Lala Thankyou_Dark Homecoming

by Erica Gerald Mason

  And for a guy that seemed to be one step ahead of us, he wasn’t as clever as we thought. If the killer was as smart as he appeared, he would have planted more evidence and had a much smaller time frame. Which made me understand: maybe did he didn’t have the time.

  I was a last minute substitution for this gig in Indy; a different contestant was supposed to headline the event, but she had to back out at the last minute. No one knew I was coming until a day or two before the presentation. Maybe the killer threw together the plan and faxed the security footage to rub it in our faces: look what I can do without even trying. So if he didn't have the time to plan, and he thought he got away with it, he wouldn’t be thinking about the fallout of his the picture. The overconfidence of the blue shoes followed by the overconfidence of the fax. I might catch this guy.

  "Are you going to sit out in the hall forever, Miss Drag Dork?" Olivia asked from above me. She threw a bag of Cheetos at me and I jumped as they landed in my lap. I’d gotten lost in my head, turning over the killer's next moves in my head. if I was out in public and given a few moments by myself I’d give people makeovers in my brain. Most women wore too much bronzer and not enough eyeliner - I never got bored. I’d let a station full of people pass me without making them over. What was happening?

  We left the police station and headed back to Olivia's brownstone. Stephens told us he would compile a list of potential suspects and get back to us. There wasn't anything to do except wait for any leads and determine if any names rang a bell.

  I walked to Olivia’s bedroom closet and opened the door. Her wardrobe consisted of the the dreaded polyester pantsuit and double knit sweaters. The office uniform. I took item of clothing out and threw it on the bed.

  “Laz!” Olivia tried to interrupt, but I held up a hand to cut her off.

  “I’m stressed, and if I can’t get my life together, at least I can get your wardrobe right. We haven’t done this since college...it’ll be fun.”

  Olivia shook her head and laughed, but tried on outfits.

  Society assumes that caring about the way you look is vain. They’re wrong; it’s necessary. Clothing can be armor, it can be flirtation, it can even be power, if you let it. Consider your favorite place, and then consider what you wear when you go there. Do you honor it by wearing something beautiful or thoughtful or even...dare I saw appropriate? Or do you throw something on. You’d never know how much someone loves their life or dreams about their future by what they wear. Show me your closet and I can read your hangers like a psychic reads palms.

  Poor Olivia looked confused. Her closet told a life she didn’t lead. Next to her office wear were cocktail dresses, evening gowns, and sparkly little tuxedo pants.

  “Are you an escort?” I asked her, holding up a pair of shiny gold leather shorts.

  “Laz!” Olivia giggled, taking the shorts and holding them behind her back so I couldn’t put them in the discard pile.

  “I meant a high class escort,” I said, reaching around and taking the shorts. “Something classy and refined...someone who wouldn’t get kicked out of The Cheesecake Factory. But,” I dangled the shorts in front of her. “Why these shorts, baby? Talk to me.”

  “I don’t know, I thought it would be fun,” Olivia said. She’d stopped laughing and had a scowl on her face. “I like to imagine I’d get an invitation somewhere fun. I’d wear them then.”

  “Get rid of ‘em,” I said. “If your closet is going to a party you haven’t been invited to, then you’re gonna feel bad every time you open the door.”

  “I’m not getting rid of them, Laz! I love those shorts.”

  “Ok then. Wear ‘em.”

  “Huh?”

  “Stop waiting for someone to throw you a party and make your own event. Change into the shorts and let’s go across the street to grab a coffee.”

  Olivia hesitated. I shuffled through the stack of giveaways and found a lightweight black turtleneck.

  “Put this on, and…,” I searched until I found a pair of black combat boots. “You have a full closet and only four pairs of shoes! Let’s see...these.”

  “THOSE?! Can't I wear a pair of ballet flats? Or heels? Or maybe…”

  “These,” I interrupted her and shoved her the boots.

  “I donated a bunch of shoes yesterday,” Olivia said as she changed her clothes.

  “You must have gotten rid of a lot,” I said as I scooped up the giveaways and put them into a bag. I shoved the glittery bunch until the seams groaned.

  “Put these in your car TODAY and make sure you donate them…” I trailed off when I saw her.

  She looked like the old Olivia. The Olivia that met me at the swimming pool and didn’t leave my side. I pointed to the mirror and Olivia turned to look at her reflection. She clapped her hands and jumped up and down.

  “I love it!”

  “You look amazing, Ollie.”

  “So maybe I can keep the other stuff in the bag?” she peeked into the bag.

  “No. Those are gone to you forever. But those shorts? You can keep those.”

