Jelly Bean Theif

"Listen, I'm not going to..." Ryan said, defensively.

"But I would like for us to be friends, okay?" Alida asked and kissed him quickly.

She then slid out of the truck, grabbing both malt and drugstore bag.

Ryan watched her scamper down the walkway toward her apartment, a feeling of loss overwhelming him.

"Well, I'm not sorry we did it, all right?' he yelled at her retreating back.

"And I'm not going to fucking apologize for it either," he said, slamming his door shut.

When Carl came home, he saw the Clark's Drive-In cup in the trash can and scowled darkly.

But he had no desire to upset the peace and tranquility, as well as the constant sex so fought down his anger.

"Dinner's almost ready," Alida mumbled, adding a handful of pasta noodles to the boiling water.

"Uh huh," Carl said and shrugged off his white coat.

"You hear that big tit monster got fired?" Alida asked as she checked the spaghetti sauce.

"Who, oh...No! Really? What happened?" Carl asked, taking his seat at the table.

"Don't know; didn't say," Alida said and dug out the colander. "Just came by, told me she gotten fired, said to tell you 'bye' and hopes we'll see each other real soon."

Unable to suppress his anger any longer, Carl pointed to the wastebasket.

"Clark's?' he asked.

"Yeah; strawberry malt really settled my tummy," Alida said.

"And how'd you get there?" Carl demanded.

"Rapid Cab," Alida lied. Seven fucking bucks; believe that?"

She dumped the pasta into the colander, rinsed the noodles, and then grabbed two plates.

"Need more money; getting that malt and the cab ride? Took all I had," Alida said as she dumped a huge meatball onto Carl's plate.

If she could get a twenty from Carl, she could pay Ryan back; Alida did not want to be beholden to Ryan.

"Hate these cheap ass plates," Alida whistled as she carried the steaming spaghetti to the table.

"They're fine," Carl defended.

"No, Carl, no they're not," Alida said. "For my birthday? I want some real plates. Kind that don't melt in the dishwasher. All right?"

"Fine; whatever," Carl said and twirled a fork in the pasta.

"What you want to drink?" Alida asked, yanking the door of the refrigerator open.

"Water," Carl said.

"Oh, okay," Alida said. "I mean, we got that iced tea or that diet orange."

"That iced tea tastes horrible," Carl said.

"Uh huh; know why?" Alida said, filling a glass with water.

"Tell me," Carl said.

"Because it's that cheap ass shit! It's store brand, dumb ass!" Alida yelled. "A dollar more, we could get the real stuff, but noooo!"

"Fine, we'll get the real stuff next time," Carl yelled back.

"Yeah right," Alida snapped.

"What's that mean?" Carl snapped and sipped the water.

"'We still got that can at home; why we getting more ice tea when we ain't finished that one at home,'" Alida imitated his nasally voice.

She poured herself some of the iced tea and sat down.

"Whatever," Carl grumbled and cut into his meatball.

Alida smirked slightly; she had used a good bit of red pepper flakes when making the meatballs. Carl's eyes bulged slightly, but he gamely swallowed.

Chapter 9

Carl jerked slightly when he felt Alida's lips nuzzling his neck, then his ear. He grimaced; her meatball had given him horrible indigestion. The heartburn was still flaring inside of his gut.

"Hey," she whispered lightly in his ear.

He resisted the urge to shove her away; the acid was churning in his gut.

Alida seemed to be oblivious to his discomfort; she continued to kiss him and nuzzle him.

Finally, he did push her away.

"God damn, Alida; trying to sleep here," he mumbled and rolled away from her.

She sniffed back the tears and got out of bed.

An hour later, Alida heard the shower start. She resisted the urge to turn the dishwasher on.

Twenty minutes later, Carl came into the living room/dining room, dressed in pull over shirt and khakis.

"Where's breakfast?" he asked, glancing at the table.

"Get it yourself," she snapped.

"Look, I'm sorry; I'm trying to sleep and you're all over me," he tried to mollify her.

"I had some good news wanted to share with you," she snapped.

"What?" he asked.

"Too late now; don't fucking feel like telling you no more," Alida snapped and stormed into the bedroom.

Carl fixed himself a bowl of cereal, listening to the shower. He did toy with the idea of turning the dishwasher on but thought better of it; Alida was known to hold grudges a good long time. And she didn't get even; she got more.

She came back into the living room/dining room, dressed in a short dress; one of his favorites. She put her bare feet on the coffee table, letting him see that she did not have any panties on.

"So, what's the news?" Carl asked, sitting next to Alida on the couch.

She got up and sat in his recliner.

"Huh? What's your good news?" he cajoled.

"Nothing," she snapped. "Turn on the television; remote's right there."

