Ratcatcher

by Chambers, V. J.

  Whitney laughed. Definitely not a date. “Okay,” she said. She looked down at the menu. Choices swam in front of her. She fixed her eyes on the first one to submerge from the sea of options. “I’m going to have the shrimp pasta,” she said.

  “That sounds good,” said Tim. “Huh. I wonder if I should have that.”

  “If you want to get something else, you can totally have some of mine,” Whitney offered. Which sounded more date-like than she thought was possibly appropriate. But what the hell? Tim, who she hadn’t spoken to since he told her the website had permanently gone down, had called her out of the blue and suggested they meet for dinner. Now that she was here, he was acting as though it was the most normal thing on earth and discussing menu options with her. But it wasn’t normal. It was weird. Tim was acting weird. Maybe the stress of being fired was getting to him.

  “I’ll keep that it mind,” said Tim. He slammed his menu shut. “Yeah. I don’t think I’m gonna risk the salmon. I think I’ll just have steak.”

  “Good choice,” said Whitney. Why was she here?

  The waitress came by to get their drink orders. Tim strong-armed her into taking their meal orders at the same time. A few minutes later, she returned with their drinks. Tim was having a Coca-Cola. Whitney was having a gin and tonic. She tasted it and made a face. It wasn’t nearly strong enough. She wished she were at home where she could make her own drinks.

  “How’s your drink?” asked Tim.

  “It’s actually a little weak,” Whitney admitted.

  “You want me to have them make you another one?” Tim asked.

  “No, of course not. I don’t feel like drinking saliva.”

  “Saliva?”

  “People spit in your food when you send it back,” said Whitney. “You know that right?”

  “They don’t always.”

  “Did you ever work in food service?”

  “No,” said Tim. “I worked retail.”

  “I was a waitress in college. Trust me,” Whitney said.

  Whitney was dying here. Why had Tim invited her to the restaurant? Maybe he was lonely and wanted a friend. Maybe she was just here to hang out. If that were the case, it might be rude if she up and asked him why he’d wanted her here. He might only want company. It was driving Whitney crazy not knowing however. Should she ask him?

  “I never meant not to work food service,” said Tim. “It’s not as though I have an aversion to it or something. I could have. It just never happened.”

  “Well, it happened to me,” said Whitney. “The drink’s fine, really.”

  “Good,” said Tim.

  Whitney smiled.

  They were quiet.

  Whitney took a sip of her drink.

  Tim fiddled with the silverware on the table.

  “So, Tim,” said Whitney. “How are you?” That was safe, wasn’t it? Shouldn’t hurt his feelings? Oh, God. This was supposed to be a date, wasn’t it? Tim was playing it cool, because she’d said she wasn’t interested. Fuck. This was going to be awkward.

  “I’m okay,” said Tim. “And you?”

  “Okay.”

  “Working on any articles lately?” Tim asked.

  “No. I’m kicking myself for not running with that Shane Adams has a girlfriend story, though. Did you see what happened at the MTV Movie Awards?”

  “Funny you should mention that,” said Tim. “That’s part of the reason that I asked you here.”

  “It is?”

  * * *

  “I’m not going on,” said Shane. He stood shirtless in the middle of his dressing room, holding one of his rats. He stroked the rat with one hand. The other brought a cigarette to his mouth in angry jerks.

  It was the day after the MTV Movie Awards. Lark personally thought it was stupid that they’d scheduled a show the next day, but apparently, according to Shane, break-neck schedules like this were common. Lark didn’t blame Shane for not wanting to go on. They’d been up until daylight drinking and talking. Shane was pissed at Chris and had been too keyed up from the fight to sleep. After a few hours’ drive on the tour bus, they’d both slept for about three hours. Shane looked tired and haggard. He hadn’t bothered to shower. He had dark circles under his eyes, not to mention a pretty ugly bruise on his cheekbone from one of Chris’ punches. If it hadn’t been for the fight the night before, Lark wouldn’t be pushing.

