‘I don’t want you to run away.’
‘I won’t. Okay? Let me up.’
I wanted a friend, not a captive. So I climbed off her and stepped back. She said, ‘Thanks.’ Her sweatshirt was twisted and rumpled, her belly bare. She sat up, straightened her sweatshirt, then got to her feet. Reaching back with both hands, she brushed off the seat of her jeans.
‘I’m sorry you fell,’ I said.
‘I didn’t exactly fall, now, did I?’
‘Well, I helped.’
‘You grabbed hold and took me with you.’
Reminding her that she was the one who had shoved me off the sidewalk didn’t seem like a great idea, so I answered, ‘I was afraid you’d get away.’
‘You claimed you weren’t chasing me. We were “fleeing in the same direction”?’ A comer of her mouth curled up.
‘Sorry.’
‘You didn’t want me to get away, but you weren’t chasing me. How does that work?’
‘It’s complicated.’
‘Why don’t you just let me go, okay? I didn’t steal anything. I didn’t hurt anyone. Your family’s fine.’
Not wanting to lie, I avoided the word my when I said, ‘And the house passed inspection with flying colors?’
A slight smile drifted across her face. ‘It’s splendid. Come on, let me go. Please? I can tell you’re a nice guy. You don’t want to get me in trouble, do you?’
I can tell you’re a nice guy.
Maybe she’d only said it to soften me up, but it gave me a pleasant, warm feeling.
‘I don’t want to get you in trouble,’ I said, following her to the sidewalk. ‘I’d like to help you, if ...’
‘Then just let me go.’
‘Tell me one thing and I will,’ I said. ‘What were you doing in the house?’
‘Okay. But let’s get away from here first.’
We walked side by side to the end of the block and around the comer. Then she stopped, turned to me and said, ‘It’s sort of embarrassing. I needed a bathroom. Very badly. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get to my own house in time. There aren’t any public facilities for miles, and I didn’t want to do it outside. That’d be too gross. So I decided to try a house. I went to three or four ... they had locked doors. But yours didn’t, so I let myself in.’
‘You could’ve rung the doorbell and asked permission.’
She grimaced. ‘I know. But it’s ... what, about one-thirty? Nobody wants someone ringing the doorbell at this hour. Besides, it was so embarrassing. Can you imagine going to the door of a stranger’s house and asking to use their bathroom?’
I was embarrassed to be hearing about it. Even though I knew she was lying, my mind gave me images of her entering a bathroom and pulling down her jeans. Then I remembered that Eileen had gotten herself invited into my apartment Monday night by claiming a need to use the toilet.
What is it, some sort of standard ploy?
Maybe it’s chapter twelve in The Girl’s Guide to Male Manipulation . (‘As the male animal is naturally both embarrassed and aroused - and embarrassed by his arousal - when confronted with the elimination processes of the female, the “bathroom” gambit is a surefire winner ...’)
‘Can you?’ she repeated.
‘Can I?’
‘Imagine the embarrassment?’
‘Oh. Sure. It’d be terrible.’
Nodding, she said, ‘So I just snuck in and took care of it. All I did was use the toilet. I didn’t bother anyone. I didn’t take anything. Do you want to check my pockets?’ She pulled her sweatshirt up a few inches higher than the waistband of her jeans.
I saw the skin of her belly. ‘I don’t have to check,’ I told her. ‘You believe me?’
‘I’ll take your word for it.’
‘Thanks.’ She lowered the sweatshirt. ‘Can I go now?’
‘If you want. I won’t chase you.’
‘Will you flee in the same direction?’
‘I was,’ I said. ‘The slamming door probably woke up everyone in the house.’
She looked perplexed.
‘I don’t live there.’
‘What?’
‘It’s not my house.’
‘Not your house. Then what were you doing there?’
‘Hiding,’ I said, and began to walk again. She stayed with me, walking slowly by my side.
Chapter Thirty-five
‘Hiding from what?’ she asked as we strolled together down the sidewalk.
‘A guy in a pickup truck. He’s after me.’
