Eye Candy

by R. L. Stine

At the sound of Ann-Marie’s voice, Lou let go of me and lurched back. His mouth dropped open and his eyes went wide for just a second. But he recovered quickly and turned to face Ann-Marie with a smile. “How’s it goin’, babe?”

  Ann-Marie’s eyes were on me. I’m sure she could see that I wasn’t okay. I couldn’t recover as quickly as Lou.

  “What are you doing here, Lou?” Ann-Marie asked sharply.

  He shrugged. “Had to use the potty.” He motioned to me. “The front door was locked, so I was helping Lindy get inside.” His thick, black eyebrows rose up on his forehead. He stared at me as if challenging me to contradict him.

  Ann-Marie studied me for a long moment. “Are you having a fun time tonight?” she asked.

  I didn’t say a thing.

  She wrapped her arm in Lou’s. “Let’s go back to the party, baby.”

  Did she see Lou feeling me up? How long had she been there?

  How much did she hear?

  35

  This one was wrong from the beginning. I think her name was Evan Something. Yeah, she had a boy’s name. She looked not great, kinda browned-out and mousey, and no lipstick or anything, her face all one color, and her eyes a sick green. Not at all like her picture on the Web site.

  I took one look at her and knew she was a loser. I took her to a movie so I wouldn’t have to talk to her.

  Just my luck, she was one of those women who likes to giggle and chat and whisper stupid comments all through the movie. And I hated the way she shoved popcorn into her mouth, not delicate at all, but shoveling in handful after handful like someone was going to steal the bucket from her.

  Then when she finished the whole tub, she tried to hold hands with me. With the butter and salt still fresh on her skin. I thought I would blow chunks. She wouldn’t even let me concentrate on the movie, she had so many “witty” things to say.

  I knew there was no way I could sit through a meal with her. And when we walked out of the theater and I saw the two greasy popcorn kernels stuck to her stringy, brown hair, I knew she had to die as soon as possible.

  I mean, what kind of person lets her hair dip into her food? Girls named Evan, I guess. I mean, you start out life ten steps behind if you’re a girl and your parents call you Evan, for Chrissakes.

  I suppose I should have felt sorry for her. But I couldn’t. She put herself on the Internet for everyone to see and judge. If she had any sense at all, she’d forget the whole dating thing, stay in her apartment, turn on the Lifetime channel, and have a good cry.

  That would have been safer, at least, than going out with me. Tricking me with that glamorous photo and then walking around with buttery popcorn waste matter in her hair. Because now I had to kill her.

  “Who Murdered Evan?” That’s the name of this story.

  I took her to the service area at the side of my apartment building. It’s a narrow walkway, a dark space a couple yards wide between my building and the one next to it, where the garbage cans are hauled out and where all the delivery guys go. I’d checked it out before. I’d always known it would come in handy.

  It’s very dark there at night. And if you go halfway back, no one can see you from the street.

  So I invited Evan to my place. Told her I’d cook us a quick, romantic dinner. You should have seen her eyes light up when I made that suggestion. She licked her lips with the fattest tongue I’ve ever seen on a human.

  Oh God. Is this a night to forget?

  I could have been with Lindy. Instead, I picked an Evan.

  Evan help me! Ha ha!

  I took her around to the side of the building. I told her I had a private entrance at the back. She didn’t even hesitate, just followed me down the narrow walkway.

  Near the back, I turned to face her. I could hear the roar of air conditioners all the way up the side of the building. I heard pigeons squawking from a roost on a low window ledge.

  Then it was Evan’s turn to squawk.

  She smiled because she thought I was going to kiss her. Her lips parted. I grabbed her head and slammed it as hard as I could into the brick wall.

  “Hey!” she shouted. Her eyes clamped shut with the pain.

  I slammed her head into the bricks one more time, just to get her attention. Her head tilted to one side. Her legs gave way, and she collapsed to the sidewalk.

  I wrapped my hands around her throat and choked her. Harder. Harder.

  The eyes didn’t pop. I love it in the cartoons when the eyes pop. But it’s harder to achieve in real life.

