Come Out Tonight

by Richard Laymon

  Quentin waved out the window at the drying crew. Several of the girls, laughing, gave him the finger. “Charming ladies,” he said.

  “I’m sure glad they aren’t coming,” said Baxter.

  Jack waited at the parking lot exit, then turned onto Fairview Boulevard.

  “You’ve got the cream of the crop here,” Brenda said.

  “Those others are student council,” Fran explained. “The car wash was supposed to be just for the school newspaper…”

  “That’s us,” Quentin said.

  “And Ralph,” Baxter added.

  “But the student council always has to butt in,” Fran continued.

  “The bikini brigade,” Quentin said.

  “Hey,” Brenda said, and gave him a gentle punch on the leg. “I’m in a bikini.”

  “You’re not like them,” said Baxter from her other side.

  She turned and met his eyes.

  He blushed and shrugged.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  “The thing about the student council,” Fran continued, “is that they’ve gotta stick their noses into everything that happens on campus. They have all these awful rules you’ve gotta follow.”

  “I hate rules,” Jack said.

  “Yeah, me too. But what I really hate is how they get to take half of everything we earn.”

  “That isn’t fair,” Jack said.

  “Sure isn’t. But they make the rules.”

  “Stinks,” Jack said.

  “Doesn’t it? That’s why we don’t like those girls. They’re all student council.”

  “That’s one of the reasons,” Brenda said.

  “Plus they’re foxes,” Quentin added.

  “They’re not so hot,” Baxter said.

  “Oh yes they are.”

  “Bull.”

  Brenda smiled at him.

  He thinks I’m foxier than they are, but he can’t say it.

  She patted his leg.

  His bare skin felt moist and cold.

  She looked at him. He had goosebumps. His shoulders were drawn up. His chin was trembling.

  Quentin seemed to be in much the same shape as Baxter.

  Wearing her Piglet T-shirt and cut-off jeans over her bikini, Brenda was better off than them. But she, too, had gooseflesh and shivers.

  “Hey, Jack,” she said. “I wonder if you could turn down the air a little. We’re freezing back here.”

  Fran looked around at her, then glanced from Baxter to Quentin. To Jack, she said, “You’d better turn it down.”

  “What’ll you do?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. It isn’t fair to freeze everyone else just because I have a sweatshirt on.”

  Nodding, Jack reached forward. A moment later, the blowing sound diminished.

  “Thanks,” Brenda said.

  Jack looked at Fran. “Let me know if you get too hot. I can boost it back up for a while.”

  “No, don’t. I’ll be fine.”

  “You get too hot,” Quentin advised, “just take it off.”

  “Thanks,” she said, “but I don’t think so.”

  “You’d be amazed at how nice the summer feels when you’re not suffocating inside a sweatshirt.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “Well, it’s crazy. Nobody in their right mind goes around in a sweatshirt on a day like this. You wear ’em all the time. It’s insane.”

  Brenda frowned at him. “It’s not insane.”

  “It’s ape-shit crazy is what it is.”

  Leaning forward against his chest strap, Baxter frowned past Brenda and said, “Leave her alone, Quent.”

  “Don’t give me that. You’ve said the same thing.”

  In the front passenger seat, Fran stared straight ahead.

  “She can wear whatever she wants,” Brenda said. “And she doesn’t need anybody riding her about it.”

  Jack turned his head toward Fran. On the half of his face that Brenda could see, he was frowning. He reached over and put a hand on Fran’s shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with what you’re wearing,” he said.

  She looked at him and almost smiled.

  “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he added.

  “Thanks,” she murmured.

  “I think you look great.”

  “She’d look better if she lost the stupid sweatshirt,” Quentin said. “She’d feel better, too. And the rest of us wouldn’t have to freeze.”

  Fran looked back at him. “I can’t take it off. I’ve got nothing on underneath.”

  Quentin’s eyes widened. “Whoa!” he said. “All the more reason.”

  Fran laughed and faced the front.

