P.J. Morse - Clancy Parker 02 - Exile on Slain Street

by P. J. Morse

  While Cookie was telling me about the gifts, Lorelai was leading Patrick up the stairs, and he wasn’t exactly resisting.

  “Hey! What about us?” Tina asked. If she and Greg had been working on a story arc, the Lorelai subplot wasn’t going over all that well. Poor Greg was pouting behind her. Judging from the way he was staring at Tina, he had a story arc he wanted to follow, too.

  Meanwhile, Lorelai was promising Patrick sips of her margarita if he obeyed. “And I swear… I make perfect margaritas,” I overheard her say. “They might be better than the brownies.”

  “I know my way around margaritas,” Patrick said, “and I expect the best.”

  Dawn, who had been completely forgotten during the arrival in the foyer, leaned up against the spiral stairs and looked up them, watching as Patrick disappeared into his room. Her eyes gleamed with tears.

  Cookie noticed this and leaned toward me. “I’m worried,” she whispered. “That girl mopes with the best of them. A serious downer.” Dawn looked at us suddenly, and Cookie shifted gears, shouting, “Hey, where’s the beer?” She went for the bar, making vroom-vroom sounds.

  Wolf came down the stairs. As Hare rolled camera, Wolf saw Dawn’s unhappy face, took her hand and said, “Love is a battlefield.”

  The reference to Pat Benatar made me giggle. Cookie overheard it and began to shimmy in true Benatar style. But the joke was lost on Dawn, who was too young for the joke anyway. She suddenly took off up the stairs, tripping up on her heels as she tried to get to the room.

  While getting back up, she pounded the stair and shouted, “God, I’m such a loser!” Then she climbed up the rest of the way and vanished.

  Greg sensed the dramatic opportunity. He turned to Tina, who was looking out the window as if she dreamed of escape. “This is your moment! Go comfort her!” he shouted. Then he paused. “No, wait… you’re not supposed to like her.” He turned to me. “You! Go comfort her!”

  “I was gonna do it already,” I shot back, thudding up the stairs in my cowboy boots. “Some story arcs come naturally.”

  “Give her some Southern wisdom!” Greg chirped, running after me. “‘It’s like my momma always said’…”

  “I think I can handle it!” I was tempted to slam the door in his face. Only there wasn’t a door to our bedroom. Patrick and Wolf were the only ones who got anything resembling privacy.

  Tortoise and Hare, who magically appeared, started shoving their gear into Dawn’s face as she sobbed.

  I sat down beside her on the bed. “Are you all right?” I asked.

  “I thought he liked me!” she cried. “He kissed me! He said I was special! But he doesn’t even remember my name! He really thinks my name is Pixie! I know it!”

  I handed her a box of tissues that Greg quietly set on the edge of the bed, out of Hare’s camera range. “Of course he knows your real name. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have gotten this far. But he can only pick one in the end, and you can’t let Lorelai walk all over you like that.”

  “Cookie doesn’t steal like that!” Dawn cried. “She made sure I got equal time.”

  “Most of these women aren’t like Cookie. You give them a chance, and they’ll take it.”

  “But, if Patrick loves me, why does it matter?” She rubbed her eyes, sending a streak of her dark blue eye shadow right into her hairline.

  “Because this is supposed to be a competition. Look, I see you alone with him, and I’m gonna interrupt. You see me alone with him, and you’d better interrupt, even if you like me. If you stand off to the side and wait, someone louder is going to get all the attention.”

  Right at that moment, we heard whoops and squeals emerging from Patrick’s room. They were good whoops and squeals — the kind of noises that made Tortoise forget all about us and run over to Patrick’s door so he could capture some lovemaking noises for later.

  The rest of us followed him. Greg didn’t even have to give the direction. Dawn stood beside Tortoise and pressed her ear up against the door, and Greg nudged me toward them. But he nudged me so hard that I fell against the door.

  Patrick must have heard the thud, and when he turned the knob, Tortoise, Dawn, and I all fell into a heap. Tortoise was at the bottom. “Aw, shit! Now we can’t use it!” he yelled.

  “Blooper reel,” Hare pointed out.

