by Evans, J R
“Dani’s here,” she said. “I guess they have everything they need. Officially, they’re listing it as a home invasion. No mention of the business. I guess we can reopen soon, but she did recommend lying low for a while.”
“That should be easy,” said Matt. “I don’t imagine people will want to visit the VIP room anymore.”
Christy sniffed and looked over at him. “Are you kidding? I bet we could charge double.”
“How is she? Dani? She was pretty close to Erica, right?”
“She won’t talk about it. She’s taking it pretty hard. Me too . . . I don’t know, maybe we should—”
“Take the weekend off?” Matt suggested.
“I was gonna say move out.”
Adam looked up at that. “I don’t want to move.”
Christy bent down to his level. “Are you sure, honey? We’ll be okay if we do. We can make it work.”
“I fought through the tremors that night,” Adam said. “You heard him. I saw what he saw.”
Christy raised her eyebrows and spoke slowly. “He was crazy. And look what happened to your eye.”
Adam met her gaze. “I’m getting better here. I had a tremor yesterday, and I was able to end it on my own. I just stepped back into myself, and it ended.”
“Honey, you need to tell me when you have those. To me it sounds like they’re happening more frequently, not less. And you say you’re seeing stuff that’s not there.”
Adam shook his head. “It’s just a way for me to control things.”
“We’ll see how it goes,” she said.
“But Mom—”
“We’ll see how it goes,” she repeated. “We don’t have time to argue about this. Dwayne’s gonna be here soon.”
Now it was Matt’s turn to put on a fake smile. “What are you guys doing?”
Adam perked up. “Dad’s taking us to dinner and a movie.”
Matt liked Dwayne well enough, he just didn’t want to see Adam get disappointed. Something had shaken loose in Dwayne that night, and he’d just frozen up. Matt couldn’t blame him; he’d felt pretty useless himself. And Dwayne did seem to rally once Adam was safe. It was clear that he cared about Christy and Adam. Matt just didn’t know if Dwayne knew how to care for them.
“Cool,” said Matt, “what are you going to see?”
“The one with all the explosions,” said Adam.
Matt’s smile was real now. “All of them?”
“A comedy,” said Christy.
This was news to Adam. “But—”
“You’re saying that a lot today,” said Christy. “Don’t make me take us to a romantic comedy. I’ll do it.”
Matt followed them back inside. The police tape had been removed from the VIP room door. He didn’t open it. He wasn’t ready to face that mess just yet. Ice cream and blood still stained the carpet out front, and he had enough trouble with just that.
He hid in his office until they had gone. Dwayne hadn’t come upstairs; he just waited for them down in the foyer. Adam sounded excited, and Matt had heard him rush down, taking the stairs two at a time from the sound of it. Christy had come down a few minutes later. Matt hadn’t heard any arguing or yelling, so it seemed like movie night was off to a good start.
Matt thought about going to a movie himself. He didn’t want to think about what he should do next. He spun around in his chair to face the window. His bandage was itchy. He peeled it off slowly, which he knew was the exact wrong way to do it. The stitches in his wrist looked strange, almost fake. He touched them experimentally, and they felt real enough. The cut was still sore, but everything looked clean and the pain meds were pretty good. Maybe he would take a couple of those pills and sit in front of the TV instead of going out.
The cut wasn’t very long, but it had gone deep. It had severed an artery, but Dani’s zip tie had slowed the bleeding enough to keep most of his blood inside his body. They said it would scar. And the scar would go right through the brand on his wrist.
“That’s not gonna get me any chicks,” he whispered to himself.
He jerked his head up when somebody answered.
“Probably not.” It was a woman’s voice.
Matt spun his chair around again and saw a woman sitting across the desk from him. She was full figured and wearing some kind of uniform. She looked like she might be a cleaning lady. She also looked kind of familiar.
“Whoa!” said Matt. “How did you get in here?”
She seemed kind of bored with his reaction. “The front door was open.”
“It was? Well, unfortunately we’re closed, so . . .” Matt started to stand. He was going to show her the way out, but of course, she already knew the way out. “I’m not sure when we’re going to open again.”
The woman didn’t take the cue and remained firmly in her chair. “I do.”
“What?”
“I know when you’re going to reopen. And it’s going to be soon.”
Matt sat back down. “Are you here to clean up the crime scene? I didn’t call anybody.”
“I can help with that. But that’s not why I came. My name’s Bethel. I knew Quentin. We went way back.”
“I’m sorry, but he passed away.”
“Yep. I helped with that, too.”