  Chapter Fifty-four

  “It’s the next street,” Pete said. “But maybe you’d better stop.”

  “Here?” Sherry asked.

  “Yeah. If we go on into the cul-de-sac, he might see us.”

  “If he’s still hanging around,” Jeff said.

  Sherry pulled over to the curb and stopped.

  “I don’t think Toby’d drive over here,” Pete said, “then just take a quick look around and rush off. You know? He went to all that trouble to get the address and…”

  “He has to kill me,” Sherry said.

  “Has to try,” Pete corrected her. “What kind of car does he drive?”

  “I don’t know. Last night he was in a Mustang, but he lost the keys and had to leave it on the street. Then he had Duane’s van. I guess he might still be using the van, but that’d be awfully stupid. The cops must be looking for it. He probably ditched it somewhere. Maybe he’s picked up the Mustang by now.” She shook her head again, very slightly. “I don’t know. He could be driving just about anything, I guess.”

  “That’s what I’ll look for,” Pete said. “Wait here, okay?” He reached under his seat and pulled his revolver out of the towel. “Why don’t you guys hang on to this till I get back?”

  “I’ll take it,” Jeff said.

  “Are you sober yet?”

  “Hey, dude, I didn’t drink any more than you.”

  Sherry looked at Jeff in the rear-view mirror. “Do you know how to use it?”

  “Does a moose poop in the woods?”

  “His parents don’t allow any guns in the house,” Pete said, “but he’s gone shooting with my family a few times. He knows how to handle it okay.”

  “Okay? I’m a regular Wild Bill Hickok.”

  “In your dreams,” Pete told him.

  “He can take it,” Sherry said. “I’ll deal with the car.”

  “Sounds good.” Pete opened the passenger door.

  “Be careful,” Sherry said. “Just take a look and come back. Don’t go searching for him.”

  “I’ll just check out the cars.”

  He shut the door, then walked to the corner. Turning his head to the right, he stepped off the curb. Instead of stopping to take a long look up the road, he strolled slowly toward the other side.

  There were two houses on each side of the straightaway leading in, plus three around the circle. Most of them had vehicles parked in their driveways and along their front curbs.

  The driveway of his own house was empty. So was the driveway of the deserted house next door. But a car and a pick-up truck were parked along the bend of the curb.

  He saw no Mustang.

  The only van in sight, parked in a nearby driveway, was a bright new Chevy that his neighbors had bought a month ago.

  Pete stepped onto the curb, kept walking until he passed a redwood fence, then crossed the street and looped back to his car. He stepped up to the driver’s side.

  Sherry looked up at him from the open window.

  He bent toward her. “I didn’t see anything obvious,” he said, “but there’re a lot of cars parked around. He could be anywhere.”

  “I’m the only one he can recognize,” Sherry said. “Why don’t you and Jeff get in the front? I’ll lie down on t
he floor in back.”

  “Good idea,” Pete said.

  “I’ve got a better idea,” Jeff said. “You come back here, Sherry, and I’ll hide you under me.”

  “Give it a rest,” Pete said.

  “Just a suggestion.”

  “Thanks anyway,” Sherry said, and climbed out.

  In a matter of seconds, they were all in position. “Ready?” Pete asked.

  “Let’s do it,” Sherry said, her voice sounding a little muffled.

  Pete glanced at Jeff to make sure the revolver was out of sight. Then he drove around the corner and up the road. He used the remote control to open his garage door.

  And to lower the door after they were inside.

  He shut off the engine. “We’re back,” he said.

  Behind him, Sherry grunted and moaned as she struggled to push herself off the floor. He looked over the seat back. So did Jeff.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “It was easier…getting down.”

  “Need help?” Jeff asked.

  “No, that’s…” She flopped onto the back seat and let out a yelp.

  “You okay?” Pete asked.

  She was slumped crooked, propped up with one elbow. Pete’s big Hawaiian shirt, half unbuttoned, drooped off her shoulder. Face contorted, she said, “I’m not feeling so good.”

