[Critique Group 1] DeAnna's Submission for OCT. 2021

[Deanna Noriega]

1,798 words

Do You See What I See?

By DeAnna Quietwater Noriega

 

                Arie Carter swerved her VW into the driveway at her
grandmother's house.  She set the parking brake and noticed Kiki Vanderholt
sprawled on a lounge-chair in the front yard next door.  Kiki's blonde
opulent figure threatened to escape from the thong bikini she wore.  It was
a glorious summer day--Arie had to admit--but didn't the girl know about the
risks of skin-cancer and the aging effects of sun tanning?  Not for Kiki
apparently -- the privacy of a backyard sunbath, when she could soak up the
rays and admiration of any handy male-members of the population.  Her
audience seemed a bit thin today.  

 

                Across the street, that creepy Mathews guy with the tattoos
was absorbed in working on his car.  In the yard on the other side of
Granddee's was Mike Tanner, crouched over his mother's flower bed pulling
weeds.  He is too shy to pay much attention to girls guessed Arie.  As she
slid from the car, she glanced down at her lanky six-foot jean-clad self.
Arie's cupid-bow lips quirked in to a wry smile. There was no competition
here for the golden sun-worshiper. Shaking back her mop of dark hair, Arie
glanced at her watch.  One-thirty already? If she hurried, she could get the
shopping done and make it back to help Granddee fix dinner.  Then they would
have time to relax and talk until Mable returned from her day off.  Arie
stretched and headed up the walk to fetch granddee's shopping list.  

                

                Biff Mathews gave a sidelong glance to the candy-apple red
bug as it pulled into the driveway across the road.  "Here comes the piece
with the legs!  Man oh man, would he like to have those wrapped around him
in the backseat of his wheels!  Not much on top, for true, but she was real
class.  Not like the fat-assed bitch living next door to the old lady.  She
was a cock-tease by the look of her, parading around, letting it all
hang-out.  Bet the Tanner geek was getting an eyeful.  Why else would he be
out pretending to help his mommy in the yard?  Now the hot tamale working at
Safeway on Saturdays had primo tits, but she thought she was too good for a
guy with grease under his nails.  She oughta be glad a white guy was even
interested in her.  But no!  She hadda go running off crying like a little
kid.  If those headlights hadn't turned into the lot, he would have shown
her what a real man was like!"

 

                Kiki turned her head lazily to watch old Mrs. Carter's
goody-goody granddaughter pull her beetle into the driveway next door.
Guess she didn't have anything better to do on a Sunday afternoon than to
run errands for the old bat, (considering she had a figure like a boy and
legs like Olive Oyl from the Popeye cartoons.)  Her hair looked like she'd
stuck her finger in a light socket or something.  How she ever scrunched
herself in to that dinky car anyway was a mystery.  Good, she pulled far
enough into the drive not to block Mikey's view.  He's a nerd, but maybe if
Biff noticed him looking he'd get a little jealous.  Now there's a real
hunk!  Kiki considered getting up and casually strolling over to ask if he
wanted a cold drink -- it being so hot and all.  She wondered if ma would
notice if she snagged a couple of beers?  Biff didn't look like the type to
go for a diet coke.  

 

                Michael Tanner grunted as he hauled another strand of
Bermuda-grass out of his experimental (bloom all growing season) bed of
bulbs.  Ah here she is.  He sat back on his heels to watch Ariana flow out
of her cute red car.  She stretched like a panther and moved gracefully up
the walk, tossing her cloud of raven curls back.  Her hair gleamed like
ruffled midnight satin against the red top she wore with her tapered jeans.
She moved like a dancer making walking a symphony of motion.  Maybe he
should cut some of the red tulips that matched her shirt and take them over
to Mrs. Carter when Ariana came back with the groceries.  They might invite
him in for iced-tea and some of those chocolate chip cookies with cashews
Mrs. Carter baked.  Michael shoved his glasses back up on his freckled nose
and wished he were taller.  Ariana would never pay attention to a guy who
had to look up to meet those beautiful brown eyes with the amber flecks in
them.  If they did invite him in, he could at least watch her laughing and
talking with her grandmother for awhile.  As he bent to resume his weeding,
he noted that Kiki was out trying to catch the attention of Bertram Mathews,
the incredible hulk across the street.  He hoped she didn't end up with a
painful sun-burn for her trouble.  Poor little butter-cup was wasting her
time on that moron.  The jerk wasn't worth half the effort she put into the
project.  