"Not turning it on until you tell me," Carl said.

"Fine, ass hole," Alida grumbled. "Guess what? We're going to have a baby."

"We're what?" Carl asked.

Alida's anger slipped away slightly; announcing out loud that she was pregnant had buoyed her spirits.

"I've been feeling kind of 'eh' lately, so I got one of them pregnancy kits and tested it this morning and I'm pretty sure..." Alida said, her happiness beginning to bubble up.

"You're pregnant?" Carl asked, voice rising.

"Yes!" Alida whooped.

The sound of the slap reached her ears before the stinging sensation on her cheek reached her brain.

"Who's the father?" Carl screamed at her, reaching back to slap her again.

"Wha... what?" Alida asked, mouth open in shock.

He backhanded her other cheek.

"Who's the father? Who you been fucking?" Carl screamed, face twisted in rage.

"You!" Alida screamed back, throwing her arms up to prevent any further slaps. "You're the only..."

"Bull shit! Who you been fucking?" Carl screamed at the top of his lungs.

"I haven't..." Alida protested, blocking his third slap with her forearm.

"That mother fucker," Carl hissed suddenly and stormed for the front door of the apartment.

Alida scrambled out of the cumbersome recliner and ran after him.

Ryan was stepping out of his apartment; on his way to do a little grocery shopping. He smiled as he saw Carl Betsingal walking purposefully toward him.

"Hey, what's up?" Ryan asked.

Carl had never been in a fight and had no real skills as a fighter. He threw a punch that Ryan easily blocked.

"You no good mother fucker!" Carl screamed and threw a second punch.

"Carl! Don't! Please!" Alida screamed, running after her husband.

"Ryan grabbed Carl's wrist and twisted it around.

"Let him go!" Alida screamed and began slapping at Ryan.

"Enough!" Sergeant Elise Richards announced, hand on her pepper spray.

"Sir, are you all right?" Elise asked.

"No, I'm not all right!" Carl whined.

"Wasn't asking you; I saw you throw two punches and then saw this kid..." Elise said, face stern.

"I'm not a kid!" Alida shrilled.

"Sergeant, thank you, but I'm fine," Ryan said.

"Officer, I want this man arrested," Carl demanded.

"Oh?" Elise asked. "Grounds?"

"Um..." Carl thought.

"Come on, let's take this inside," Ryan demanded and frog-marched Carl to his front door.

"Sir, if you're sure..." Elise asked.

"Yes Sergeant; private matter," Ryan assured her.

Inside the apartment, Ryan released his hold on Carl.

"Come on; I've got some coffee," Ryan said, trying to mask his shaking voice.

"I don't want your fucking coffee," Carl snarled.

"Well too fucking bad; you're getting it," Ryan snapped and shoved Carl toward a kitchen chair.

"Now, why you was..." Alida asked Carl, clutching at his hands.

"It's him, isn't it?" Carl snarled. "He's the one you been fucking, isn't he?"

Ryan froze for a moment and looked at Alida. She did not look at him, just tried to grab Carl's hands. Carl was avoiding her clutches, though.

"Now," Ryan said, plunking down two cups of coffee, already sliding the cream and sugar over to Alida. "What makes you think I've been...?"

"Because this stupid cunt's knocked up," Carl spat at him.

Ryan froze at the hateful words but Alida seemed to not hear the harsh words.

"Baby, all that loving we been doing," Alida whined, holding Carl's hands tightly. "Why you think it's not..."

"Because I had a vasectomy, you ignorant slut!" Carl screamed at her.

"You what?" Alida asked, stunned.

She stepped back, staring at her husband.

"I had a vasectomy right before we got married," Carl spat at her. "God! You really think I'd ever want to have kids? With an ignorant fucking idiot like you? Huh?"

"You... But we, I mean, you knew I wanted me three at least three..." Alida stammered.

"Get real," Carl sneered. "Fuck, you're so God damned stupid, I'm constantly amazed you haven't managed to burn the whole place down."

Ryan sat in stunned silence as Carl belittled his wife.

"Like you'd ever be able to..." Carl was on a rant now.

"Enough!" Ryan thundered. "God damn! How in the fuck can you talk to her like that?"

"You want this damned whore, you can have her," Carl shoved himself out of the chair.

"Baby, please don't..." Alida begged.

"Get the fuck out of my way," Carl ordered and shoved her hard.

"Hey, don't you ever..." Ryan got to his feet.

Carl yanked the door open then slammed it shut behind himself

Ryan helped Alida to her feet. She glared at him for a minute, than spat in his face.

"I fucking hate you!" she screamed, running for the door. "God! Don't ever touch me again; you make me sick!"