  I looked up at Patrick and grinned sheepishly. “What can I say? We don’t have any television, so we decided to amuse ourselves.”

  At first Patrick’s face was stony, like he didn’t appreciate being interrupted, but he broke into a smile. “At least I know you two didn’t forget about me! And I think he’s pretty happy.” Patrick pointed at Tortoise.

  Sure enough, despite his anger about losing the sound, Tortoise wasn’t working too hard to get out from under me and Dawn. He smelled too much like Aqua Velva, so I rolled off him, stood up and pulled up Dawn after me. I looked around the room for Lorelai. She was holding on to one of the bedposts wearing nothing but a white bra and matching panties, and another crew member and sound guy were filming her. She may not have worked the stripper pole, but she certainly knew her way around a bedpost. And she did not look happy.

  “All’s fair,” I said.

  She didn’t smile, but she shrugged and admitted, “That was a good scene.”

  Patrick forgot all about her once he saw Dawn’s smudged makeup. “Hey, you! Pixie!” He crouched down since he was much taller than she was. “You okay?”

  She shook her head. “I said I wasn’t going to be the dramatic one, but… I wanna talk to you!”

  “Let’s talk,” he said. Then he pointed at me. “And you — I want to spend time with you later.”

  I saluted him. “Aye-aye. Wanna meet by the pool?”

  “Yes, in a little bit,” he said to me. Then he took Dawn’s arm. “How about you wash up, and we’ll go for a walk, okay?”

  She nestled into his side and nodded, and he stroked his thumb on her cheek, as if he wanted to clean off the makeup, but he just smudged it more. They started walking toward the staircase.

  Lorelai followed them and hooted, “Patrick! Don’t forget the brownies!” Once the cameras were gone, she whirled around to face me. “Look, I get that this is a competition, but I don’t know what game you are playing. You want Patrick? You want camera time? What do you want?”

  Since I couldn’t tell her what I really wanted, I lobbed a question back at her. “You want camera time?”

  She nodded. “Yeah — me and everyone else here. Now I know you probably don’t get out of your little town much, but don’t go playing wild card around here. You’re not helping the rest of us who might like to get something out of this. If Dawn wants Patrick and can’t handle the competition, then let her deal with it. It’s not my problem, and it’s not your problem.”

  “Fine,” I said, looking around for an escape. “I won’t get in the way of your career.”

  She rubbed her temples. “This is so stressful.” Then she looked down at her front and realized she was still in her underwear. “I’m going to make brownies. Yes, brownies.” Then she returned to her room.

  “Might want to put some clothes on before you use the oven!” I called after her.

  She turned and shook her head. “Grow up.”

  I left Miss Mature to her own devices and headed down to the pool to wait for Patrick. I sat down in a lounger and pulled a towel over my legs to stay warm. Since the sun was setting, the water of the pool got darker and darker. Even though I didn’t have music or books or television, the experience was comforting. I heard some rustling in the woods, the women inside, and the sounds of a cocktail party that must have been happening at the house next door. A man’s voice that I didn’t recognize yelled, “Get the hell out of my face, you freak!” off in the distance. It didn’t sound like Patrick, Wolf, or anyone else in the house, so I let it go. Then everything became silent.

  After a few moments of quiet, I imagined Kevin in the pool, only this time he wasn’t floating faced
own. He was doing the breast stroke, with his head rising and falling with the waves.

  Kevin was my focus now. I was supposed to protect Patrick, and that I would. But my story arc had changed.

  “Jealous again?”

  I turned. It was Patrick, with one of the Big Bobby’s Bikes jackets draped over his forearm. The sun was down, and it was cold. “Want my jacket?” he asked.

  “Where’s it been?” I asked back.

  “You’re good. Neither Lorelai nor Dawn have worn it, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Where are they?” I asked.

  “Dawn told me she was going to rest, and Lorelai is cooking. You have some serious competition, my dear.”

  “Do I?”

  “Aw, c’mon.” He held out the jacket. “Let’s pretend we’re not on a show and walk.”

  Of course, it was hard to pretend we weren’t on a show, as Tortoise and Hare followed Patrick and me on the path that ran along the back of the house, toward the woods. With the lights and their breathing, I couldn’t forget. Since I was wearing a T-shirt, Patrick wrapped his leather coat around my shoulders. I didn’t even have to ask.

