John Kearney - Lipstick And Blood

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Table of Contents

Spring air slicing through her spiked hair, Devon Guzman strode into the June night toward her new silver Pontiac Sunfire. Michelle Hetzel, her blond hair bouncing, raced to her own car, a new red Honda Accord. The tension of an unresolved argument lingered in the wake of their departure.

The argument involved Keary, of course.

It always came back to the three of them: Devon Guzman, Michelle Hetzel, Keary Renner. The trios history had begun three years ago. In the year or so since leaving high school, Michelle and Keary had both gotten married, but that hadnt changed much. Everything still came back to the three of them.

Devon wore a gray T-shirt and black Adidas pants, with a beeper clipped under her belly button. A black-and-gray friendship anklet with the words Puerto Rico woven into it flopped on her right ankle, perhaps a reminder of the blissful days in the Caribbean shed shared with Michelle just a short couple weeks ago. She flicked out her ignition key and yanked open the car door. If she looked at the dashboard clock, it would have told her the time was about 10:00 P.M. The date was June 14, 2000.

Michelle, looking tall in her size-five jeans and red Esprit shirt, jerked open the door of her Accord and lunged in.

Devon started her car, clutched it into gear and pulled away. On her rear bumper could be seen a rainbow decal. Most young people like her didnt have her nerve to display it openly like that. Maybe downriver in an out-front arts community like New Hope they did, but not here, not in Easton, Pennsylvania. But Devon was who she was, and she didnt care who knew. Michelles car had a sticker to match, but a smaller one. Once upon a time, the rainbow might have been a symbol of the sisterhood, of their solidarity. Now, perhaps, it was another reminder of happier moments, like the Puerto Rico anklet or the envelope of photos sitting in her glove compartment, photos from the spontaneous Memorial Day escape to the islands, where Devon and Michelle had exchanged secret rings and vows.

From his small house, Rick Guzman observed the abrupt departure of his nineteen-year-old daughter and her friend. He felt for them. When theyd called from the islands over Memorial Day weekend to tell him theyd gotten married, they both sounded so happy. Theyd asked if they could come live with him when they got back. Of course he said yes. He wanted Devon to be happy. Maybe other fathers would have had trouble accepting her, her relationship choices, her alternative lifestyle. But shed been very open about things from pretty early on, and by now he hardly gave it a second thought. He did his best to love her without judgment and to respect her choices.

Although, along with some of these choices, trouble sometimes came. Not too long ago, Devon had told him shed been threatened by Michelles husband. He was going to kick her ass, dyke her out, whatever that meant. And once, even Keary and Michelle had teamed up against her, furiously chasing her all the way home in Michelles Honda. Devon had come running into the house, huffing and puffing, exclaiming that they were after her. Rick Guzman resorted to throwing something at the car and punching a window to defuse the situation and drive them away.

Not that he really worried about her with Michelle. Devon could handle herself. She might be petite, but she was feisty and athletic, whereas Michelle, though taller, could barely walk on her own two feet. If Michelle ever got rough, Devon would slap her silly. And the two would be laughing about it a minute later. Thats how they were. Nonstop drama. Giggling one minute, bitching each other out the next, then back to their normal giddy selves a moment after that. In their own little world, those two. Faces always inches apart, so that no one else could get a word in edgewise. No, Michelle was nothing to worry about. If anything, it was Keary who concerned him, with her occasional rough physical handling of his daughter.

Still, as his daughters taillights zigzagged into the night, Rick could take comfort in knowing that Devon was a tough kid. A little tiger. She could hold her own against anybody.

Even after the two cars were out of sight, he could hear them chasing each other recklessly, driving like nuts through the one-way streets all the way out to Freemansburg Avenue.

He shook his head.

In his minds eye, those red taillights still blazed.

Thats what hed remember later. Seeing those taillights fade into the June night.

Thats what hed remember always.

Tires squealing, Devon and Michelle tore through the series of one-way streets, lucky not to attract the attention of police. Because, first of all, both of them had been drinking vodka shots. Rick, with his girlfriend, Holly, and his sister, Candy, had all been drinking since eight oclock or so. And second, Phillipsburg High School, located on the Jersey side of the Delaware River, where Devon was born, had just held its graduation. The evening was now teeming with cars crammed with Class of 2000 grads kicking off the summer with a night of partying.

Racing along, Devon headed home to face Keary, with whom she shared a room at the Mineral Springs Hotel, a few miles away, on the Delaware River. Kearythe friend shed enticed away from Michellewas like Michelle in that she was being torn apart by a heterosexual marriage doomed to fail.

Keary would be waiting for her right now, even though she was supposed to be at work. She would be furious when Devon confessed that shed lied earlier that night when she said she was not going to see Michelle. Yes, Keary would certainly be angry, and when Keary and Devon fought, things could take a scary turn.

Case in point was the knife incident. It had happened after Devon and Michelles Memorial Day trip. Devon had told Keary she was leaving her, and the next thing she knew, Keary had a knife and Devons hand was spilling blood. The gash turned out to be bad enough to send her to the emergency room.

As Keary described the incident, she was going to kill herself with the knife, and Devon had gotten cut trying to stop her. Who could tell whose fault things were anymore? There was so much competition and jealousy among the three, it blurred all the lines.

After chasing each other all the way out to Freemansburg Avenue, Devon sped east toward the Delaware River and Michelle peeled away in the opposite direction, toward Eastons South Side and her home on West St. Joseph Street. The trip Michelle had funded for herself and Devon, the gifts shed bought, the promises theyd made, the plans to leave Brandon and Keary and go live somewhere warm and sunny, like St. Croixall of it had happened only two weeks ago, but it might as well have been another lifetime.

Brandon Bloss was on the phone complaining to his mother-in-law about his missing wife when he heard her car pull up.

Michelles home, he told Mary Hetzel, and hung up.

Phone records would indicate that he had called his mother-in-laws house thirty-four minutes before. Her home was just two blocks away on West Nesquehoning Street. The call had been placed at 9:36 P.M.

Hed made the call after arriving home from his night job as a bartender and finding an empty house and his wife nowhere to be located. He called his in-laws, with whom he had a close, affectionate relationship, to air a common gripe. Many months later, in a court of law, Mary Hetzel would remember the conversation as follows:

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