  I squeezed until my hands hurt too much to continue. I knew Evan was dead, but I always like to give it a little extra.

  I dragged Evan to the back of the passageway. I turned her on her stomach so I wouldn’t have to see that ugly face, all twisted in pain, mouth frozen open, that fat tongue hanging out like the thumb on a catcher’s mitt.

  Bye, Evan. It’s been great.

  Shaking my sore hands to make the pain go away, I started toward the front of the building. I was nearly to the street when I saw the flash of blond hair.

  A flash of color. A red skirt and a white top. And that silky, blond hair bobbing behind that beautiful face as she hurried away.

  She was running away.

  I recognized Lindy. And I’m sure she recognized me.

  Oh no. Oh God, no.

  Was it really Lindy? Did she see the whole thing?

  Please, no. I like her so much. She’s the first girl I ever really liked in this way. Lindy is so perfect. So perfect in every way.

  Oh, please no.

  I’m heartbroken. There’s no other word for it. I’ll never be the same. I know that. I’ll never be able to forget her.

  Lindy—why? Why did it have to be you? Why did you have to be there watching me with Evan?

  Shit! Pull yourself together, dude. You know what you have to do now.

  Game over. Sign Off time. Delete delete delete.

  Go do it. Kill Lindy now.

  36

  Friday night, Ann-Marie pulled up to the building in a rented, white Toyota Camry. Luisa and I tossed our weekend bags into the trunk and climbed inside, Luisa stretching out sideways on the backseat, me sliding beside Ann-Marie and struggling with the seat belt.

  “Where’s Lou?” Luisa asked. “What’s with this rental car?”

  Ann-Marie bit her bottom lip and stared straight ahead at the windshield. “Lou is history,” she said. “He’s a loser.”

  Thank God, I thought. I wanted to jump for joy.

  Instead, I put a hand on Ann-Marie’s shoulder. “What happened?”

  She frowned and pulled away from the curb. “I’m going up Amsterdam to 125th,” she announced. “We’ll take the Triboro, I think.”

  “What about Lou?” Luisa persisted.

  “Nothing about Lou,” Ann-Marie said. “We weren’t getting along. That’s all. It’s been building for a long time.”

  I wanted to tell her what a rat Lou was. I wanted to tell her what the son of a bitch tried to do to me. The disgusting things he said. I wanted to assure Ann-Marie she’d made the right decision. Good riddance to a big heap of garbage.

  But I knew better than to put my two cents in. In my junior year at NYU, another really close friend of mine broke up with a guy I knew had been cheating on her. I made the mistake of telling her how smart she was to lose the guy, what a total piece of shit he was.

  The next day they got back together, and neither of them ever spoke to me again.

  So I made sympathetic noises and tried to change the subject. But Luisa, leaning forward with her elbows on the back of my seat, was relentless as ever. “How did you dump him, Annie? What did you say to him? Did you break his heart? Come on, tell us. Did you make the big guy cry?”

  Ann-Marie shook her head in reply, and I saw a teardrop slide down one cheek. “Grow up,” she told Luisa. That’s all she said. And it closed the subject for the rest of the ride to the Hamptons.

  It started to rain as soon as we exited the LIE.
The forecast was for rain the whole weekend and, for once, the weather guys got it right.

  Saturday morning was dreary, with rain pouring down on the tall grass behind our house, thunder low in the distance, and the fog so thick we couldn’t even see the bay. Dune Road was empty. I guessed a lot of people had seen the forecast and decided to stay home this weekend.

  I didn’t mind it that much. I like rain. I liked the sound of it pattering on the roof of our little house. A cozy fire would have been perfect, but we didn’t have any firewood. The lights flickered once or twice, but the power stayed on.

  Ann-Marie, wearing a long-sleeved, red-and-white-striped shirt over a one-piece swimsuit, paced back and forth for a while, nursing a mug of coffee. “What are we doing out here?” she asked, staring out the water-smeared window.

  “Relaxing,” I said.

  Ann-Marie sighed and slumped into a chair away from the window with a romance paperback. She’d brought a stack of them out. She said she likes them because she can read one a day, and they all have happy endings.

