“Sure. I love him. Why? He wasn’t being a dick or anything while I was gone, was he?”
“No. He . . . he seems like a cool guy.”
She smiled, and for the first time I could tell she knew I liked her. I looked away, afraid to meet her eyes. “He comes off like a jackass a lot of the time, I know, but he’s always been there when I needed him. Sounds weird, a guy like him and a girl like me connecting, but we do. Trust me, I get it from my parents all the time. They don’t get it either, but it’s there. He gives me foot rubs, actually asks me how my day was, doesn’t complain when I ask him to keep me company at the mall. You know what he did for Valentine’s Day? He bought a fondue set and made a bed on the living room floor. We ate and watched Rom Coms all night and just cuddled. He’s a sweet guy, once you get past the machismo. Yeah, I love him. More than I’ve ever loved anyone else. And who knows, maybe I’ll even get him to read a book one of these days.”
I nodded. Always with the nodding.
Just then Gabe came up the dirt path and stood before us. “’Sup, homies. Ooh, strawberries!” He snatched one from Victoria’s container.
“Find what you were looking for?” I asked him.
He put a hand on my shoulder. “I did indeed. You got that camera?”
I walked around the two lovers and motioned them to follow me to the easel. Victoria asked Gabe what he needed a camera for as they pulled up behind me.
“Stand over there.” I pointed to the water.
They made their way across a small patch of dirt and ice plant. Gabe put his arm around Victoria.
“Say cheese.” I snapped the shot and made sure it was lit okay in the display. Had to admit it was cute, if not heartbreaking for me.
“Why are you making Roger take photos?” Victoria gave Gabe a quick peck on the lips. “Tell me.”
“I’m setting up a porn site for us. We need some ‘before’ photos.”
She punched him in the arm. “Stop being gross. Roger?”
Gabe gave me a look that asked me to keep his secret. I shrugged. “Something about a porn site is all I know.”
“You guys suck. Whatever. Have your little secrets. I need to head back so I don’t get fired.”
“No!” Gabe grabbed her by the arm. “We can’t go yet.”
“Why? You know how Barry can be.”
Gabe turned to me. “Yo, Rog, what time does the sun set?”
I looked up at the sky. Probably wouldn’t set for another two hours at least. But I knew if I said that Victoria would make him leave and I had a hunch he wanted to propose under a pink sky. Romance and all that. I guess he did have some skills. “Soon,” I told him. This guy owed me big time.
“We need to stay just a bit, then.” He pulled her into him, kissed her on the lips.
“Gabe! What don’t you get? I have to get back.”
“I’ll take the painting back for you,” I told her. She shook her head in confusion and stared back and forth between us.
“Someone tell me what the fuck is up.”
It was rare I heard her swear and for some reason it excited me. Guess she had a bad girl side after all. It only made her a little more attractive to me and I was starting to feel pretty depressed over the whole thing so I started taking down my easel.
“I have a gift for you,” Gabe told her. “Just wait a little bit, okay?”
“What gift?”
“A big one. Can’t tell you yet.”
“A big one? Is that a dick joke?”
“No, that would be a fact. This is a real surprise.”
“Tell me or you’re not getting any for a month.”
“I beg to differ,” he said, all smiles.
Great, now they were talking about having sex. And here I was so in love with her I’d settled for some of her spit on my cheek like a complete creepy loser. At that moment I’d never envied anyone so much as I envied Gabe. I started packing up even faster, kicked the empty beer cans into a small bush.
“Roger, what’s this all--”
“Trust him,” I said without looking up. It sounded angry, because I was. Angry that she was with him. Angry that I’d never have her. Angry that I’d never have anyone. Angry that she was being stubborn. All of it triggered flashbacks of killing Skinny Man. Like rapid-fire-bullet memories I saw him again, coming at me with the ax. Me throwing the gun. Him trying to pick it up. Me hacking that ax blade into his face. I could smell his hot blood spitting up into my eyes as we fell down together.
“Roger? You okay?” Victoria’s voice.
