Mr Blank (Fill in the Blank)

by Justin Robinson

  I went into the living room, picked the comfiest chair, and sank into it. I crossed my legs. Uncrossed them. Crossed looked better. I crossed them again.

  Dog man’s silhouette eclipsed the doorway. “Who the fuck are…”

  I turned on the lamp next to me and waited for it.

  He gasped. “Bailey.” There it was. I probably met him at one time or another, but the beardos all ended up looking the same to me.

  “Hey. Could you get Daphne for me?” I said.

  The interplay of belief and perception. Belief: a man caught in my house when I have an Uzi and vicious dogs will be scared. Perception: he’s not scared in the least. Result: confusion, suggestibility. Low-grade hypnosis, even.

  “Don’t move.”

  “How would Daphne find me if I did?”

  He retreated like I was the one with a gun. In point of fact, all I could really do was make him smell like a litterbox. I supposed that could be intimidating.

  I clamped down on the nerves. Voices multiplied throughout the house. I heard the bosses start their tectonic movement. If those were the creaks they were used to on the stairs, I might have overdone the sneaking around.

  Two more of the bearded guys came in with tighty-whities and Uzis. Now that was intimidating.

  Then Daphne. I’ll be damned, she really was a blonde.

  “Mr. Bailey,” she said. “Want to explain why you broke in?”

  “I think you know the answer to that.” Before she could speak, I barreled on. “And you’re welcome. Security here is, well, I’d call it a joke, but jokes are generally funny and involve one or more clergymen.”

  “Mr. Bailey, I’m trying to think of a reason not to have you killed. After all, you broke in; it’s totally legal.”

  Ice, mainlined right into my aortas. “Oh. I was under the assumption you’d want to see your golden girl again. Or is it crimson girl?”

  That got her. She paused, then growled, “You know where Mina is?”

  I nodded. “Of course, if you kill me, then you won’t. Ever. Besides, you should be more worried about the Anas and the status of your truce, especially when security’s this bad.”

  This changed the look on her face. I could tell she wasn’t buying quite what I was selling, but, well, I knew something she didn’t know I knew.

  “What do you know about the truce?”

  “What your man does,” I said, referring to the enforcer they’d had at Mina’s party. “I imagine he told you everything, unless he decided not to mention the fact that he completely lost sight of your girl as soon as she went into her dressing room. There were signs of a struggle upstairs, sword stuck through a door, that kind of thing. It’s enough to make a guy suspicious.” I was onstage now. Time to sell it, go for the throat, work for the go-ahead homer and a hundred other mixed metaphors. “You know, I read something strange the other day. Did you know that gymnastics has a way of delaying sexual maturity? I’m not kidding. Gymnasts get into such weird shape, they effectively delay their periods—sometimes they don’t menstruate until they hit their twenties. It’s a truly bizarre phenomenon.”

  Daphne held a hand up. She was nibbling at the edge of what I was saying. “What’s your point?”

  “Some of that is the result of the exercise, granted. Increase in muscle mass means an increase in testosterone levels, so that leads to androgyny: larger waists, thicker necks, smaller breasts and hips. You get the idea. But the modern aesthetic, you know, the Karolyi thing, leads to eating disorders. You know, to keep them nice and skinny. Where’s Bela Karolyi from?”

  “Romania.”

  I snapped my fingers. “Right. I knew it was someplace like that.”

  “Get to your point.”

  “You’ve got a rat in the house and we both know who that rat is.”

  I could see the gears turning in her head. I was pretty sure I knew where she’d end up. Not the ideal, but as good as I could hope. The worst part of it was that one way or another, I was going to get beaten up by a girl. Again.

  “Can you get me proof?” Daphne asked.

  “Not without her address.”

  Daphne rattled it off. Oana Constantinecu lived down near Wilshire. “Now, Mina’s location?”

  “When I get back, she’s all yours.”

  I went to the front door. “See you soon, Daphne.”

