Peaches

chillibreeze writer — Radhika Pradhan

I could see her clearly from my car – she stood in the phone booth at the intersection. There was just something fishy about the way she entered the booth that made me watch her. I was waiting around anyway.

When she put her hand into the large bag, I thought there would be a gun in it when it emerged. It was just the way she did it. She took out a peach – wait a minute, a peach? All that secrecy and stealth for a peach? Must be crazy. Pretty, sexy, but crazy.

I turned to watch the school kids at the bus stop as she bit into her peach. Bet that kid’s pants are going to fall as he climbs into the bus. Why do they wear them so low anyway?

Yes, I tried, but of course, I couldn’t look away. She was nuts all right. She did not chew long enough to enjoy the taste. She just took another bite, wiping the corner of her mouth with the end of her sleeve. She took another bite, and another, and another, and another. Until all that remained in her hand was the pit.

Of course, I couldn’t see the pit from my vantage point in the car, but it had to be the pit. She looked at it for a moment. What? She couldn’t believe there was a pit in there? Then she slipped it into the handbag. When she withdrew her hand, it held another peach. She proceeded to finish it off the same way as she did the first one.

Then came another one, and another. And another. Every time, the pit went into the bag after a minute examination. Yeah, you bet I was intrigued.

Not two hours ago, I had walked onto the 6am Oakland-Burbank flight, looking for my seat. There was the standard mixture of weird people that always seem to accompany me on all my flights – fat guys, thin guys, spaced out old women and howling infants. There was Fatso and Thin Guy, already asleep. I was pleased to see a pretty chick sitting in the aisle seat. Now I’m not the kind of guy who would pass up an opportunity to have a pleasant conversation with a good-looking woman, and this was a looker. Planes are my favorite places – the ladies have nowhere to run. And to top it all, this one was eager to talk. Interesting.
“Hi, am I in your seat?”
She knew she wasn’t.
“Nope. I’m in the window seat. Always ask for it.”
“Lucky you”. Juicy smile. Pink lips, good teeth, good skin. Not much make-up.
“Do you want to sit here? I don’t mind. It’ll save you the trouble. I’m always getting up anyway.”
“Really? You won’t mind?”
“Nope, be my guest,” why do you think I reserve a window seat?

By the time the plane took off, I knew that she was on her way to Oakland to meet her grandmother who had broken some bone – hip, I think. I knew that she was divorced – twice. Had a daughter who preferred to live with her rich father. Worked as a fact-checker for a publishing house that spewed out five-six magazines a month. She loved Chinese food, was a Gemini, hated traveling alone. And I guessed she loved to talk.
“What about you, what do you do?”
“Oh, I commute,” I said, putting on my I-hate-to-commute face.
“I live near Pleasanton and work in Oakland – law office.”
“Are you a lawyer?” her eyes sparkled. They all sparkle for lawyers. Women!
“Nope. Just a lowly investigations assistant.”
“What’s that? Like a detective?” she was sitting up now.
“I wish,” big sigh here for effect, “Nope. I just go through piles and piles of papers and other stuff from our clients and try to find something useful for the case. We usually handle bankruptcies.”
“Hmm,” she didn’t look impressed. Can you blame her?
“So you see, we’re both about information.”
Light was back into her eyes.
“So we are. Cool.”
And so it went. Back and forth. She was as eager to answer my questions as I was to keep talking to her. And we had so much in common. We both dated editors and hated the experience. We both dreamt of bigger, better lives.
“I wish you were a detective. I’ve never met a real detective,” she told me.
“I wish I was a detective,” I replied, “just so you’d get a chance to meet one.”
“You’re a charmer,” she giggled.

God, she was beautiful Not beautiful, beautiful. But beautifully pretty. How do I say it? She had big brown eyes and soft skin (I brushed up against her arm a couple of times, accidentally, of course). She wore jeans and a green Los Angeles zoo t-shirt. She has bright pink nails (and bright red toenails). And she smelled great.