I threw my paintbrushes and paints back in my art tool box and started walking back to my car. As I reached the door she tapped me on the shoulder. I spun around and dropped everything to the ground. “What!”
She stepped back, her mouth agape. We stood staring at each other for a second, then I bent down and started picking up my things.
“Sorry,” she said. “It’s just . . . you were mumbling something and it sounded--”
“Angry?”
“Yeah.” She bent down and helped me pick up the brushes. “Did I do something? Did Gabe do something? I don’t know why he made you take a picture. I mean, it’s your camera. You didn’t have to--”
“It’s not that. I’m sorry, really. It has nothing to do with you guys. I just . . . remembered that I have some work to do at home and with Barry needing these paintings I . . . I just realized I’m going to be up all night, is all. Sorry. Didn’t mean to get weird and snap at you. I’m really sorry.”
We both stood up. She smiled, accepting my apology. That’s how she was. Always finding the good in people. Gabe was walking over now. “You okay, Lo Pan?” he asked.
“Yeah. Fine, Mr. Burton,” I said.
“Ah! You got that one. Good. Love that movie.”
Victoria groaned. “You two should marry each other.”
Gabe and I exchanged glances. “Look,” I said to Victoria, “stay here and hear what Gabe has to say. I’ll swing by the gallery and talk to Barry and tell him you got hung up. Like I said, if he docks your pay I’ll cover it. And that’s an order, soldier.” I added the last part to lighten the mood.
She looked at Gabe, back to me. I think she was starting to catch on now. A big smile spread across her face and she squinted her eyes like she was suddenly privy to a big secret. “Okaaaay.” With that, she nodded at me, and I nodded back. We didn’t need to say anything else.
I watched them walk back down the small dirt path to the clearing near the water.
Across the lake, lovers still rested on blankets. I wanted to cry. It’s not easy to lose something you’ve spent so long dreaming about. And I don’t even mean Victoria--I just mean the idea of having someone to share my life with.
All I have is Skinny Man living in the back of my mind.
Over the next several minutes I loaded up the car, doing my best to hide my disappointment. Gabe took Victoria by the hand and led her off to whatever spot he’d found to pop the question. I debated going back and picking up the beer cans, but I didn’t really care about littering any more. Call it my little protest to this whole sad situation, but if I was gonna be bumped out, then so could the Earth. Sue me.
“You’d better take good care of her, Mr. Burton,” I said, and then threw the Camaro in gear and sped out of there the way Tooth used to tear donuts on people’s lawns. Man, I just wanted another beer and a sleeping pill. Nightmares or not, I wanted this day to be over.
The road back into the city was bumper to bumper as usual, made worse by the setting sun, which came blindingly through the window as if I were under interrogation from God. Who knows, maybe I was? Maybe He was sick of my mood. I knew I was.
God is something that still bugs me. I’m sure it’s obvious at this point that not a day goes by that I don’t think about what Skinny Man did to Tooth and Jamie, and what part He, God, played in it. Dr. Marsh said it’s common for trauma victims to question their belief in God. The more I think about it though, I don’t kno
w if we’re questioning His existence or motives so much as we feel betrayed and want Him to know it.
The kicker is that I keep a crucifix in the glove compartment. It’s on a necklace my mom gave me when I left for California. Not a St. Christopher pendant, patron saint of travel, which most people keep in their car, but Jesus on the cross. Funny how she can still believe in God after her daughter was horribly butchered by a sick maniac with an ax.
God. Makes ya think. If He does exist, and I ever meet Him, we’re gonna have a little talk because He’s got some explaining to do.
The driver in front of me hit his brakes and stopped short. It was all I could do not to rear end him by swerving into the lane to my left, narrowly missing the car that was passing there.
“Fuck!”
I pulled up next to the guy who’d stopped short and yelled out the window to him. “Fucking pay attention, dick!”
He was a big guy, bushy mustache, neck thicker than a tree stump. “Wanna solve it right now?” He asked it rather politely, like he knew he’d kick my ass.