‘Why’s he after you?’
‘I’m not sure, but ... He saw me at Dandi Donuts a few nights ago. I was there with my girlfriend.’
‘You have a girlfriend.’
Eileen was part of the story and had to be mentioned, but I could’ve referred to her as a ‘friend’ or a ‘former girlfriend.’ Calling her anything other than a girlfriend or lover, however, would’ve been like a lie. I didn’t want to betray Eileen that way. Nor did I wish to lie to this girl.
Plus, the mention of a girlfriend was sure to make me seem less threatening.
Maybe it’s Chapter Twelve in The Guy’s Guide to Female Manipulation. (‘As the female animal naturally suspects that all males are predators, many of their basic fears are allayed by the belief that the man in their presence has his eyes and penis set upon different prey.’)
‘Her name’s Eileen,’ I said. ‘We’re students at the university.’
‘Willies,’ she said.
I nodded, smiling. I’d heard the term before: it was what townies often liked to call us.
‘Wet Willies,’ the girl added.
‘That’s us.’
‘So the two of you were at Dandi ...’
‘Yeah. And this guy saw us together. Apparently, he liked the looks of Eileen.’
‘Is she pretty?’
Not as pretty as you, I thought. Would’ve been dumb to say it, though. Better if she thinks I’m totally devoted to Eileen. ‘Very pretty,’ I said.
‘So what did he do? This guy?’
‘Nothing at the time. That was Monday. We didn’t even know he’d seen us. But I went back to the donut shop on Tuesday night and he was there. He wanted me to take him to Eileen.’
‘She wasn’t with you?’
‘Not on Tuesday.’
‘Why not?’
I left her behind so I could spend the night hunting for you.
That would go over big.
With a shrug, I said, ‘She wasn’t feeling very well.’ A lie? Not necessarily. Not exactly the truth, either. ‘So she stayed behind.’
‘Where?’
‘In her sorority house.’
‘Which one?’
‘Alpha Phi.’
The girl nodded.
‘You know where that is?’ I asked.
‘I know where everything is. Everything in this town, anyway. So you were at Dandi Donuts without Eileen, and this guy ...’
‘He made me go outside with him and get into his pickup truck. He planned to drive me over to the sorority house, and I was supposed to bring Eileen out so he could take her off in his truck. He said he wanted to “give her the works.”’
The girl wrinkled her nose.
‘But I got away from him. That was Tuesday night, and I guess he’s still after me. I saw his pickup go by tonight, so I ran over to that house and hid on its porch. That’s why I was there when you came out.’
‘You were about to go in.’
Taken by surprise, feeling caught, I felt myself blush. Luckily, we were walking through a patch of shadows just then. Even though the girl was looking at my face, she probably couldn’t see that it was red.
‘I wanted to find out if the door was locked,’ I explained.
‘So you could hide from him in the house?’
Trying not to lie, I said, ‘Any port in a storm.’ Before she could hit me with another question, I said, ‘The guy’s name is Randy, by the way. He drives a light-colored Toyota
pickup truck. You should watch out for him when you’re out at night. He might try to get you.’
‘I’ll be careful.’
‘My name’s Ed, by the way. Ed Logan.’
‘Okay.’
‘It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me your name.’
She just looked at me.
‘I guess there’s no point in knowing your name, anyway, if you’re leaving.’
‘I can stay a while,’ she said.
‘Really?’ I almost blurted, Great! Not wanting to seem too excited, though, I simply smiled and said, ‘Good.’
‘But I’m not going to tell you my name.’
‘No problem.’
‘You can call me whatever you want.’
‘Okay. How about ...’ The name ‘Holly’ almost leaped out.
Are you nuts? Don’t call her that!
‘How about what?’ she asked.
‘Bertha.’
She laughed. ‘Thanks anyway.’
‘Esmeralda?’
‘Give me a break.’ ‘Rumplestiltskin?’
‘Oh, sure.’
‘I’m doing the best I can.’
‘You get one more chance.’
‘How about Chris?’ I suggested.
‘With a C-H or a K?’
