“Phillipsport, Maine,” Rick said, trying to inject a little humor into his voice.
“Exactly! The gateway to nowhere.” Ripper had resumed his horsy-grin and leaned forward over the counter “Anyway, since I knew the comic industry, I decided to open up this place. Been in business for ten years now.”
Rick nodded. “And you do all right?”
Ripper rubbed the back of his neck with his bony hand. “I do pretty good. I live.”
“Ever thought about getting back into illustrating and creating again?”
Ripper shook his head. “I’m pretty much through with that.”
“People love your work. If you came out with a new series now it would sell like crazy.”
Ripper sighed and shook his head. “Kids don’t want underground stuff these days. They want big superheroes in spandex with huge fucking guns blowing people apart. They want guys ripping people’s heads off and girls with big poofy hair and big silicone tits. They want the collectible stuff with 3-D wrap-around hologram covers and trading cards…not black and white, black humor.”
“What about the small press?” Rick was going to get Ripper back into the business again if he had to stand here all day.
Ripper laughed. “Not enough money and too much stress. I understand your enthusiasm for wanting me to get back into the field, but I really do like where I’m at now. I guess one of the reasons why I like this town is because nothing happens.” He nodded toward outside where it had briefly stopped raining. The sky was dark and ugly. It may have stopped raining momentarily, but it would start again soon. The black clouds were promising it. “Unless you count the occasional storm.”
Rick sighed, his curiosity satiated. Somehow it felt right that Jack Ripley had really gone underground.
Ripper rummaged beneath the counter. “While I got you here, I was wondering if you could do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
Ripper found what he wanted beneath the counter and brought it up. He bony face was broken by a huge grin. He held a tattered paperback of Shadowbeast out in front of him in one hand, with a blue ball-point pen in the other. “Think you could autograph my copy for me?”
Rick felt giddy and proud. His face flushed. “Of course.” He took the paperback and the pen and flipped to the title page. “Will you sign all my copies of Drugg Buddies for me someday?”
“You got it!” Ripper grinned.
“Great!” Rick bent over the title page of Shadowbeast and scrawled a hasty message on the page, his mind in overdrive. He was going to have to make a drive to his place in Philly some weekend and truck his copies over for inscription. A trip that would be well worth it.
Rick finished the inscription, signed his name at the bottom and handed the book back to Ripper. Jack opened it and read it aloud. “To the man who made me into the warped guy I am today, your number one fan, Rick Sychek.” Ripper smiled, closed the book and bowed courteously. “I take that christening in honor, Rick.”
The lights in the store flickered briefly. Both men looked up at the florescent fixtures as they pulsated. The rain and wind picked up slightly, shaking banners outside, the force of the gusts reverberating in the store with loud clarity. The lights flickered like fireflies and then clicked back on. They remained that way as Rick and Ripper looked up at the ceiling waiting for the storm to knock them out.
Rick shook his head. “Guess we’re in for a big storm.”
Ripper nodded. “It ain’t raining now, but like they always say; ‘when it rains, it pours.’”
Chapter Nine
Rick exited Ripp It Up Comics clutching a bundle of comic books wrapped in a bright yellow plastic bag. An ad for the new Robin mini-series was etched in the side. He looked up at the sky in puzzled amazement. Two minutes ago it had been pouring like a flood and now the rain had stopped. The pavement was wet and exuded the aroma of wetness. A nice, clean smell. Rick stuffed the comics into his leather jacket and zipped up tight. Just in case.
He’d bought a trade paperback consisting of reprints of the first six issues of DC’s Sandman series, the first four issues of Hellblazer, and this month’s issues of Nightbreed, Judge Dredd, Doom Patrol and Beautiful Stories for Ugly Children.
He wanted to rush home and dive into the four-color worlds of wonder. Discovering Ripper’s store and buying the comics had changed his mind about his plans for the day. He could explore the rest of Phillipsport tomorrow. He had all winter.