For a brief moment I seriously considered just getting out and doing it. My anger and depression was so fierce right then I didn’t care about dying: I just wanted to kill this guy.
I said nothing and drove past as fast as traffic would allow, which was still at a snail’s pace. In the mirror, I caught sight of my face. Twisted, pissed, lost, sad. Fucked. Not for the first time in my life I thought of Batman. Is this how he was able to become who he was? Harness his rage? Use it?
No. Batman wasn’t mad, he simply made peace with his anger, accepted it. Then he used it. Two different things, I knew. Me, I was just angry.
You shoulda just killed him, you pussy.
The voice came from the back of my mind. I glanced in the rearview mirror again and saw Skinny Man sitting in the backseat. He held a pair of pliers. He purposefully made the sun glint off them to blind me.
“Medication,” I said out loud. Giving myself therapy. “Just get home and take your meds again.”
Skinny Man clicked the pliers together. Meds won’t bring them back. Shit, boy, it won’t even bring me back. Might as well have slit that guy in that car. Mess him up good. Maybe he’s got a sister you can rape with his trachea. I done that once--
“Shut UP! SHUT THE FUCK UP!” I squinted my eyes, shook my head. Dr. Marsh told me sometimes it helps to count to ten, so I did that. It didn’t really work so I thought about a two-headed camel fucking a rocking chair and that finally got my mind off things. I checked the mirror again and sure enough he was gone. Only face I saw there was my own. “Just stress.”
I knew it was true--stress can bring on these episodes. Aside from watching the girl I liked just walk off to deal with a marriage proposal--and it was obvious she’d say yes--I still had a lot to do before I could go to bed. I needed to swing by the gallery. I needed to paint that other pic--
“Ah crap.” Just like that I realized I hadn’t snapped the other photo I needed. I slammed my fists on the steering wheel but caught myself and took a few deep breaths. Last thing I needed were my demons appearing behind me again.
A quick mental calculation of my surroundings did not make the situation any better. I was in between two strip malls--one on the north side of the freeway and one on the south side--and both were bookended by residential neighborhoods. Had there been a small park of some kind nearby I’d have just pulled over and snapped a picture of some trees. But the thing is, remember, the people who buy plein air like to visit the spot. So I couldn’t very likely take a picture of a tree that might be in some guy’s backyard. Well, I could, and it would be funny, and if Tooth were here he’d call me a wimp for not doing it . . . but I do need to keep my clientele.
Twenty minutes had passed since I’d left the lake, but I was still closer to that location than anything else worth painting. The sun was dropping, but if I took the next exit and weaved around slow cars, I could still have enough light to jump out and snap a pic.
“Just fucking great.” I managed to get to the far right lane and take the next exit. Cars were backed up at the light, so it took a good seven or eight minutes to flip across the bridge and get back on the freeway going east again.
CHAPTER 6
It took about twenty-five minutes to get back to the lake. Victoria’s car was still parked in the dirt lot. Chances were they were making out under a tree somewhere. I loathed the thought she might see me and come over to tell me the news. I’d probably just nod.
I grabbed the camera and walked to the spot where’d I’d been painting. I needed something a bit different than before--people don’t want identical paintings. Finally, I settled on taking one from the other side of the lake.
As I made my way across the dirt and weeds I kept my eye out for Victoria, but didn’t see her anywhere. Perhaps they’d snuck off to do something more than make out? I walked along the water’s edge for a minute and then turned around and snapped a couple of pictures of the trees near the picnic tables. Good enough, I thought, and started back to the car. Barry was sure to flip out something fierce at this rate.
When I got back to the lot, I threw the camera in the car, got in, and scanned the horizon. Still didn’t see Gabe and Victoria anywhere. “She’s gone, idiot, just let it go.”
I started the car and began to pull out but stopped quick.
Gabe’s cigarette pack was on the ground near Victoria’s car. The pack was open and I could see a good ten or twelve smokes in there. I turned the car off and got out.
I would have just assumed he’d dropped them, was just gonna put them on the car’s hood for him, but when I got out and picked up the pack, something else struck me.
