“Do you think I care?” screeched the old woman through the shutters. “Do you think that makes a difference to me? I don’t care if your name is Goombah or Poombah, it doesn’t matter where you work! Now what in the world are you doing on my doorstep?”
My lover and I looked at each other with startled expressions. We’re used to the red carpet being rolled out, a bunch of sycophants bowing and smiling, jumping at our beck and call. So to be here, in a shady neighborhood, with a cackly old witch calling us out was a new experience for sure. What the hell? How to deal with it?
But Mace stepped into the rescue, ever smooth and confident.
“Auntie Mae,” he rumbled, that deep voice persuasive. “If you’ll just let us in, we ….”
But he was cut off rudely.
“No! Go away!” she screeched from inside, the shade snapping shut. “I don’t let strange men into my house, ever!”
There was a scraping sound from inside, like a chair had just been pushed up against the door, and Mace and I goggled at one another then. Seriously? Was this old bat off her rocker or what? Did she think one chair was going to keep us from getting to our girl? Did she think that she was going to be able to keep Katie from us, that her nasty words had any effect whatsoever?
Grimly, I backed up a step, pushing up my sleeves. Because thousand dollar suit or not, I wasn’t above kicking in this shitty piece of wood. Hell, it probably wasn’t even wood, the door was likely made from some cardboard composite, it was that bad
And Mace was doing the same. The look on my lover’s face was a mixture of rage and desperation at this point, even as he took of his jacket to begin the assault. But right as we both leaned back to attack, the door cracked open and I saw that we’d been wrong. The scraping sound hadn’t been a chair being pushed up as further protection. The sound had been of the woman pulling out firearms, loading a gun as she armed herself. And now here we were, staring down the barrel of a rifle.
It was like out of an old-time western. Auntie Mae couldn’t have been more than five feet tall, bent over with a big humpback, wearing a faded housedress. But the rifle in her arms was no joke. Almost as long as her, the firearm was polished and oiled, obviously lovingly maintained.
“Don’t think I don’t know how to shoot this!” she screeched, swinging the barrel at first me, and then Mason. “I’ve been going to the gun range every week since I was fifteen. Taken down more than a few with this baby here!”
Immediately, both my hands flew up.
“Lady, take it easy,” I murmured in a soothing voice. “Just take it easy.”
Mace did the same, backing away slowly, that dark form filled with repressed energy. But I could see that he wasn’t giving up. And before I could say anything, he was on the old lady in a snap, struggling with her for the gun.
“Stop! Stop! Or I’ll shoot!” she screeched. For someone so small and bent over, Auntie Mae was curiously strong because my lover actualy had to tussle with her for a few seconds before yanking the rifle out of her hands. Those gnarled fingers looked positively arthritic, how in the world was she going to aim and fire?
But Auntie Mae is a real crackerjack because even though Mason had the gun in his arms now, the old lady launched herself at him like a rocket-propelled missile, landing on that big form while screeching and hitting with clawed fingers.
“Give it back!” she screeched. “Give it back, that was my Great Uncle Joe’s Confederate rifle! Give it back, you big lout!”
And at this point, everything collapsed. Because Mace is an asshole, but he’s not about to go around hitting women, especially not old ladies who are seventy and frail. So instead, they tumbled to the floor, that huge form bouncing and rolling reflexively, but the crone collapsed like a bag of bones.
“Owwww!” she squealed, both hands gripping her back, writhing in agony on the doorstep. “Owwww!”
And it was then that Katie appeared. Shit, our girl was so beautiful, flushed and eyes wide, curls in disarray.
“What in the world?” she cried out. “You guys beat up my great-aunt? How could you?” she demanded, immediately dropping to her knees next to the old lady. “How could you?”
I was totally flummoxed, mouth opening and closing with no words. Because hadn’t she seen? This old bat was crazy, she’d waved a gun in our faces, threatening us with bodily harm. It wasn’t us, it was her!
But Katie didn’t seem to care.
“I can’t believe you did this!” she cried out again, her hands lifting Aunt Mae’s head so that the graying head was cradled in her lap. “I can’t believe you guys picked on a little old lady!”