SLClimer - Rumours of the Grotesque

by Rumours of the Grotesque (v1. 0) [lit]

  Joey grinned as Misha dropped more glittery names with whom they regularly socialized: Whitney, Rosie, Cindy, Brad, The Donald. Laura's flower faded more with every famous person that found its way into the conversation.

  "Oh, there's Megan Yearwood.” Laura saw an opportunity to change the subject and flagged down her former partner-in-crime.

  Megan saw Laura and quickly came over. She had not aged well, Joey noticed. Her waist had inflated from 26 inches to beyond 35, and her breasts sagged mid-torso even through her bra. She had five kids by the time she was 28, and divorced Matt Sinclair, another footballer, just last year.

  "Megan!” Laura stood and hugged the stout woman. “It's so good to see you."

  Megan, however, stole glances over Laura's shoulder at Misha. “Laura, it's been too long."

  "How are the kids?” Laura asked.

  "Fine,” she replied. “I just wish Matt would come visit them more often.” Megan then turned to Joey. “Hi, I haven't seen you since graduation. I have seen you on TV.” Her smile flickered like a lightbulb ready to fail.

  "Megan,” Joey stood, “I'd like you to meet my wife, Misha."

  Misha rose to her full, supernal height and extended a hand heavy with diamonds. “Pleased to meet you."

  "I'm sure Joey's probably told you all about us.” Megan gestured to the group at the table.

  "No, not really. He never mentions you, at least.” Misha's words were venomous.

  Megan was stung. “Well, I'm responsible for the planning of this reunion.” She tipped her nametag with an acrylic nail that was far too gaudy. “Planning Committee. Joey, I wanted to say thanks for agreeing to perform for us. I have you scheduled to go on right after dinner and the awards."

  "That will be fine,” he replied.

  "I see Linda Raney.” Megan waved to someone in the crowd, thankful to be released from the tense situation. “I'll catch up with you later, Laura. Scott, nice to see you again. Misha, great to meet you. And Joey,” her eyes softened and the light finally dimmed, “...I'm sorry I was such a bitch in high school."

  The statement threw Joey; he wasn't expecting that. “Wow.” He looked at Misha, but her eyes were still cool as wintergreen. “We were all young."

  Megan sighed, obviously relieved of her burden, but Joey never said she was forgiven. The couples sat back down, and a tense silence fell across the table. The final couple, Dionne and Warren Duncan, never showed up. That was fine with Joey; he hated them, too. It seemed that whoever had put together the seating chart had purposely thrown him back into the fire of ten years ago.

  Dinner came and went as did the dessert. Misha toyed with her food as well as the eyes of every man in the decorated gym. Joey loved his wife dearly and was proud of her. She lifted him up, gave him self-confidence and unconditional love. Scott practically threw himself at Misha, and she was more than willing to catch him. Laura seethed, tearing her bread with claws meant for the supermodel.

  Misha could work a room; she was celestial and sparkling like cyanide. Joey carefully watched as she lured Scott into her web, a web he'd been willingly captured in over and over.

  "So, Joey,” Laura suddenly said, “what kind of show are you going to do for us tonight?"

  "I'm actually going to unveil a new illusion. You'll be the first to see it before I perform it in my new Broadway show starting next month."

  Scott tore himself away from Misha's charm for a moment. “That's great. I have to admit, I love your act. When I tell my co-workers and friends that I know you, they can't believe it."

  "Imagine that,” Joey stated flatly.

  "I tell them that I'm actually responsible for your success."

  Joey's rage mushroomed. He had considered postponing certain features of the upcoming performance, but Scott's bold claim only resurrected the vengeance of Joey Normknuckle. Misha also picked up on the boast and gave Joey a reassuring flash of her brilliant, sadistic smile.

  "How so?” were the only words Joey could force from his tight mouth.

  "Think about it, if I hadn't given you such a hard time, you wouldn't have had the drive to become famous."