  Wow. That wasn’t a good sign. I hoped she wasn’t heading into one of her depressions. I’d been through them with her, and they weren’t pretty.

  After lunch, a guy Luisa had met on the beach last weekend picked her up in his BMW convertible. She disappeared with him, saying, “Don’t wait up.” Sort of a joke between us. Luisa says that every time she goes out.

  The rain had stopped but the fog still hung low, clinging to the tall grass in back. Water poured from the gutter at the side of the window.

  “Want to take a drive or something?” I asked Ann-Marie. “Go into town and look around?”

  “Gee, that would kill ten minutes,” Ann-Marie said, not looking up from her paperback. “There’s nothing to see in Westhampton.”

  “How about a movie?”

  Why did I feel I had to entertain her? I guess I felt bad for her because she had given up a guy she’d been crazy about. She was going through a hard time and didn’t want to share it, the way she always had in the past. She wouldn’t even talk about Lou, which wasn’t like her at all.

  “Let me see what’s playing.” I reached for the Dan’s paper, the local Hamptons weekly. But before I could open it, my cell phone rang. I ran across the room and grabbed it off the table. “Hello?”

  “Hey, Lindy, it’s Brad.”

  My breath caught in my throat. “Brad? Where are you?”

  “I’m in the Hamptons, too. I’m staying with a friend. The parents have a house in Quogue.”

  How did Brad know I was in the Hamptons?

  “Crummy day, huh?” I said.

  “Well, the rain stopped. You doing anything? I’d really like to see you.” He was talking rapidly. He sounded nervous.

  “I don’t know. Ann-Marie and I . . .”

  “I’d really like to talk to you, Lindy. It’s kind of important.”

  Staring out at the fog, I suddenly felt chilled. I knew Brad was waiting for an answer, but I didn’t know what to say.

  I didn’t have any police protection out here. This was supposed to be my place to escape from everything.

  “You know Magic’s Pub?” he asked. “On Main Street in Westhampton. It’s a little bar with great hamburgers. I’m there now. Think you could meet me?”

  He’s not going to try anything in a restaurant, I decided. “Okay,” I said.

  I clicked off the phone and turned to Ann-Marie. “Brad. Says he has something to tell me.”

  Ann-Marie looked up from her book. She tsk-tsked.

  “Come with me,” I said. “Get dressed and come into town with me. I’d feel a lot safer.”

  She thought about it, then shook her head. “I’m not up to seeing people today. I don’t want to sit in a bar with you and Brad and talk about how the weather sucks and when is summer really going to start.”

  “I know you’re in a bad mood, but you won’t come as a favor?”

  She shook her head again and pulled the shirt tighter around her swimsuit. “You’ll be okay. Don’t get alone with him.” She returned to her book.

  Sighing, I changed into an oversized maroon sweatshirt, which I pulled down over a pair of gray leggings, tugged a floppy faded denim cap over my hair, borrowed the car, and splashed over the rutted Dune Road to town.

  I found Brad hunched over the tiny bar at Magic’s Pub, cigarette dangling from his mouth, a half-empty beer glass between his hands. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth when he saw me and flashed his lopsided grin.

  He was wearing a striped Polo shirt and khaki cargo shorts. His white hightops were caked with sand. My great detective skills told me he’d been walking on the beach.

  “Hey, Lin, nice to see you.” He jumped down from the bar stool and kissed me on the cheek. His beaky, broken nose bumped my ear. I wondered how he moved his nose out of the way when he seriously kissed women.

  My mind was skipping around, noticing every detail, alert. He ordered me a Coors. We took our beers to a square, wooden table in the corner. He complimented my hat and told me how awesome I looked three or four times. He kept tapping one hand on the tabletop as we talked. I don’t think he realized it.

  He seemed almost as tense as me, which is saying something.

  What did we talk about? I didn’t really listen. Brad was talking really fast, gesturing with both hands. I could tell he’d had a few beers while he was waiting for me.

  There was enough tension at our table to blow up the restaurant, I thought. I was actually relieved when Brad suggested we take a walk.

  The fog hovering low over the ground made the little town look surreal, like in a black-and-white movie. The air felt heavy, hot and steamy.