He wandered out along the pier, debating on whether or not to walk along the beach or explore the pier itself. There were a number of stores that looked worth investigating. The pier was dotted with a handful of people; locals window shopping, a few old men standing at the end of the dock leaning against the railing with fishing poles gripped in weathered hands. A woman was leaning against the railing at the far end, looking out over the beach. Not much action. Still, the view from the end of the pier was probably breathtaking. He might even be able to see his house from there.
He strode down the pier as the wind picked up and ruffled his hair. He would go to the end, sneak a quick peek, and head home. He wanted to get back, get a fire going in the hearth, and spend the rest of the day embroiled in fantasy-land. He deserved the time off from writing.
The fishermen were hogging up the south side of the pier. The woman was the only person on the north side, which was where he would be able to get a better glimpse of his house. He approached the weathered railing and leaned against it, marveling at the coastline. Gorgeous. Highway 1 wound like a snake up the coast and disappeared behind a grove of trees. Perched on a jutting cliff overlooking the ocean was his winter retreat. From here it looked way cool.
Rick grinned. He would have to come up here again and get a photograph of the home from this vantage point. It would make a great postcard.
He leaned against the pier for a moment, reflecting on his thoughts. The wind tousled his hair across his shoulders and he shivered. He glanced toward his right and noticed the woman who was occupying the north side of the pier with him. She was gorgeous.
The woman caught his glance and smiled. Rick
looked away and kept his gaze toward his house. He could feel her eyes lighting on him, inspecting him. He stole a quick glance out of the corner of his eye. Looking at her made him even more aroused.
Her skin was a rich, golden tan. Brown, shoulder length, curly hair framed a pretty face, punctuated by full lips, large hazel eyes and a nice, smooth face. She was wearing a large cashmere sweater and blue jeans. She had a voluptuous figure. Her breasts were large and full and he could make out their contours quite nicely beneath the sweater. A mouthful. All of this was packaged in a nice, five-foot-five frame.
The woman caught Rick checking her out. He caught a glimmer of a smile on her lips and he turned back. Yes, she was smiling and her eyes sparkled with interest. Rick felt himself blush and chastised himself. The vibes coming off her were strong. It was as if she had a huge Day-Glo sign over her head that read VERY INTERESTED. It would probably be good to take advantage of it.
Only she beat him to it. “Nice weather we’re having, isn’t it?”
“You bet.” Rick glanced toward the house again, feeling like an idiot. It was as if he’d suddenly forgotten how to behave around women.
“You wouldn’t happen to be that writer guy, would you?”
Rick turned toward her, surprised by her question. She scooted closer, leaning against the railing facing him. The wind whipped her hair over her face and she brushed it away. Rick felt his heart pound as she smiled at him.
“Yeah, I am.” God, Rick, you could do better than that.
“I thought so.” Her eyes sparkled with deeper intentions. “I heard about your accident.” She shook her head.
“That’s too bad.”
That broke the ice. Rick chuckled. “Yeah, it is.” His self confidence came back.
The woman held out her hand, her smile beaming. “I’m Janice Harrelson.”
“Ric
k Sychek.” Her hand felt soft and firm in his. They maintained skin contact longer than most people who are meeting for the first time. Their eyes locked briefly. This time Janice averted her gaze first. She looked away shyly, then looked up again with a smile. “I hear you write horror novels,” she said, her voice soft.
“Yeah. I’m working on a new book right now.” Rick didn’t feel like plunging into the whole story of why he was up here. That could be better left for explaining later. Like over dinner. Janice was his type of woman: she had meat on her bones, but she wasn’t fat. Rick never saw the appeal of the waif-like models that had been the rage of a year or so back. Rick loved full-figured women, and Janice definitely fit that bill. She was full-figured in all the right places.
“That sounds really interesting.” She looked sincere. He could read it in her features which glowed. Her eyes sparkled. “You’ll have to tell me more.”
“Absolutely!”
“Where ’bouts you staying?” The sparks of interest and attraction were still spreading.
He motioned out across the ocean toward his house on the jutting cliff. She followed his gaze. “Right out there. The house that’s tucked behind those trees on the cliff.”
Janice’s features dawned in awe. “Wow! Great.”
