Blow Your Mind by Eric Pete

ain’t so hot right now. I mean . . . I’d love to help you, but . . .”
     
    “I’m talking cash money.”
     
    “Oh.” There was a long, drawn-out silence. Then he collected himself. “I’m listening,” he said.
     
    “Good.”
     
    My balance was sure as I took my first step. You just never looked below.
     

15
     
    BIANCA
     
    C haos.
     
    I awoke to chaos. It was Tanner in the distance who jarred me awake. His raised voice always carried so much bass. I was on my bed now, a pillow under my head and a throw draped over me. Doctor’s orders were something to follow, as I was learning. Under my hand rested a tiny slip of paper.
     
    Pumpkin.
     
    Just a short note saying she was sorry for upsetting me and that she would explain later. Remembering my experience at the bank pissed me off again. I balled up the piece of paper and threw it on the side of the bed. She’d better have a damn good explanation.
     
    Yawning, I shook off my cobwebs and went to check on the commotion. Downstairs Tanner was arguing with someone at our front door. I prayed he hadn’t discovered Pumpkin was visiting.
     
    But Lorenda had heard the two of us fighting.
     
    “No, Mr. Coleman. I must go,” Lorenda pleaded desperately. What was she saying? And why was she blubbering? I hurried down the stairs to investigate, fearful that it might be too late.
     
    “Lorenda, what’s wrong?” I asked as I ran up on them. Tanner looked obviously frustrated.
     
    She saw me and spat out something in Spanish. She picked up her hastily stuffed bag from the floor and began heading out the door. It looked permanent. Tanner tried stopping her again.
     
    “Move, Mr. Coleman. I can’t stay here.”
     
    I began crying, feeling the one constant slipping away, never to return. I went to give her a hug, but she wasn’t having it. “Get away. Don’t touch me,” she shrieked. “I must go. Now!”
     
    “Lorenda, wait. Please. Is it something we’ve done? Is it something I’ve done? We can talk.”
     
    She glared at me in such a way that I was frightened.
     
    “This . . . this is a crazy house,” was her final condemnation as she fled for the elevator.
     
    Tanner and I stood in the doorway, waiting for our now former housekeeper to catch the elevator. For a full minute we waited in the hope that she would return.
     
    “Know anything about this?” he asked.
     
    “No.”
     
    “Hmm. Well, there goes the best housekeeper I’ve ever had.” He threw his arms up in frustration. He went back inside, urging me to follow and close the door.
     
    “There goes the only housekeeper I’ve ever had,” I mumbled, my heart feeling more than the relationship between employer and employee. You might say Lorenda had been the closest I’d had to a mother since . . .
     
    “Bianca, close the door. She’s gone.”
     
    “Okay.”
     
     

“You can’t let this get you down, Bianca.” Tanner tasted his soup. He looked impeccable in his dark suit and crisp white shirt, having ordered for both of us earlier. He’d coaxed me to Figueroa, one of the finest establishments in town, thinking a night out would lift my spirits. With the events earlier, my appetite wasn’t up to par. If he’d known everything, his wouldn’t be either.
     
    “I can’t help it. This has been a day from hell. I’m sorry that I’m being a downer on our evening. I think I just need to go to bed.”
     
    The mention of bed in that context bothered him. I believe he was expecting a full-blown evening out tonight . . . with dessert later. “What did the doctor say?” he asked.
     
    “I’m fine. Just stressed out.”
     
    He chuckled in the middle of a spoonful of bisque. “I really don’t see what you have to be stressed out about.”
     
    “You have no idea,” I muttered. I hated when he took that tone.
     
    “Want to tell me?” His spoon clinked in the empty bowl as he wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Are your shoe shipments arriving too late for the