With Strings Attached

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With Strings Attached Page 19

by A. A. Vacco


  Now sitting on Billy's lap, Genie finished another beer and laid her head against his chest. Billy twirled a lock of her blonde hair between his fingers and kissed the top of her head. "Guys, are we calling it a night?" asked Aubrey.

  Genie stood up, slightly unsteady with her first step. Billy grabbed her arm and they made their way toward the front entrance. "You're taking an Uber to Aubrey's," he told Genie, and in the same breath, "No one's driving home."

  Aubrey rolled her eyes. "And what do we tell my parents when they find us home without my car?"

  Billy shrugged. "Say I drove you guys home and I'll swing by for you tomorrow to pick it up. Keep it simple. It’ll be safe here in the parking lot."

  Genie nodded and pulled up the Uber app; it was faster and cheaper than hiring a cab. Plus, they'd have a driver in minutes. She put one for Aubrey's address and one for Billy. "We're set," she said, locking her phone and pushing her way out of the bowling alley’s front double glass doors.

  The cool air felt refreshing, and the wind quieted for the time being. Aubrey zipped up her coat and Genie wrapped her scarf around her face. Billy shoved his hands into his pockets, but stayed close to Genie in case her balance decided to take the rest of the night off. Soon the cars arrived and the girls and Billy parted ways.

  Making it into Aubrey's room, the stumbling pair collapsed onto her king-sized bed. They had kicked off their shoes and left their coats somewhere near the front hall, but decided they were too tired to change into anything else. Aubrey had a small remote control near her bed for the light. Once they were settled, she dimmed it, leaving enough light to see the layout of the room. Mostly for Genie's benefit, Aubrey figured, as Genie had far more to drink.

  Aubrey wondered if she'd even remember making it back to the house. After a few minutes, Genie rolled to face Aubrey, and whispered, "Don't hate me, kaaay?"

  Aubrey rolled her eyes. "What'd you do now? You better not have pissed yourself."

  Genie giggled. "Nooo. Stupid. I meant the...," her voice rang into laughter.

  "Look, I'm going to sleep. Stay if you want, otherwise call another Uber in an hour once you’ve sobered up some." Aubrey rolled to face the wall.

  "Aubreeey."

  "Swear to god, ya drunk ass, go to sleep."

  "Fine you'll never know where I hid it, then."

  "Hid what?"

  More laughter. "You'll never know," Genie said in a sing-song voice.

  Aubrey sighed and sat up. She scanned the room, but didn't see anything out of place. She was certain Genie wouldn't remember much of this, so she said, "I'll find it tomorrow. G'night."

  Genie sighed with a final "Ha!” then rolled over and stayed quiet.

  Aubrey shifted to lay flat on her back. She stared at the ceiling and watched it slowly move out of focus. The room grew darker as her eyes grew heavier. Moments later, she dozed off.

  Ba-bump

  Aubrey rocketed upright, searching the room for the sudden noise. Genie was no longer next to her. Aubrey surmised she sobered up just enough to order a ride back to her house. Doubtful she’ll be sufficiently quiet to sneak into her house undetected.

  Focusing on the closet, Aubrey squinted her eyes. It seemed to be where the sound originated, but she was asleep, so it was hard to know for sure. Silence followed. Aubrey glanced at the lime-green glow of her digital clock on her dresser. It showed 3:43. She sighed and reluctantly slouched back into her pillow. She stared at the ceiling and watched it grow darker and darker.

  Thump. Thump.

  Jumping off the foot of the bed, Aubrey stood in the middle of her room, searching for the cause of the disturbance. Her adrenaline coursed rapidly throughout her body. She dropped to her knees and looked under the bed, using her cellphone as a flashlight. Finding nothing unusual, she stood and lit up the corners of the room. Nothing out of place. To Aubrey, it sounded as if something fell. The closet.

  She shivered and moved toward the door. With shaky fingertips, she touched the knob and pulled it toward her. The door opened, revealing some laundry, hanging clothes and several shelves of cluttered collectables. Using the light on her phone, Aubrey scanned the small space, not seeing much out of place aside from the expected mound of her dirty clothes. As she lit the hanging clothes in front of her something shifted out of the corner of her eye near the bottom of the shelves. Aubrey jumped back with a shriek.

