by John Oakes
Jerry stepped in a few minutes later. “Got too quiet in here. What’s that?”
“This?” Jake held up the journal. “This is a freaking gold mine. First off, it seems that AJ here had a bit of a crush on Lala?”
“Lala?” Jerry’s nose wrinkle up. “The girl from the diner?”
“Guess so. He writes about the pregnancy. And about how Lala is going to hell for conceiving out of wedlock.”
“Seems a bit old fashioned.”
Jake held up his fingers as if swirling a glass of fine wine. “Complicated by his own sinfulness toward her.”
“Oh dear. So, he’s busy jerking off to pregnant ladies and hating himself for it?”
“Takes all kinds, Mister Jerry.”
“Lemme see that stash of yours.” Jerry took all the pills and vials out of Jake’s pocket and sorted through them. He held up a vial of blue liquid much larger than the clear laxative vials. “What’s it say? Thai Crysalis?” He squinted at the small label as he turned the vial.
“Cialis,” Jake said. “Boner medicine from Thailand and lots of it.”
“That there Steve Frazzi is quite the general practitioner,” Jerry said.
Jake flipped through the journal, now confident AJ had more dark secrets scrawled inside. But when he read one revealing passage, he had to rub his eyes and reread it to believe what he was seeing. “Hoo, boy.” Jake handed the journal over so Jerry could read the passage. It took Jerry a minute to grow accustomed to the handwriting, then he paled and swallowed.
“Uff-da.” Jerry scratched his head. “This AJ fella lives a, uhh… a complicated existence.”
“Tortured soul, that’s for sure. Kinda puts one’s own problems in perspective.” Jake kept one finger in the journal to mark his place.
“Where ya figure we’re putting this?” Jerry held up the vial delicately.
“Shall we head to the kitchen?”
Unfortunately, neither AJ nor Rob were looking to gain mass via nighttime protein shakes, but Jake did spot a half empty liter of Pepsi at the forefront of the fridge’s meager contents. “How d’you reckon Thai Cialis goes with Pepsi?”
“I prefer it with Coke,” Jerry said dryly.
Jake giggled and took it out, unscrewing the cap and holding it steady while Jerry poured the vial of viscous blue liquid in. “Wait, wait—” But before Jake could stop him, Jerry had poured the whole thing in. Jake had figured half the vial was more than enough and had wanted to save the rest. He sighed and swirled the contents together, then screwed the cap back on. “That’s some high-octane shit right there, boy.”
Jerry pulled out a second vial, setting Jake at ease, then nodded at a bottle of cheap whiskey on the counter.
Jake looked around the kitchen and couldn’t think of anything two young ruffians were more likely to consume, arriving home after a long day of conspiracy. “Why not?”
Jerry did the honors and dumped the other vial in it.
“Wanna keep a look out?” Jake asked. “I wanna snoop more. We can take turns if you like.”
“Go for it.”
Jake took a look into the master bedroom, Rob’s bedroom since he owned the house. Jake placed the journal, open to the selected page, on his pillow in his unmade bed. Then he rifled through the drawers and the walk-in closet. He found an old pair of dog tags from the Army along with a loose combat infantry badge in a drawer. He had to search a little, but found Rob’s Army closet, a separate place where he kept all his service memorabilia, including his ACUs. His sleeves showed a sergeant’s chevrons and his left breast a properly sewn on CIB, a Pathfinder badge, an Airborne badge and a Fast-Roping badge. He didn’t have ranger badges, so he must have been in one of the airborne divisions. His current patch was a Minnesota National Guard insignia, but the Fast-Roping badge indicated time spent in the 101st Airborne. Jake kept digging and located the 101st Division’s Screaming Eagle badge on an older, well-worn blouse, perhaps one Rob had worn on active duty before joining the National Guard.
“Damn, it all.”
Jake’s respect for Rob took a natural rise. Any man who could earn these prized badges and saw combat with a top-flight unit like the 101st had some backbone and some serious skills. It saddened Jake to think such a person could be planning on resorting to a life of crime, even though he had a job and owned a modest house. Then again, Jake had left a home and a job in Texas with a hair-brained intention of actually living in Minnesota of all places. People had their reasons. And apart from the moral implications, he wasn’t sure who ought to be more conflicted, he or Rob.
