Once he was closer to the house he glanced over at what he and his coworkers usually referred to as the party patio. Alex was pretty sure it was larger than his entire apartment complex. There weren’t a lot of people over there. It looked like the beginnings of just about any other rich get together. Although this one seemed like it was going to be pretty low-key with not that many attendees. There were some DJs hooking up there equipment. Amidst them was that creepy guy, William, who was up on a ladder and fooling around with something in the rafters of the patio’s thatch-like cover. There were a couple of other people milling around and drinking out of those red plastic cups. Alex noted how college that was immediately before seeing the wholly undecorative banner strung at the entrance to the party patio: MEXICOD TARF FUNLAN. The banner wasn’t particularly meaningful but it made him remember how he and Joe had shared a laugh over the theme of the party. He wanted to laugh again but now, up close to it, it just seemed more sad than anything else. Also, he realized he’d forgotten to wear a sombrero.
He didn’t see any sign of King and that didn’t make him feel any better. He needed to find Ibbie. Maybe leaving the phone with Joe hadn’t been the best idea. He’d forgotten how expansive the estate was. If she thought he’d called the police when she told him he should have, then she could be hiding anywhere, probably just making sure she was safe until after the police had left.
Or she had left.
That seemed like the logical thing to do. Especially if she felt like she was in danger.
Unless ...
Unless she wanted the money as much as he did. Even if it was only a few thousand dollars it could change things drastically for them.
It hadn’t even occurred to him to check the safe before looking for Ibbie but, now that he thought about it, he felt guilty.
Keeping to the narrow mulched trail between the landscaping and the twelve-foot high wrought iron fence, Alex walked toward the guesthouse, hoping he spotted Ibbie before he made it there. After taking a few steps, a loud rumble shook the ground. He was alarmed for a second until more syncopated rumbles followed it and he realized the DJs had started playing. He looked back toward the party patio. Beyond that he noticed the sun was gone from the sky and it would only be light for a few more minutes.
17.
The whole house exploded with sunlight and then the sunlight was gone and the automatic, artificial lights began clicking on. Barton staggered downstairs. It seemed like that last few minutes, maybe even the whole last day, had been an almost nightmarish jumble of thoughts. Now he was only thinking about one thing.
Having fun.
In a way reminiscent of his college fraternity days and Mexico, that great country, the land of rats.
He made it into the kitchen and saw Polly and Chris standing there. They were gathered around the island and drinking something out of red plastic cups. He really hoped it was tequila or beer.
“Hi guys,” Barton said. “Thanks for waiting on me. What’s in those cups?”
“I don’t know,” Chris said. “Whatever beer you had on tap out there. Heineken, maybe?”
“I had that guy in the suit make me a screwdriver.”
Barton put the clock down on the counter and clutched the sides of his head with his hands. Thankfully, he hadn’t heard the ripping of paper since coming downstairs.
“You guys,” he said, “are just the sloggiest bunch of friends ever. Polly – please tell me how what you’re wearing is in any way Mexican or fraternity themed.”
She held her arms away from her body and inspected her, dear god, velour running suit stretched over her abundant curves. Although, really, Barton felt it was too generous to describe them as curves. They were just fat piles. She was a bronzy velour covered collection of fat piles.
“I didn’t know there was a theme.”
Barton gritted his teeth. “There’s always a theme. You look like a teaser image for a BBW website. And Chris, you? How are you dressed for the theme?”
“Dude, I didn’t know it was a costume party.”
Barton closed his eyes and picked up his clock. “Let’s go outside ... to the beach.” He hadn’t had time to actually have the sand trucked in but it had occurred to him. Chris and Polly were so unresponsive to the theme they probably wouldn’t even care.
Polly took a sip of her screwdriver and led the way. Chris turned behind her and Barton was ready to club him in the back of his head before the maid entered the kitchen. Maybe she thought she was safe now that there were other people here. The bass from Team Klaus kicked in, scaring Barton for a second, and he reached out his free hand surprisingly quickly for someone with that amount of drugs in him, and grabbed the maid’s arm. His penis was rock hard in his pants and he remembered the Viagra he’d taken.
“Welcome to Mexico Frat Funland, bitch! It’s a good thing we have some authentic Mexicans for the entertainment.” He leaned in to her fabulous scent. “Don’t worry, honey, I’ll make it worth your while.”
“I’m Colombian,” Ibbie said.
“Whatever. Same thing.”
She screamed but Barton doubted anyone other than those in the immediate vicinity heard her.
Ibbie struggled but his grip was like a vice. The group filed out to the patio.
18.
Alex scanned his surroundings carefully before coming out of hiding. He didn’t know what he expected. This was someone’s home. Not a place of business. There wouldn’t be employees wandering around at all times. But he knew that wasn’t necessarily true. Most of the homes of the wealthy he’d been in were exactly like businesses. All he had to do was look at what he did. His basically nine to five day was spent at other people’s houses doing things he would do at his own house if he could afford one. It almost seemed like they expressly tried to turn their home lives into something resembling work. Otherwise it seemed like they’d just get some small affordable place and spend their huge amounts of money on traveling or doing things. Nothing they did made sense. If he had a lot of money, the last thing he would have wanted to be was a fucking clone. The only way they knew if something was truly unique was by how high it was priced.
