County Line Road

by Marie Etzler

  The bed was perfectly made. He stooped and lifted the bed skirt to look under the bed.

  Nothing.

  He zeroed in on the closet as if following a radar scan, feeling like one of those machines from the Terminator movies. When he flipped on the light inside the walk-in closet, he stopped. The two sides of the closet ran in straight lines to the back, rows of clothes hanging neatly, one side his and one side hers, and on the top shelves, boxes piled to the ceiling.

  He started with the boxes above Linda’s clothes and took down box after box of shoes. She had sandals, high heels, sneakers, everything.

  “What the hell is she always bitching about money for?” Jimmy said as he opened the third box of sneakers; these were pink. “I’ve only got one pair – and I race – she does nothing but exercise her mouth.”

  He sifted through vases and glass pictures frames, an empty jewelry box, and stacks of sweaters until he got to the end. On his father’s side was an old travel case from the airline that laid him off years ago. Jimmy hadn’t seen the name and logo for a long time since they went out of business. No TV commercials, no billboards, no paychecks. Jimmy remembered how his father looked in that uniform and how he used to want to be a pilot back then.

  He moved some jackets aside and found hats. Baseball caps from pro teams, some still in the packages, and then one from his high school. It was Rich’s baseball cap when he was captain of the team. It still had orange dust on it from the field. Jimmy smelled it. A mixture of dirt and grass. Rich used to smell like that all the time. Now he just stunk of cigarette smoke, Jimmy thought.

  Behind some t-shirts was another box. It was so heavy, Jimmy struggled with it. He got it down and opened it on the floor. The smell of his mother’s perfume hit him like a nuclear shock wave. It flattened him emotionally, and he had to sit down. There were birthday cards he and Rich had given their mom, photographs, and mementos.

  Jimmy lifted out a stack of his elementary school drawings, revealing a heavy piece of plaster. He recognized it immediately. It was the hand stamp he’d made in kindergarten for his mom. He was so happy to see it, but when he tried to pick it up, his joy dropped. It was broken in half. How did it break? He didn’t remember that. And why was it here? How come his mother didn’t have it with her?

  He turned the pieces over in his hands and saw the letters “my” written in his childhood scrawl. As he wondered if it was part of “Mommy” or “Jimmy”, he heard the kitchen door open.

  He shoved the plaster pieces back in the box, covered them with the other things, and heaved the box up on his shoulder, panic rising in his stomach.

  He heard keys drop on the kitchen table and the refrigerator open and shut.

  He wedged the box back in place and shoved the t-shirts and hats in front of it. He slipped out quietly, closing the closet door without a sound. The next target was the bedroom door. He didn’t know who was home, but it didn’t matter. He skirted the bed and paused at the open door to listen.

  It was quiet.

  Jimmy ventured one foot out the door, and hearing nothing, he pulled his whole body through as if it were a force field in some science fiction movie. He escaped down the hall, aiming for his bedroom as if it were the light at the end of a tunnel. He ripped his t-shirt over his head, fearing it held the smell from the box, and threw it in his open closet where a row of trophies of runners looked down from the top shelf. He pulled a new shirt from his dresser draw so fast, the trophies there wobbled. He grabbed one to steady it.

  “All that training sure is paying off,” Linda said from behind him.

  “Shit, Linda, I didn’t see you,” Jimmy said.

  “Well, I see you,” she said, smiling.

  He wasn’t sure if she meant she’d seen him come out of her room or what. If she’d seen him, she’d already be laying into him, he figured. Unless she’s hiding it and will use it against me later, accuse me of stealing something else.

  “You look just like those pictures of your dad when he was younger.”

  Relieved, he busied himself with brushing his hair.

  “Where have you been?” she asked.

  “I just got home from the beach,” he said, hoping that’s what she meant. “I gotta’ take a shower.”

  She still stood in his doorway, so he squeezed past her, turning sideways to avoid her. He retreated to the bathroom. He noticed she was dressed for work in her nurse’s outfit and shoes. She must have just gotten off work, he thought and was glad, hoping she’d be tired as usual and hide out in her room as she did most of the time after her shift.