Rick beamed. “Yeah. To tell you the truth, I haven’t really checked it out that much.”
Janice turned to him, her features brimming with eager adventure. “Well now’s the time to do it before it starts pouring. I would have checked it out the minute I moved in. It’s gorgeous.”
Rick’s heart thumped in his chest, stirring his attraction to her. “Thanks.” He was beaming like a proud papa.
“You’ll just have to have me over for dinner some night,” she said, matter-of-factly. Her smile was seductive, holding vast promises. “You can tell me about the book.”
“Name a time and a date.”
“Eight o’clock, October twenty-second.” She grinned.
“That’s tonight.”
“Nothing wrong with that, is there?” Her voice and features were teasing. Tantalizing him.
“Not at all. Tonight it is.”
She leaned forward questionably. “You’re sure you’re not married or anything?”
Rick shook his head. “No.”
“Kids?”
“None of those, either.” Rick chuckled. “What is this, the third degree?”
Janice smiled. It was all harmless flirting, he knew that, but he couldn’t help detecting an underlying note of seriousness beneath the tone. She confirmed his suspicions with her next question. “You don’t hate kids, do you?”
“No, I love ’em,” he said, dancing around the subject lightly. He hoped she wasn’t one of those women that wanted to get married and have kids the minute you slept with her. “They’re okay.”
“Wonderful.” Her eyes lit on his again and she smiled. The dancing connections they were making through their flirting realigned themselves and hit each other dead on. Straight connection. God, but she was gorgeous.
“Mom!”
He turned toward the voice, noticing the change on Janice’s features. Her smile changed from flirting lust to joyful pride. He followed her gaze as the boy’s voice echoed toward them again. “Mom!”
“Hi, Bobby,” Janice called out, waving him over. Rick straightened up and saw a boy of about seven running up the pier toward them. His brown hair blew in the wind as he ran up to them. Janice swept him up in a hug, her features beaming with pride. Her eyes still held that same sparkle of interest toward Rick. “This is my son, Bobby.”
Rick smiled and held out his hand to the freckle-face boy. “Hi Bobby, I’m Rick.”
“Pleased to meet ya.” Bobby shook Rick’s hand limply, then turned to his mother. “Can I run up the beach and see if I can find some more shells?”
“Just for a minute,” Janice said. “I want to get home soon.”
“Okay, great!” He started to break away to run down the pier again before he was snagged by Janice. She grabbed on to the back of his jacket before he could make a getaway.
“One minute,” Janice asserted. Firm.
Bobby looked back at Janice and huffed a breath of annoyance. His freckled face bore the slightest hint of rebellion. “One minute,” he echoed and grinned. One of his teeth was missing.
Janice released her grip from his jacket and Bobby took a step back. His gaze went from Janice to Rick, then dropped down to the hand that held the bright yellow bag from Ripp It Up Comics. His eyes grew wide. “Cool. You like comics, too? Wadya get?”
Rick shrugged. “Nothing much. The latest Nightbreed and Ugly Stories For Beautiful Children, a Sandman book.”
Bobby nodded. He reminded Rick a little bit of Opie from the Andy Griffith Show. “Yeah, Ripper is the only cool person in this town. I hang out there all the time.”
“Not all the time, buster,” Janice said, mocking tone. “You’re grounded from comic books for the next two weeks, remember?”
The idea of previous sentencing for whatever childhood crime had been wreaked in the kid’s name seemed to go unheeded. He nodded nonchalantly, as if he knew the appeals would come within the next few days. “I know,” he said. “Do you like the X-Men?” His attention was riveted back to Rick.
“A little,” Rick said, grinning. Ad-libbing. He hated the X-Men.
Bobby began spilling inane comic book questions at Rick, totally oblivious to his mother. “I’ve got number fifty-four, the one that’s worth, like, fifty bucks now. I’ve also got the new Mutant comic and—”
“Tell you what,” Janice interrupted, patting her son’s wind-blown brown hair. “Why don’t we go get some cotton candy and get to know each other a little better.” She traded a sidelong glance with Rick, her hazel eyes holding greater promises in store.