‘C-H.’
‘Not bad,’ she said. ‘But how about Casey instead?’
‘The initials or the word?’
‘C-A-S-E-Y.’
“‘Oh, there is no joy in Mudville,”’ I said.
She smiled. ‘This Casey doesn’t strike out.’
I laughed. ‘Glad to hear it. And I’m glad you know the poem.’ ‘Doesn’t everyone?’
‘Probably not.’ She would be a lot more likely to know it, however, if Casey was her actual name. ‘It’s pretty popular, though,’ I admitted.
Up the street several blocks ahead of us, headlights appeared.
‘Uh-oh,’ I said.
Smiling. Casey gave me a Clint Eastwood squint and asked, ‘Feeling lucky, punk?’
‘Huh?’
‘Want to ride it out?’
‘Huh?’
As the vehicle kept coming toward us, its headlights seemed to grow larger and farther apart.
‘Ride or hide? Do we stand our ground and hope for the best, or duck out of sight?’
Was she serious?
‘Might be cops,’ she said. ‘Might be that fellow Randy. Might be worse. No telling what we might get. That’s part of the fun.’
‘You do this a lot?’
‘All the time. Only at night, though. You’d have to be nuts to play it in daylight.’
I laughed.
Though the vehicle was a lot closer now, I still couldn’t make out its shape. The engine sounded grumbly and low.
If we wait much longer ...
‘What’s it gonna be?’ Casey asked.
I was pretty sure what she wanted. ‘Ride it out,’ I said.
‘Good man.’ Grinning, she patted me on the back like a pal.
So we went on walking side by side. I felt very brave and daring and eager to run like hell.
Casey smiled at me. ‘Fun, huh?’
‘Oh, yeah.’
At the end of the block ahead of us, the vehicle came through the intersection. I could see it well in the glow of the streetlights. It was a Jeep ... or one of those imitation Jeeps ... with an open top and roll bar.
‘Ah,’ said Casey. ‘It’s the Wigginses.’
We couldn’t see the occupants yet, so she must’ve recognized their Jeep.
As it neared us, the Wigginses came into view. The driver had blonde or gray hair in a flat-top crew cut. She wore shorts and a sleeveless tan shirt as if she were driving through a desert at high noon. Her arms and legs looked powerful. She seemed to have a tattoo on her thick upper arm, but I couldn’t make out its details.
The passenger looked like a slender replica of the driver. She had a matching crew cut. Her outfit was the same except for its smaller size and the fact that her shirt had short sleeves rather than no sleeves at all.
Going past us, the driver glanced our way. I expected Casey to wave, but she didn’t. Nor did the driver wave at us. She simply gave us a glance, then returned her gaze to the road ahead. The passenger never seemed to notice us at all.
After they went by, Casey smiled at me. ‘That’s how we play Ride or Hide.’
‘Ah.’
‘It’s always more exciting when you ride it out.’
‘I’m sure.’
‘Admit it, you liked it.’
‘I’m just glad it was only the Wigginses.’
‘Could’ve been worse,’ Casey admitted.
‘They didn’t seem very friendly.’
‘We’re not precisely on speaking terms.’
‘Or waving terms,’ I added.
‘Waving is against the rules.’
‘Really?’
‘Of course.’
‘So who are they? The Wigginses.’
‘Sisters. Walinda’s the big one. Linda’s her kid sister.’
‘Linda and Walinda Wiggins?’
‘That’s them. Ever hear of them? They used to be pro wrestlers.’
‘You’re kidding.’
She shook her head. ‘They were in the ring for about five years. Even won some championships. They’ve got the trophies to prove it.’
‘They don’t wrestle anymore?’
‘They gave it up after Linda lost her arm.’
‘Lost her arm?’ I realized I’d only seen her right arm.
‘Not in the ring. Here in town a couple of years ago. Nobody knows how it happened. Walinda drove her to the emergency room at about two in the morning. Her left arm was gone at the shoulder.’
‘Nobody knows how she lost it?’
‘Well, I guess Linda and Walinda know, but they wouldn’t say.’
