The Second Messenger

Not . . . Quite

By FireWire

Story No. 20

Just a little ways more. Just a little ways more. The smoke is so thick I can barely see. The fire is spreading all around me. Just have to keep moving and hope I don’t crash into something. Wildfire smoke is so unhealthy. It gives you cancer. The winds are roaring, but the smoke is not in my car . . . yet. What’s that in front of me! I think it’s a person. It’s a man, and he’s running. He’s a dead man unless I give him a ride. I’m beside him now, and he’s stopped.

The man looks in the car window. He is holding a towel over his nose and mouth. The woman signals for the man to get in. The man puts his hand on the door handle and jerks his hand back. The woman leans over to open the door. The door handle is hot. The woman clinches her teeth, pushes the handle down hard, and pushes the door open. The man gets in the car, puts his towel on the door handle, and pulls the door shut.

“Thanks,” the man says, “you just saved my life. The four cars in front of you didn’t even slow down. The smoke was hurting my eyes, and I was having a hard time breathing. This wet towel wasn’t very effective while I was running. I couldn’t have run much further.”

“I’m looking for a hiking trail on the other side of the road,” the woman says. “It goes down towards the ocean and leads to Canyon Road.”

“Is there a landmark?”

“Just an opening in the woods. I’ll recognize it if the woods aren’t on fire. Wildfires move with the wind. I threw my clothes in a suitcase where I was house-sitting and left the house immediately when I saw smoke in the hills. I didn’t wait for a warning.”

They drive slowly without talking, both of them straining to see a path in the woods through the dense smoke. The winds shift the other way, and the woman shouts, “There it is! Now if it is wide enough for the car, we really will be lucky.”

The woman turns the car and crosses the road. Then, very slowly, she maneuvers the car through the opening in the trees.

She stops, breathes a sigh of relief, and asks, “How is it on your side?”

“It’s close.”

“I’m going to drive slowly to stay on the path and pray the winds don’t do us in until we get to the main road. Right now I don’t see any smoke ahead. Keep an eye out for any obstacles on your side. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.”

When they turn on to the Pacific Coast Highway from Canyon Road, the woman says, “We should be safe now, so let me introduce myself. I’m Kay C. Benoit.”

The man says, “I’m Warren Swift. K. C. is an unusual name. What do the initials stand for?”

“It’s spelled Kay then the letter C, and it all started when I was in first grade. There was another girl in the class named Kay, so the teacher called me Kay C. for my middle initial and the other girl Kay T. for her middle initial. Kay C. has been my nickname ever since.”

“Well Kay C., you got us out of a dangerous situation without missing a beat.”

Kay C. laughs. “I was scared and wanted to get out of that mess as fast as I could. How did you end up running on the road?”

“I was staying at a friend’s house, sitting by the pool. My friend had gone to the village to pick up a pizza for lunch when the house across the street started burning, then the house beside it, then a ball of fire came across the street and set the house next door on fire. Smoke was everywhere. I didn’t know what was happening, but I knew I had to get out of there ASAP, so I put my towel in the pool, got it wet, and started running. I had gone two blocks when I realized I didn’t have my cell phone, but there was smoke and fire all around me, so I kept running.”

“You were fortunate that you did. Where can I take you?”

“The nearest rental car place I guess. I’m from Chicago and don’t know a thing about L.A.”

“There’s one off the Santa Monica freeway.”

Kay C. reaches into her purse and takes out her cell phone. “Would you like to call your friend and your parents to let them know you are OK?”

“Yes. Thank you,” Warren says and takes the phone.

He dials a number. “Hi Buzz. This is Warren. . . . I’m sorry to have to report that when I left your house, the houses across the street and the one next to yours were on fire, so I expect yours was next. It’s a shame. . . . I’m going to drive back to Chicago. . . . I was running down the road when a lady stopped and gave me a ride. Saved my life. . . . Kay C. Benoit.” Warren chuckles. “That’s an understatement. . . . OK. Bye.”

“Did he know me?” Kay C. asks.”

“Yes. He said you house-sat for his parents for three months while they were in Europe.”

“That would be the Dells. I met their son briefly. Nice people.”

“He said you were one good-looking woman.”

Kay C. smiles. “You remembered his number?”

“Yep. I have a talent for remembering telephone numbers. If I dial a number one time, my mind associates the number with that person. It runs in my family.”

“I have that talent too.”

“It’s nice talent to have.”

“It is.”

“I’ll call my folks now.”

“Hi Dad. . . . No I’m safe. Mr. and Mrs. Dell were out of town, and Buzz had gone to pick-up a pizza when the fires started. I was sitting by the pool. The fires had just started, so I grabbed my wallet, got my towel wet in the pool to prevent smoke inhalation, and started running in the hopes somebody would give me a ride. Four cars passed me before Kay C. stopped for me. I was on the verge of collapse. She saved my life. . . . I’m going to drive back home and see the country before I start work. Kay C. is taking me to rent a car. After that I’ll pick up a phone and give you a call. I left mine at Buzz’s pool. . . . I will. Love you.”

“What kind of job will you be starting?” Kay C. asks.

