Chapter 12 "The Little Worms Day Academy"

Back to the Chloe mission:

After much of a Laurel and Hardy skit, we arrived at the daycare. There was much discussion after I revealed that I thought I knew where the place was, and perhaps I had been there once. A few U-turns involved. Stuff like that.

This place was called The Little Worms Day Academy. No joke. I assume that a daycare "ACADEMY" prepares you for...what? Preschool?! Anyhow, I have bad childhood memories of daycare. This place gave me the heeby jeebies.

We walk in. Me- Flashy-silver-shirted-redhead-glassy-eyed-pull on the push door-stumble over a three year old kid-douche bag.

Wyatt-Straw hat wearing-hipster style-gentleman-get's the door open for me-mildly amused at my douche baggery-constantly grinning-cool guy. Damned if I know where he got the toothpick from, but it stuck out the side of his cheek as if to highlight this easy going smile.

The woman at the counter, her name tag said...Daiquirisha. I'm not kidding. She even said, "Welcome to Little Worms, I am Daiquirisha, are you picking up? Or are you en-quire-en, about our services today?"

"Uhh, um." This is me.

"Ummhmm," Her eyes flashed and looked me up and down. She looked quizzically at me and kind of puckered her lips, and yet pursed them at the same time. I was at a loss. Some time must have elapsed because Wyatt was right behind me kind of jabbing his thumb into my ribs. She said, "Well, my name is Daiquirisha, if you decide you need HELP." She kind of stormed off as if she had better things to do. I snickered. I couldn't help it. She really said: Daiquiri- a rum and fruit and ice puree. And Sha -an African root word that means holy practitioner.

Man, do I even have to tell you what Daiquirisha looks like? She's a big beautiful woman, that likes to get her nails done and knows how to apply make-up, maybe too well. She probably drives her husband and/or boyfriend crazy and probably also mothers him/them to death. She has probably had a few children, and is a good mother, and probably doesn't put up with much. Especially from white guys who smell like Vodka. I turn to Wyatt quickly. "This probably wasn't the best idea in the world, man." Wyatt scowled and shook his head and brushed me off.

He started to walk past me and then flipped around and put his hand on my shoulder and asked, "What's Chloe’s last name, buddy?"

"Simpson."

"Okay." Then Wyatt affixed me with the "It's All Good" smile and then walked towards the daycare's, no, Academy’s raised counter where the holy woman of daiquiris was pacing back and forth.

I can remember being quite confident in Wyatt's abilities to deal with the queen of daiquiri. I was having a problem keeping a straight face.

Wyatt: Ms. (said like: Mzzzzzz.) Daiquirisha? May I have a moment?

Daiquirisha: What's it look like, I got somethin else to do?

W: (Polite) Excuse me?

D: (Mock polite, confused) Excuse me, I'm sorry, I didn't know...

W: Well it's just that...

D: (Composing herself) Are you picking up, sir?

W: Chloe Simpson, please.

(She looks him up and down again, and makes somewhat of a dubious face, but speaks into the small PA microphone below her.)

D: (Deadpan) Chloe Simpson going home, Chloe Simpson GOING HOME.
(She gets close to Wyatt's face over the raised counter and raises an eyebrow and nods)

D: I suppose you're her uncle? (Sarcasm was dripping from her mouth.)

W: Nope.

(Wyatt just grins; she starts thumbing through some papers and not very subtly, speaks into the PA again.)

D: Adam to the front.

My heart went a little icy at that point. Code Adam is a well known code at any retail chain. If there is a code Adam at any retail store it means a child is missing and that all employees should cover all exits, until the child is reunited with the parent. This means that any child, even if it is with a grown-up that claims to be the child's parent must be stopped and detained for ID purposes. I've never actually had to do this at King Soopers, but if I did, I'd find it hard to explain. I'd still do it though.

The code Adam, is named after Adam Walsh. This was a kid that was taken back in the 80's at some retail store, right under his dad's nose. He was taken, and tortured, and killed, if memory serves correct. It was a big message, back then, in the 80s, not to talk to strangers. The guy who made that statement as much as he could back then, was John Walsh, Adam's father. John Walsh, now, is the America's Most Wanted host. Talk about a life changing thing...

Well, now I'm thinking I could be wrong, because most places these days have a code Amber, the same as Amber Alert System, but it means the same thing. I could only hope that it's not as grisly a story that inspired the code Amber as the one that inspired the code Adam.

Crap. I was right. She had called to raise the guard. Code Adam, means what it means. Several jittery women came into the front with their handbags and made at some busy work, but kept an eye on us. They were waiting for something to go down. I could only squint, smiley-eyed and wordless at the whole scene.

