Trapped (Caged 2)

“What?” I asked.

“Quit calling her names.”

“She doesn’t give a shit, do ya, fruitcake?”

Krazy Katie didn’t answer.

“It’s still not nice!” Tria chastised in a whisper.

“Neither is whispering like she can’t hear you,” I replied with a raised brow.

Tria pursed her lips but didn’t give me any more grief for the various pet names I had for my neighbor. I dug around in her mail until I came up with not two but three checks she hadn’t cashed.

“Krazy Katie, have you met Tria before?” I asked her.

She didn’t respond.

“Say hi.” I jerked my head toward where Krazy Katie was sitting.

“Hello,” Tria said. She tilted her head a little, trying to get Krazy Katie to look at her. I could see the tension in Krazie Katie’s shoulders at Tria’s scrutiny, and I took the opportunity to come up behind her.

Right next to her on the table were her cigarettes. While Krazy Katie focused on Tria, I quickly picked up the pack and dumped the smokes into the pocket of my hoodie. I dropped the empty pack back in its original spot and headed toward the front door.

“Come on, crazy bitch,” I said with a wave of my hand. “Let’s go get you some more smokes.”

Her face scrunched up as she reached for the pack next to her and found it empty. She sighed heavily, totally refused to put on any kind of jacket, and then followed us out of the apartment and down toward the grocery store.

“There’s a check cashing place a couple blocks past the store,” I said to Tria. “I’m pretty sure they’ll cash government checks. I mean, if you can’t trust a government check not to bounce, you can’t trust the water to stay up in the clouds, right?”

Tria just shook her head at my lame excuse for a joke and glanced behind her to make sure Krazy Katie was still following.

“What is wrong with her?” Tria asked.

“I dunno,” I said. “Hey, goofy bitch—what’s wrong with you?”

“All the right chemicals,” Krazy Katie said, much to my surprise. I wasn’t expecting any kind of response. “They just got all out of order.”

“See what good it does? She just says random shit.”

“That wasn’t random,” Tria argued. “She’s saying she has a chemical imbalance.”

“Can’t walk on a tight rope,” Krazy Katie muttered.

“See?” Tria said with a smile. “No balance.”

I grinned at her.

“You’re awfully smart for a small town girl.”

Check cashing wasn’t too big a deal, but taking Krazy Katie through the grocery store was sort of like taking a bunch of those little gnat-bugs and trying to organize them into a synchronized swim team. She was all over the fucking place with no rhyme or reason to whatever direction she might head next. I didn’t know what she really liked to eat, but we picked out as assortment of foods that fit within her budget after rent and bills and shit were all covered.

It was a pretty decent pile of food—Tria was awesome at taking a small amount of money and ending up with a fucking banquet.

There were about five hundred and twenty-seven people trying to check out through two available lanes. There were also at least fifty-seven workers on break and hanging outside. Well, all right, there were nine people in line and two on break, but it still pissed me off.

I sighed dramatically and eyed the various gossip mags. They all seemed pretty focused on some Hollywood couple and whether or not they were secretly banging each other. The flavors of gum right above the magazine racks were far more interesting. After waiting about forty days and nights, we were next in line. That was when Krazy Katie stood up on her toes to look over the counter for a moment and then took off running.

“What the fuck!” I growled.