“I’ve just finished college and will be working for my dad’s company. It’s a private investigation firm. How about you? Are you a professional house-sitter?”

“No. I did it just long enough to buy a car.”

“How long have you been a house-sitter? I mean how did you become a house-sitter? Are you from the Palisades?”

“No, I’m not from the Palisades. I’m from Los Angeles. A friend is a house-sitter in the Palisades and helped me get started. I’ve been house-sitting and waiting on tables since I graduated high school two years ago, so I could have enough money buy a car and go to Las Vegas.”

“What are you going to do in Las Vegas?”

“I’m going to look up a man some of the people I house-sit for have told me about. They say he’s banned from gambling in Las Vegas.”

“And you’re going to ask him to teach you how to get banned?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a long shot. Why don’t you get a regular job instead?”

“You know I can’t get a decent job without a college education. All my life I’ve struggled just to have clothes to wear and food to eat. I’m not going to live like that anymore. I’m going to make my own money, and I’m going to make my own rules.”

Warren doesn’t reply.

They continue to the car rental office without talking.

When they arrive at the car rental office, Kay C. stops and turns to Warren. “Here we are.” she says.

They sit there looking at each for several moments as they lose touch with reality and desire brings them together as one.

Finally Warren says, “Thanks for all you did for me today Kay C. I’ll never forget it. I’m not a philosopher or anything like that, but there must be a reason why we met the way we did. It can’t be an isolated event. We will meet again. I know we will.”

He smiles, opens the car door, and walks away.

“I wish he had proposed,” she says.

The memory of this moment will haunt them for the rest of their lives.

Warren rents a car, buys a phone, and calls Buzz.

“Hi Buzz. This is Warren.”

“Hi Warren. Anything wrong? You OK?”

“I’m fine. I rented a car, picked up a phone, and am on the home. How about you?”

“We’re renting a condo until things settle down.”

“I guess you and your parents lost everything,” Warren says.”

“Probably.”

“The reason I’m calling is to get some background on Kay C. Benoit.”

“The only things I know are what my parents told me. She took care of the plants and the inside of the house. Saved all the mail. My parents liked her a lot. Mom said Kay C. didn’t get along with her parents and left home the day she graduated high school. Do you want me find out more about her?”

“No,” Warren says. “That’s all I wanted to know. The way she was today is how I want to remember her.”

“I think you like her.”

“I do.”

“You’re going to be a private investigator. You can find out where she is.”

“I don’t want to know. If we are destined to meet again, we will. If not, then . . . we won’t. I’ll talk to you later.”

Kay C. arrives in Las Vegas and goes directly to Delano’s Restaurant.

“Is Rich Delano here?” she asks the host at the reservation desk.

“Why do you ask?” the host says.

“I would like to talk to him.”

The host looks at Kay C. for a few moments before saying, “What’s your name. I’ll see if he’s here.”

“Kay C. Benoit.”

The host walks to a restaurant table, hidden behind the reservation desk’s wall, where a late middle‑aged man is drinking coffee and looking at his cell phone.

“Rich, there’s woman named Kay C. Benoit at the reservation desk who wants to see you. She’s 18 or 19 and very good‑looking.”

“Bring her on back,” Rich says without looking up from his cell. “She’s probably looking for a job.”

When the host brings Kay C. to the table, Rich says, “Have a seat.”

“What can I do for you?” he asks after Kay C. is seated.

“I’m from the Palisades in California.”

Rich interrupts her. “I saw on the news a fire is going on there that could be most destructive in California history.”

“I just left there. It was terrible.”

“So what brings you here?”

“People from the Palisades who have come here say you have made a fortune gambling. They say you have made so much off the casinos here and elsewhere that the casinos have barred you from gambling.”

“Ah, so you want to know how I made so much money. Is that it?”

Kay C. nods her head.

“Well first of all I don’t cheat. That will put you in jail. I practice advantage gambling which relies on skill and risk management rather than luck.”

He pauses.

“I analyze expected values to determine which bets have the highest probability of winning and which ones should be avoided. I manage my money in a way that keeps me solvent when I lose. Are you following me so far?”

Kay C. nods her head.

“Because of the time it takes to acquire the knowledge and skills, only about 1% of gamblers are advantage gamblers. A young woman with your looks would be at a disadvantage because the casinos would remember you whereas I blend in with the crowd.”

He pauses.

“So that’s how I made my money. Now, would you like me to get a job for you in one of the casinos? I’m on a first name basis with all the big casino owners.”

Kay C. shakes her head.

“Well, what are you here for then?”

Kay C. looks at him.”

After several moments, Rich chuckles and says, “I’m not going to train you to be an advantage gambler. You can forget that.”

Without breaking eye contact, Kay C. slowly moves the middle finger of her right hand up the front of her blouse until it’s in the middle of her breasts.

There is a long pause.

“Show me your driver’s license and birth certificate.”

One night, four years later, two men enter a casino’s executive restroom.”

“I hear you can make people disappear,” the first man says.

“Yeah, that’s what we do. We’re magicians. That’s why Allan hired us. Who is it he wants to disappear?” the second man asks.

