"I just felt like pink wine," a man said.
"It’s gross."
"You have to savor the taste."
"It’s too sweet, reminds me of spiked juice."
"Forget about the wine for a second."
"I can’t. It’s invading my taste buds like communism sweeping through South East Asia."
"Then don’t drink it."
"But it has that initial allure of communism."
"Oh, that’s so damn clever."
"Why thank you."
"Hey, baby, I brought all sorts of other stuff to drink."
"Where is it?”
"In my car. I’ll go get you a diet cola."
"Great. Just what I need, a bracing shot of artificial sweeteners."
"You keep an eye on him. And turn the grill down. The steaks are gonna burn."
Feet moving away. Then the woman, loud: "I like burnt meat."
Nothing for a while. Just the screech of crickets. Almost peaceful. Except for the pain.
"I thought you said nobody knew about this place." The man had returned—though I couldn’t tell how long he was gone. "Here."
I heard a can pop open and then a noisy slurp. "Really, I didn’t think Teddy would remember," the woman replied. "It was years ago. We were just kids. And how was I supposed to know he’d or anyone else would come looking for me?"
"I don’t like this one bit," the man said.
"Let’s kill this guy and worry about it later."
A metal point poked my temple, leaving the area numb.
"Not at the supper table!" the man said. "Jesus, what’s wrong with you? I need time to think."
"Come on. Let me do him. It’ll be fun."
"You really are a rascal, baby."
"Have you found the key yet?" A familiar voice drifted in from a distance.
"In a minute, Teddy!" her voice hammered back. Then softer: "Look for the key, will you?"
"You want to uncuff Teddy?"
"We have to," she said. "Can’t leave him in the car."
"Yeah, we can."
"He’s still my friend," she said.
"Well, he did some work for me and I’m not getting too sentimental about it."
"Just find the key."
A wet hand rifled my front pockets. "I know I’ve seen this guy before," the man said.
"I never have. He’s kinda’ handsome in that rugged sort of way."
"You know who he reminds me of, baby?"
"Who?"
"Remember them billboards of that chain- smoking cowboy?"
"His hair’s too dark. And that guy had lighter colored hair."
"I didn’t say he looked exactly like that guy. I said he reminded me of that guy."
"Have you found his keys, yet?" she said.
"No, but I found a pack of smokes," the man said.
"How apropos."
"It’s pathetic."
"Give me a cig, will ya?" she said.
"They’ll kill you, for Christsakes."
"Stop that."
"It’s true."
"It’s only one," she said. A lighter flicked.
"I think this guy’s waking up," he said.
"You smacked him pretty good. Look at his cheek bruising."
"Lucky I didn’t kill him," he said. "We ain’t leaving him on the table. He’ll ruin our supper."
"I’d say he already did that," the woman said.
I was a dead weight suspended in space; my chin bunched forward, small hands wrapped around my legs. I opened my mouth to speak, but all I did was gurgle. I still couldn’t see, but the same two voices yapped back and forth.
"I can’t walk backwards!" she said.
"Come on," he said. "You got the feet."
"They’re heavy!"
"Try carrying him by the shoulders. He weighs a shitload."
"Yeah, and he smells like beer and cigarettes, too."
"Get through the door, now, baby."
She grunted like she was getting screwed hard. My wrist bent backwards, pinched against something, skin starting to peel away. Then my hand snapped off. Someone screamed.
"He makes a sound," the man said.
"It’s his hand caught on the other side there," she said.
"Oh, shit."
"Get it through."
My upper body dropped below my feet. A tug on my arm and then it hung free. Thousands of needles jabbed at my hand.
"There," the man said.
"He’s cut," she said.
"Keep going."
"Don’t step in the blood. You’ll tramp it all over the place."
I was raised up again, level with my lower half. I was inside, the air stuffy, their feet scuffing on a wood floor. A door creaked open on rusty hinges, and the flip of a light switch changed the blackness behind my eyelids to a dark pink. The needles in my hand burst into sizzling fireworks.
My feet dropped down as I was yanked back. They were taking me down a flight of stairs, my hips swinging, hitting the wall and banister.
"I’m gonna drop him," she said.
"You’re almost there."
"God! This sucks!"
"Little further, baby," the man said. "You can do it."
"No, I can’t!"
It was cooler at the bottom, almost like air conditioning. They walked me sideways.
"On that," he said. "Drop him."
She grunted again and I was flying, then bouncing on a chilled, rocky mattress. I tried to roll on my sides and get my feet on the ground.
"He’s moving!" he said. "Get his legs," he said.
Hands pushed me flat on my back, pulled my extremities apart. Something was wrapped around my wrists and ankles.
"There," he said. "He can’t go anywhere now."
"Let’s have those steaks before they get cold," she said.
"I ain’t very hungry anymore."
"Well, I still am."
I drifted in and out of nothingness, and in those brief moments of consciousness I believed I was dying. I saw Mona and Lisa jamming a rifle butt at me, and then the voices came, the same two as before, blabbering. I got hot and cold flashes. My stomach rested on empty.
