Riker's Calling - Episode 17

Riker Wednesdays

A gust of wind must have blown over Cindy when she was born, for she was a bright apple that indeed fell quite the distance from Daddy Riker’s twisted tree.

Despite having been raised by him, if you could even call it that, she had a natural ambition she couldn’t explain. A determination that helped her block out most of the awful things she grew up hearing. Things like how her mother had left when she was only five months old because she couldn’t stand her. Or how she was nothing to him but a welfare check. Sometimes the harsh words really brought her down, but it was movies and television that helped instill into her, hope. It was like no matter what went on around her- the drugs, the whores, the crime- that box she would watch for hours every day was like a surrogate parent.

Now a drive-thru cashier and a community college film student, Cindy had had no idea that she had a half-brother out there.

That is until recently, when she started seeing footage of Riker on the news, but the question to her father was quickly dismissed.

“Look dad, that’s the guy I was telling you about! The P.I. with our last name. Don’t we look like we could be related?”

“Hell, I don’t know,” Daddy Riker had boastfully said between coughs and sucking on his bong. “I’ve fucked so many women, I can’t even remember their faces!”

Ah, what a soap opera Heslehurst had been entertained by. It reminded him of that Jim Carrey movie, The Truman Show.

Cindy had a habit of eating lunch under one of Citrus College’s far-off trees, the only peace and quiet in her busy day. It was far enough to where any passing students or faculty, including those who were like her and enjoyed lunch on the grass, would only be able to recall someone in a groundkeeper’s uniform, if anything at all, when later questioned by authorities. Wearing his sunglasses and cap, with a fertilizer pack strapped to his back, Heslehurst approached Cindy’s tree from behind her, spraying spots here and there as he made his way around.

“Oh sorry, I didn’t see you sitting there,” he said when he got to her side.

“That’s ok, I don’t think you got me.” She looked down at the sandwich in her hand.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “this stuff’s all natural. Couldn’t hurt a bug. Speaking of which…”

He reached down by her shoulder and flicked one off the tree bark. “Wonder where he came from.”

Using the opportunity to take a knee, he did so while flicking open his Spyderco, using the fertilizer gun in his other hand to poke around. “Sometimes I feel like a Ghostbuster with this thing on!”

As soon as she laughed he swiped, not waiting to see her moment of shock before pulling her forward and skewing her through the spine, and just as he had practiced, it went off without a hitch, the extra weight of the fertilizer pack not being an issue.

With gloved hands he guided her back up by the shoulders to her original position, taking a minute to spray the grass around them, especially where he had stepped, with his special concoction, to erase the area of disturbance.

“Sorry, Cindy, but sometimes, no matter how hard we try, we can’t get away from those we come from. Who knows how any of our lives would have turned out if Daddy Riker hadn’t been a bong sucker. Maybe you and P.I. Riker would have grown up knowing each other. You can die knowing he’s a good man.”

Heslehurst took one more scan of the area before being on his way.

“I understand how fond you can be of this little patch of peace. It’s nice. I’ll see if I can’t get em’ to make a memorial out of it for you.”

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So far Heslehurst was making great time, following behind Mother Riker’s 1:35 bus on route to her two o’clock shift start at Walmart.