We were going to land in a few minutes. I had to ask her out.
“So how long are you in Burbank?” Lame start.
“I don’t know. Depends on my grandmother. I’ll fly back as soon as she gets better.”
“How about if we meet up for drinks some evening then? Can I call you?” That’s right; ask her straight out. Most of them find it difficult to say a flat out NO.
“No.”

Apparently, she didn’t have any problem. There was nothing else left to say. This woman had led me on, pretended to like me, talked away the entire distance from Oakland to Burbank and now this. Wow. Talk about mean.

So it was all very awkward when we landed. Suddenly she didn’t want to talk anymore. At first I thought she was embarrassed, then I realized it was something else. There was a gleam in her eyes. She looked scared for a moment. What of? Me? Did she think I was going to stalk her?

She gave me a half smile, wiggled her fingers in a tiny wave and walked off. Fatso from the seat in front got in between us. Thin Guy too. Soon I’d lost sight of her.

I didn’t really have any bags, but walked past the baggage claim, just to check. She wasn’t there. I guess she didn’t have any baggage to claim. She was probably on her way to grandma’s place. Just my luck, strike gold and then get rejected. And now I’d lost sight of my targets too.

So I made the call. Turned out Fatso and Thin Guy were nowhere to be seen at the airport. My instructions were to go sit in my car and wait for them to emerge from whatever hole they’d ducked into. There wasn’t anywhere much they could go to around here. Not so quick.

I was sitting in my car, minding my own business when she came out of nowhere and went to the phone booth. Probably to call grandma, I remember thinking. And then the whole thing with the peaches.

That’s what got me thinking. Here I was, waiting in my car for two of the most wanted drug traffickers in the country to turn up. I knew that Fatso and Thin Guy had decided to cash out and skip the border. I knew that they had converted everything to diamonds. I knew that they had lots of money – which meant lots of diamonds. Here I was staking out these two guys who had carried diamonds into town and now this woman stood before me in a phone booth slurping up peaches and popping the pits into her bag.

What did they take me for? I may not have had so many promotions, but I was one of the smartest cops they had on the LAPD. It wasn’t a fluke that I was the one sent to be on that plane. Come to think of it, it was probably no fluke that she was in the seat next to me either. Best place to hide a bone is right under the dog.

She was just finishing up, wiping her mouth delicately with a tissue that also went back into the bag. Out she came and I opened the car door just as she passed it.
“Hello again,” I grinned, “fancy meeting you again. I thought you’d be with grandma by now.”
“Wha-?” she was taken aback, all right. Never saw me sitting there in the car.
“Get in.”
“Oh, hi! I was wondering where you’d gone to,” she was a quick one. “How come you’re still around yourself?”
“Been waiting you out.”

I got out and had her by the elbow before she could wink. I can be pretty quick when I want to.
“Hey!” she jerked her arm, but I wasn’t going to loosen the grip. People were looking now. Curious cats.
“So,” I said, nodding towards the phone booth, “been calling grandma?”
“Y-es,” she blinked those big brown eyes and tried once again to get her arm out of my grasp, “just wanted to let her know I was on my way over. She’s expecting me so I’d better hurry.”

Yeah, like there was a grandma. Fatso and Thin Guy were probably around the corner somewhere. How they’d gotten the diamonds into the peaches I’ll never know. But then, those peaches do have a kind of cleft. Maybe they cut up half of the fruit and removed the pit and put the diamond instead. This woman sure took me for a nut.
“What’s up with those peaches then?” I could look pretty innocent myself.
“Peaches?” Big, brown eyes with golden flecks.
“Yes, peaches. I saw you gobble up some peaches like there was no tomorrow. What’s up with that?”
“You know,” she waved her little hand in the sir, “peaches are good for the skin.”
That’s it. That’s the explanation she had?
“Well, get in then,” I opened the car door and let go of her arm. People were getting real curious and I didn’t want a scene. “I’ll give you a lift to grandma’s place.”
Oh, that’s so nice of you. Here, let me just...” she took out a plastic bag from her handbag. It had the peach pits. Carefully she began to walk away. I was with her in a flash.
“Where are you going?”
“Just to throw these away,” she continued walking towards a trash bin. She really took me to be nuts.
“Oh, no. I’m keeping those,” I took the bag from her hands, “get to the car.”
She looked at me like I was really nuts.
“I don’t think I need a lift, thanks.”
Now I’d had enough of this playacting. I shoved her towards the car. “Just do as I say.”
“Hey, hey!” she turned on me, “what’s going on?”
“Get in.”
“No way,” she was backed up against the car anyway, but her eyes sure flashed.
“I thought you were a nice guy, so charming and polite. But I guess I was wrong. I’m not getting into any car with you.”
“Look,” I grabbed her shoulders, God she smelled wonderful. “It’s over. The game’s up. I know you’re with Fatso and Thin Guy. I know all about the diamonds, and the peaches.”