  But Mandy had taken Lark aside and said that because of the bad press from the night before, it was important that Shane go on tonight. If the fans thought that something was seriously wrong with Shane’s and Chris’ relationship, they might think the future of the band was in danger. They had to play tonight, to show the world that everything was okay. Which was a nice idea and all, except for the fact that everything was definitely not fucking okay. Shane and Chris were very angry at each other. The other guys in the band were angry with both of them for getting into a fistfight in the presence of cameras that broadcasted on national TV. MTV news had been running a close-up recording of it every fifteen minutes for the last twenty-four hours. And suddenly, everyone in the entire country knew who Lark was. If one other newscaster called her “The Wrenching’s Yoko,” she might beat someone senseless.

  Lark was going to do her best to get Shane on stage. But she didn’t feel as though she had much ammo tonight. “I told Mandy you didn’t want to go on,” she said.

  “Yeah, so why are we still here?” Shane demanded. “Let’s go back to the bus.”

  “Shane. Mandy told me that there are several hundred people out there who paid good money to see a show tonight. You can’t cancel now.”

  “I’ve done it before.”

  “Don’t do it tonight,” said Lark. “For the sake of the band, don’t do it. You guys need to get out there and play together. It’ll help.”

  “Play together?! We want to murder each other. Somehow, I don’t think that four guys intent on killing each other makes for a great show. I can’t go on. I won’t.”

  “Please Shane. I know you’re tired. God knows I’m tired. I know you feel like hell. We all feel like hell. But it’s just one night. And then we have a night off tomorrow, and then we drive to—”

  “Fucking South Carolina,” Shane said. “Fourteen hours in the tour bus tomorrow night.”

  “But you’ll be back in Tennessee soon. Which is home, right?”

  “I don’t have a fucking home,” Shane said. “I don’t have any choices here. I’m like a puppet for other people. This shit was supposed to be about my music. But now it’s never about that. It’s about money, and screaming fans who don’t even understand my lyrics, and Chris stabbing me in the back, and fuck!”

  He pulled the rat off his shoulder and set in on a couch. Then he stalked to the window of the dressing room, pushed aside the curtains and stared out. “I feel like a fucking prisoner, Lark. I feel as though I’m trapped by my music. As though I’m not even me anymore, I’m just Shane Adams.”

  Lark didn’t know what to do. She went to him. Put her hand on his back. He turned to her, gathered her into his arms. Looking deep into her eyes, he said, “We have unfinished business anyway, don’t we?”

  Lark rolled her eyes. “Come on, Shane.”

  “No,” he said, his voice thickening. “Tell me you wouldn’t rather go back to the bus and curl up together in bed right now. Tell me that doesn’t sound more appealing than watching a fucking Wrenching show.”

  “You forget that I’m a fan of The Wrenching,” said Lark, but she smiled. “But, you’re right. That does sound appealing.”

  Shane kissed her. Lark felt lost except for the sensation of his lips on hers. She pushed him away. “And we’ll do it,” she said. “After the show.”

  Shane held her close. “I don’t want to wait until after the show,” he murmured. “I don’t even know if I want to wait until we get back to the bus.” He started to kiss her neck.

  Lark moaned and tried to extricate herself from his grasp. “Stop it, Shane,” she said, but e
ven to her own ears it sounded half-hearted.

  He made a low growl of pleasure and began to slide his hands under her shirt.

  Lark laughed. “I mean it, stop! We’ll freak out the rats.”

  The door to the dressing room swung open. “You two ever not all over each other?” demanded Chris.

  “Do you ever lock the door?” asked Lark of Shane.

  Shane let go of Lark and stepped around her to square off with Chris. “Get the fuck out of my dressing room.”

  “Mandy says you’re being a bitch and threatening not to go on,” said Chris.

  “Not a threat,” said Shane. “I’m not fucking going on.”

  “Why the fuck,” said Chris, “are you intent on sabotaging this band? This band is all we have. Why can’t you see that?”

  “I’m fucking tired,” said Shane. “That’s all, Chris. I’m tired.”

  “You’re going on tonight,” Chris said. “If I have to drag you on stage, you are.”

  “No fucking way,” said Shane. “Now get the fuck out of my dressing room.”