  “I bought your father a new Marlins shirt to take his mind off the baseball. Want to see it?” Linda smoothed her blouse, running her hands down her sides to her hips as if there were wrinkles. How could there be wrinkles, Jimmy thought, as his eyes went to her blouse despite himself. Her ID badge rested between her breasts. She never wore scrubs like other nurses, but always chose button-up blouses that she wore just snug enough to pull at the buttons provocatively. He knew she did it for attention, and it worked. He hated himself for noticing, but as Double A told him many times, we’re teenage boys; she ought to know better.

  “Want to see what?” he said. “The ball?”

  “No, the new shirt,” she said and stopped smiling. She walked up to him. “It’s in our room. You – you haven’t seen it or been in there, have you? Of course not. You’d never go in there.”

  “No,” Jimmy said. He waited, suspicious, one hand on the door.

  “I didn’t think so,” she said and smiled again.

  “I have to go,” he said. He shut the bathroom door and leaned back on it, relieved to get some privacy.

  She knocked on the door, making him jump.

  “Are you going to be home tonight?” Linda said. “I’m planning a great dinner.”

  “I’m going out,” he said and turned on the shower full blast to drown out anything else she might say.

  He peeked out the small bathroom window and saw a Blue Jay on a branch, staring right at him, as if it had been waiting for him. Jimmy shut the window.

  He undressed and got in the shower. Immediately he thought of that plaster cast. He hoped the running water would wash away the uneasy feeling still in his stomach. Then he realized he didn’t find the baseball in the closet. He’d completely forgotten about it once he saw that plaster cast. How could he forget, he wondered. What did she do with it? I still have a week to find it, he thought. He wished he was already in South Carolina.

  “I can’t wait to get out of here,” he muttered to himself.

  He turned his thoughts to the blond girl at the gas station, except now he imagined she was posing for a magazine spread, washing her car, a hose in her hand and the water running over her body, her white, tied-off shirt getting soaked and see through. The water trickled down her midriff to her frayed, cut-off denim short-shorts, the top button undone. He began to smile and rub the bar of soap on his body.

  CHAPTER 6

  That night Double A admired himself in his bedroom mirror, smoothing down his new shirt, hoping Anna would like it. He combed his hair once more and gave up on it. He set his computer to sleep mode, put his latest gaming box on top of his childhood bookshelf of warlock and wizard stories, picked up his cars keys, and left.

  Allison leaned in and out of her bedroom closet, selecting then rejecting one item after another, tossing them behind her, piling her floor and bed with shirts, jeans and skirts.

  Her mother knocked on her door and asked, “Allison, what are you doing in there?”

  “Getting dressed for that party, remember? You wanted me to go out, so I am.”

  Jimmy slipped out the kitchen door when Linda went to the bathroom. He scaled the wall in his backyard, the short cut to Double A’s house. A stack of plastic milk crates piled against the wall formed steps. Jimmy swung himself over the wall easily and dropped down in the grass on the other side. He landed a few feet from a drive-up window of a fast food restaurant, su
rprising the cashier. Jimmy jogged around the drive-up lane, past the gas station and convenience store and headed up the street. He arrived at Double A’s just as Double A stuck the key in his Cutlass.

  “When you gonna’ get this thing painted?” Jimmy said.

  Double A jumped.

  “Where did you come from?’ Double A said. “Don’t jump out of the bushes like that. And shut up about my car. I don’t see you forking over any money for the paint job.”

  “A little touchy,” Jimmy said. “Relax. What are you so nervous about anyway?”

  “What if Anna isn’t there? Or what if she is?”

  “You think you got problems,” Jimmy said. “I didn’t find the baseball. I looked everywhere, even her closet. She almost caught me.”

  “Maybe I should stay home,” Double A said.

  “No. We have to go. I need to talk to Jeff. Maybe that girl will be there. And besides, you need to go talk to this girl. Just don’t talk about Mars or anything like that.”

  They drove out of their neighborhood to Jeff’s house in The Ranches, out past the I-75, leaving behind well-lit roads for dark and narrow two-lane streets and acres of pastures and barns.