 

                Delia Carter leaned out of her wheelchair to pull back the
curtains.  She heard the distinctive burr, like an overgrown lawn mower, of
her granddaughter's ridiculous little slug-bug as it turned into the drive.
Ariana Marie Carter, you're late as usual my girl!  A fond smile touched
Delia's lips, as she watched Arie unfold from the car and arch her spine.
Lord! The girl was wearing one of those elastic tube tops that barely
covered enough to be decent!  The red shade was nice though.  It made her
skin glow like mother-of-pearl.  It brought out the highlights in the black
mane flowing in a glossy cascade over the girl's bare-shoulders.  She had
David's height and Amanda's high cheekbones and delicate features.  She was
definitely going to be a heart-breaker when she finally out-grew the coltish
stage -- not like that chubby little Vanderholt girl next door.  By the time
Kiki (what a silly name) reached thirty, her bust would be drooping down to
her navel.  By then, Arie would have become an elegant head-turner.  Delia
reached for her shopping list as she watched the child lope up the walk.

 

                Danny Martinez slowed his Mustang as he turned on to the
street.  Yeh, there was the shit-head messing with the engine of his crappy
old junker.  Witnesses?  A babe across the street--looked like maybe she was
asleep, a skinny kid going into the house next to that and an old guy
digging in the dirt -- no problemo!  Danny checked to see if Angel was
ready.

 

                "Angel-of-death, that's me, steady the barrel of the gun on
the frame of the open car window.  Time to say bye-bye ass-hole, gently
squeeze the trigger."  

 

                At the crack of the gunshot, Arie spun to see the old Ford
with chrome rims speed up to lay down rubber as it rounded the corner.  She
watched in horror as the Mathews guy slowly slid off the engine of his car
and crumpled to the ground.   A red stain blossomed on his dirty tee-shirt.

 

               "Granddee call for an ambulance and phone the police!
Someone's been shot!" Arie sprinted across the street.

 

                Michael Tanner jumped at the loud bang.  He glanced at the
car that had just passed.  It sped up and squealed into the turn onto Oak at
the end of the block.  He noted that the license-plate read (494 DAY).  At
Ariana's shout, his eyes followed her dash across the street to kneel beside
Bert Mathews.  He scrambled to his feet to follow her to offer what help he
could.  

 

                Kiki looked through her lashes as the forest green car
approached. She wondered if she should shop for a coat in that shade for
school next fall.  It was a good color to bring out the green of her eyes
and the gold of her hair.  She saw that the Mexican guy driving was checking
her out as the car slowed.  The second guy was turned away, but he looked to
be a greaser too.  She frowned at the loud back-fire and wrinkled her nose
in disgust as the old heap sped up and turned the corner.  She yawned and
then jerked to a sitting position as Carrie? Mary? Terrie? whatever her name
was  ran across the street.  She began to scream when she saw Biff lying on
the ground in a widening pool of blood.  

 

                Delia Carter had turned her chair away from the window to
greet Ariana when her granddaughter spun back out of the doorway shouting
about police and an ambulance.  Delia reached for the cell phone holstered
at her waist. She wheeled to the open door to see what had gotten Ariana all
worked up.  As she dialed, she saw Mike Tanner run across to join Arie,
where she knelt checking for a pulse in the wrist of the man on the ground.
"Oh lord! it was that hoodlum, the Mathews boy!"  Mike's ash-blonde head
bent close to Arie's ebony one.  He pulled a bandana from his pocket and
appeared to be pressing it against the wound.  "Good! Arie had someone
sensible to help her until the authorities arrived."   

 

                Officer Jeff Phelps frowned as he finished keying in his
notes from the eye-witness accounts.  God he hated these drive-by shootings.
At least this one seemed to have gone off without involving any innocent
little kids or anything.  The license number was a bust.  It came off  a
maroon SUV that belonged to the manager of a super market six blocks from
the shooting.  The owner had no idea when it had been lifted, since he
always parked his car at the back of the lot where he worked.  The victim
appeared to be the type to get himself into trouble, but had no known gang
affiliation.  Too bad he was DOA and couldn't explain why anyone wanted to
put out his lights.  This one was probably not going to go anywhere, unless
they could tie him to a particular run-in with one of the Hispanic street
gangs.  Even then, looking for an older dark green muscle car wasn't going
to be that easy."  

 

                Angel sat on the edge of Anita's bed, gently stroking the
silky dark hair spread across the pillow.  "It's going to be okay Mija.
That bastard won't ever try to lay a hand on you or hurt any other girl
again!  I have to get back to base now, cuz my unit is shipping out to the
middle east.  You do good in school and try to forget that pendejo ever
existed.  Danny will look out for you.  Say your rosary for me and the guys
every night chica."  Sergeant Angela Martinez kissed her sister's cheek,
squared her shoulders, rising to stride out of the room.   

 

 

DeAnna Quietwater Noriega

Cell: 573-544-3511

Email:  <mailto:dqnoriega at gmail.com> dqnoriega at gmail.com

Author of Fifty Years of Walking with Friends

https://www.dldbooks.com/dqnoriega/

 

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