  And then I was outside in the night air. I heard the men bringing the dogs inside. I’d come in over the fence, but I left through the front gate. I looked up the hill. My car was still there. That was surprising.

  “Well?” Mina said as I got in.

  “They’re sending me to be killed at Oana Constantinescu’s place.”

  “But you sound so happy.”

  “It’s not like I was planning on showing up.”

  -TEN-

  On the stereo: “Foreplay/Long Time.”

  “Time for a new CD,” Mina said. I was driving now, and she took it upon herself to search the papers on the floor and the glovebox.

  “It’s an iPod, actually.”

  “Then it’s time to reshuffle it.”

  “Go ahead, but there’s only Boston on there.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “I only like Boston.”

  “You know, there were these other bands around then that some people think are even better.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard the whole thing. Beatles this, Stones that.”

  “More than them, too. It’s like there’s this whole history of rock from Chuck Berry to now.”

  “Boston is the only band that I can stand to listen to.”

  “I guess they’re okay in a cheesy kind of arena-rock way, but they’re a little soulless.”

  “Exactly.”

  She said, “You lost me.”

  “That’s why I like them.”

  “Okay, you’ve got your captive audience. Out of all the bands, all the musicians that have ever existed, why is Boston the only band you like?”

  “The music doesn’t have any mystical subtext.”

  It seemed like Mina was trying to develop heat vision. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “All music is basically just a shouted occult viewpoint. They’ve all got, you know, links. I can’t take being lectured at like that.”

  “You’re saying the Beatles are just occult cranks?”

  “Discordians, actually.”

  “The Stones?”

  “Satanists—the Lucifer kind, not the Asmodeus kind.”

  “The Doors.”

  “CIA psych-ops. Jim Morrison was a CIA plant.”

  A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

  “Bowie.”

  “Are you kidding me? Little Green Men.”

  “Modern bands, too?”

  “Of course.”

  “U2?”

  “New World Order Trilateralists.”

  “Radiohead.”

  “Servants of Shub-Internet.”

  “I don’t even know what that is. R.E.M.”

  “New Camelot.”

  “The Police.”

  “The police.”

  She giggled. “You’re crazy.”

  “The world gets a lot bigger and a lot smaller when you’re me.”

  “Let me guess: Siouxsie and Robert Smith are pawns of the vampires.”

  “I told you: vampires don’t exist. Jesus, why is everyone so fixated on fucking vampires?” I turned to catch a sparkle in one eye. She was winding me up, and I fell for it. “You’re a horrible person.”

  “Come on, you have this giant red button marked ‘vampire’ and I’m not supposed to poke it?”

  “If you had to deal with everyone and his doppelganger wondering what vampires were up to, you’d have the same button.”

  “I suppose.” She yawned. “I need to get some sleep.”

  “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.” It was after two.

  “I can’t go back to my place, can I?” she said.


  “Not really. Not after what I found in Daphne’s desk.” I told her about the note.

  “Oh. That’s not good at all. So it’s your place, then.”

  She was going to see where I lived. If she really was planning to betray me, that would be the perfect time. My guard would be down. Maybe now I ought to flush her out. “Yeah. I hope that’s okay.”

  “I haven’t seen it yet.”

  I don’t know if she meant that to sound ominous, but in my head, a bolt of lightning crawled across the sky. Clear LA nights were hell on ambience.

  I drove back to my place and found a place to park. Walking along the cracked sidewalk, I felt like an idiot. She was watching her feet; I had my hands in my pockets. Body language said she was shy. I looked over her bare shoulders, the ones that had the strength to put a divot right below my sternum.

  She tucked some hair behind her ear. I hadn’t noticed before, but her earrings matched her eyes. The fact that I noticed that now made me want to hit myself with a hammer.

  We were nearing the entrance to the courtyard. Suddenly, she stopped. “This, uh… this isn’t romantic. Just, you know, to be clear.”

  “Romance has nothing to do with it. I’m just trying to get you in my sex dungeon.”