  As Double A slowed down for a stop sign, Jimmy peered up a long driveway to glimpse the house on the right and wondered who lived there.

  “These big houses that probably cost millions and all I smell is horse shit,” Jimmy said. The smell came in the open car windows, thick and pungent, like clouds of dust raised by a herd of horses running across a plateau in an old Western movie.

  Double A turned left onto Palomino Drive to Jeff’s house. Even if they’d never been to Jeff’s house before, it was easy to tell where the party was. At the end of the long street, cars gathered around one of the gates to Jeff’s driveway. Jimmy searched among the parked cars for Allison’s blue Mustang. Broncos, Blazers and pick-up trucks were grouped together on the grass. Hondas and Acuras lined the edge of the pavement on the other side of the street, with their chassis extra low and spoilers extra big.

  “No Mustang,” Jimmy said.

  “No place to park,” Double A said. Double A pulled up near the front gate and squeezed in next to flower beds that ringed a flag pole. Above them as they got out of the car, the American flag flapped in the humid breeze. They could hear music coming from the house, even though the house wasn’t visible yet behind the trees. One of the guys leaning on a pick-up truck called them over.

  “Double A,” the guy said. “What’s up with your car?”

  “Hey, Kurt,” Double A said and walked over. “I’m going to put in a bigger cam shaft. What the hell did Jose screw that into his trunk for?” Double A pointed to a big spoiler on the back of a little car next to Kurt.

  “He wanted the biggest spoiler they had,” Kurt said. “Must be trying to compensate for a tiny little dick.” The guys laughed.

  Jose stubbed out his cigarette and stalked over to them. “You talking about my dick? Jealous? Wanna’ see it?”

  “I ain’t got no microscope,” Kurt said.

  While they were laughing, a single headlight bobbed up the street. Jimmy knew right away it was his brother, Rich.

  Rich pulled up on his motorcycle and skidded to a stop right in front of Jimmy. Rich flipped his tinted face mask up and said, “Are you here to show off the baseball to your friends?”

  “Are you here to trade it for drugs?” Jimmy said.

  “I’m trading something, but that ain’t it,” Rich said. He parked his bike and locked his helmet to it. “You’re not as dumb as you look.”

  “I’m going to Clemson no matter what you try to do,” Jimmy said.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Rich said.

  “You know,” Jimmy said. “I can’t believe you’d join up with her. I thought you were better than that.”

  “I ain’t done nothing with her,” Rich said. “She’s been trying to get her hooks into you since she moved in.”

  “I’ll get her for this,” Jimmy said.

  “Be careful. She’s a pro,” Rich said. “And you ain’t.”

  A car rumbled up the street. Rich, Jimmy and Double A turned to look. It was a dark green 1969 Z28 Camaro.

  “Here’s my man now. See ya, boys,” Rich said and walked away from Jimmy.

  “Who’s that?” Double A asked. “Nice Z28, who ever he is.”

  “I don’t want to know,” Jimmy said.

  Two guys in the Z28 nodded at Rich as they pulled up next to him and his motorcycle. “Nice bike. The eleven hundred?” the guy in the passenger seat said.

  “Yeah,” Rich said as he lit a cigarette. “Look, but don’t touch, or I’ll have to kill ya.”

  Rich walked around the Z28 and shook hands with the driver who parked the car and got out. He didn’t look big sitting, but when he stood up, he was the tallest guy there. His cowboy boots gave him an extra inch, but he didn’t need it.

  Jeff cruised up to Jimmy and Double A in a golf cart. It had a cup holder with a beer that sloshed side to side as he drove down the long driveway from his house to the street.

  “Hey, Jeff!” Jimmy called out. “I gotta’ ask you about something.”

  “Free shuttle to the party, my friends,” Jeff said to Jimmy and Double A in his warm Southern drawl.

  Before Double A or Jimmy could step up on to the golf cart, Jeff saw Rich and swerved toward him. “Rich! Long time.” Jeff drove across the street to Rich. “Be right back, Jimmy.”