Bobby saw right through the charade. “Aw, Mom, can’t I go play on the beach some more? I don’t want to be around you guys if you’re gonna be making sucky faces at each other.”
Rick sputtered laughter, Janice joining him. Bobby looked at them with bored disinterest, waiting for a chance for his reprieve. Rick didn’t feel embarrassed at all by Bobby’s sudden burst of honesty; it was pretty god-damned funny. Janice ruffled Bobby’s mop of hair. “Go on, but be careful.”
Bobby’s face erupted into smiles and he set off to run. Rick looked over at Janice and smiled. Bobby started off, but then doubled back and leaned toward Rick. “Hey Rick, if you’re gonna be my Mom’s new boyfriend, ya gotta know something.”
“Robert Alton Harrelson!” Janice’s tone changed to authoritative steel. Rick read the glimmer in her features; she knew Bobby was joking and he sensed that they teased each other often.
“What?” Bobby looked at his mother with irritation.
“What does he need to know?” Janice put her hands on her hips. Waiting.
Bobby leaned in close to Rick. “She can’t cook!”
Janice leaped toward Bobby, arms out to grab him. He gave out a maniacal cackle and slithered like an eel out of her grasp and ran down the pier. Janice stepped after him and stopped, watching as the little urchin hit the sand and head for the water, laughing all the way. “You wait, Bobby! When you least expect it!”
Janice turned back to Rick, chuckling to herself. “Can you believe that little shit?”
Rick shrugged. “It looks like you two have a pretty good relationship.”
Janice nodded. “We do. Sometimes too good. I know where he gets that wicked sense of humor from, too. He’s definitely my kid.” Rick nodded. Intuition told him that Bobby’s father probably skipped out of the picture a long time ago.
“Well, Rick, how about that cotton candy?” That flirtatious tone crept back into her voice.
“You got it.”
They set off walking down the pier toward Rox’s hamburgers, a greasepit burger stand that served everything that was bad for you. Janice got a pink swirl of cotton candy. Rick settled for a coke. They found a deserted t
able, wiped the settled rain off with some napkins and sat down. Small talk commenced shortly after their behinds met plastic.
Rick answered not-too-personal questions about himself. He told her everything that had happened to him up till now; his brief past in Philly, his decision to move to a new location, the drive to Phillipsport, his accident, his encounter with Rusty and the Sheriff, the exploration of his house. At the mention of Melissa, Janice nodded, no hint of jealousy in her face. “Melissa’s a sweetie. Believe it or not, I used to babysit her.”
Gee, she sure doesn’t look that old. Rick originally pegged her to be around twenty-five, give or take a few years. Missy couldn’t be more than twenty-one and if you count Bobby in as being around seven, Rick could definitely see that Janice was most likely around his own age. “When she dropped me off yesterday, Melissa mentioned that you and Jack Ripley are kindred spirits.”
“She’s a sweet girl,” Janice said. “I don’t see her that much now. Sometimes I’ll stop by Shelby’s for a bite and we chat, but it’s been awhile.”
“She drove me home from Shelby’s the other night,” Rick mentioned. He cut Melissa out of the loop from that point on. He liked Melissa, but it wouldn’t be right to talk about another woman with Janice, even if that other woman was merely regarded as a friend.
He filled the rest of the anecdote with what had happened till he ran into her at the pier. He was surprised that Ripper, one of the most seminal influences on his writing, lived in Phillipsport. Janice nodded, smiling at him. “Jack Ripley plays a good babysitter, too. If you know what I mean.”
Rick nodded, catching the glimmer in her eye. What better way to keep Bobby occupied some evening than leaving him with Ripper to peruse comic books while he and Janice got to know each other better?
The one minute Janice had imposed on Bobby quickly stretched to thirty. After a while she rose and walked over to the edge of the pier to check on him. Rick heard her call down to him faintly for a moment. When she came back she looked more at ease. “I told him we’d come get him in a few minutes. He won’t scamper off if he knows I’m up here.”
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