  “Chris,” said Lark, “maybe your being here is not really helping to convince—”

  “Shut up cunt,” said Chris.

  And then Shane jumped on Chris again. Lark had to scream for someone to send security to pry them apart. When it was over, they were both bleeding. And Shane got what he wanted. He didn’t have to go on that night. The show was cancelled.

  * * *

  Damien tapped Rainey on the shoulder. They were standing outside the venue where the show should have gone on that night. Huge streetlights illuminated an emptying parking lot. “Hey,” he said. “We’re all going back to the van.”

  “I want to see Lark,” said Rainey. It had been nearly two weeks since she’d had the chance to talk to her best friend, and their last talk had been an argument. Rainey wanted to apologize, especially since it was apparently true that she actually was dating Shane Adams. They didn’t have easy access to television on tour, but she knew what was going on. Not only was Lark dating Shane Adams, but also Shane and Chris Dearborn were getting into fistfights over it. It was crazy. Rainey could hardly believe that her friend, her Lark, was suddenly part of that world. Rainey wanted to talk to Lark all about it. For hours. But, even though Lark was supposed to show up for this show, she hadn’t.

  Rainey didn’t know what that meant. Maybe Lark was still angry over the argument they’d had and didn’t want to talk to Rainey anymore. Or maybe she was just too busy to come and hang out in the audience with the Entourage. Now she was Shane Adams girlfriend, and the whole world knew it. Maybe she had to be followed around by security or something.

  “She’s not coming,” said Damien. “Let’s go.”

  Rainey shook her head. “I just want to wait a little longer.”

  Matt Dimsky sauntered over to the two of them. “Look, I’m glad that bitch didn’t show up,” he said.

  “Shut up,” said Rainey.

  Matt glowered at her. “Don’t talk to me like that,” he said. “If we’re all bickering all the time, it’s going to ruin the atmosphere on the van. The atmosphere on the van is really important. Don’t make me reconsider whether you fit into it.”

  “Don’t threaten my girlfriend,” said Damien. “You know, if you keep being a total asswipe, maybe we’ll just find someplace else to sleep anyway. It’s practically summer. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

  Matt started to say something, then appeared to think better of it and stopped. Ever since Lark had left the van, he’d been, well, meaner. Matt had never been the nicest guy on the planet, but Rainey had used to think of him as a relatively decent human being. Now, she really didn’t like him. She and Damien put up with Matt because they were staying on his van. And she didn’t think there was much behind Damien’s threat that the two of them would leave the van. That probably wouldn’t happen, because they’d have nowhere to go, but she sometimes wished there was more to it. She wished that they could get away from Matt. It would make life much easier in some ways.

  “Listen,” said Rainey, “why don’t the two of you just go on ahead without me. I’ll catch up.”

  “I don’t want to leave you out alone,” said Damien. “People have been disappearing lately. There have been two others since Tina.”

  “Damien,” said Rainey, “if there was anything really bad going on, it would be all over the news. It’s unrelated. People run off sometimes. You know, half of us ran off to be on the tour, and if we decide to run off of it, no one notices.”

  Damien nodded. “Yeah. But just to be clear, you’re not intending to run off, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So, take care of yourself, anyway? Okay? Be careful.”

  “I will,” said Rainey. “I’ll see you soon. I’m pretty sure she’s not going to show up.”

  Matt and Damien took off in the direction of the van. Rainey waited for a little while longer, and then she got an idea. Maybe she could find Lark. Lark was probably in the tour buses that the band traveled in. So if Rainey could just find the buses, she could find Lark. Damien would hate the idea that she was wandering around in the dark looking for Lark, but Damien wasn’t here, and if she didn’t find anything, she’d give up.

  Her mind made up, Rainey headed back behind the venue, an old theater. She figured that the buses would park as close to the load-in docks as possible, because they probably had equipment on them and stuff. However, when she arrived in the back parking lot, there were no buses there at all. Rainey contemplated going back to the van. After all, her idea hadn’t really worked out, and she was alone in the dark here. The lights on the back of the building seemed to cast impossibly small circles of light.