He didn’t see anybody. The music continued to hum along. He didn’t know who they were but he kind of liked it. It still didn’t make any sense why a person would pay for a group of electronic musicians to come and play live electronic music or spin songs that he could just put on a playlist.
Alex wandered to the entrance of the guest house, trying to look like he belonged. It was hard to feel like he belonged anywhere while wearing the sunglasses, ridiculous wig, and cut off shorts. He hoped Ibbie would recognize him and approach him if she did.
He pulled on the front door and it opened. Not even locked. Of course, why would you if your house was surrounded by a giant fence with razor wire looped around the top?
As soon as he stepped inside, everything went dark.
He quickly backed out of the house. He didn’t know if he did that so he could glance back at the main house and make sure the lights were out there too or if he thought somehow his entering the house had made the lights turn off.
The lights were out at the main house.
They were out everywhere.
A security light buzzed somewhere around the pool but it didn’t throw off much light.
Before, Alex had been scared for Ibbie, wanting to know if she was okay. He hadn’t really been worrying about himself.
Now he did.
It seemed like there were just too many odd things happening. Or maybe there wasn’t enough happening. There really should be more people here. There should have been more going on.
He cursed himself for not bringing a flashlight or, again, his phone. His phone had a flashlight app on it. He could have used that. He wondered if Joe had made contact with Ibbie yet. He should have predetermined a place to be and told Joe to text Ibbie with that location. Any of them probably knew the estate better than the Kings. If he had Ibbie’s job, he would ha
ve probably forged ahead in the dark and tried to find the safe anyway. But he was responsible for the dirt and the grass and the flowers outside of the house.
He was almost grateful for the darkness. It gave him an excuse not to go in. He was kind of afraid.
He began walking toward the main house.
19.
Out on the patio Barton stared at the strip of lingering sunlight limning the western horizon with a glazed expression.
“Anybody seen William?” he asked no one in particular.
No one answered him. He thought maybe they didn’t know who William was.
“You know ... William? The guy ... with the ... fuck ... Wanna go see the piñata?”
“Fuck yeah,” Chris said. “I love piñatas. Does it have candy in it?”
“Shit yeah.”
He thought about marching them over to the piñata and then remembered the maid he clutched in his left hand. He’d been clutching her so long and so hard that one or both of them had started to sweat. He liked the feeling. He shook her by the arm.
“I told you you were going to be part of our entertainment tonight, didn’t I?”
The stupid bitch didn’t say anything at all. Maybe it was one of those things where she thought anything she could say would probably incriminate her in some way. Whatever way she answered would be the wrong way. But Barton really just wanted to hear her voice.
“You ever done a striptease before?” he said. “Of course you have. Probably stripped your way into this country.”
“I was born here.”
Barton laughed and said, “That’s funny.”
Barton envisioned her stripping in front of Team Klaus. They had brought some moderate visual effects, mostly just lights complementing their individual colors and Barton thought it would look cool. But he knew the second he let her go, she would take off running. Where was William? William usually carried a gun. He could have made William stand guard while she danced and took off her clothes. His cock was so hard. Maybe he wouldn’t make her strip. Or maybe he wouldn’t make her just strip. If he promised Chris he could have sex with her too then maybe he would guard her, keep her from getting away. He really wanted to show them the piñata.
The last of the day’s glow left the sky and Barton looked up to see more space birds than ever circling in the sky. He waited to hear the sound of ripping paper but didn’t think he’d be hearing that anymore. He’d put an end to that a while ago and wondered why he’d heard it for so long after. Maybe because he’d forgotten about putting an end to it. He half-hooted and half-howled and said, “Let’s go bust that piñata.”
Chris shrieked something and hoisted his red cup into the air. Polly did the same.
“I don’t have a stick or anything so we’ll have to bust it with this clock. I’ll go first.”
They continued walking toward the band. Each member of the band continued to labor his respective keyboard, turntable, or drum machine. Part of Barton was really excited to see Chris and Polly’s reactions when they saw the piñata. He climbed up on the small raised stage (Team Klaus must have brought that with them) and gestured toward the piñata.
William had done a good job.
The maid started screaming and trying to get away.
Chris said, “Is that ...?”
Polly said, “That’s sick, Barton. I hope it isn’t really.”
The DJs continued to play.
The grounds went dark.
Barton thought it was all part of the show.
“Wait till you see this, guys!”
The DJs’ equipment went silent and the men in coveralls were back, taking the equipment off the stage. Team Klaus was already gone. Barton didn’t notice. He tightened both his grip on the maid and on the clock and took a huge swing with the clock.
Chris said, “Aren’t you supposed to be, like, blindfolded or something?”