The first thing to come out of the funk was my nose, picking out a strong chemical odor that I recognized, but was too dazed to name. Then the pain woke up, a welt where the shotgun had connected, throbbing and weighing a ton. My wrist felt broken, but I hoped it was only a sprain.
I cracked my eyes, the bright lights shooting right to my brain and spotting my vision. A hazy looking form was next to me, bent over at the waist, making a blowing sound.
"You’re awake," she said and blew again.
I pictured myself racking the focus of a camera lens and the cloudy gook cleared from my sight. A foot rested on the side of the platform, one toenail painted in purple, the next red. The applicator brush was taking care of the big toe.
I looked up the unclad leg, the skin a bright pink, cutoffs leaving a lot of good thigh showing. Leaning as she was, I had a clear shot of cleavage, but her boobs were lost behind a loose fitting shirt. The reddish blond hair was pulled tight across the head and fixed in a bun, strands sticking out all over. Turquoise eyes as big as seashells did her smiling.
"You’re Pam," I said.
"You must be psychic," she said.
I moved to get up, but didn’t get far. I had forgotten about the restraints.
"You’re strapped down," Pam said. “So don’t think you can free yourself."
The straps were as rubbery as bungee cords but without any give. I wasn’t getting much blood to my fingers and toes—then again, most of my blood might have run out of my cheek and wrist.
Take stock, Nick. While you can.
I was in a room of cement walls with narrow windows set along the top of the foundation. In the ceiling exposed wiring and copper pipes crisscrossed between rows of two by fours. Thick metal poles formed a square around the staircase. Behind me was all dark, but Pam sat in full light. By her side were a metal t
able holding a bottle of nail polish, what looked to be my .45, and one of the king cans I had gotten back in the capital.
"Hey, smoker man, one question."
"Let me up, first."
"What are you doing up here?"
"Let me up, Pam."
"You didn’t answer me."
"Not until I’m up."
"Well, that could be a while." She capped the nail polish. "What do you think?" Wiggling her toes in my face.
"I don’t."
"You know my name, but I don’t know yours."
"Forget it."
"We could just forget about you lying down here. How does that sound?"
She popped the beer open and had a pull.
"Give me some of that," I said.
"You’ll choke lying like that."
"Tilt my head up."
"Why? You won’t even tell me your name."
"It’s my beer."
"Yeah, but I got it." Putting the can to her lips, she took a chug.
"Irv’s looking for you," I said.
She didn’t react at all. "Irv who?" she said.
"Irv Marquette, a.k.a. your fucking boyfriend."
"Don’t know any Irvs like that."
"Black guy, used to play pro hockey for the Capital City Sounders.”
“I hate fucking hockey.”
“Served time in jail with your father."
That gave her a pause, but not for very long. "Oh, that Irv."
"Call him."
"Can’t do that."
"He’s worried about you, Pam."
"This place doesn’t have a phone," she said. "We’d have go into town to make a call, and I’m not about to saddle up for that."
"I’ll drive you."
"You know something else, smoker man?"
"I don’t have a cell phone," I said. "Do you?"
"There’s no service on the mountain anyway. We don’t even have a TV up here."
"Untie me."
She drank some more beer. "Nope, nope, nope."
"Do it, Pam."
"We’re going to see what Eddie wants to do with you."
"Eddie Block the guy who knocked me out?"
"That be Eddie."
"If I was gonna hurt you, would I have drove in like that?" I said.
"Your car lights were off, and besides, this isn’t a debate. I just came down here to do my nails."
"Think about that," I said. "You never would have saw me if I was a danger to you."
"Then why was my friend Teddy handcuffed in the back seat?"
"I didn’t want him touching me."
"Oh, you’re one of them types."
"Huh?"
"Hates gay people."
"So what’s wrong with that?"
"Uh, lot’s of things. Shall I list them?"
"Forget it.”
"That’s twice you said that already."
"Where’s Eddie?"
"Looking for toilet paper. He needs to use the potty."
"You gonna give me a drink of that beer or what?"
"And when he’s finished in the can—I should say, if he finishes—he and I will decide your fate."
"Listen, I’m supposed to bring you back to Irv by Friday evening."
"You are such a bore!"
She exchanged the beer can for my gun and stuck the barrel in my face.
"Careful, Pam," I said. "The safety’s off."
"I know. I turned it off."
"Then you know how to turn it on."
"Am I scaring you?"
"You pull that trigger, I’d make one helluva mess all over you."
"One thing we do have up here is running water and a shower."
She took the beer and clicked off the lights at the top of the stairs. I heard her feet move above me and then came a hollow knocking sound.
"Eddie, are you in there?" Her voice was a little tinny but I could make it out clear enough. Thin walls in a summer cottage.
"Yeah. It’s just all this stress," Eddie replied, his voice even clearer than hers. "It’s tying me up inside. First I get lost driving up here and we got work to do and I owe Irv ten big ones...OOOOH...for all my new equipment and now this guy shows up."
Pam giggled.
"What’s so fucking funny about constipation, Pam?"
"I was down in the basement just now talking to him," she said.
"I told you to leave him alone."
"He’s tied up, too."
