“Jesus Christ,” Irene gasped.
“I want that asshole to burn in Hell,” Iris screamed.
Everyone in the coffee store stopped chatting and turned to her to witness what would hopefully be her comedown.
The moment seems to slow time down when Iris realized what she’d done. The prospect of an apology seemed pathetic - to this Willy guy, his friend, and all the others killing their lunch hour with their beverages.
A little boy in a stroller burst into tears having been woken from his slumber.
Iris did her level best to ignore the upset she’d caused.
“I want him to burn. I want him erased from history, from my mind, and off the face of this fucking planet.”
“He’ll burn in Hell, even if he doesn’t burn in this life,” Irene said by way of consolation. Anything to calm her sibling down in polite society.
It seemed to work, and Iris - as always - had a response to the futility of everyone else’s compassion.
“Yeah. I don’t believe in that shit, anymore.”
***
A giant weight had lifted from Iris’s shoulders, now that she’d revealed what she knew to her sister.
Hell, at least now someone other than her knew.
The burden of knowing had been so heavy, and its release helped her walk faster to the southern perimeter bathrooms at the Kaleidoscope.
As she strode down the lengthy corridor away from the stores, a distinct stench of detergent and urine wafted into her nostrils. A sickening, putrid smell, underscored by the musical tones of a plastic elephant ride bobbing back and forth with a small child on it.
In about five seconds’ time, she’d reach the vending machine by the ladies bathroom, currently under attack from a pair of devilishly cute school girls.
“Hey Vicky,” one of the girls said. “Get on your knees and reach in. See if you can grab at it.”
“Ha!” the girl chirped as she squatted down to the flap. “That’s what your dad said last night, Lizzie.”
Lizzie, the brunette twelve-year-old, rocked the machine back and forth. “Shut up, man. I’m doin’ it.”
Boom… boom…
The two girls hadn’t seen Iris on her approach, but she knew these kids couldn’t have cared less if they had an audience.
For a split second, Lizzie stopped rocking the giant machine and caught Iris’s eyes.
“Hey, lady.”
“Hey,” Iris said with a deft maternal tone. “What are you two doing?”
With a renewed confidence, Lizzie slapped the glass front of the machine and pointed to the bottle of Fizzy Blue Panda Pop trapped in the plastic coil labeled 706.
“The machine won’t give me my drink. It took my money.”
Iris arrived behind Vicky and tapped her on the shoulder. “You. Get up. This isn’t gonna work. Your arms aren’t even long enough.”
“Don’t touch me!” Vicky exclaimed, much to Lizzie’s evil merriment. “That’s assault.”
Iris pointed to the janitor’s door.
“Wait for the guy to get back and tell him. He’ll be back soon. I saw him at Bean There.”
Vicky’s face contorted with disappointment. “Oh, him? That old black guy? Ugh, he’s a smelly prick.”
“Yeah,” Lizzie added and punched the vending machine again. “He’s always telling us off and stuff. Maybe if his gay-ass machine actually gave us what we paid for, we wouldn’t have to knock the shit out of it.”
The two girls laughed heartily and bumped fists.
Iris clocked the emblem on Vicky’s blazer. She was a student of Chrome Junction Academy and, today being a school day, was surely not meant to be vandalizing vending machines.
“Shouldn’t you be at school?” Iris asked.
“School’s gay,” Vicky said. “The teachers don’t give a shit, anyway.”
Lizzie booted the machine one last time in the hopes that the bottle of blue liquid might slip away from its twisted, plastic prison.
It didn’t work.
“Ah, whatever.”
Hastily, Lizzie grabbed Vicky’s arm and offered her away, “C’mon, babes. Let’s get out of here before that black fella tries touchin’ us.”
Vicky ran after her and waved at Iris. “See ya, lady.”
Iris lifted her hand and went to wave, but it was too late. Vicky and Lizzie’s ghoulish cackling echoed up the hall as they hopped, skipped, and jumped out of her life.
Iris couldn’t help but frown.
She turned around and made her way to the mall’s public restroom.
***
As Iris sat on the toilet she felt her mind drift into a series of muddled thoughts all jostling for first position.
The convenience’s tinny elevator rendition of The Trammps Disco Inferno shimmied down the tiled walls, yet failed to snap her out of her daydream.
Sure, it felt good to tell someone she trusted about what she’d found - at least at first. Now, some fifteen minutes later, she began to have doubts about having told Irene what she’d learned.
What if she’d screwed up? A very private piece of information she had every right to keep to herself was now the receipt of another human being.
She leaned her left shoulder against the cold, tiled wall as her bladder lightened.
“God, I’m so tired,” she whispered.
It was a rare moment of peace in an otherwise hectic life. She closed her eyes for a brief second and enjoyed the calm.
It wouldn’t last long.
The door to the bathroom opened. At least, that’s what it sounded like. Then, the noise of a metal can hitting the floor, followed by a squelch of water, like that of a mop.
Scritt-scritt-slooo…
Iris couldn’t see who or what was creating the noise, but it didn’t matter. It was louder than the distant hum from the fluorescent light blinking on and off from above the washbasins, and that was good enough.