  “A short walk on the beach?” Brad suggested. “We’re almost there. I jogged in the rain this morning, and it was really eerie and beautiful at the same time, so much fog you could only see a few feet out.”

  I pulled back. I didn’t want to be alone with him on a deserted beach. “I don’t think so,” I said.

  “Oh, come on. A short walk,” Brad insisted. He took my arm and practically pulled me toward the beach. “You’ve got to see it. It’s amazing.”

  “Was . . . anyone else there?” I asked, struggling to hide my fear.

  “Oh, sure. Lots of people. It was actually crowded.”

  Tall, gray waves crashed onto the sand. The fog was so thick on the shoreline, the waves seemed to appear from out of nowhere, leaping out of the wall of mist. The sky darkened as storm clouds rolled low in the sky.

  Brad lied. We were the only ones on the beach.

  My mouth suddenly felt dry. My heart started to pound. “It’s beautiful, but I really have to go,” I said.

  Brad didn’t reply. His little bird eyes squinted out to the fog over the water. He led us closer to the water.

  “Let’s go, Brad. I’m getting soaked by the spray,” I said, pulling my hat lower on my head. I tried to turn back, but Brad grabbed my arm.

  “Hey,” I said. I didn’t like the expression on his face. His eyes were suddenly wild, and he let the cigarette fall from his mouth, onto the sand. Beads of water covered his forehead and cheeks.

  The sky grew darker. Thunder roared somewhere out on the ocean.

  “Brad—let go.” I pulled back.

  But he grabbed my shoulders and held on to me. “Lindy, I didn’t want to do this,” he said, shouting over a crashing wave. “I really didn’t want to do this.”

  37

  I’ve decided to go back to my old girlfriend.”

  I stared at him, my heart pounding. “Huh?”

  “I don’t want to hurt you. I thought I owed it to you to tell you in person. But she and I, we had a good thing going, and we’re going to try again.”

  I know I was supposed to be upset by the big announcement. And I know I should have handled it better, more maturely. But I was so relieved by Brad’s news, I burst out laughing.

  38

  Monday night, I knew it was time to kill Lindy.


  I couldn’t force my dinner down. I left the pizza slice growing cold on the plate. I was so jumpy, I knocked over my can of Bud and sent suds pouring over the table.

  I jumped up, my stomach in a knot, and started to pace the apartment. Ten steps forward, ten steps back. I was so crazed, I counted the steps!

  I guess I knew what I had to do. I was just gathering my energy, like a freight train picking up steam, getting it together, getting my freak on.

  I didn’t want to kill Lindy. She was the nicest, most beautiful girl I ever knew. But she had seen me in the alley between the buildings. She saw what I did to that woman named Evan, and then she ran.

  And I’ve been living in terror ever since. Living in a panic, waiting for the front door to burst open and the police to come storming in, guns raised.

  I lift my hands in surrender. One of them thinks I’m holding a gun, and he fires once, twice. The first bullet catches me in the head. It makes a large hole in both sides of my skull, and my brains come spraying out the back. The second bullet pierces my heart and blood spurts up.

  I end my life as a fountain.

  Unless I can get to Lindy before she tells the police what she saw. Unless I kill Lindy first.

  You see, my imagination is too good. I can picture exactly what will happen to me. I can see it all so vividly, in THX sound and digital projection.

  But I can also picture what will happen to Lindy. Lindy will be dead, and I’ll be safe again. I can eat my pepperoni pizza in peace. And I can go back online and find another girl, even hotter than she is.

  So, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. I can’t live in this square box like a mouse in a trap. Ten steps by ten steps.

  You can’t do that to me, Lindy.

  I call her first to make sure she’s home. I act romantic and hint about how I hope she’s alone. That makes her giggle. And yes, she tells me her roommates are out. “And I’m so glad you called.”

  Yes, I’m glad I called, too. I’ll be even more glad in an hour or less. Of course, I’ll miss you, Lindy. I’ll think about you often. Maybe even when I’m out with a new hottie, who only wants to do me, do me, do me, and not spy on me when I’m gettin’ busy with someone else.