She flung the door open and ran, crying out for Carl.

Ryan wiped the spittle from his face and closed the door of his apartment.

"Please, Baby," Alida whined, trying to grab Carl's hand.

He again shoved her away from himself. Again, she fell onto the ground.

"Here, here, God, I can't believe he would do that," Heather St. Martin cooed as she helped the sobbing Alida to her feet.

Carl heard the knock; it did not sound frantic so he peeped through the peephole. He smiled tightly; it was Heather St. Martin.

"Hey," he said, opening the door.

"Hey; you have no right to lock her out of her own apartment," Heather said, shoving Alida forward. "There are two names on the lease; hers and yours."

"Yeah? Heard you got fired; how stupid do you have to be to lose a job from this place?" Carl sneered at the attractive red head.

"Yeah, they fired me for renting out an apartment to a fat ass loser doctor," Heather smirked back. "Said they really didn't want any closet fags running the place down."

"Please Baby, I'll do anything," Alida sobbed.

In his own apartment, Ryan dumped the two cups of coffee out then stacked them in the dishwasher. Then he wiped the table clean, the counter clean.

Sighing, he finally left the apartment to do his grocery shopping.

Although Early's did not have as much selection as Super One Grocery Store, Ryan still preferred the smaller store.

He dawdled on the aisles as much as he could, but finally had no choice but to approach the checkout line.

Ryan did not want to return to his small, pathetic, empty apartment.

Ryan hauled the groceries to the truck, and then decided to go to Clark's for lunch. There was nothing in his bags that would spoil immediately; he could spare the twenty, thirty minutes it would take to eat a chili burger and chocolate malt.

"Hey!" the blonde girl smiled as she skidded to a stop next to his truck. "Welcome to Clark's; where's your girlfriend?"

"You tell me," Ryan shrugged.

"Aw, y'all broke up?" the girl asked. "That's a shame; y'all looked so cute together you know?"

"Yeah, well," Ryan said, noncommittal.

Ryan ordered, and then watched the girl skate away, admiring her round buttocks as they peeked out of the bottom of her short red shorts.

After his meal, the girl picked up the tray.

"Don't worry; you'll find somebody," she counseled.

"Yeah, even if I make them sick?" he asked, started his truck and backed out before the girl could answer.

Three days passed; Ryan would hear them arguing every now and then, mostly Carl's whining nasally voice.

Ryan looked at his apartments and did not see any openings other than the Gernard house he'd bought. He'd be able to get twelve to fourteen hundred a month in rent; it was a three bedroom unit. Right now, Paul Robichaux and his crew was doing the last minute repairs to the building.

"Hey Anita," he said into his cell phone.

"Yes sir, Mr. Thibodeaux?" Anita asked, as professional as always.

"We're not renting that house," he said sadly. "I'm moving in it as soon as it's ready."

"Oh I don't know about that," Anita teased. "We'll need to do a background check and..."

"Woman, I've been a tenant at the Truman complex now for what? Two years?" Ryan laughed.

"We 'Grandfathered' you into that one," Anita said.

"I'll stop by the office and get the key tomorrow," Ryan said and terminated the call.

He drove to Huvall's Texaco and purchased sixty dollars worth of U-Haul storage boxes.

"Yep you moving or just sticking stuff in storage, these boxes are the best," the attendant agreed as he helped Ryan put the boxes into the rear of the truck.

"There's no storage..." Ryan thought to himself, looking at the young man.

"Yep; why I'm buying them instead of digging some free ones out the back of Early's Grocery store," Ryan agreed.

"Yeah, and these don't smell all funny," the kid agreed.

"Hey Carmen, what you got in commercial real estate? About an acre or two?" Ryan said into his cell phone as he drove away from the gas station.

Three days later, Ryan met with an architectural firm, balked at the outrageous prices the arrogant man proposed, and downloaded standard plans off of a web site. He and Paul Robichaux agreed on a price to build the four hundred unit storage facility and Penny Richards, his attorney, filed the papers with the clerk of court.

Ryan decided to treat himself to lunch at Bombay's Café, wishing he had Alida with him. He was sure she would enjoy the exotic cuisine.

"Ah, you come back; good to see you," Hashim smiled.

Ryan smiled when he saw that jelly bean pie was still on the menu.

"Yeah, I'll have a piece of that to go," Ryan smiled.

"You can have the whole thing; you're the only one orders it," Hashim admitted.

Ryan noticed that there was no charge for the entire pie he was given and asked Hashim about it.

"Like I said, you're the only one who's ordered it. Get it out of here so I can put something else in the freezer, huh?" Hashim smiled.

Ryan shrugged, took the pie back to his apartment and looked around.