‘Weird,’ I muttered.
‘Lotta weird stuff goes on around here,’ Casey told me.
‘I’ve noticed.’
‘Wanta know what’s really weird?’
‘What?’ I asked.
“They’ve got the arm. It’s in their house. They keep it in like a fish tank - an aquarium - only the tank doesn’t have any fish in it. Just Linda’s arm. In some sort of preservative. Formaldehyde or something like that.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘I’ve seen it with my own eyes.’
‘Holy ... cow.’
‘It’s exceedingly gross,’ Casey said.
‘I can imagine. Are Linda and Walinda nuts or something?’
‘Either nuts or zany. Sometimes, it’s hard to know the difference.’
Chapter Thirty-six
I could hardly believe the mystery girl and I were walking along together, talking and laughing and she actually seemed to like me. It may seem strange, but even though I wanted to leap for joy, I somehow also felt a little like crying. I struggled, however, to keep it all to myself.
I needed to be very careful about everything I said and did, or risk scaring her off.
As we continued our way up the sidewalk, Casey said, ‘Maybe you can teach Eileen how to play Ride or Hide.’
‘She’s not much of a night owl.’
‘You have to get her out really late, after midnight at the very least, or Ride or Hide isn’t worth playing.’
‘And why is that?’ I asked.
‘You know why.’
‘Because that’s when everyone who comes along is either crazy or zany?’
‘Yep, you got it. Not everyone, though.’
‘Not you and me.’
She laughed. ‘Speak for yourself, Chucky.’
‘It’s Ed.’
‘I know. Anyway, I think maybe half the people out at an hour like this are normal. You’ve got some people, it’s their job to be out. Like cops, for instance. And truckers. A lot of stuff gets delivered at night. And a lot of cleaning up gets done. And fixing up. You’ve got maintenance crews on the streets sometime
s, repairing sewer lines or traffic lights, stuff like that. Then there’re also some people whose lives are reversed because they’ve got a late shift or early shift where they work. You see some of them out at night. It’s sort of like daytime for them. Plus, there are a few who just go out wandering because they love what it’s like at night.’
‘Like you?’ I asked.
She tossed me a quick smile. ‘Maybe. Anyhow, that pretty much accounts for the half that aren’t crazy. Just about everyone else is, which is why you only play Ride or Hide at night. Somebody comes toward you, you’ve got a fifty-fifty chance of running into trouble.’
‘You’ve given it a lot of thought,’ I said.
‘I pay attention, that’s all.’
‘Do you come out every night?’ The question was asked before I realized it might be a mistake.
She answered, though. ‘Pretty much. How about you?’
‘Off and on,’ I said. ‘Not very often, really, until this week. This makes four nights in a row.’
‘You’re getting hooked.’
‘Looks that way.’
‘What does Eileen think about it?’
‘She doesn’t always know. She doesn’t know I’m out tonight, for instance.’
‘Will you tell her about it?’
‘I don’t know. Probably not. She wouldn’t be thrilled that I went off in the middle of the night without her. She might feel left out. Plus, she knows it’s dangerous. And if I told her about you ...’ I shook my head. ‘She probably wouldn’t take it very well.’
‘Think she’d be jealous?’
‘More than likely.’
‘Even though we aren’t doing anything?’
‘Well, we’re spending some time together and she’s not here.’
‘I’d better leave,’ Casey said. She hurried ahead of me, turned around and walked backward. ‘Nice to meet you, though. Maybe we’ll run into each other ...’
‘No, don’t go. Please. Not yet.’
‘I’d better. It’s been fun, though.’
‘How about one more round of Ride or Hide?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know, Chucky. It might be a long wait.’
‘Might be a short one,’ I said.
A comer of her mouth tilted up. She kept walking backward. ‘I don’t want to get you in trouble with Eileen.’
Maybe telling her about Eileen hadn’t been such a hot idea, after all.
‘There won’t be any trouble,’ I said. ‘She doesn’t have to know about any of this. So how about it? One more round?’
Night in the Lonesome October Page 19