  Rainey stepped back, trying to look back at the way she’d come to reassure herself she could retrace her steps. But it was so dark behind her, she couldn’t really see.

  She hesitated. She really wanted to find Lark, but chances were that she would just get herself lost. It didn’t make any sense to go forward. Was she going to be stubborn and stupid, or was she going to do the smart thing and go back to her boyfriend and her van?

  Part of her wanted to do the stubborn and stupid thing, but the gaping hole of the dark parking lot frightened her. Feeling a little cowardly, she trudged back into the darkness, the way she had come.

  On the sides of the building, there were no lights, and while this hadn’t seemed to bother Rainey so much on the way there in the first place, on the way back it seemed a little scary.

  Her eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, so she could see, but all she could see were dark shadows, and the bricks on the side of the building seemed to stretch forward forever. In the distance, she could hear sounds from the nearby highway. Sirens and car horns. But then she heard another noise. Footfalls. Behind her.

  She whirled, trying to see movement behind her in the darkness. “Hello?” she called out, and her voice shook.

  “Hello,” responded a voice.

  * * *

  “I do know Lark Thomas,” said Tim. “It is the same Lark that I knew.”

  “What?” Whitney was confused for a second. She didn’t see how this connected to what Tim had said before.

  “Shane’s girlfriend Lark is my dead brother Jimmy’s ex-girlfriend,” said Tim.

  “Your brother died?” Whitney asked. “How long ago? I’m so sorry.”

  “Two years,” said Tim. “He committed suicide.”

  “Oh God,” Whitney said. “That’s awful. I’m so... I don’t know what to say.”

  “It’s okay,” said Tim. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s hard, but it’s...well, there’s nothing anybody can do about it.”

  Whitney took a sip of her weak drink and nodded. Tim was such a nice guy. It was horrible that so many terrible things had happened to him. He’d lost his brother, he’d gone through a pretty brutal divorce, and now he was unemployed. Sometimes, it just seemed like some people got the lion’s share of pain in life.

&nb
sp; “I think that Lark somehow influenced Jimmy,” said Tim. “He was fine before he met her, and then afterwards, he wasn’t the same.”

  “Really,” said Whitney. “What do you think she did?”

  “I don’t know,” said Tim. “I really don’t. But if Chris Dearborn is unhappy enough with the fact the two of them are dating that he’ll get into a public fight with Shane about it, then he obviously agrees that the girl isn’t right for Shane. And I feel as though I need to somehow let Shane Adams know that I think Lark Thomas is bad news.”

  “Okay,” said Whitney. It sounded to her as though Tim was clearly in pain about his brother. He probably wanted someone to blame, and so he’d created a scapegoat in this girl. Still, she didn’t feel as though she could say anything without negating Tim’s feelings about the whole thing, which were clearly tied up in the pain of losing his brother. And she didn’t want to imply in any way that it wasn’t okay for him to grieve.

  “So, I thought maybe you could put me in touch with Shane Adams,” Tim continued.

  Oh. So that’s what this whole dinner was about. Tim wanted contact info for Shane. “I can’t give you his cell phone number,” said Whitney. “It would be really unprofessional on my part. But his publicist is really easy to work with, and I’m sure she’d pass information along, especially if it’s of a personal nature.”

  “Well, I’m not asking for a phone number,” said Tim. “I know you can’t do that, and I wouldn’t ask that of you. I mean, more, can you call him, and get him to call me?”

  “Are you kidding?” Whitney asked. “Shane won’t talk to me if I don’t have some kind of news about that article. He chewed me out for a half hour after the website went down. And he said, ‘Don’t call me again unless you’ve gotten this thing published.’“

  “Yeah,” said Tim. “I was afraid you were going to say something like that. So Shane won’t speak to you unless this article is getting read. It’s that important to him.”

  “It’s really important to him. And I don’t really know why, because it makes him sound insane.”

  “No,” said Tim. “Because he’s telling the truth, isn’t he? You spoke to that woman who was the mother of one of the missing girls, right? That girl really did disappear.”