“The clean up?” asked Matt.
“Sure,” said Bethel. She looked at the stitches on his wrist. “I understand you’ve had a pretty rough time since he left. I want to help get things up and running again.”
“Why would you want to do that?”
“You could say I have an investment in this place.”
“Uncle Quent didn’t mention that.”
“How could he? He’s dead.”
This seemed like a scam. If she were a telemarketer he would have hung up on her already. Best just to hear her pitch and get her out of there as soon as possible.
“What kind of investment?” asked Matt.
“We can talk more about that later,” she said. “First you’re going to need to deal with them.”
She pointed at the phone on his desk.
“The phone company?” asked Matt.
The phone rang.
At first he was startled, but then he realized this was all part of the show. She probably sent a text to her partner to give him a call. Matt decided to play along.
He hit the speakerphone button and answered. “Hello? This is the Golden Delicious. I’m sorry but all of our sex workers are currently on vacation. Can I take a message?”
“Cute,” said the voice on the phone.
Matt recognized the voice instantly. “Aunt Rose?”
“Hello, Matthew,” she said.
Happiness and terror jockeyed for position under Matt’s skin. The result was a long pause.
“How did you get this number?” he finally asked.
“It’s on your tawdry website.”
“I have a website?”
“Your brothel does.”
Matt looked at Bethel who was just quietly listening. She shrugged and nodded her head.
“Do they know where I am?” he asked.
“Of course they know,” said Aunt Rose. “They heard all about it. They’re coming.”
Fight-or-flight was kicking in again. This was definitely going to be flight. “I’m not going back with them.”
“They’re coming for the boy.”
Epilogue
Adam and the Music Box
This is the story of Adam, the boy who could see between walls, and his journey along the forest path. If you would like to follow along on his adventures, please turn the page when you hear the cat say, Meow meow.
* * *
The day Adam first listened to the music box was the worst day of his life. He was only nine years old so he didn’t have a lot of days to compare it with, but based on the amount of blood on the floor, this was definitely the worst so far.
The music box was made of wood. It didn’t have much decoration on it, and it seemed pretty old
. When Adam lifted the lid of the box it played an old tune. He didn’t know all the words to the song, but he knew it was about longing for home and simpler days.
There was nothing simple about Adam’s home.
Meow meow.
* * *
Adam’s best friend was a cat. His name was Azrael, which was also the name given to the Angel of Death by some sects of Islam. In the Jewish Zohar, Azrael was called Azriel, instead. He commanded legions of heavenly angels. Christians tended to ignore Azrael, and that was just fine by him. Adam’s Azrael was actually named after a cartoon cat that terrorized tiny, blue, Belgian creatures. But he didn’t command, or battle, or preside over death. He mainly just napped and followed Adam around.
One day, Azrael followed Adam between the walls of their clubhouse. Adam was listening to his music box when all of a sudden, everything began to shake. Including Adam! He shook, and his eyes fluttered open and closed. He said things that didn’t make sense. When Azrael rubbed up against Adam to see what was wrong, they both slipped between the walls.
Meow meow.
* * *
Adam was ready though. He had walked between the walls before. The first time it had been by accident, but this time he was trying to walk between them. He wanted to see if he could find his way back to the forest path that lead to a magical garden. He had seen the garden and the path in his dreams, but he figured out that when he had those dreams, he was actually awake. So this time, he thought about the path and he thought about the garden as he drew on the wall.
The pattern he drew was a new one. He had learned it from the man who had given him the music box. That man had gone to the magic garden, and Adam wanted to see if he could find it, too. But he didn’t want to hurt anybody to get there. He just wanted to walk. So he let the music box play, and when the patterns on his wall looked like the stars in the sky, he started walking.
Meow meow.
* * *
Adam was a little afraid when he saw the forest path again. The last time he had stood on the trail, he had been frozen in place, and when he tried to talk, somebody else used his mouth to make words. This time he could walk, and touch the trees, and use his own mouth.
The first thing he said was, “Azrael! You came with me!”
“Meow,” said Azrael. He didn’t really know what else to say.
“I’m glad you did,” Adam admitted. “This forest can be scary, and I’m not really sure where I’m going.”
“Meow,” said Azrael again. He was only a cat after all.
Adam’s clubhouse looked different. The roof was covered with moss, and instead of being lit up with Christmas lights, it was surrounded by a swarm of fireflies winking in and out of existence. Outside the door a trail stretched off through the forest in two different directions.