The clock smacked into the maid’s meaty hip. Barton continued to bash the clock into the piñata until it started to tear.
A burst of sunlight came out, illuminating the porch and everyone else gathered around. Barton kept hitting the piñata until a few pieces of candy dropped onto the patio with a wettish plop.
“Oh, hey, candy,” Chris said. He bent down to grab it and Barton brought the clock down on the back of his head. A beam of sunlight shot up into the air and Barton raised his head to look at it, hoping to see it streak across the sky. The only things he saw were the space birds. Still circling. Lower now.
Polly screamed and turned to run off. She was drunk and fat so she nearly face planted when she fell down. Barton dragged the maid over to Polly.
“Don’t!” the maid shouted.
Barton shook her and said, “I’ll fucking do what I want.” He threw the clock at Polly. It hit her in the head but not hard enough to make any sunlight come out and probably not hard enough to kill her.
Barton heard the birds in the air and he could see their glistening undersides, lit from the sunlight he’d spilled over the porch.
He could feel the rats under the ground. If he were inside and surrounded by pipes, he would have probably heard them, as well.
Now that he had a free hand he turned to the maid and tore at the buttons of her uniform. She tried to claw his face and he had to tell her it was pointless. There wasn’t any sunlight in there. And the look in her eyes was one he couldn’t immediately place. He didn’t know if he’d ever seen anything quite like it before. He mumbled that he wished there was music and wasn’t everything beautiful, all the sunlight.
And then there was even more sunlight.
Coming from his house.
A radiant ball of light, climbing toward the sky, lifting the birds.
The birds crested higher into the sky, en masse, and then came shooting toward him.
He screamed.
20.
The music ending was like throwing back the curtain on an aural horror show. Of course, Alex thought, the music would have gone with the rest of the electricity. He ran toward the sound of the screaming and the sadistic laughter. He heard a whoosh and turned to see the house he was just in go up in flames.
What the fuck?
“Ibbie!” he shouted.
He no longer had any idea what was going on. The money was now the furthest thing from his mind. He just wanted to find Ibbie and get the fuck out of here.
21.
Barton didn’t want to let go of the maid but he couldn’t take his eyes off the birds racing toward him, black against the hell orange of his burning house.
He decided to use the maid as a shield. He yanked her in front of him and said, “Do you see them?”
“Please let me go. I think we need to get out of here.”
“Then you see them?”
“Yes. They’re coming right for us.”
“What are they carrying in their beaks? Can you see that?”
“I don’t ...”
“You don’t see anything! You’re a fucking rat!”
Barton was again conscious of his engorged penis pressing against the maid’s ass. He finished shucking off her one-piece uniform skirt until she was in front of him, her back to him, in nothing but her bra, underwear, and tennis shoes. He forced her to the brick of the patio and crushed his hips against her ass, grabbed her by the ponytail and yanked her head up.
“I’m going to fuck you just like I did your mother.”
“That was my aunt.” The stupid bitch was crying. He didn’t see why she had to disagree with him. He was paying her. He was paying everybody. He was paying everybody to make his life the most exciting life ever. And he wanted to think he’d fucked this girl’s mom yesterday and was fucking her today. He didn’t know why but that thought made him feel good inside. Made him feel warm. And she had to ruin it. In the immediate distance, he saw that dog again. It looked like it was carrying a hand in its mouth.
“Oh, fuck, why don’t you just go away and leave me alone.”
Behind the dog, Bart
on thought he saw a man running toward them. He thought the man looked a lot like him. Same wig. Same glasses. Same shorts. Good taste.
22.
On the way to the main house, Alex didn’t bother sticking to the out of the way paths. He walked across the expansive lawn he’d spent so much time maintaining. The blaze behind him cast an amazing amount of light over the yard. There were a number of holes dug up throughout the lawn and a lot of bones scattered about. He was pretty sure there was a dog in front of him but he wouldn’t really swear to anything at this point. As he drew closer to the main house he tried to focus on the patio. That was mostly out of the perimeter of the fire behind him and it was too dark to make anything out. He still heard the screaming and the laughter and he knew Ibbie was over there. His bad feeling grew increasingly dark.
Then that house burst into flame also.
He ran harder, careful not to hit any of the holes that had been dug up.
23.
The bitch was struggling too much for him to do anything he wanted to do so he decided to kill her so he could drag her body somewhere with less going on and have his way with it. Maybe make another piñata. No. That was a stupid idea. Mexico Frat Funland had been a complete disaster. He’d never try to do that again.
The main house burst into flames and Barton’s first thought was that his mom and dad were going to be really mad. Then he remembered he didn’t have to worry about them anymore.
He wrapped his hands around the maid’s neck.
She squirmed violently beneath him and he looked away from the house and down at her. He wanted to see her muscles all tensed up and writhing beneath her tan skin. Not that he could be any more turned on than he already was but he thought it would be an image he could file away. Maybe use for jerk off material at some later date.
The Warm Glow of Happy Homes Page 5