(Daiquirisha is popping her gum and staring right at Wyatt. Wyatt is returning her gaze with ease and shifting his toothpick around.)

W: Girl, where you get your nails done like that?

D: (Snapping her gum with an eye roll) Why do you care?

W: (Taken aback) Damn, I'm just asking.

D: What?

W: Pshhhh, what? What did I just ask you? Damn.

D: (Eye roll.)

W: (Smiling the whole time) I just asked you, 'Where..you..get..your..nails..done..like..DAT?!' I didn't ask for a side of attitude. YOU know what I'm saying! Damn.

D: Down the street.

W: Is it Hahn's House o' Fashion?

D: Nuh U'h?

W: Uh Hu'h. (He looked proud of himself.)

D: How'd you know that shit? Oooops. (She covers her mouth and sniggles into her hands and looks around)

W: Shhh, the children.

D: Dude, I know...How'd you know that?! (She switches to a whisper.) How'd you know DAT?!

W: My old lady's got a similar style, you know, and she swears by these two little Korean babes.

D&W: (Together) Pik and Cho!

W: They're almost like family. I have to give them a Christmas gift every year. Well, I don't even know them, but my woman does.

D: Mmmmhmmm, I do that to, but I wonder sometimes

D&W: (Together) If they even celiBRATE CHRISTMAS!! YEAH ME TOO!

(Silence)

D: I don't care, look at this job. (Wyatt grabs her fingers and inspects, and proclaims his satisfaction by nodding.)

W: They have a gift.

D: Don't they, though? (There is a long pause while Wyatt inspects every inch-long cuved nail. There is a break only as Wyatt says..)

W: What's this?!

D: It's like a Chinese Kanji symbol for truthful water.

W: It's soooo intricate.

D: I get that every time.

W: Same finger?

D: Mmmmhmmm. I’m a Pieces. It’s a water sign.

W: My woman gets a snake every time. It has little triangles on it's back.

D: Yeah I've seen that one.

(I think I'm about to puke.)

D: (Quickly) You can't pick her up.

W: Pardon?

D: (In a hush) I'd be surprised if you don't get escorted out of here by police. We know who picks up Chloe, and you're not the guy, so what are you doin here, handsome, if it's not to stir up trouble? (She laughs at the end.)

W: I'm afraid you don't understand. Dade got his face chewed off by a dog at work. He's in the hospital, my associate and I came to pick Chloe up to get her to her Auntie's house.

D: You're sayin this on the level?

W: Do I look like the type of man that would lie about something like that?

D: (Krinkling her nose) You could be the white devil himself. I had a dream that I saw the devil once, and he looked just like the KFC guy!

W: Col. Sanders?

D: Yep.

W: I hardly look like him now, do I?

D: I don’t know. You look like you may have seven secret different herbs and spices.

W: Ha! Ha! Ha.

D: Ha! Ha! Ha.

(I really will throw up.)

D: What's the family password?

W: I don't know shit about that. They should have called it in. (Wyatt sighs.) If they didn't, well, we'll just leave her here. We don't want to cause an uproar. (He glances at the ladies who are eying him. They all have their hands in their purses, no doubt clutching mace, tazers, hand grenades. ) Daiquirisha thinks for a second and walks into the back room with a...)

D: Hold on a sec, hon.

I'm all cold sweat prickles and Chinese eyes, but I manage to get a handle around myself under the glare of these harsh fluorescent lights and several middle age purse clutching accusers to walk sensibly up next to Wyatt. I'm not quite sure what the goddess of pina colada is doing, but it could be our asses if she is calling the cops from the back office.

She came back rather quickly and motioned to me. Wyatt grimaced. She pointed a long manicured fingernail at a small piece of paper.

"Is this you?" I went to the counter and squinted at a small piece of official looking paper that had my name and number on it. I squinted unnecessarily. (I have 20/10 vision, in both eyes, I have since high school.)

"Yeah, that's me."

"Well why didn't you say so?" said Daiquirisha. I'm reeling at this point. She goes, "Mmhm," as if to size me up yet again. I confide in her as best I can.

"My friend’s lookin to upgrade his girlfriend," Wyatt elbows me hard in the ribs. "He likes good lookin black ladies," I wheeze and laugh.

We had already been cleared by Dade himself, and were completely confirmed by Auntie Laura. The heavily armed day care workers sheepishly brought Chloe out to see us and stepped her down from the raised countertop to meet two of the most retarded and wrong men she will ever meet until she reaches drinking age.

She recognized me for some reason. Chloe ran at me with her arms up in the air and yelled, “Orange man! Orange man!” I was a little surprised as Chloe had seen me only a handful of times in her scant existence on this planet, and yet she called me, Orange Man?”