Iris was careful not to get too comfortable for fear of falling asleep. Maintaining a peaceful midway point between awake and asleep was all she wanted, if only for a moment.
Her mind returned to the revelation at hand. She was sure Irene wouldn’t get in her way of whatever she’d yet to decide to do.
But the interaction with the two girls outside made her think of her own child. Samuel, the six-year-old boy with the whole world at his feet.
Iris would be damned if she’d let anything get in his way.
She clenched her fist and felt like throttling someone - anyone. This moment in time was definitely not the time to get in her way or piss her off. Ironic, really, given what she was doing right now.
Slop… scritt… scritt…
The sound of mopping grew louder, forcing Iris to open her eyes. She looked down between her thighs and realized where she was.
She cleaned herself up, and rose to her feet.
“I’ll just be a moment,” came the croaking voice from behind the cubicle door as the mopping stopped. “I won’t get in your way.”
Just before Iris flushed the toilet, something bizarre happened in the yellow water in the bowl. A peculiar bobbing occurred within, followed by a flurry of tiny air bubbles racing to the surface.
Flop-flop…
“Huh?”
A small, green goldfish with silver scales bobbed up to the surface and puckered its lips at anyone looking down at it. Before Iris could do anything, it ducked into the water, swished its tail and made for the u-bend.
Somewhat angered by the sight, she flushed the contents down the bend.
Whoosh.
The urine-infused water circled and disappeared down the tube, taking the goldfish with it. It put up an earnest fight against the tide but the effort was futile.
Iris caught her own reflection in the mirror above the row of wash basins. The soothing relief of the afternoon slipped away as the water coated her hands.
She felt a buzzing sensation crawling up her thigh. Her cell phone lit up through the fabric in her jean
s.
“Ugh.”
She took it out of her pocket and inspected the screen. A message from the school.
Mrs. Goddard. Please call Mrs. Sheila Tan at Chrome Junction Primary. Urgent.
Iris frowned and read the text a second time, confused. “What the—”
Then, just behind her shoulder, “Willy”, the same black man she’d seen at Bean There, Done That slid into view and stared at her.
An imposition, to be sure; a definite invasion of personal space given that this bathroom was for females only.
Iris pocketed her phone. She rinsed her hands and held her gaze at the weird-looking man’s display of affection in the mirror.
“It’s going to be okay, you know,” he said in a hushed tone, as if it was a secret.
“Huh?”
The two didn’t know each other.
“Believe me, I know,” Willy said before moving towards the bathroom door. “Everything ends.”
The door closed before Iris could complain about the intrusion. She turned around to find that the man had gone.
Her hands were freezing cold from the water.
Iris stared at her reflection in the mirror.
She felt alone as the awful music coming through the antiquated speakers hanging on the wall came crashing to a halt.
Iris shut her eyes and felt the room begin to spin.
Oh yeah, oh yeah, that was Disco Inferno…
***
Her eyes opened.
It was clear she wasn’t in the bathroom any longer. A large, multicolored banner hung over a theater stage reading Prom Night - Class of ‘89.
Steven, the skinny black DJ behind the turntables, bopped his head up and down and spoke into the microphone. “Them Tramps sure knew how to boogie, right?”
Hundreds of teenagers cheered and whooped from the dance floor.
They chanted his name over and over again as he blew the dust from the next record.
“Dig it, people,” Steven said. “It’s six minutes past seven, and the party for Tertiary Three is just getting started.”
The smartly-dressed students hopped up and down with excitement.
One young man clapped his hands together and encouraged the DJ to play the next track. “Do it, Sibald.”
“Heh,” Steven said. “Okay, okay. Now, for all you lovers out there, we got something real special up now…”
Iris looked down her front and saw her clothes had changed. A sparkling, bright green dress hung down her midriff. She lifted her arms to her face.
The varicose veins had subsided.
No sign of any aging, no wrinkles.
She felt young and vibrant once again.
There was little time to enjoy the sensational feeling of vibrancy and youth she’d long-since forgotten.
The needle scratched to the vinyl and produced a distinct guitar riff everyone seemed to know. Many of the girls and boys approached each other and embraced.
“Here’s a classic from 1959,” Steven said over the intro. “A song for lovers. Santo & Johnny’s Sleep Walk.”
Iris turned left, then right.
Dozens of her friends danced arm-in-arm to the music. A flame-haired girl was among them - Jade, her best friend. Who threw Iris a smile from the warm embrace of her handsome dance partner.
“May I have the pleasure of sharing this dance, Ms. Baskeyfield?”
Iris looked up from her glittery shoes to find her husband smiling at her.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, of course you can.”
She slid her arms around his shoulders, and they danced in time to the elegiac nature of the track.
Slow, and purposeful.
Her heart couldn’t fight back against the magnetism emanating from his chest. The side of her cheek pressed against his as they found their calm and soft groove to the music.
The sense of warmth and comfort made her smile.
“I must be the luckiest guy tonight, you know,” he said.
She looked up at his face and stared deep into his blue eyes. “Why do you say that?”