  We strolled across the street and ordered a cup of coffee and it was like the old days. She made fun of my taste in music (pop music and girl bands) and I made her laugh by doing the choreography for old Britney Spears videos.

  "I know why you lost, you know." I shook my head, thinking I didn’t hear her. I looked at her and Olivia crossed her arms and nodded at me. I’d heard her.

  "You watched the show?" I asked.

  "Laz. You were my roommate." She answered.

  "Why do you think I lost, then? The judges didn’t explain it to the audience."

  "Just like you knew my closet? I know you." Olivia leaned over so she could take another sip of coffee, "Every time you thought you looked amazing , you come out on that stage like a beautiful she-wolf."

  "That's not why I lost—" I began, trying to take a sip of her coffee.

  "I'm not finished, Laz." Olivia waved my hand awa away, cutting me off, "But if you got a look at what anyone else was doing or saw how beautiful the others looked, you backed off."

  I sat back in my chair and thought about what she said. She wasn’t wrong. When I kept my eyes on my work and concentrated on the runway, I did well. That last episode...the finale...I made the mistake of checking in with everyone else first. It messed up my confidence.

  "Do you think I would have won otherwise?" I asked.

  "I don’t know. Maybe. Probably."

  "So you think I still could've lost?"

  "I don’t know. But I know you are afraid of losing. You’re afraid of getting in there and trying. You shouldn't play a game with the object to just not embarrass yourself. You should play to win every time. You may not win every time, but you it’s better than coasting."

  Olivia was right. Even with my little bit of success, I still held myself back. I don't like to play unless I’m sure I’m gonna win. I’d stopped competing during the finale. I didn’t want to lose, so I made sure I could tell myself I didn’t try.

  “You’ve given me a lot to think about, Ollie,” I said.

  “Good. Now let’s get out of here.”

  We went back across the street to Olivia’s brownstone, and I went to my room to change into pajamas.

  My cell phone vibrated.

  "Hello?" I said.

  "Lala?" A familiar voice answered. The killer. Somehow he got my cell phone number. I didn’t know what to say. A million clever answers danced across my mind, but none of them stuck around long enough for me to form them into words.

  "Listen Lala." He said. "Meet me tomorrow. Valentine hall at Indiana College. Everyone will be at the homecoming game. We’ll have the place to ourselves. Come tomorrow at seven, and come alone.”

  "I...can't go alone. My friend Olivia would figure it out in two seconds if I went anywhere without her." I said. “She’d tell her boyfriend who’s a cop and they’d track me down. And that means they’d find you.”

  "Olivia. Sure, bring her. No o
ne else. I know everything Lala. Tell the cops about this and I'm gone. And I’ll give the cops one last gift. One I’ve been saving." The line went dead.

  The killer wanted to meet? Inside an old building on the college campus? Why? I had too many questions and too few answers. Why would he want to meet me? To kill me? And why didn’t he care about Olivia?

  I pushed my questions to the side for the moment. I’d get to them. The killer had appeared and had made his move. Now I had to make mine.

  6

  Shoes squeak on tile floors. The echo of school bells hang in the air. The sound of locks spinning in circles and doors banging open. A girl laughs while someone sneezes. Shoes appear near mine. White shoes morph into blue penny loafers.

  “Oh my God, I think he’s gonna hit him!”

  “Fight!”

  Fists fly toward my face and the ceiling looks bright from the floor.

  “Look out!”

  Faces look down on me and I recognize a faraway voice calling me.

  “Call the cops!”

  “Oh my God, I think he’s gonna pass out!”

  “Someone help him!”

  Someone’s crying and I think it’s me.

  The cries become metallic and machine-like and I sit in front of a fax machine, waiting for it to tell me my future.

  The machine whines and clangs as it spits out a picture of me.

  I’m not smiling and I press the ‘Start’ button again and again, hoping for a future where I smile.

  I push the button. I push the button again. I keep pushing until the button breaks and the machine screams my name-

  "Wake up dork." Olivia said, shaking my shoulder to jostle me awake. I hadn’t dreamed about the fight in years. I wish I could go back to that moment before the fight and change what I did. I’d fight back or scream or maybe just take a different hallway. I’d take the chance and stand up for myself.

  I sat up in bed, trying to wake up. I looked at the alarm clock on the dresser: nine in the morning. Olivia sat on the bed and poked my shoulder with her index finger.

  "What is it?" I asked, my voice still groggy from sleep.

  "Let’s do something fun today. Like when we were back in school." Olivia answered.

  I looked at the clock and groaned. “Can’t we have a fun day starting at...um...noon?”

  “Nope. Now.”

  “Ok, 10:30 that’s my final offer.”

  Olivia stood up and pulled the covers off of me.

  “Get up, weirdo.”