  Shining the light over the perceived moving item, Aubrey noticed a doll lying flat on its face. This surprised her. Most of her dolls she donated to charity years ago. The few that she held onto were in storage. But the doll on her floor looked about the size of her American Girl dolls. With her foot, she kicked the doll onto its back and used the light to examine it. "Not one of my American Girl dolls," she murmured.

  This doll had dark skin and black eyes. The hair, she could tell, was long, but pinned on top of its head. The dress was purple and green shrouds of fabric wrapped around the body. It looked old. Genie's sing-song voice saying, you'll never know, suddenly echoed in her mind.

  "Crap," grumbled Aubrey, sitting the doll upright and placing it on a higher shelf among the rest of the clutter. "Guess you'll have to hang out here until I find out where you came from."

  She assumed the doll fell from wherever Genie originally placed it. She wasn't sure about Genie's angle for this prank, but she didn't find it funny, especially with what happened at that stupid hick-town mansion. Aubrey wondered momentarily if the doll came from there. She couldn't recall if Genie left with anything. She hoped not, and felt too tired to think about it. She'd re-hide the damn thing in Genie's house once she got some sleep. "Drunk-ass," she muttered, shaking her head as she returned to bed.

  23

  “Ah...damn.”

  “Ellbea? Hon, what is it?” Cal was in the living room reading his copy of the latest Pulitzer prize winning novel. He was at a good part, but Elle’s voice brought him back to reality.

  “Apparently, Kat hit her head and according to Walt, won’t go to an ER to get checked out.”

  “Well, why would she? She’s got you here.”

  “Me and my x-ray vision. If it’s bad enough for him to text me...,”

  “It’s probably nothing. Go over there.”

  “I’m just worried. The way those two have been going at it the past few weeks, one was bound to snap. If it was Walt, it’d be physical instead of emotional.”

  Cal nodded. Kat snapping would consist of either plotted murder that would never come to fruition, or an impromptu vacation far away without so much as a postcard stating where she was. Walt, on the other hand, would likely explode.

  Elle stood in front of Cal and said, “I’m going over there. I’ll be back at some point.”

  “Want me to go with you?” It was a semi-sincere offer, but Elle nodded. She knew Cal would be able to run interference with Walt so she had at least a chance at getting the full story out of Kat.

  Elle threw Cal’s shoes at him and started putting on her own. The worn-down running shoes had seen better days. Formerly bright, neon pink, Elle ran the shoes into a new state of decomposition. Literally, thought Cal. Mud and blood dyed with grass stains; they looked like she ran them over with a lawn mower several times over. She finished lacing up the sad-state of apparel and walked out the front door. Cal was close behind her, locking up as they trekked three houses down to sort through the night’s excitement. We really need to get her new shoes, thought Cal, as he watched Elle move ahead toward the Muller’s house. And why does all the nonsense kick up on a Friday night? Doesn’t anyone relax anymore? Damn their tempers. She always seems to push him and then, bam. Something. Course I’m just assuming now that there was a fight. She might’ve tripped over the cat, for all I know. His thoughts were interrupted by Elle yelling at him to hurry up.

  “Well, for god’s sake, Woman, you’re practically sprinting.”

  “Hey, I don’t know what we’re walking into. She could be unconscious for all I know.”

  �
��He probably would’ve led with that in his message if she were," said Cal. “Besides, they’re both marginally intelligent adults. Don’t you think they’d exhaust all options on their own before reaching out to us?”

  “Well, technically it was me, but I’m roping you in, too.”

  Cal smirked, “Damn skippy.”

  Elle gave him a hard look. “Now don’t go assuming this was a fight. We’ve gotta be open and supportive and--,”

  “Yea, yea, I know, geesh, just go in.”

  Without so much as a tap on the door, Elle pushed it open and Cal noticed her immediate anxiety. She had a nervous habit of pushing back the cuticles of her pointer fingers with her thumbs, in sort of a rolling motion when she was stressed or ruminating. It was a subtle movement that most overlooked, but hard to miss after being with her for fifteen years.

  Cal reached out to put a hand on Elle’s shoulder, but she quickly brushed him off and headed for Kat’s bedroom. Cal hung back, looking around the living room as he strolled through it and into the kitchen. “Feel the room," Elle would often tell him. “It’ll feel heavy after a fight.”