“Because, by far, I have the most beautiful girl in the room in my arms.”
Iris chuckled at his cheesy answer but accepted it wholeheartedly. “Oh, you.”
“Kinda ironic, isn’t it?”
Iris sank into their slow rhythm and closed her eyes, holding him as tight as possible. “What’s ironic?”
“The song we’re dancing to. Sleep Walk.”
“Oh. Yes, I guess it is.”
“The perfect last dance.
“The last dance tonight. But the first of many for the rest of our lives.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, close to drifting off right there in his arms.
“I don’t want to wait any longer. There’s nobody else I want to spend my entire life with.”
Nicholas and Iris felt like they were the only couple in the world at this moment. Everyone simply melted away from view.
Iris felt her lips rumble as the song drew to a close. “I love you, Nicholas Goddard.”
Their eyes met once again as their movements slowed. The seriousness of their love undeniable, their lips met, gently, blocking the light from the glitter ball providing a soft hue of blues and yellows several feet above the DJ’s head.
The voice of an elderly man spoke, before an echo of applause rifled through her mind..
You may now kiss the bride.
The two kissed once again on the dance floor.
A kiss that would last forever, and seal their relationship…
Chapter 9
Despite her state of mental inebriation, Iris knew where she was, geographically.
The side roads behind the nightclub by the central freeway separating the valley meant that she was close to Chrome Valley’s industrial estate.
The scattered streetlights revealed her location when she’d exited Lester’s car.
Whether or not she’d expected her journey to lead here, she didn’t know.
The end of Big Six’s pistol buried in the crook of her neck as he marched her into a warehouse.
The white wedding dress worn by the guy she’d seen first rippled along his arms as he held them out. He called out to a woman at the far end of the warehouse, beyond the middle table. She fixed her eyes on his back and dared not look anywhere else.
“Cind’rella, man. Where you been?” the woman shouted. “Y’all know Wydron’s gonna be here soon and—”
The dead body slumped sideways and hit the ground cheek-first, cutting her concern short.
“Shit.”
The girl who called out wasn’t a day over the age of eighteen. Her long, black hair lifted as she darted across the concrete ground and up to the body of the recently-deceased black man.
Big Six pushed Iris forward with his pistol. “You stay here and you don’t move. You understand?”
His instruction echoed through her ears and nestled into her heart as she watched the teenage girl hitch her short, red skirt above her thighs and crouched over the body.
She lifted the long, thick dreadlocks trailing behind from the scalp. The corpse’s nose had swelled out and extended, like that of an elephant’s trunk.
“The hell happened, here?”
Cind’rella walked up behind her and explained himself with great hesitation.
“Nigga screwed up, Jila, man.”
The girl shot him a look of pure disdain.
“Dead?”
“Nah, he just restin’,” Cind’rella joked before launching into an angry tirade. “Of course he’s dead. Did his face give it away?”
Jila slid her hand under the corpse’s head and lifted it a few inches off the ground. “Oh, shit.”
A gunshot wound had torn through the temple, and continued to cough out ropes of black and red gloop.
“Ugh. The fuck happened?”
Cind’rella turned to Big Six, who turned to Jila with an apologetic look on his face.
“Motherfucker tried to pull
one over on us, man.”
Jila lifted the dead man’s head back to the floor and rose to her feet. “Where’s the money?”
“Double-T got it.”
Jila almost freaked out at the relative calmness the two men displayed about the situation.
“And where is the motherfuckin’ car, asshole?” she squealed with sarcasm.
“Double-T has it.”
Jila rolled her shoulders and square up to Big Six. “You tellin’ me that you did the meet?”
“Yeah.”
The side door to the main garage opened out, producing a slow sound of footsteps. Jila looked past Big Six, and clocked Cind’rella’s sudden wave of anxiety.
“And the bag with our money in it got took?” she asked.
“Yeah. Double-T got it.”
An unforgiving low grunt from the door. “And how exactly do you propose to get it back?”
Everyone turned around to see a black man in an even-blacker jacket with silver chains draped around his chest.
Jila pointed to the dead body and hoped the man wouldn’t lose his mind. “That right there ain’t me, Wydron, I swear.”
Wydron shook his head and put a cigar in his mouth. “I know it wasn’t you.”
Jila shoved Big Six on the back and spat to the floor. “This no-good piece of shit, here, did it.”
The reflection of a lit match burned bright in Wydron’s shades as he lit his cigar.
“Like I say, Six. How do you propose to get what’s ours back?”
“I dunno, man.”
A row of shiny white teeth struck across Wydron’s face as he produced an evil grin. For a moment, it seemed as if he was satisfied with the answer.
But it didn’t last long.
In a swift change of attitude, Wydron growled and flicked the lit match at Big Six’s face. Several orange sparks bounced off his forehead and hit the blood trail on the floor.
“He tried to fuck us, man. Don’t get angry with me—”
“—Jila was only half-right about you, you fat returd,” Wydron interrupted with a vigor reserved for army generals. “You a motherfuckin’ no-good piece of shit. You is a returd.”
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