He tried to remember what the garden had looked like. He remembered parts of it had looked pretend and parts of it had looked real. Sometimes, the real things would start to look pretend, and the pretend things would start to look real. The big tree in the center always looked real to him. So did the owl perched up in its branches.
As Adam thought about the owl, he heard a screech far off in the forest. It sounded more like an echo that had forgotten to fade away. He decided to follow the path toward the sound.
Meow meow.
* * *
The forest was dense and dark. Sometimes Adam thought he saw shadows moving among the trees. They reminded him of fables and fairy tales. In those stories, it was never safe to leave the forest path so Adam watched his feet carefully and made sure Azrael never wandered off too far.
Once he thought he heard a baby crying far off in the woods. And once he thought he saw his father waving to him and smiling. Adam knew these weren’t real, though, and tried his best to ignore them as he hurried along.
The forest ended suddenly. He followed the path around a tree as large as his clubhouse. As he turned the corner, the trail opened up to a large clearing. Adam picked up Azrael and stood at the edge. All the trees bent back from the clearing as if they were trying get away.
They had found the magic garden, but the garden was dying.
Meow meow.
* * *
No owl greeted them as they stepped into the clearing.
The plants and trees that looked real were wilting. All their color was draining out of them, and their leaves littered the yellow grass below. The plants and trees that looked pretend were curled up on the ground like forgotten paper. They looked brittle and faded.
There was a dry stream winding through the garden that looked like a patchwork of cracked mud. A small pond still had some water left in it, but it smelled foul, like a dog that had just come in from the rain. There were no birds chirping or butterflies flitting about. Instead, there was a faint, continual sound of crunching and clicking. To Adam it sounded like bugs crawling and eating their way through a compost heap.
Even the great twisted oak tree looked like it was sagging under its own weight.
Meow meow.
* * *
Something moved under the oak tree. Adam was expecting the Woman in the Garden to step forward with her daughters. To call out a warning or a curse. To unleash her owl and try to take his other eye.
But there was no woman, and there was no owl.
Instead, a man was sitting under the tree, leaning back against it. He lifted his head. He looked old, but then most people looked old to Adam. The man also looked tired, as though he had been awake for a year. Adam’s eyes widened. It was the man with the blade who could draw lines and patterns like he could. It was Foster.
When he spoke, his words didn’t match his smile. “Have you come to destroy me?”
“No,” said Adam. “I came to see if I could help the women you brought here. I came to take them home. Or at least away from this.”
Meow meow.
* * *
Foster stood but was still using the tree for support. Adam set down Azrael. The cat’s back was arched, and his tail looked like a bottle cleaner. He growled a low warning to Foster, but that hadn’t helped a whole lot last time.
Foster smiled at the cat but made no move toward him. “They left with her,” he said. “She took an acorn from the tree and left this place behind.”
“Why?” asked Adam.
“She knew you would come,” said Foster, “and that you would bring the Other.”
“What other?” asked Adam. “My cat?”
Foster’s smile faded, and he looked closely at Adam. “The one inside you who leaks out when you lose control. The one with wings and horns. She called it your familiar.”
“If it exists, it hasn’t helped me before,” said Adam.
“You could have lost more than your eye that night,” said Foster. “It pulled you away, out of the garden. Now I see it staring at me through that same eye.”
Meow meow.
* * *
Adam looked at himself in the pond by the tree. The surface was still and reflected the angry-looking clouds in the sky. The Adam in the reflection wasn’t wearing an eye patch. He looked back with two eyes. One was hazel, the same eye that stared back at him when he watched himself brush his teeth in the bathroom mirror. The other eye was milky-white but also seemed to glow with a faint blue light.
When Adam looked into that eye, he heard words echoing through his head. Some were in a language he understood and some sounded like Latin prayers. None of them were his words, and the words didn’t make him feel safe.
Meow meow.
* * *
Adam turned back to the oak tree. A dry leaf fluttered to the ground and landed on a yellowed picture of a rose bush. Azrael swatted at the leaf, and it crumbled to dust. Foster was sitting under the tree again, his head bowed.
“Why don’t you leave?” asked Adam.
Foster kept his head down. “Where would I go?”
“Someplace new,” said Adam.
“I’m tired of walking the path,” said Foster.
“I think I’ll stay here. Maybe I’ll learn to grow things. Plant a garden of my own.”
Adam turned to go, but then he stopped. “Maybe this will help.” He held out the old wooden music box to Foster.
As Adam left the magic garden behind, he heard the old tune one last time. He knew he wasn’t done walking the forest path.