  "What?” Misha couldn't believe the arrogance of his words.

  "It was my teasing that probably drove you to become a success. You did it to prove to all of us that you weren't a freaking geek."

  Joey laughed; bitterness stained every breath. “I should say thank you, Scott. Thanks for making me a millionaire. Thanks for my supermodel wife. Thanks for my mansion in California and my beachfront estate in Bermuda.” Joey stood. “I'm thirsty for an after dinner drink. I hope you'll join me?"

  Scott grimaced, realizing how stupid his previous statements sounded. “Sure."

  "I'll see what cordials the bartender has.” Joey turned on his designer heels and stalked off toward the bar.

  The Franks hadn't changed like Joey had hoped; Misha had told him they wouldn't.

  "I have to use the ladies’ room.” Misha again stood. “How about you, Laura? We've been sitting here for nearly two hours. You may want to go before Joey's show."

  Laura didn't have to think twice about visiting the ladies’ room with Misha as her pissing partner. “Yes, I do have to go."

  At the bar, Joey ordered two brandies. The bartender didn't have that, but he did have Hot Damn. Reluctantly, Joey accepted the liquor and stood to the side as the bartender waited on mobs of people desperate for alcohol. Then, inconspicuously, Joey pulled out a tiny glass vial of powder. With the expertise of a magician's hands, he removed the lid and poured the powder in the cordial. Some of the granules dissolved on contact, but a few sank to the bottom. It was digitalis, derived from Foxglove, and capable of doing nasty things to the heart. Joey swirled and swirled the delicate glass until the powder diminished and only the sweet red of the schnapps was visible.

  ACT 3

  All the way to the ladies’ room, Laura basked in Misha's star. Former classmates couldn't help but notice their old beauty queen was walking practically lock-step with the supermodel. As they entered the bathroom, the gaggle of reacquainting hens dispersed, and Misha was alone with Laura.

  Misha ran warm water in the sink while Laura selected a stall in which to piss. “God, I remember this bathroom like it was yesterday."

  "Really?” Misha dabbed her face gently with water and noticed Laura left her purse on the counter.

  "We used to get drunk in here before every dance,” Laura confessed. “I was a cheerleader, and I once was so drunk I fell during a routine. I pretended to have the stomach flu."

  "Charming,” Misha uttered as she carefully opened Laura's purse.

  With a tissue in hand to mask fingerprints, Misha quickly produced a tiny glass vial of white powder similar to the one Joey had. It was the same drug, only instead of mixing it into a beverage for Laura, Misha tucked the tiny vial deep inside an inner pocket of the purse. She snapped it shut just in time, for Laura flushed the toilet and came out.

  "I thought you had to use the bathroom?” Laura asked while shutting the graffiti-scarred stall door.

  Misha used the tissue to blot phantom perspiration from her face. “I thought it would be private. I forgot this was a high school.” Misha resumed pampering her succulent face. “I never use public toilets."

  "Oh.” Laura cast a disapproving glance at the model who primped in the mirror. “Not good enough for you?"

  "Yes, you're quite right.” Misha turned. “You're not good enough for me and Joey is. I know what you all did to him in high school; he told me everything."

  Laura's eyes widened shamefully. “We were just kids. Kids do that kind of stuff to each other."

  "Again, I have to agree with you. Let me tell you a story; it's about an ugly 15-year-old who was teased mercilessly, every day, by people like you and your husband. That same girl was in a terrible car accident and had extensive reconstructive surgery.” Misha paused dramatically. “That girl was me."

  "I didn't know.” Laura's voice was a disgraceful w
hisper.

  "But I guess there is justice in the world.” She turned to the mirror. Her image was huge, gorgeous, in the foreground; Laura was a small accessory in the background. “I'm Misha ... and you're Laura Frank."

  Even though they were the only two women in the restroom, Laura was humiliated. “Look I have to get back to the table. Scotty will wonder where I am."

