to learn all this science, and everyone has some kind of learning disorder. I think they just are lazy.”

I had no idea what to say to that. “Well, goodnight.” I waved to Rigby, and he nodded back as he started working on cooking for the little one.

That night I lay awake. Not because of the police stop. Not because of Rigby running from the police. Not because of his house. Not because of Daphne or the store or my father and his many, many points. Not from the stress of events that night or even from telling my secret.

I thought of Rigby. Lying in his bed, eyes closed, and that beautiful face relaxing in sleep. And finally, after I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes, I slept.

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