Jerry whistled. “Let’s go!”
Jake respectfully left Rob’s Army things the way he found them and slipped toward the rear of the house, where Jerry held the door for him. They slipped quietly into the frozen darkness and sheltered under a bush still freckled with dry, prickly leaves that tickled Jake’s neck.
NINETEEN
The Mickey
Lights came on first in the living room, then the bathroom, then the kitchen in the rear where they had the best view. Rob opened the refrigerator instinctively and pulled out the Pepsi. He sipped at it while he looked at what else they had.
AJ passed behind him after emptying his bladder. “You still hungry?”
“Eh, maybe,” Rob said. “Maybe I’ll just have a drink and watch Kimmel. Haven’t been sleeping good, so a drink or two and I should be out like a light.”
“We gotta be there by six,” AJ said. “Means we gotta be up by five.”
“So?” Rob asked testily.
“So, don’t go getting drunk?”
Rob held up two fingers. “First of all, you’re the one pouring whiskey into a coffee mug like some sort of alcoholic.”
AJ made to speak, but Rob shushed him. “And second of all, I was in the fucking Army. We partied our faces off and had to be up early to do PT and strenuous workouts and whatnot. So don’t go telling me how to see to my business, you miserable piss ant.”
“Okay. No reason to call names, now.”
“You know what you are, AJ? You’re the kind of person that needs a film crew to follow you around all day, just videotaping you.”
“Like a reality show?”
“Sort of, but it’s not a compliment.” Rob took the whiskey bottle from AJ and poured it straight into the Pepsi bottle. “Then they’d need to sit you down and play the day back for you, just so you can see the way you are with people, how you’re always snipping at them and critiquing them and judging them. And then they need to compare that with you and your behavior. You’re my friend, bro, so, I’m not gonna say you’re a weirdo, but you’re far from perfect.”
“Hold on. I’m judgmental?” AJ shifted from side to side. “You think that because you own a house and because you were in the Army that that makes you better than everybody else.”
“It does,” Rob said casually. He took a sip from his Pepsi bottle, then poured in more whiskey. “Any way you wanna measure success in life, I’m doing better than our idiot friends in this town.”
“What about Joe Neir. He’s got three kids and a wife, and he’s a dentist.”
“Joe Neir’s a dentist because his dad’s a dentist, and he got to waltz right into a cushy gig. Of course he’s married. No dentist is gonna go unmarried. Some woman in town is always gonna go marry the dentist. It’s a fact of nature. I bet you couldn’t find a single dentist in all of Minnesota.”
“So?”
“I’m saying I’m self-made,” Rob said.
“Well, then so am I,” AJ protested in a rising tone. “Sorry I didn’t get a metric fuck ton of money for going to Iraq. But I’m gonna take care of that now, aren’t I?”
“I can’t argue there, AJ.” Rob handed the whiskey bottle back to him. “We have our differences, bud — but one thing we have in common — no one was there to be daddy to us and hand us down their nice dentistry offices. When the world isn’t simply doling out good fortune, whata ya gotta do?”
“Ya gotta visua
lize and make big goals.”
Rob guzzled from his liter bottle then wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. “Yeah, but then what?”
“Then the Universe brings it to you.”
“No, dipshit. You gotta go take it.”
“Oh, right. Gotta go take it.”
Rob held out his bottle and AJ touched his mug to it. “Cheers, bud. Let’s go watch some TV and chill down, eh? Got a big day tomorrow.”
After the two guys went to the living room to watch TV, Jerry asked, “Should we get going?”
“You can. I’m gonna hang back. Things are gonna get interesting in a minute.” Jake went to the window by the master bedroom and scratched at the window, then tapped rapidly at it. He spread his fingers wide and slapped the window to make the old frame rattle like a snare drum. Jake listened carefully. When he heard the creak of floor boards, he retreated into the shadows with a good view through the window.
Rob passed the room by, then turned back and looked inside. “What’s this?” He picked AJ’s journal up off his bed, left open to the page Jake had selected.