  "Oh, yes,” Misha said, “and the awards will be handed out soon. I'm sure you and Scott will get one."

  Laura didn't answer; she just opened the door and got out of the spider's web as quickly as she could. She couldn't move fast enough and still retain her dignity. Misha's legs were much longer, better toned, and made for walking catwalks. She made sure Laura could only be a pace or two in the lead, knowing the shadow of her star weighed heavy on the local girl who never got out of town.

  ACT 4

  Just as they returned to the table, Scott was tipping back his after dinner drink. The sweet cinnamon coated his tongue, yet the spice opened his nasal passages. Joey looked on over the rim of his glass, then quickly downed the schnapps. He turned the glass over and slammed it onto the table top.

  Scott grinned and did the same thing. “Woo, that was good."

  "If you only knew,” Joey said as the women sat. “Ladies, welcome back.” Joey kissed Misha's exquisite hand, his tongue darting for her skin yet shrouded by his own lips.

  Laura didn't acknowledge Joey's words, but instead turned to Scott. “Honey, I'm not feeling well. I want to go home as soon as the awards are over."

  "Really?” He looked at Joey. “We were just burying the hatchet."

  "I want to go home,” Laura repeated.

  "Fine,” he held up his hands, “whatever you want, dear."

  Laura then noticed Megan waddling up to the podium. “I think they're starting."

  Nervously, Megan tapped the microphone. “This thing on?” She cleared her throat. “I'd like to welcome you all to the ten year reunion. I hope you enjoyed dinner. I'd like to say a special thanks to Rita Lowenstein-Vicker for planning the meal.” Uncommitted applause rippled across the tables. “Well, there's a few people who couldn't be with us. We have cards up at the front table if anyone would like to sign your name, and we'll mail them later.

  "Okay, now for the part we've all been waiting for—The Awards.” The applause was slightly louder. “Afterwards, our own Joey Normknuckle, otherwise known to the world as The Dragon, will give us a small performance.” This time, the applause swelled. “Okay, good,” Megan picked up a handful of cards, “and now for the awards."

  Nearly an hour passed as Megan rattled on awards for the most ridiculous categories: Most Hair Lost, Most Sexy Still, Most Kids, Most Divorces. They were all so trite and meaningless, and that fact was reflected in the inane acceptance speeches by the recipients.

  Joey carefully kept an eye on Scott. He had the whole act timed, and unbeknownst to his former antagonist, he was very much a part of this command performance. Megan had two envelopes left to open; she flashed an anticipatory grin to the audience. Joey visually checked Conroy's setup once again. The props for both tricks were in place, as were the flashpots piled with powder. Everything was ready.

  "And the winner for best couple is...” she ripped the envelope open, “Scott and Laura Frank!"

  Laura gave Misha a smug look, but knew she wasn't in the supermodel's league. Scott was quite ecstatic. He stood and clapped for himself briefly, then stumbled slightly. Composing himself, he offered an arm to Laura, and together they went to the podium.

  "Wow, this is great,” Scott professed. “I thought Joey and Misha would get this one.” He looked down at the beautiful couple, his streak of meanness rising up his spine. “But I guess this is just for couples still together after high school, hey Joey?” The magician merely nodded, his thoughts racing through the plans he'd made. “Anyway, I'd like to thank you all for voting for us. I'm sure Joey,” he paused to make a sarcastic gesture, “will win Most Improved. I mean, it's a given.

  "I'd like to say I do feel partially responsible for Joey's success,” Scott began, and the crowd collectively tensed up like fist. “We gave Joey the drive to better himself, to overcome what he was—a geek!” Nervous laughter rippled from table to table, as beads of sweat formed on Scott's forehead. He wobbled and Laura steadied him. “Like I was saying..."

  "Have another beer!” someone shouted and riotous laughter erupted.

  "Well thanks, anyway,” he said. “Laura and I really appreciate it."

  Scott stepped aside and Laura went to the mike. Feedback whistled. “I just want to say thanks, and I love you all."