  “What is it?” Pete asked.

  “I think the painkiller wore off.”

  “There’s more in the house.”

  “Let me just…I don’t want to move for a minute.”

  “I could go in the house and get you something.”

  “No. Huh-uh. Let’s all stay together till we know where Toby is.”

  “You don’t think he’s in this house?”

  “I wouldn’t bet against it.”

  Pete jerked his head toward the door to the kitchen.

  Jeff turned forward on his seat, swung the Ruger through his open window and aimed at the door. “Here, Toby-Toby-Toby,” he chanted softly as if calling a nearby cat.

  “You’d better hope he doesn’t come,” Pete said.

  “I hope he does.”

  “You with a six-shot .22 single-action, him with a seven-shot .380 semi-auto. I wouldn’t want to be sitting beside you if that happens.”

  “I’ll put the first one in his face.”

  “From your lips to God’s ears,” said Sherry.

  “I bet he’s not in there anyway.”

  “He might be,” Sherry said. “And if he is inside, he has to know a car just drove into the garage.”

  “What do you think we should do?” Pete asked her.

  “I don’t know, but…Wait. How about hitting the remote again? Get the door back open and start the engine. That way, if he comes out blasting we’ll have a chance to get away.”

  Nodding, Pete opened the garage door. Then he started the engine. Keeping his foot on the brake pedal, he put the car in reverse.

  “That’s better,” Sherry said.

  “Except now he can get us from behind,” Jeff said.

  “You watch the kitchen door,” Sherry told him. “Pete, you keep an eye on the rear-view mirror. If Toby pops up back there, maybe you can run him down.”

  Both hands tight on the steering wheel, Pete watched the mirror. Jeff kept the revolver aimed at the kitchen door.

  Nobody appeared in the mirror.

  Nobody opened the kitchen door.

  “How long do we keep this up?” Jeff asked.

  “I think he’ll make a move pretty soon if he’s here,” Sherry said.

  They waited.

  And waited.

  Finally, Pete said, “He isn’t coming.”

  “Starting to look that way,” Sherry agreed.

  “Maybe I oughta go in,” said Jeff. “He’s probably not in the house, but if he is…” He looked at Pete. “Keep the car running and get ready to take off.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Somebody has to go in sooner or later.”

  “It’s my house. I’ll do it.”

  “But I’ve got the gun,” Jeff said, flinging open his door and lunging out.

  “Jeff, get back here.”

  He looked over his shoulder, grinning. “Don’t worry, man. I’ll blow his head off.”

  “Be careful,” Sherry called to him.

  “If I get out of this alive, do I get a kiss?”

  “Sure.”

  “A good one? Not just a peck on the cheek or something? A big old juicy one right on the smacker.”

  “You got it,” Sherry said.

  “I’ll risk my ass for that any day of the week,” Jeff said, then faced the kitchen door.

  “Will he be able to get in?” Sherry asked softly.

  “Yeah. We don’t normally lock…”

  He didn’t bother to finish because Jeff was already swinging the door open.

  Before entering the kitchen, Jeff looked back again. He waved with his left hand, made a mock-terrified face like a kid about to pull a daredevil stunt, then looked forward and stepped over the threshold.

  “He thinks it’s a game,” Sherry said.

  “I’m not so sure,” Pete said, speaking softly, half expecting gunshots to interrupt him. “It wouldn’t surprise me if he knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s kind of a strange guy.”

  “I’ve noticed.”

  “He comes across as sort of a goofball, but he’s awfully intelligent. I think he knows he might get killed in there.”

  “Wants that kiss,” Sherry said.

  “Sure he does. Who wouldn’t?”

  “How did I get so lucky, running into a couple of guys like you?”

  “The luck of the drop,” Pete said.

  “God, I hope he’s all right.”

  “We’ll hear shots if…”

  “Not necessarily,” Sherry said. “Toby used knives on the others.”