Now that the fuse had been lit and there was no going back, Jake’s internal morality checked him. Was it wrong to do what he just did, exposing AJ’s dark secrets? Probably it was, but not nearly as wrong as robbing a CheapValue truck.
“What the fuck?” Rob whispered. “AJ is this…” Rob continued reading. “This is your chicken scratch, AJ.”
“Huh? You call for me?” AJ wandered back and hung his head in the doorway.
Rob gave a quarter turn, holding the journal in both hands. “Sometimes at night,” Rob read aloud, “when my lust gets so forceful I can’t take it, I stand in Rob’s room and watch him sleep.” Rob looked up at AJ, eyes horrified, but he read on. “Sometimes I want to touch him. Sometimes I touch myself while I watch him and wish I could kiss his body and rub my hands…”
Rob broke off and dropped the journal on the foot of his bed like it was on fire. “What the fuck, AJ?” he shouted.
“Rob, you don’t understand!” AJ’s pale, bald head seemed to retract into his hooded sweatshirt like a turtle’s shell. He took a step forward, whining, “How did this get here?”
“Nah, gimme that. I gotta burn it.” Rob snatched it away. “I can’t have this shit in written format for anyone to see, ever.”
“Please, don’t. It’s my journal. It’s not even about you mostly.”
Rob held a lighter in one hand, the journal in the other. “Who’s it about?”
Without AJ answering, Rob began flipping through the pages.
“Lala? Lala!”
“Please don’t tell anyone,” AJ said, shaking.
“So which is it? You wanna fuck me or Lala?”
“I don’t know,” AJ said. “I don’t know what’s going on with me.”
Rob squinted, holding the lighter to his temple. “Wait, so you really stand there jerking off at night while watching me sleep?”
“I…”
“No.” Rob began pacing. “Nah, man. Nah. This shit has got to burn.”
AJ stepped closer. “Rob, please it isn’t anything weird.”
“Not weird?” Rob bellowed. “You jerking off on a sleeping man ain’t weird? Then tell me what is weird to you, you fucking pervert. You should be in prison. You fuck little kids?”
“No. I’d never.”
“So, just dudes and your friend’s pregnant girlfriend?”
“Please don’t tell Kenny.” AJ was in tears, hands clenched.
“What the fuck is that?” Rob pointed to AJ’s crotch. “You’re sporting wood right now? You really are a sick puppy.”
Jake couldn’t see below their waists, but could imagine what was taking place. His eyes went wider as he watched.
“I’m not, I don’t know what’s happening.”
“Is it because this is your jerking spot?” Rob asked in a genuinely inquisitive, if angry, tone. “Your body recognized what you like to do in my doorway?”
“Shut up, man.” AJ pressed both hands to his crotch, tears filling his eyes again in frustration. “I can’t help it. I’m not a pervert.”
“Yes you are. Dammit.” Rob slapped the journal across his other arm in realization. “You’ve told me you think this person’s going to hell, and this other person’s going to hell.” Rob gestures side-to-side with the journal. “And here you are getting a boner in my bedroom. It’s just like I said about the camera crew, AJ. Look at yourself right now. Don’t you finally see what a mess you are?” Rob shifted his hips and nudged his crotch with his wrist. “I mean…” He bent at the waist. “I mean… What in the heck?”
AJ gasped. “You too!” He pointed accusingly. “You’re popping a woody too, man.”
“No, I’m not.” Rob said, wriggling uncomfortably.
“Then stand up straight and move your hands.”
“It must be a nervous tick or something,” Rob said.
“What if… what if it’s a sign or something?” AJ asked breathlessly.
“A sign of what?” Rob demanded shrilly.
“You know.” AJ adjusted his member. “Like a sign that your weiner likes my weiner. Maybe I’m not so crazy!” AJ’s relief was apparent on his face.
But Rob turned from angry red to a shade of purple. Veins bulging on his neck. “No part of me is interested in any part of you!” he boomed. “Now get the frick out of my room.”