  God, she could be such a hippie. Well, thought Cal, it feels like 70 degrees, low humidity, and a well-lit kitchen.

  From the bedroom, he heard Elle firing off questions and Walt answering them in great detail. It wasn’t hard to pick up Walt’s voice from any part of the house. “Yea, she was folding clothes, and Hubris, Huey we call him--,”

  “Oh for the love of it, I know the damn cat’s name, Walt!”

  “Right, right, sorry Elle. Um, yea, he ran up and into the pile she was folding. Dark colors today, because Genie needed her volleyball top clean and it’s emerald. But Kat was worried Huey would get paw prints on the clothes. She shooed it off the bed, but caught her foot in the comforter. See, we never make the bed...well, she doesn’t, and she lost her balance, and fell sideways, off the bed and hit her head on the nightstand halfway down.”

  “Did she pass out?” Cal knew that tone. That was the “I believe she hit her head and nothing more” tone.

  Elle was like a human bullshit detector. He chuckled thinking that could be her super power. The Bullshittonator: reigning terror of all tall tales ever told. He’d run that by her later to get her thoughts on the title. He redirected his attention to Walt’s voice explaining that Kat lost consciousness for a few seconds, but seemed to be fine now. A few more exchanges, then he heard footsteps exit the bedroom and approach the kitchen.

  “Calvin, my good man, I didn’t realize you came as well! Can I get you a drink?”

  Cal nodded. “Yea, I started with wine earlier, and I think I should stick to it.”

  “Believe we have a bottle of red open. It’s a blend, that ok?”

  “I’m a cheap date and a cheap drunk, pour whatever ya got.”

  Walt grunted with a nod, grabbed two glasses from the cabinet and poured away. He passed one glass to Cal, who instinctively swirled it a few times, and took a sip. It wasn’t bad. The two sat down at the table, wordless for the first few minutes.

  “Walt...I gotta know...what really happened?”

  Walt paused for a second. Whether it was from the wine or the stressful blur of events, Walt let his guard down enough to allow open communication.

  “Believe me when I say, I don’t know one hundred percent," he enunciated ‘percent’ with heavy emphasis on the T, “but we weren’t seeing eye to eye. It happens. Hell, I’m sure you and Elle get into it at times.”

  “Disagreements and head injuries are on separate planes, Walt. C’mon, you know that.”

  “I do, I do...but all I see is a blinding light of rage when we get into it. Then I snap out of it and everyone in the room is either hiding, crying, or...well...,”

  “Unconscious?”

  “As it happened in this instance, yes, but I swear to you, Cal, I didn’t do it intentionally!”

  Cal shook his head, unable to conceal the look of disapproval that crept over his face.

  “No, no you don’t understand...I pushed a bunch of her shit off of the dresser. One of those things flew at her and clocked her in the head. Knocked her out cold. Might’ve smashed a few things into the walls, too.”

  “Shit, Man," muttered Cal.

  Walt glanced down into his wine. Cal tried throwing him a bone. “Hey, I’m glad you didn’t just clobber her over the head. Or punch her.” He paused, hearing how awful that came out. He stuck his foot further into his mouth by adding, “I’m not condoning throwing things that could potentially harm someone...because you did and it did...uh, but, but I’m glad you didn’t come at her and attack her on purpose.”

  Walt accepted the attempted consolation, along with thanking God that Genie was not home. Where is that kid, anyways? It’s well past midnight. She is usually home by now. Course, he was glad she still wasn’t.

  Just then, the back door swung open and Genie stumbled through it. She seemed to be using it as a support, but when the door moved from her weight, she lost her balance. Cal noticed this and hoped Walt didn’t. Last thing he wanted was another explosion. Fortunately, Walt was more focused on swirling his wine glass, lost in a tornado of thoughts.

  Cal jumped up to greet Genie. “Sweetheart, how was your night?”

  He mumbled because he knew if she was like any teenager with a drop of alcohol she’d...

  “Oh my gaaawd, Uncle Cal! Wow you guys are here? I had noooo idea. What—what’s uh...why are you here? So laaaate?”