"Yeah, but he’s trouble, baby."
"Not the way he is," she said. "You are not going to believe what he said."
"Right not, the way things are going, I’ll believe anything."
"Irv has him looking for me to bring me back in time for the weekend."
"Makes some sense."
"I told you he would get worried."
"As long as you don’t get paranoid, baby."
"I’m not."
"Irv don’t know nothing about this."
"Of course, he doesn’t."
"I’ve told you what you need to say. ‘Dear Irv, I needed some alone time to explore my feelings for you.’"
"Explore my feelings? I wouldn’t say anything like that."
"Use whatever words you want to."
"Thanks a lot, Eddie."
"But get the gist right. You bring in emotions, men don’t know how to react. You could, you know, cry a little."
"Yeah, I’m good at that."
The toilet flushed, the water rushing through the pipes over my head. The bathroom door opened.
"Listen, baby," Eddie said. "We’ll be done here before Friday anyway. I say we leave him down there till then."
"That’s cruel."
"But it’s smart."
"Then you’ll let him go?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Promise?"
"I promise, baby. You can trust me."
Right then, I figured I’d never get off the bed.
I was in complete darkness as if I had my eyes closed. I felt the pain creeping out like a slow leak, up my arm and down along my jaw.
But don’t think about that, Nick. There’s lot to sort through.
What were Pam and Eddie doing up here that they didn’t want Irv to know about? Couldn’t figure it, not in my condition. Eddie said he owned Irv ten grand. A serious chunk of change, especially with the vig growing every day. Man, it took some huge balls to borrow some green from a guy, while hanging out with his girlfriend.
And what about Pam? Irv wasn’t getting himself an innocent snowflake. No, she had suckered him somehow, someway, without even having to put out. What a brilliant little gold digger.
But worst of all, my situation. They knew I was working for the guy they were hiding from, and if I got free, I would tell Irv their dirty secret. That would be the end of them, which meant I would never get a chance to talk.
I preferred it quick instead of rotting on a bed.
15
You never know the exact moment you fall asleep, or when the dreams begin. Someone was twisting my wrist, hurting it bad, and that someone was Irv. He had my hand behind my back, leading me into the police station. A big cop with a military haircut punched me in the face and then took the tape from Irv and there was Mona and Lisa in my bedroom, naked, Mona spread out on my blankets. I was naked too, and as I watched myself grow, Mona said, "No, no, Nick, I’m still alive." As I put myself inside her, her pussy sprouted teeth, which clamped down on my dick, severing it in one bite. I backed away screaming, bleeding, and Lisa turned me around. Her vine tattoo came alive, wrapping itself around my arms and legs, the daggers stabbing at my flesh. Lisa started aging, getting older and uglier in fast motion: hair growing longer and grayer, boobs and shoulders sagging. Her hair fell out, her skin melted away and she was nothing but a skeleton sitting on a chair in my bedroom. My bloody dick was still between Mona’s legs, her pussy hair covered in come. As she started to decay like her roommate, I ran.
I ran and ran. Right into Teddy. Teddy led me to
a hospital bed and laid me down. He tied me to the bed. I didn’t resist.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"You’re tired."
I looked down. I was still naked.
"I have no dick," I said.
"Why?"
"It got eaten by a vagina."
"That’s why we don’t love woman."
"We?"
"You and I."
"I’m not gay."
"Oh, of course not."
Still looking down, I watched as he found my penis, his tongue licking the shaft. I got hard instantly, growing to a foot in length. Then a release, like a stream flowing, lasting forever.
"Quick Nick," he said.
I opened my eyes, squinting at the sunlight coming in through the tiny basement windows. The back of my shirt was covered in sweat. A shadow was draped across me.
It was Teddy standing over the bed.
His face looked like a gusher in an oilfield; pimples and blackheads fighting it out for a prominent spot on his face. His hair was slick and flat.
"What are you doing down here?" I said.
"Watching you sleep. It looked like you were dreaming."
"I wasn’t."
"A pleasant kind of dream."
"Forget it."
"I bet we don’t remember all the nice dreams we have. The ones where we’re happy and confident, our friends are still are friends, and our families accept us for whom we are. It’s always the nasty dreams that I remember, the ones that reinforce my faults, my esteem issues. People are grotesque looking and buildings and rooms oddly shaped. I’m always naked and lost."
"Teddy, will shut-the-hell-up."
"No. I’m rather enjoying you being like that. You suddenly powerless and impotent. I could do all sorts of things to you." And he grinned, something like the devil might do after getting another soul for hell.
"And you’ll pay for it, too."
"You’re not ever getting off this bed."
"Don’t be too sure."
"Oh, please. I bet you’re going to tell me you’ve been in tighter spots than this one."
None that I could think of, but I said, "Lot’s of times."
"You’ll never surprise me, Nick. Anyway, I heard them talking last night, Pam and Twodees." He stopped to pick at a zit on the point of his nose.
"Don’t do that, Teddy. It’s gross."
"Habit, I guess."
I took a deep breath. "What did your old friend Pam and her new friend have to say?"
The Big Bad Page 9