There was blood on it. I squatted down and looked at the dirt where the pack had been. More blood.
Something inside me felt wrong. I was suddenly experiencing some innate sense of alertness. A shitload of scenarios ran through my mind: the ring had gotten stuck and they’d had to yank it off and cut her finger, or maybe one of them had just tripped and opened a gash on their knee or something. Neither explained why the car was still here.
I checked the doors to be safe. They were locked. Now, for the first time, I saw what looked like a handprint on the back window. A bloody handprint.
“The fuck?” I said, taking out my cell phone. I dialed Victoria and let it ring until her voicemail picked up. “Hey, it’s me. Roger. Just making sure you’re okay. I had to come back for something and found Gabe’s smokes and . . . well, there’s some blood and . . . anyway, gimme a call.”
I hung up and waited about two minutes but she never called back.
I took one of Gabe’s cigarettes and lit it with my car lighter. When I was done smoking it, staring at my phone and the lake, I tried her number again. Still no answer.
Now my spider sense was really tingling.
Then I noticed that the SUV wasn’t parked on the other side of the lake anymore. It hadn’t passed by me since I got back, although it could have just gone out the back road.
“Fuck it.” I dialed 911. It rang and rang, then told me if I had an emergency I should stay on the line. I’d called 911 once before since moving to California, to report a car bumper in the middle of the freeway. They hadn’t answered then either. Taxpayer dollars at work.
I hung up and dialed Teddy. He answered quickly, probably had my number programmed in. “Roger? What’s up? Those idiots at the website--”
“No. I . . . um . . . I think maybe my friends are in trouble.” As I say this I’m getting strobing images from those days in Skinny Man’s cellar. I can hear that ax hacking up Jamie in the back room and I’m trying real hard not to lose it.
“What do you mean?” He sounded tired. It was close to 9:30 P.M. on the east coast and I knew he worked long days so he was probably in bed.
I told him about the bloody cigarette pack and handprint. I told him about the guys in the SUV who’d been staring us down earlier. We lingered in silence for a few seconds. Then:
“Roger, it could be anything.”
“I know. That’s what scares me.”
“You call the police?”
“911 is busy. The song is true. Long live Flavor Flav.”
“Okay, I’m gonna see if I can get through to anyone there. You stay put in case they come back. Don’t worry, they’re probably just walking around somewhere.”
“And the blood?”
“Yeah. I know. I’m just trying to sound positive. But I’m serious, don’t do anything ’til you hear from me.”
We hung up.
I got in my car and drove around to the other side of the lake, parked where the SUV had been. Other people were getting in their cars and leaving. I checked the ground and saw a number of different dirt tire tracks leading out, most heading back toward the avocado stand, but some taking the back way as well. One of them might have been the SUV. But shit, it’s not like I knew the difference between SUV tread and a frigging Big Wheel.
The nearby weeds revealed nothing, no clues, no tell tales signs that something might have happened. Just some bugs that hightailed it at my approach.
The guy with the dog was packing up his things and putting them in his car.
I waved to him. “Hey.”
He looked at me, kind of suspicious. “Howdy.”
“Looking for my friends. Guy and a girl. She has glasses, really cute. He’s got a black T-shirt and tattoos. You seen them?”
He nodded. Pointed off to my left. “Earlier. They were walking up on that small hill there.”
Must be where Gabe proposed.
“There was a white SUV here. You see it leave?”
His suspicious look intensified. “Yeah, it left a little while ago.”
“Which way?”
He pointed out toward the back road. The way he turned and left made it clear he wanted nothing more to do with me. I said thanks anyway and made my way up the hill he’d seen Gabe and Victoria on. It was empty now. Some of the grass looked flattened. Yeah, I’m a regular Sherlock Holmes.
My cell phone rang. It was Teddy. “Roger, I spoke to a detective out there but there’s nothing he can do. It’s not a missing person’s report until twenty-four hours.”
Born To Bleed (The Roger Huntington Saga, Book 2) Page 5