  Her eyes went wide, then searched for it, found it, and she laughed. “Right, sorry. This has been a crazy night—scary, fun, I dunno. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

  “That’s good, because I don’t really have any moves. I’d just end up embarrassing us both.”

  We kept walking. No sex, just a knife between my ribs. I had a set of carving knives, too, right there on the counter. Why the fuck did I have knives? I didn’t cook. Were they a gift? Did they come with the apartment?

  I took her upstairs and unlocked my door. Like I said, my apartment wasn’t dirty, but it wasn’t clean, either. I was a bachelor who wasn’t home very often.

  “So no girlfriend,” she said.

  “How the hell can you tell that with one foot in the door?”

  “No woman’s been in here since you cleaned last, which I’m guessing was during the Bush administration. The first one.”

  “Har har.”

  I turned on some lights, and yeah, it did have a bit of a bachelor feel. The axolotls floated in their tank; one wiggled away when I passed.

  “What are those? They look like little pink tadpoles with legs,” she said.

  “Axolotls,” I said. It wasn’t really an answer, since anyone who knew what that meant wouldn’t ask the question. “They’re salamanders, but they never mature past the larval state. They’ve always got those gills—that’s the feathery-looking mane they’ve got.”

  “They live underwater their whole lives? Where do they come from?”

  “Well, these came from the pet store, but their natural habitat is the lake under Mexico City. That’s why their skin is pink. They don’t really get any sun.”

  She leaned down and peered in the tank. “When they face you, it looks like they’re smiling.”

  “Yeah, they sort of do.”

  “Do they have names?”

  “They do, but they keep changing.”

  She fake-glared at me.

  I continued, “Anyway, the bedroom is through there. If you get hungry, the kitchen is that way. If you want something that’s not frozen pizza, I can’t help you.” The knives would be in plain view, if she were so inclined. I thought about laying the big one on the counter, just to get it over with.

  “I don’t suppose you have something I could sleep in?”

  “Check the dresser. Second drawer is shirts, fourth for sweats.”

  “Don’t suppose you’ve got something I can wear tomorrow.”

  “Oh, no way. You’re doing the walk of shame in front of my neighbors.”

  “Good night,” she said, and headed down the hall. I hit the light and collapsed on the couch. Measuring all the stupid things I’d done that day would take awhile. I’d probably need an audit. I heard the sink running and tried to remember if there was anything super-embarrassing about the bathroom. I really hoped that none of the mold in there had developed sentience.

  I shut my eyes. Sleeping was going to be interesting, even as tired as I was. Sounds kept filtering through. The sink, the hum of the aquarium’s filter. I heard the bathroom door open and shut, then Mina rummaging around in my dresser. Then I heard the sound of cloth. She was undressing. She was in my room, and half-naked, maybe more. After that, I could mostly hear the blood pounding in my head. I started running down a list of sexual fantasies. I stopped right around the one where I was Batman and she was Poison Ivy out of sheer self-loathing.

  I opened my eyes. Sleeping was going to be impossible.

  My front door splintered inward in the path of a big gray rock. That made me sit up.

  Raul Diaz.

  Son of a bitch knew where I lived. He stepped into the living room. I had to keep his eyes on me. The last thing I needed was him focusing on Mina.

  “Hey, Raul,” I said.

  He had the same vacant look from the subway station, and of course the same rock that he was pulling out of the wrecked remains of my door. He choked up on the chain, ready to start swinging it around. I started thinking about propellers. Then I started thinking about the big Nazi in Raiders of the Lost Ark. I didn’t like where this was going for either of us.

  He brought the stone down overhand, in an arc. I counted on the simple fact that my rent wasn’t all that high and lunged. The rock hit the doorjamb and dropped next to him. I hit Raul. It was a good punch, my whole weight behind it, and I was jumping forward like Superman. Got him right on the chin, too. He stumbled back, bounced off the wall, and focused on me again.

  I looked at my fist. Was that thing loaded?

