Page 15 of Sundowners
It had beena month since I’d failed as a grandson, and I was feeling remarkably good, which in turn made me feel guilty as hell. I’d had more sleep than in the past year since my lola’s health had declined. Other than school and work, which was grueling this year, I had nothing to keep me grounded other than visiting Lola nearly every day. I worked out at the gym with Tito Reynaldo three times a week, I picked up an extra TA assignment, and I had beers with Reynaldo, Vanessa and Bernadette once a week. But I missed my lola even though I saw her daily. I missed having her home with me. Staying busy was key to not losing my mind.
My research project was not going well. I’d spent the last term and the summer researching a particular cult in Northern Spain that had ties to some of the wealthiest citizens of the coastal towns, as well as other countries in Europe and even the United States, but since I’d returned, I’d been distracted.
Besides Lola being gone, Reynaldo and Vanessa shared more about the weird series of car break-ins and an uptick in assaults downtown, which had me intrigued. They’d both been working extra shifts as they tried to catch the perpetrators. So far they’d identified a group of four men, late teens/early twenties, clean-cut, all white with foreign accents, who cornered their victims—both men and women—and terrified them before one of them bit the victim on the neck.
“It’s fuckingThe Lost Boysall over again,” Reynaldo said over beers one night. “Every few years since that damn movie came out in the late eighties, some copycat wannabe vampires do stupid shit that the cops have to clean up.”
So while I should have been thinking about La Mente, the organization I’dstudied in Northern Spain, I was going over the Santa Cruz PD reports and digging for more information on these attacks. There was something about the randomness of the victims, and something one of them mentioned about blood that had echoes of the case in Spain. Could there be a connection?
“It’s pack behavior. You haven’t made any arrests?”
“Nah, man,” Reynaldo said. “They’re slippery bastards. They disappear before anyone can get a good ID or anything. No surveillance cameras. Nothing. It’s fucking weird, man. And I hate weird.”
“And there have been how many so far?”
“We’re up to four now.” Vanessa handed me another beer. “We’re working on putting some plainclothes folks downtown and at the Boardwalk to see if we can catch these guys.” Vanessa had recently been promoted to detective, which was a bone of contention between her and Rey, who’d chosen not to climb the ranks in the department. He was happy being a patrol officer even though Vanessa pushed him to at least test for sergeant.
“Good. In San Sebastián there were a couple of reports from people who had attended meetings for this society called The Order of the Mind, and they talked about scare tactics. I don’t know, maybe there’s a connection. I’d like to ride with you again, Rey.”
My uncle shook his head. “I don’t want you down there until we catch these weirdos.”
“But maybe Roman can see patterns we don’t see. Or if you still have some connections with the law enforcement in Spain—”
“Yeah I can email and see—”
“Fine, but you stay with me, I don’t want you out by yourself until we catch these guys.”
I flinched. “I’m sorry, what? I can take care of myself.” He could talk all he wanted. I wasn’t about to hide from whatever was going on.
He threw an ice cube at me, I tossed an empty can at him, and then it was on, and we were wrestling on the floor while Vanessa and Bernadette moved the breakables.
“Damn, you’re strong, Junior,” he said as he pinned me to the floor with my hands behind my back. I should have learned by now that he could still take me, but it was fun making him work for it.
“Just making sure you still got it,” I said, my face smushed into the floor.
The evening activitieswere usually over by the time I arrived at Puesta Del Sol, but some nights I got there in time for the fun, and man, it was not what I’d expected an old folks’ home to be like. Lola had been more awake and alert than ever. It was as if the move had been a miracle for her. Phyllis and Stella, too. The three of them were chatty and happy, like back when I was a boy and they’d throw big parties.
They were the life of the place, and they sure loved their night nurse.
Creed.
The guy was something else. He was like a camp counselor for old folks. Watching him with the patients reminded me ofTwilight Zone: The Movie, where the old guy comes in and gets the other seniors to play Kick The Can and they turn into little kids. The smiles, the laughter…I’d almost accepted that the move was a good thing for Lola Frances. Almost.
Over the past four weeks, he’d become more than just my grandmother’s nurse, though. I found myself becoming way too interested in watching him with the residents. He was kind, he was always smiling, and he was way too charming. Never in my life did I imagine my type would be a guy in scrubs singing Tony Bennett songs and playing piano.
My infatuation with Creed was cemented that fourth week. Reynaldo and I showed up for Tuesday Bingo and were subsequently coerced into staying for a singalong. Creed was quite the piano man, and he had a great voice. He had a great everything.Toogreat, actually.
“Oh, Creed, dear, do that one again. The Tony Bennett one.”
“You mean ‘The Best Is Yet to Come’?” He ran his fingers deftly over the keys and wiggled his eyebrows at Stella.
I sat next to Reynaldo and Lola Frances, who clapped her hands together. She was practically vibrating with excitement. “Isn’t he wonderful?”
“If you like the talented, handsome-guy type,” I muttered. I was still salty about her being there. And as much as I agreed there was…something…about this Creed guy, I still couldn’t be as excited as her.
Lola Frances turned toward me. “Seemed to me once upon a time thatwasyour type.”
I stretched out my legs. “Please tell me you’re not getting ideas.”