“The woman at the blackjack table closest to the main entrance. Her name is Casey. She has brown hair and is wearing brown slacks, a light colored blouse, and a brown sweater. She is the only woman playing blackjack.”

“Once I leave here,” the second man says, “it will take us a half-hour to set up. Will she be there?”

“She will still be there, but nothing can happen to her while she is in the casino. Allan wants her completely out of the casino. She has to cash in her chips and leave the casino.”

The two men leave the restroom

But a third man is in the restroom.

The third man opens his stall door just enough to see if the two men have left.

He leaves the stall and looks around for a waste basket.

He sees one recessed in the wall with a metal frame around it, walks rapidly to it, sticks his hand into the waste basket, and pulls out a wet paper towel.

“No time for this,” he says and with a quick jerk, pulls the metal frame away from the wall. He turns the waste basket upside down and picks up a piece of writing paper.

He takes a pen from his coat pocket, puts the paper on a washbasin countertop, and writes a message.

When he’s finished, he leaves the restroom, runs down the stairwell, and enters the main floor.

He walks rapidly towards the main entrance and finds the blackjack table. That’s her. I have ten minutes to get her out of the building.

He quietly positions himself beside and slightly behind the woman.

When she moves her hand to her chips, the man slides the paper with the message on it to the chips.

Kay C. don’t look up. You are in mortal danger. Leave your chips on the table and go immediately to airport Hanger 7. A plane will take you to safety.

The woman pauses.

A man’s voice behind her commands, ”Go!”

The woman looks at her chips.

The man’s voice commands, “Now!”

The woman picks up her handbag and the piece of paper and walks rapidly towards the main entrance.

The man follows her.

When he’s on the street and sees she is safely in a taxi, he starts walking. He takes out his phones, dials a number.

“Al, a woman is coming to the plane. Her name is Kay C. Benoit. Fly her to Aberdeen and drop her off. Call me when she gets to the plane. Thanks.”

The man crosses the street at the end of the block. A white delivery van passes him and stops at the casino. He sees four men get out and enter the casino.

The man smiles and says, “That was close.”

Two years have passed. Kay C. is sitting at a table on a Palisades Village restaurant patio reading a paperback romance with her feet propped up on an adjacent chair.

She hears a man’s voice. “Do you mind if I join you?”

She looks up, slaps the paperback on the table with the cover face down, and sits up.

“Warren! Of course not. Please have a seat.”

Warren sits down in the chair opposite her.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” he says.

Kay C. chuckles. “Thank you and neither have you.”

“I was in the area, I thought I would take a look around,” Warren says.

Kay C. looks at him and says nothing.

Warren clears his throat. “Well, that’s not quite accurate. For the last two years, every time I’m in the area, I’ll come to the Palisades Village looking for you. I didn’t think I would ever find you. In fact I didn’t know if you were here. Every month, I would check the house sales in the Palisades for the previous month, but your name never came up.”

“That’s because I never bought a house. I’ve been house-sitting for two years. I thought why buy a house and live by yourself, when you can house-sit and have a good social life.”

“Good point.”

“You are just as elusive. The pilots of the plane told me you had instructed them to take me to Aberdeen. When I got back here, I called your office several times and left a message, but you didn’t return my calls. I thought you had no interest.”

“I never got the messages, but it doesn’t matter now that I’ve found you.”

There is silence for a couple of minutes until Kay C. asks, “What were you doing there?”

“Verifying a marriage infidelity.”

“Oh.”

“I was in the rest room when two men came in and discussed killing a woman named Casey who was at a blackjack table. I remembered your saying you were going to Las Vegas to learn to gamble. I had to make sure it wasn’t you. Do you know Allan Nguyen? He hired the killers?”

Kay C. shakes her head. “No.”

“It must have been a case of mistaken identity.”

“It must have been.”

“When I saw it was you, I put the message by your chips, hoped you wouldn’t look up, and would follow my instructions. I only had ten minutes to get you out of the casino and into a taxi.”

“I was confused by the sudden appearance of a message telling me I was in mortal danger,” Kay C. says. “You had written Kay C., so I knew it must be a friend because only my friends called me that.”

She chuckles.

“I made the snap decision to trust whoever had written the message, leave all those chips on the table, and flee the hotel.”

“It’s a good thing you did. I followed you out and saw you get into the taxi. As I was walking away from the hotel, a white van passed me and four men got out and went into the casino.”

“After that experience,” Kay C. says, “I knew it was time to quit the casino business and come back here. I didn’t need to take any more chances.”

“I would like to stay and take you to dinner,” Warren says, “but I have to leave for the airport. I have an important client presentation to make in the morning. Let’s exchange telephone numbers. Give me yours, and I’ll text you mine.”

“My number is 310 959 2754.”

A few moments later, Warren says, “I just texted you mine.”

He stands up. “I wish I could stay longer.”

“I didn’t thank you for saving my life.”

He smiles. “We’re even.”

Slowly shaking her head and looking him straight in the eye, Kay C. says, “Not . . . quite.”

A powerful emotional message instantly passes between them striking deep into each heart. The longing for each other, suppressed for six years, has finally been expressed.

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