  He advanced. Wouldn’t make that mistake again. My old gambit of not packing weapons didn’t work with these death zombies. It wasn’t like a gun would make him more or less violent. The only thing that would calm him down was my head as a piece of modern art.

  Maybe I could snap him out of it.

  “Hey, Raul. Lascaux.” Nothing. “Lucy. Sky. Diamonds. Malta. Fucking… whoa!” I jumped forward again. The rock whizzed over my head—stupid high ceilings—and slammed into the aquarium. Stinking salamander water slithered out over my floor, followed by the flopping pink tadpoles. I got to my feet. He swung again, cracking a hole in my floor. I heard the rock whooshing behind me.

  I turned. It was coming at my head. I staggered back. This was getting very bad very quickly. I had my back to the kitchen. Maybe I could get in there and do something with one of the kitchen knives. Stabbing the guy wasn’t going to be something I could undo, but the choices were that or dead.

  This time he was Gogo Yubari, throwing the stone outward in a horizontal arc, smashing through a section of my wall. I backed off into the kitchen. Closer in here, harder to swing that thing, but nowhere for me to back up, either. Great choices. I pulled a knife from the block. I really did not want to stab him.

  Diaz came around the corner.

  I should have attacked right then, just stuck the knife through his chest. The problem was, I hesitated. I imagined it going in and I couldn’t do it.

  That’s when something slammed into the back of his head and he went down in a heap. Mina stood there, holding my bowling ball in both hands and looking down at Diaz, who was now sleeping soundly. My breath caught: she had taken an old shirt of mine and stretched it over her, too tight on top, a little loose around the waist. She was wearing a pair of my sweatpants, too, and that was probably what did it. There was a strange intimacy to it, her in my clothes. That, combined with her freshly scrubbed face, made her look normal, like someone I could meet in my life.

  The fact was, I did meet her in my life.

  Reality chose that moment to tap me on the shoulder and point out that my pets were dying.

  “Oh, shit!” I ran past her and scooped up the flopping axolotls. I had to be gentle. Their gill
s were fragile things, very sensitive. The upside was that they could regenerate just about anything, but I didn’t want to put that to the test. I dumped them on the counter.

  “Mina, get the door!”

  She rushed to it.

  I blocked the drain and filled up my sink. Not ideal. They wouldn’t like it, especially with the state of LA tapwater, but then again, their natural habitat was below Mexico City, so I hoped they had a little tolerance for pollution. I dumped the little guys in the sink. They calmed down, returning to their usual positions, standing lightly on the ground at the bottom.

  One down.

  I dragged Raul into the kitchen. There was the matter of his weapon. I picked it up. Heavy.

  Mina was murmuring by the door, talking to someone. I hoped she was a good liar. Then again, if she was, she could play me as long as she liked before the inevitable betrayal.

  The chain left streaks of soot on my hand. I didn’t know what to do. I put it in the fridge. Seemed as good a place as any.

  Mina came back into the kitchen. “Your downstairs neighbor asked us to keep it down.”

  “I’m not expecting any other assassins.”.

  “I didn’t tell him that.”

  “In the hall closet, on the bottom shelf, there should be a roll of duct tape. Could you get it for me?”

  She returned with it as I dragged my desk chair into the kitchen. We lifted Raul into the chair, and I taped him down, arms to the arms and ankles to the base, making sure his toes couldn’t touch the ground. I topped that off with a strip across his mouth.

  “This isn’t the first time you’ve taped someone to a chair, is it?” she asked.

  “Um… no.”

  “Should I be worried?”

  “I only have the one chair.”

  She looked at me and at Raul.

  We wheeled Raul into the living room. I cleaned up the water and broken glass as best I could, considering I didn’t own a mop and was out of paper towels. I put some of the rocks from the tank into the kitchen sink. Maybe that would make the axolotls feel better about their sudden move.

  “He looks normal,” Mina said.

  “He was, at one time, before whoever it was got their hooks into him. Probably some ex-CIA spook or something, making himself a private army of these guys. Eric or his buddy from the gay bar.”