  That was all she had to say, for Laura could feel Misha's superior eyes upon her. As they left the stage, Megan immediately resumed her position and waved the last envelope. She ripped it open, unfolded the paper, and leaned into the microphone.

  "And the winner for Most Improved is Joey Normknuckle."

  The applause from the audience was genuine, except from the core of popular people who reluctantly joined in. Joey looked at Scott and Laura who had false smiles plastered to their faces. Scott slammed down a beer and wiped his forehead of sweat as Joey rose, gave Misha a kiss, and went to claim his prize.

  "Thank you all for this, it means as much to me as my Emmys.” He got in the dig, making sure they all knew how he'd elevated himself beyond them. “I'd like to thank my wife Misha for all her support,” the supermodel gave a casual wave and blew him a kiss, “and I'd like to thank Scott Frank—and all of you—for making high school a living hell.” The audience was silent. Joey exhaled into the microphone and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry, that was bitter of me. I guess I can forgive all of you. After all, we were just kids.” Then he stood quietly.

  Misha, realizing he was finished, began clapping. Applause soon infected the audience, but died quickly as Joey left the stage.

  Megan stepped up again. “Thanks, Joey, that was...” she cleared her throat, “...wonderful."

  ACT 5

  The magician didn't go back to his table. Instead, he went to the staging area, and Misha left the table to join him. As he began to prepare things, the audience forgot the speech and tried to see what he was doing. They were fortunate to see the great Dragon up close and couldn't wait to see his incredible act.

  "It looks like Joey's ready for us,” Megan glanced at Joey who nodded. “Yes, he is. Ladies and gentlemen, Linden High's own Joey Normknuckle. Otherwise known as The Dragon!"

  This time the applause was loud as Joey adjusted his headset microphone. “Good evening. I'm so excited to be able to perform for you tonight. I'd like to introduce my lovely assistant for the evening. You may all know her from magazines and TV—Misha.” The supermodel curtseyed and swept her hand dramatically in game show fashion.

  "Now, on to the show.” Joey pulled on the sleeves of his Armani tux. “I'll need a volunteer for my first illusion.” Joey stepped to the edge of the stage and held out his hand. “Laura Frank, would you do me the honor?"

  Terrified, Laura raised a hand to her chest. A lifetime of guilty memories surfaced and flooded her body. She had been so cruel to Joey Normknuckle all her life, talked about him, made fun of him, set him up for embarrassment. And now, he wanted her to participate in a magic trick. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest, perspiration beaded on her skin.

  "No,” she feigned shyness, “I couldn't."

  The crowd began to chant,Laura, Laura, Laura . Joey's hand was directly in her face, fingers rolling dramatically. Her eyes followed his sleeve until their eyes met; they were intense, dark, daring. What could happen, she thought. Then reluctantly, bowing to peer pressure just like she'd always done, Laura took Joey's hand.

  "Let's hear it for Laura Frank.” Joey led his volunteer to a vertical cabinet separated into three cubes by stainless steel partitions. “I'm sure you've all seen this classic illusion.” Misha unlocked the front door and motioned for Laura to step inside. She did, not looking at the beautiful woman,
and Misha shut and bolted the door behind her.

  "Laura?” Joey gave the cabinet a gentle knock. “You in there? Everything okay?” He grinned at the audience. “I hope she went to the bathroom first."

  Amused laughter drifted over the audience as Joey opened a little door near Laura's stomach, “Laura, is this you?” He gave her a tickle through her dress, and she squirmed. “She seems ticklish. Let's see if she's squeamish, too.” Joey moved to a nearby side table and selected a thick, silver sword. The audience gasped as he also grabbed a tomato, tossed it in the air, and sliced it in half before it splattered onto the stage. The magician paused, and his eyes locked onto Scott's—Mr. Football Hero, Mr. Popularity, Mr. Pain. Scotty's forehead was beaded with sweat, and he'd loosened his tie.