“No.” AJ stood resolute. “You said I gotta go for what I want. I’m supposed to tell the Universe what I want, and that’s what my journal is for. And now the Universe brought it to me.” He put his hands on his hips, in a pose of defiance, his penis pressing the forefront of his jeans. “And I think I want us to explore this.” AJ hooked his thumbs in his waistband and whipped his pants down to his knees, then stood straight, displaying his bouncing erection.
Outside, Jake was nearly in tears. He jammed a fist in his mouth so hard his teeth were in danger of drawing blood. He hadn’t a clue how this was all going to play out, but it felt like a divine gift. He wanted to howl with laughter and resolve never to straightforwardly arrest a perp again, but instead play practical jokes on them, unleashing mayhem.
“Put that thing away right now or I swear to God!” Rob backed into his nightstand right by the window.
“Come on, bud,” AJ held both arms out. Then he knelt on the bed, walking on his knees toward Rob.
Rob made a high keening noise and leaped up on the bed, then planted both booted feet into AJ’s face and chest, launching him away and onto the floor. Rob landed on the bed, then bounced off onto his feet and dove for a cabinet. He tore it open and pulled out a paint ball gun with a loaded hopper on top. He aimed and fired down at the floor. Jake couldn’t see on the other side of the bed, but he knew the sound of a paintball on naked flesh and certainly knew the sound of a man in pain.
AJ squealed as Rob fired twice more. Blap. Blap.
AJ’s naked ass appeared above the bed as he scrambled away out of the room, with Rob firing twice per second, hitting his walls and furniture as much as AJ’s pale flesh.
Outside, Jake skipped sideways along the house to the next set of windows.
AJ made it to the living room, where he held the thin coffee table up as a shield. Rob fired from the hallway at its edges, blasting AJ in the fingers, causing him to scream and the table to fall to the floor. AJ still had his pants around his ankles, but couldn’t spare a moment to pull them up completely.
Rob relented for a moment, to yell, “You get out. You get out now!”
“But I live here,” AJ protested, hands over his crotch.
“Not any more.” Rob fired three more times, hitting AJ in the chest and knocking family photos off the walls. “Get the fuck out, and I’m burning all your stuff, you freaking creep.”
AJ dove behind the couch end, looking toward his room, not liking the distance.
“Out!” Rob cut off the path to AJ’s room and fired at his head with no concern for the paint sp
latters dotting his house. “Out, pervert!”
AJ covered his head and cried and yelped as he shuffled to the door, paint balls careening past him and exploding on the door, others burying in his back and naked buttocks. He threw the door open and skipped and hopped over the lawn in full sobs. “I’m a freak! I’m sorry!” He managed to pull his drawers up as he went, in twisting, bucking motions. Louder he cried once he stepped into the street. “I’m a freak!”
“Get outta here, pervert.” Rob let off a couple more paintballs to keep AJ running down the street. “And I’m telling Kenny what you wrote about Lala, so don’t think about going to him.”
The scene went relatively silent except for AJ’s sobs as he jogged down the street and the pneumatic thump of Rob shooting more paintballs until he ran out. He spat onto the lawn, then slammed his front door shut and threw the paintball gun to the living room floor.
Grunting while fidgeting with his own uncomfortable erection, he slinked to the kitchen, grabbed the whiskey bottle and his liter of Pepsi and made his way to the couch. Jake watched him for another few minutes, smiling at every frown and grimace and every drink from the bottles.
TWENTY
Manpower
Before even a hint of the day to come had peeked over the horizon the next morning, Jake and Jerry were up again and on the hunt for an open fast food joint. They’d only had a few hours to rack out at the motel, but at least they were both showered and presentable in their well-worn clothing. They found a drive thru that would serve them at 5:45 am; Jake got a coffee, and Jerry got a diet soda.
Jake shivered as cold air rushed in through Jerry’s open window, and Jerry cheerfully accepted their drinks and paid. Finally he let his window up and handed Jake his coffee.
“Sweet mother of heat,” Jake muttered. “Thank you.” He sipped on the bland, burnt-tasting coffee without complaint as it warmed him from the inside.
Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Jerry, with his coat undone, sucking on an ice cold soda. “Jerry, my man, how in the sweet bippy can you drink that right now?”