She just stared.

“Are you crazy? You are crazy! Look, I really did like you on the plane. I was going to give you my number and all. But then, see, I had this idea and I had to go. Please don’t hurt me.”

She looked like she was going to start screaming at any moment. And the crowd had multiplied and a couple of guys looked like they wanted to be heroes. So I help up my badge. Her eyes grew round and wide.

“You’re a cop? You are a detective. Oh wow, a detective.”
And she almost jumped into the car. I got in beside her and my car already smelled great. Then I remembered Fatso and Thin Guy.
“Where are your partners?”
“Partners?”

My radio crackled. It was Tim, over on the south side of the airport. Fatso and Thin Guy had just got onto a flight – to Mexico. What was I doing? I told him I had the accomplice and the diamonds. Then things happened fast.

Tim came over. I already had her handcuffed. Those brown eyes were swimming in tears and I was feeling real bad. But what the hey, that’s the way it is.

We took custody of her handbag. I explained things to Tim and he sure looked impressed. He opened the bag, took out a peach pit. Turned it about in his hand. Looked like he’d never seen a peach pit before. We looked inside the bag, there were eight peach pits in there. We even broke a couple. Peach pits.

She was on her way to Grandma’s to look after her. Grandma had always said she was her most un-favorite grandkid. She was twice divorced and Grandma did not approve of the way she lived. Grandma has written her out of her will because she “really didn’t care for careless little girls”. And she knew why Grandma was angry – when she was 15, she’d left a peach pit lying on the floor and Grandma had slipped on it in front of a crowd of her friends. She never forgave her for the embarrassment.

Now, when it came to looking after an old woman who could not walk or do anything on her own, who came to the rescue? Who left everything – her job, her life, her dates – and rushed to help out Grandma?

She had spent the entire flight trying to figure out how to drive the point home to Grandma that her “careless little” granddaughter was the one helping her out now. And then, just as the plane was landing, it came to her. Peaches. People took fruit to the invalid, she would take peach pits. Grandma would figure for herself. God knows she was smart enough.

Tim gave me a big talking to. There were calls made, radio messages relayed. Fatso and Thin Guy got clean away. Appears they had a car waiting at Burbank airport that took them to LAX while we were still searching baggage claim. The peach pits were returned – and ended up in the trash after all. And that’s the way it happened.

Yeah, I know I didn’t tell you her name. I can’t tell you everything. Some information is classified, especially my wife’s name. We celebrated our first anniversary last month and now we’re going to have a baby in spring. We’re back in Grandma’s good books (and will). After all, I’m an LAPD detective with a good income and all that.

And for our anniversary, someone sent us a basket of peaches – rosy, juicy, huge peaches. Now I wonder...

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Radhika in the snow Radhika
in the snow!

—About our writer:

Radhika says:
"Being a Gemini, I have always led a dual life...a BA in English Literature, Post-grad in Mass Comm, training in TV, jobs for software companies and magazines...it's a long trail of both the roads taken. The one constant in my life is writing. I write everything - poems, limericks and rhymes; essays, stories, articles, features, reports, children's stories, technical manuals...as long as words are involved, I am happy."

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