  “I’d better go in.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  Pete shut off the engine, then thumbed the remote to start lowering the garage door. He climbed out. By the time he could get to Sherry’s side of the car, she was already on her feet. She was breathing hard and grimacing.

  “You okay?”

  “Tip-top shape of my life.” She reached out and gripped his arm. “Let me hold on, okay?”

  Side by side, they made their way toward the open door to the kitchen.

  “Don’t call out,” she whispered.

  At the doorway, she let go of his arm. He stepped into the kitchen. She came in after him and put a hand on his back. It felt good through his shirt.

  They stood motionless.

  Pete realized he was sweaty all over. They hadn’t been using the air conditioning in the car, and it wasn’t on in the house. The house was warm, but not stifling. The sweat, he supposed, was mostly nerves.

  “I don’t hear anything,” he whispered.

  He heard plenty: his own pounding heart, Sherry breathing behind him, the hum of the refrigerator, the clicking clock, birds chirping and twittering outside, a lawn mower that sounded very far away. But no sounds of anyone else in the house.

  I’ve got to remember all this, he thought. What I hear and don’t hear. The way the sweat tickles running down my sides. And how Sherry’s hand feels on my back.

  Especially that.

  She’s probably just using me to hold herself steady.

  But it feels personal.

  When I write about this, I’ll turn her into my girlfriend.

  No, have her be who she is. It’d be stupid to change her. She’s better than anything I could make up.

  But I can’t write about some of this. Like how we found her. People might read it. Like Mom and Dad. Everybody’ll say I write dirty stuff…

  The hell with what they say.

  But what would Sherry think?

  I can’t have her read it!

  But maybe she’d like it.

  She’d probably want to kill me.

  I can’t
believe I’m thinking about this, Pete suddenly thought. Jeff might be dead…

  That’d make the story even better.

  Oh great, he thought. Real nice. Now I’m hoping my best friend’ll get killed.

  I am not!

  His heart lurched at the sudden thudding sounds of someone rushing through the house. Sherry’s fingers twitched against his back.

  Then Jeff ran into the kitchen and smiled when he saw them.

  He’s all right!

  “Coast is clear.” He grinned at Sherry. “You owe me a kiss.”

  Sherry’s hand went away from Pete’s back. She stepped out from behind him and said, “Come and get it.”

  On his way to her, Jeff wiggled his eyebrows at Pete. Then he handed over the pistol. “Stand guard while I collect,” he said.

  “Just take it easy,” Sherry warned him. “Try not to hurt me.”

  Jeff barely touched her at all when he put his arms around her.

  She leaned toward him. Her lips were puffy and cracked.

  Jeff brushed his lips against them.

  Sherry leaned closer, pressing her injured lips a little more firmly against him. The way her shirt looked, Pete was sure that her breasts must be pushing at Jeff’s chest.

  It could’ve been me, he thought. I should’ve done the searching.

  Too bad Toby wasn’t here.

  I don’t mean that.

  But it could’ve been me. Now Jeff’s the damn hero. With my gun! And Toby wasn’t even here! He’s getting to kiss her and feel her and all he did was go on a wild-goose chase.

  Shit!

  Next time, I’ll be the hero.

  Chapter Fifty-five

  For the past few minutes, Jack had been steering the car up narrow, shadowy roads in the hills. The woods on both sides looked green and peaceful, but Brenda had a jittery feeling in her stomach.

  “Where do you live?” she asked.

  “It’s not much farther,” Jack said.

  “It’s already pretty far.”

  “I’d rather be here,” Fran said, “than back at the car wash.”

  “Does anybody else smell smoke?” Quentin asked.

  Brenda sniffed. She detected a very faint, tangy aroma of wood smoke. “Yeah. A little.”

  “Nothing to worry about,” Jack said. “The fires are miles from here.”

  “The wind must be blowing this way,” Baxter said.

  “Maybe we’d better turn back,” Brenda suggested.

  “We’re almost there. Anyway, I don’t see any cops or firemen. They’d have the streets blocked off by now if there was any real danger.”