Everything that could be carried by one man was already at the house, locked in the back bedroom. He trusted Paul, but Paul had insisted he take that precaution.

"Look, every now and then, I let a guy bring his brother; they need a few extra bucks," Paul hissed. "Well, I know MY guys; know THEY'RE all right, but their brother? Or their cousin? I don't know."

All that remained was the table and chairs, the recliner and couch, his desk and his bed. Two college boys were coming in the morning; Paul had said the smell of paint should be gone by then, and would load it all into the back of Ryan's truck.

Since his computer and television were already at the new place, he was very quickly bored. Ryan stretched out on the couch to take a nap.

Vaguely, Ryan heard a car screech away at a high rate of speed. He was very nearly asleep when a soft knock fluttered at his door.

At first Ryan wasn't sure he heard it. He sat up, slightly confused, disoriented.

Then he heard it again. He opened the door and gasped in horror.

Alida's face was unrecognizable; swollen, bruised, cut, and bloody. Her left arm was bent at a peculiar angle.

Her bare belly was a mass of blood and bruises.

"Ryan," she weakly mumbled and Ryan could see that she was missing a few teeth.

Then she vomited and Ryan saw clumps of blood in her vomit.

He grabbed her in his arms and carried her to his truck.

"I'm so sorry," she mumbled and passed out.

Ryan's tires spun, smoking horribly as he floored the accelerator. He threw the truck into 'drive' and again smoked the tires as he raced toward the Trauma Center.

"Yes, I'm taking a woman to the Trauma Center; looks like she was in a fight," Ryan screamed into his cell phone.

"Sir do you need an ambulance?" Becky Yuma, a Bender Police Officer asked.

"No, I just need the Trauma Center to be ready; she's a real mess," Ryan said as he roared toward the gleaming building.

Becky had obviously alerted the Trauma Center; There were two nurses and an orderly with a gurney waiting at the crest of the circular drive.

"You do that?" the orderly asked, glaring at Ryan.

"You crazy? I love her! I could never..." Ryan yelled at the man.

"It's all right, Honey, it's all right," the older nurse soothed as they lay Alida onto the gurney. "We're going to get you all better, all right?"

"I don't want to lose my baby," Alida sobbed.

Ryan watched as they raced Alida into the building.

He parked the truck, and then walked into the hospital.

"Here, fill this out; police will be here in a minute to talk with you," a third nurse ordered, thrusting a clipboard at Ryan.

He did fill out what information he could, leaving several blank spaces.

"Hello; you brought the beating victim in?" Officer Eric Miller asked.

"Yeah, she going to be okay?" Ryan asked.

"She's in surgery; all I know," Eric said. "What can you tell me?"

A few floors overhead, Carl worriedly looked around as he waddled down the hallway of the Trauma Center. He approached the nurses' station and almost turned around; a woman in a police uniform was talking with one of the nurses. The nurse turned and looked at him.

Carl did turn and begin to waddle in the opposite direction when the nurse pointed to him.

"Sir, stop," Sergeant Elise Richards ordered, putting a hand on Carl's shoulder.

"Need to ask you about your wife; she was admitted here thirty minutes ago," Elise said.

Carl frowned; he had been monitoring the Emergency Dispatches and there had been no ambulance dispatches from the Trauma Center in the past hour.

"Did she say why?" he blustered.

"Sir, what happened to your hands?" Elise asked.

"I, um, well, you know how it is, goes with the job," Carl stammered.

"Uh huh," Elise said. "Those look like fight bites."

"Like I said..." Carl said.

"Sir, put your hands behind your back," Elise ordered.

Carl tried to run, which was pretty foolish; there was nowhere to go and he was in deplorable shape. Elise simply swept her foot, kicking his feet out from under him, sending him crashing to the tiled floor.

"You have the right to remain silent," Elise intoned as she roughly yanked his arms behind him and cuffed him.

Eric looked up as the elevator doors dinged and Elise marched and saw his partner, wrestling a resisting Carl Betsingal out the door.

"You son of a bitch!" Ryan screamed, charging Carl. "You pathetic little piece of shit! Want to beat up on somebody, huh? Why don't you try me, huh? What's the matter, bitch? Not man enough to beat on somebody your own fucking size?"

Eric managed to force Ryan away from the now cowering Carl.

"I agree with you, sir, but if you hit him, then I'm going to have to bring you in too," Eric hissed.

"Then bring me in and put us in the same fucking cell," Ryan hissed back.

"Buddy, you're my kind of guy," Eric smiled. "Can't do it, though."

Alida came to; a horrible taste in her mouth. She tried to sit up but couldn't. She tried to move her head but couldn't.

"Need anything?" she heard a man's voice asked.

"Where am I?" she whispered.