  “Shhh, Honey, your Mom had a little bit of an accident and she called your Aunt Ellbea to check her out.”

  “Shhhit is she ok?”

  Wow, she’s loud, thought Cal, quickly guiding her by the table and out of the kitchen.

  Walt glanced up. “Pumpkin you feelin’ ok?”

  Genie seemed to sober up enough to lower her voice. “Yea, Daddy. Just tired. Gonna head...," she pointed with a determined glare through her smudged make up, “thatta way,” and headed toward the bedrooms.

  Her room was next to Walt and Kat’s. Cal decided it best to accompany her. He figured the girls were either in detailed discussion about tonight’s events, or Elle was kept completely in the dark and they were off topic to ensure it stayed that way. The latter, Cal found out later from Elle, was accurate.

  A soft knock on the bedroom door sounded. Kat’s headache kept a constant seven out of ten; some stupid pain scale Elle kept asking her about. She couldn’t tell her what happened. Not yet. She wasn’t thinking clear, and she didn’t want Elle to jump to conclusions over Walt. She was a little peeved that Walt called the Conways over, but at the same time, relieved to be with Elle because it meant an end to her and Walt’s ‘discussion.'

  “Come in," answered Kat.

  “Mom? Mom, oh my gaaawd. Are you ok?”

  “Genie, Honey, c’mere.” Kat motioned her over.

  Genie stumbled toward her mom in a zigzagged pattern. Until then, Cal had her propped on his arm for support.

  “Oh lord, what the hell did you drink?”

  Genie looked genuinely shocked that Kat knew her level of sobriety, or lack thereof. “Wha-what?”

  “Genie, we own a bar. Your father and I both went through college. Your adopted aunt and uncle drink like fish.”

  “Hey," shouted Elle and Cal in unison.

  It would’ve been cute if Kat wasn’t in so much pain.

  “We do not drink like fish," said Elle.

  “Yea, we drink like sharks! Those are way cooler!” added Cal.

  Despite her best efforts, Elle busted out laughing. “Idiot," she managed, shaking her head.

  Kat returned her focus to Genie.

  “Sweetie, I’m not mad, just, fill me in. What’d you have? Where were you?”

  “Bowling alley, again. I thought I told you that! They serve alcohol. We had some pitchers of Bud Lite.”

  “Panther piss?” said Cal.

  “Not now!” Kat growled. Back to Genie, “Honey, we’ve had a bit of a rough night. You
think you’ll be ok sleeping it off?”

  Genie was looking fairly pale, maybe a little green. Her world must be spinning, thought Kat.

  Kat shot Elle a pleading glance and Elle immediately jumped in. “Hey Kiddo, come stay with us tonight. We have plenty of Zofran, Aleve, and Claritin; the holy trinity of hangover cures.”

  Genie nodded, not a state of mind to argue. She’s ready for a bed and possibly some water, noted Kat, “C’mon, Love, go with those two. They’ll set ya up and we’ll have breakfast for all of you tomorrow.”

  “Only if you’re up for it, Charlotte Mack," winked Elle.

  Kat was in too much pain to get angry. “Whatever, get out before I throw ya out.”

  With Genie between them, Elle and Cal walked the short distance back home, gave Genie medication so her world stopped swirling, and got her settled in their guest bed.

  “Holy shit, this has been a long day," exhaled Elle as they settled in bed themselves.

  Cal debated filling her in now or tomorrow. “Elle, Babe...the day’s not done yet.” And he started from the beginning.

  “No wonder she wanted Genie out of the house.”

  “Yea...I think it all seems worse now because of how late it is.”

  “It’s still bad, Cal, you know that. Actually, it is getting worse. They’ve always had tempers, but this is different.”

  “Let’s get some sleep. Keep an ear out for Genie, she still might hurl.”

  “I left a plastic basin by her bed. We’re covered.”

  “I love you, my super lady.” He leaned over and kissed her forehead.

  “Love you too, Cal.”

  Three houses down, Kat slipped into a deep stupor. Walt remained seated at the table, polishing off the bottle of wine and then, opened another. He finally fell asleep, head atop clasped hands, slumped in his seat at their kitchen table.

  24

  "So, how's the perfect woman, Bacon?" RJ's voice startled Billy and caused a small splash of coffee to sting his hand.

 

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