I was surprised and embraced her and picked her up as she ran to me. Her little arms wrapped around my neck, and I felt a strange elation. It was unconditional love and trust, happiness and faith. It killed me emotionally. I was “Orange Man”. Chloe clung to me and yelled into my face, “IS DADDY O.K.!?” I crunched her head back into my neck for a second and glowered over at Daquirisha. She shrugged at me, and winked at Wyatt who was eyeballing me with his mouth open.

I thought quickly, and let Chloe look at me again. I said, “Daddy looks like a mummy!”

“Daddy looks like Mommy?!”

“No. He looks like a mummy!” She frowned at me while I said this and shook her little head. I felt as if I had just been a bad actor and was panned by the most influential critic playing a bit part that I was never meant to play. It broke my heart. I was holding this little thing in my arms and felt I like the child.

Chloe wailed, “Nooooooooo!” The ladies in the room clenched at their purses again.

I sputtered, “No! It’s okay!” She calmed, and creased her eyebrows at me. I said, “I’m going to tell you the story of the baddest doggy ever. Your daddy stopped him. He was a baaaaad doggy.” She nodded. “The worst doggy ever.” She looked at me again with suspicion.

Wyatt had hooked his foot against my foot and had shoved a finger into my waist, in an awesome and subtle attempt to get us the fuck out of the Little Worms Day Academy, but I must have felt like a piece of stone. I couldn’t move until little Chloe was OK to do so. I couldn’t believe it. “Daddy can’t wait to see you, but the doggy bit him.” Her eyes got so wide.

“Bit?”

“Yep, but he’s OK, and he’s waiting to see you, but the doctor wanted to make sure that the doggy didn’t hurt him.”

“Why?” She started to break down and cry a little.

“No. No. Shhhhhh. Your daddy beat the doggy. Daddy is okay, but you know how doctors are,” and I nodded my head.

She thought for a second and nodded her head too and said, “Are we going?”

I said, “Uh huh,” and put a hand on Wyatt’s shoulder, waved to Daiquirisha and I led our way out of the daycare. Chloe clung to me for reasons that I can’t explain, but I felt like I was one of the few people that could feel this way about her. Perhaps Dade had known that. He had discerned that once I was touched by his baby girl who had this unknown affinity for me, she had even had a nickname for me, that I would actually die before letting her meet any harm. It was a warm, orange feeling that took me over like a manly tsunami. This steady steam of protectiveness bolstered me as we talked while I carried her to Wyatt’s car.

She pointed to Wyatt, “Is he a cowboy?”

“Yes. He’s definitely a cowboy.”

She was asking me, “Why are you so orange?”

I said, “I’m not all orange!” I put her in the backseat behind Wyatt and continued, “Why are you pink?” I strapped her in the backseat and was indicating a shock of Chloe’s hair which had a little pink stripe in the bangs of her kid-like, ultra-blonde hair.

Wyatt had already sat in the driver’s seat and wordlessly passed me a small bag of Cheetos over his shoulder. I smirked and Chloe’s eyes lit up.

I opened the bag carefully and passed them to her. She grabbed them and settled back into the Volvo’s back seat. She said, “ Mommy gave me pink hair.”

“It’s very pretty.”

“No it’s not.” She said, looking very serious with her Cheetos in a big girl seat. I smiled at her.

“I think it’s just lovely.” I made sure that she was secure in her seat and she still regarded me with some suspicion.

She said, “Hm.” And crunched on some Cheetos.

I walked around the Volvo, and settled in next to Wyatt. Behind us, a din of crunching fried corn matter and orange cheese dust.

I let out a secretive giggle, and turned to Wyatt and was like, “Nice call on the Cheetos.”

He snorted and pulled out a cigarette and hissed, “Where to now, fuckbag?” I sombered a bit.

“Let me use your cell for a sec,” I said. Wyatt curled his lip and sighed with disgust and pulled it from the center console and handed it over. I pulled my pager out of my pocket and surfed for an important number. Wyatt started to pull the car from the parking lot and I was trying to find the callback number that would help me out. There was one and only one.Wyatt keyed his old-school CD player and the song "Runnin Down a Dream" wrang out.

We headed north, into Denver.

At some point after trying two other numbers, Johnny answered.

“WEEEEEEOOOOOOOH! What’s up lettucehead!?”

“This is Red!”

“OOOOOOHHHH! What do ya know, fuck-o! Where’s Wyatt?”

“Are you drunk?”

“FFFFFFuck you…”

“So you are….You at home, J-Boy?

“Sure am, are you guys comin by?”

“Uh…maybe. Can you help us? I’m looking for a phone number…”