  As he slowed the cart to a stop next to Rich, Jeff lifted his beer cup as a salute and with a finger, moved a lock of hair that curled down in front of his green eyes. Jeff wore a college t-shirt, khaki shorts and Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville brand sandals.

  “What’s up, college boy?” Rich said.

  “Auburn’s the place to be, my friend,” Jeff said. They shook hands. “Plenty of girls and business opportunities.”

  “I’m always interested in more business,” Rich said.

  The man in the cowboy boots leaning on the Z28 nodded in agreement.

  “Jump on,” Jeff said, motioning to the seats of his cart.

  “Nah,” Rich said. “I’ve got some business to take care of, but I will catch up with you later.”

  Jeff waved and headed back over to Jimmy and Double A who jumped on the cart. Jeff maneuvered his way slowly through the crowd of people.

  “What’s up, Jimmy?”

  “Who was that girl you were talking to at the gas station today?”

  “Which girl?” Jeff said. “I meet so many.”

  “The blonde with the blue Mustang.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Jeff said. “Allison. New in town. Nice.”

  “I thought you were dating Jeanie,” Jimmy said.

  “I am, I am,” Jeff said. “I can still look. If you haven’t met her yet, I can provide a formal introduction. I invited her.” He exaggerated his Georgia accent to sound like an old southern gentleman from a bygone era.

  “I usually do fine on my own,” Jimmy said. “But since you say it like that.”

  “My pleasure,” Jeff said. “What else is going on?”

  “My step mother is trying to set me up,” Jimmy said.

  Jimmy explained the situation.

  “That baseball sounds valuable,” Jeff said. “Maybe she’s trying to sell it on ebay.”

  “That’s it!” Jimmy said. “I bet she is.”

  “We can check on my computer back at my house,” Double A said.

  “I got wireless right here.” Jeff pulled his iPhone out of his pocket.

  They all bent over it like it was a campfire in the darkness. After searching a while and not seeing the baseball listed, Jeff put it away.

  “I’ll set up an alert for anything like it and let you know,” Jeff said. “Yeah, that’s what I’d do – sell it. That will bring in big bucks.”

  Jimmy sat back in the seat of the golf cart, disappointed, as they continued up the driveway.

  They pulled up to the front do
or of Jeff’s house, a Georgian style mansion of red brick with white shutters and white columns forming the massive entryway. Music and people filled the grand living room. A band played rock and roll in the corner. The Pepsi 400 NASCAR race was on the big screen television.

  “The race is on,” Jimmy said. “Let’s get some beer and sit there.”

  Jimmy joined a group of guys on the couch watching the race.

  “Where’s Junior?” Jimmy asked.

  “In fifth place,” one guy said. “He started in third. He had to pit.”

  “He’ll work his way back up,” Jimmy said.

  Double A scanned the crowd and kept checking the door.

  “I wonder if Anna’s here yet,” Double A said. “I don’t see Jeanie or anyone.”

  Just then Jeanie descended the staircase as if on cue. Kris followed closely behind. They both wore short jean skirts and tops and knew they looked good.

  “Speak of the bitch, and she appears,” Jimmy said.

  Jeanie saw Double A and zeroed in on him.

  “Looking for somebody?” Jeanie said to Double A. “Anna’s not here. She’s not allowed to go to parties like this. And, even if she was, I wouldn’t let her talk to you.”

  She flipped her hair at him and walked off, laughing with Kris.

  Double A put his beer cup on the coffee table. “I’m leaving,” he said to Jimmy.

  “Wait,” Jimmy said.

  Double A kept walking.

  “Keep my spot,” Jimmy said to the guy next to him as Jimmy got up.

  Outside Double A reached his car. When Jimmy caught up to him, Double A started talking. “She is such a bitch.”

  “I know,” Jimmy said. “Don’t let her bother you. She says shit to me all the time, and I just give it right back to her.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Double A said.

  “Don’t you get the Internet on your phone? I want to check ebay,” Jimmy said.

  Car headlights came into view, bumping up the rough asphalt.

  “Who’s that?” Double A said.

  Jimmy turned around. He recognized the car right away. “No introduction necessary.”