  He led me into a dark corner of the yard, near the stairs that led to the road, as if he were playing hide-and-go-seek with the cameras. He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. Just barely, I heard him whisper, “I really like you.”

  “Can you guys get within range of the light? I’m not getting anything,” Hare complained.

  “Patrick, what did you say?” Tortoise added. “Why are you whispering?”

  And that’s when I heard the moaning.

  “Do you hear that?” I asked.

  Patrick shook his head.

  “You?” I asked Tortoise and Hare.

  They both shook their heads.

  I help up my finger. The romance, such as it was, would have to wait. That wasn’t the fun kind of moaning. Someone was hurt. Maybe even a deer. They were known to get loose in Marin County. I moved slowly toward the top of the stairs. When I reached the first step, the heels on my boots started to skid, and I nearly slipped. If I hadn’t been in better shape and weren’t wearing my boots, I would have taken a tumble. I crouched down and touched the top step. It felt like it had been covered with grease, but it didn’t smell. It made me think of petroleum jelly.

  Whatever it was, it felt like the same stuff coating the side of the pool when Kevin drowned.

  The moaning grew louder. I turned and yelled, “Patrick! Get some help! Get somebody here!” Tortoise and Hare immediately advanced, but I shouted, “You’re gonna slip, stay back!”

  Every single stair was greased as I descended. I sat down on my butt and scooted down stair by stair. I didn’t realize the staircase was so long when I went up them just a few days ago.

  Since it was so dark, all I could see was a little black pile at the bottom. “Hey!” I called out. “Do you need help?”

  “I’m hurt,” a tiny voice whispered.

  “Get a light down here! Be careful!” I screamed.

  I heard Patrick yell, “It’s slippery! What is this?”

  Once free of the stairs, I dragged my feet along the ground to wipe the goop from my boots and ran for the pile. It was Dawn: poor little accident-prone Dawn. “Oh, honey!”

  I didn’t want to move her, but I checked her neck and arms for a pulse. She had one, but it was weak, and her breathing was shallow. All her eye makeup was running from tears. “What happened? What hurts?” I asked.

  She whispered, “I was going to interrupt you. Like you told me to. And then someone pushed me, and I fell.”

  “What hurts?” I asked again.

  “Everything. I want my Mom. I wanna go home. I wanna go home!” She started crying harder.

  “Who pushed you?” I asked. I took Patrick’s jacket off me and threw it over her.

  “I don’t know. I was looking out and I heard your voice, and you were coming my way, but then these hands were on my back. It hurts… so bad…”

  “Jesus!” Patrick had reached us by now. “Dawn!”

  Well, Dawn was wrong that Patrick hadn’t remembered her name. “Patrick, I’m sorry…” she gasped.

  “Sorry?” He kneeled down and stroked her head. “Nothing to be sorry about. You just had an accident. We’re gonna take care of you, Pixie. They can get medical crew here real quick.”

  “But Kevin died before the ambulance came, and I hurt!” Dawn cried out.

  “No, no…” I gripped her right hand, which may have been the only part of her not broken. “You have to stay calm. You aren’t going to make yourself better if you get upset.”

  “I can’t breathe.”

  Patrick told her, “Keep your breath shallow, but keep it regular.” I thought I saw a trickle of blood come out of her mouth.

  Surprised, I looked at Patrick. “You’re talking like a pro.”

  He shrugged. “I earned all the Boy Scout merit badges.”

  Then Dawn’s head tilted back, and I shouted, “Come on, stay with us!”

  “You need a camera down there?” Hare asked.

  “No, you idiot! Get an ambulance!” Patrick roared.

  “But we might have to reshoot!”

  I screamed, “I will reshoot your sorry ass unless you get a move on!”

  “Whoa, don’t get all pissed. We already called the ambulance,” Hare said. I heard his footsteps as he tried to get down the stairs. “What’s up with these stairs?”

  “Don’t you slip, too!” I yelled.

  As we waited for the ambulance and Tortoise mopped up the mess at the top of the stairs, taking the evidence with it, everyone else followed Hare slowly down the steps and gathered at the bottom. Greg was pacing. I could tell he was trying to decide if this was camera worthy or not. I was torn. While I cared more about Dawn’s dignity than any lost dramatic moments, the camera might catch evidence.

  Once the EMTs arrived, I let them do their work and pulled Greg aside, away from the girls, acting like I needed comfort. I grabbed on to him and whispered into his ear, “They’re related. I don’t think Kevin slipped. He fell. There’s that stuff, the sticky stuff I told you about, all over the stairs. Don’t let Tortoise clean it all up!”

  “But it’s a production hazard!” he gasped.

  “This whole show is a production hazard!” Then bright lights flooded in my face. The cameras were rolling. Greg asked me how I felt. “How do you think I feel?” I turned my back to the camera and walked off.

  Tina had made it down the stairs. She was tearing up and looking concerned, although I knew it was all fake. “Aw, looks like your date got interrupted,” she said giddily.

  I grabbed her by the arm and hissed, “In case you haven’t noticed, someone is hurt.” I twisted my hand a little, hoping I rubbed her sunburn the wrong way.

  “Don’t be too sure. It’s just television,” she said, struggling. “Let me go. You’re crazy.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was dealing with. In the light, I saw Dawn’s left leg crumpled up at a bizarre angle, and no amount of special effects could have pulled that off. “Andi might be a bit ditsy, but you may be the dumbest person I have ever met,” I said, finally letting go.

  Topaz was off to the side, her arms folded across her chest. She wasn’t looking at Tina, and she didn’t defend her. “That poor girl,” was all she said, staring hard at Dawn’s leg.

  “We’re all actresses,” Tina replied. Then she walked over to Greg, worked up some tears and prepared to have a good breakdown in front of Hare’s camera.

  The other cameras were down low, filming Patrick as he talked to Dawn and tried to soothe her. “Pixie,” he said, “I barely got to know you…”

  The EMTs pushed everyone away. They took Dawn’s vitals, asked her a few questions and stabilized her neck. She screamed when they touched her leg in order to get her on the stretcher. Even Tina looked stunned by Dawn’s scream, as if she really had convinced herself that it was all a production stunt.

/>   As the EMTs prepared to pull out, I asked one of them what they thought of Dawn’s situation. The EMT shrugged. “A broken leg, maybe a neck. I’m worried about the internal bleeding. No telling there. You guys gotta watch it over here. Drownings, falls… what next?”

  “What next?” I repeated.

  The EMTs loaded Dawn into the ambulance and slammed the door shut. I took one last look at Dawn through the window. Patrick’s leather jacket had been draped over her, and then an EMT pulled it off so they could assess the damage. At least she got a souvenir.

  Chapter Twenty-One:

  The Ox and the Ditch

  Once the ambulance left, everyone followed, except me. I stayed for about an hour, poking in the bushes, walking up and down the stairs, trying to find clues, but Tortoise’s overenthusiastic mopping had removed almost all of the sticky stuff. I may have had a little left on one of my boots, but that was it.

  I needed help. Kevin gave me a magic word when this all started, and I was ready to use it.

  When I climbed back up the stairs, I saw Wolf by the pool, picking up bottles and cocktail glasses. He was shaking his head and mumbling his standard line about oxen and ditches.

  I marched right up to Wolf and said, “Sean.” Wolf froze and gestured for me to follow him. “We’ll talk at my headquarters,” he said.

  I thought we would go inside the mansion, but Wolf led me over to the cabana instead. I realized that the cabana was a prime place for someone to wait for Kevin or Dawn and give them a shove, either down the stairs or into the pool. To avoid a shove, I let Wolf go through the cabana entrance first, and he didn’t seem to mind.

  The cabana had cedar walls on all sides. I had never peeked inside the cabana since black curtains covered all the windows, but Wolf had set up an oasis for himself. He had a generator, a halogen lamp, a few cardboard boxes acting as tables, a blue-and-white cooler, and two orange recliners that faced each other. Crumpled cans of Major Rager were everywhere.

  Before sitting, Wolf snatched a pile of what looked like black string from the seat of a recliner and tossed it across the room.