  I pulled the pillow over my head and sighed.

  "Where are we going?" I mumbled.

  "I’m not telling. It's a surprise!" Olivia smiled. “Wear comfortable clothes.”

  “I don’t own comfortable clothes.”

  “Just put something on, Laz.”

  “Fine.”

  I never liked surprises. I liked to know what was happening and when, so I could avoid it. Olivia knew that. But she also knew me. From the goofy smile on her face, I could tell Olivia loved that she knew something I didn’t.

  I walked into the living room and found Olivia talking to Dannon.

  “Oh. Hey, Dannon. I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “I stopped by to drop of something for Olivia. And see how you two are doing.”

  “I’m good.”

  “See, Dannon? I told you we were good,” Olivia said, pushing Dannon toward the door. “So we’ll see you later, OK?”

  “He’s not coming with us?” I asked.

  “No, he’s not,” Olivia answered.

  “I couldn’t even if I Olivia invited me,” Dannon said, glaring at Olivia as he spoke. “I’m working.”

  Dannon checked his phone and shook his head.

  “I gotta be getting back,” he said.

  “How’s the investigation coming?” I asked him.

  “Good,” Dannon said, not looking at me. “It’s fine.”

  “Well. Umm. Thanks for sharing your girlfriend with me for the past couple of days. It’s been nice to catch up with Olivia.”

  Dannon frowned and started to say something, but stopped himself. Olivia laughed and patted him on the back.

  “My boyfriend here,” she said. “Doesn’t like you staying here. With you being a murderer and all. He wants me to stay at his place.”

  Of course. Dannon and the rest of the Indianapolis police department hadn’t ruled me out as a suspect; it made sense he didn’t feel comfortable with me staying at Olivia’s house.

  “I’m happy to get a hotel,” I offered.

  “No. You’re gonna get your shoes on,” Olivia pointed to my bare feet. “And Dannon’s gonna get to work. You and I are gonna get going.”

  Olivia shoved Dannon out the door and then turned to me.

  “You. Shoes. Now. Meet me out front.”

  I pulled my shoes on and walked outside. Olivia sat on the front steps of the brownstone, fiddling with a chain on a bicycle while she talked to a passerby. She jumped when I walked outside.

  "Hey, Laz," Olivia began. "This is one of my clients. He was in the neighborhood, but he's just leaving."

  "Oh. Hey," I said, offering my hand for the man to shake.

  He brushed his red hair out of his eye and then reached over the bike to shake my hand.

  "Hey, yourself," the man said. He turned back to Olivia and continued. "So...I'm finished with parole, right? I'm finished?"

  "I said, yes!" Olivia snapped, shaking her head. She thought better of her reaction and changed her tone. "I mean, yeah. You're all set. Come see me in two days."

  "I'll be there," the redhead said, nodding at me before walking away.

  "What was that all about?" I asked, sitting on the steps next to Olivia.

  "Nothing," she answered, giving me a half smile. "Clients see me around town and talk all the time."

  We sat in silence for a few minutes. I cleared my throat and pointed to the bike.

  “We’re fixing your bike?” I asked.

  “I’m fixing my bike. You’re riding that bike,” she replied pointing to a similar bike on the sidewalk. “Dannon dropped off his bike this morning.”

  “We’re going on a freaking bike ride?! I don’t like exercise, Olivia. You know that.”

  “The roads are flat here,” Olivia said. “You’ll be fine.”

  We got got on the bikes and pedaled. I stopped almost immediately to fix the cuff on my pants; but once we got going again, we rode for hours. We stopped at every park we passed, hopping off of our bikes and running to the playground. I’d forgotten what it was like to be silly. Olivia was better on the swings..she could pump her legs so hard, it looked like she flew through the air. I was better at climbing, scrambling to the top of the jungle gym before Olivia reached the second bar.

  We talked all day. About silly things. Our favorite commercials, the best name for a dog, the foods we hated in college but later learned to love. Everything. After lunch at a downtown cafe, Olivia got on her bike and motioned for me to follow her.

  We sang Madonna songs as we pedaled for another half an hour and then Olivia stopped at the corner of Meridian and 30th Street.

  “Why are we stopping?” I asked.

  “Over there,” Olivia pointed at the building across the street. “That’s where we’re gonna spend the rest of the day.”

  “There?” I said, scrunching up my face. “It’s just a-”

  Then I understood. The outside was different, but I recognized parts of the structure.

  “The Children’s Museum.”

  When we were in college, it was our favorite way to spend a weekday afternoon. Every year since she was two years old, Every year at Christmas, Olivia’s grandparents bought her a membership to The Children’s Museum. Even after she graduated from high school. It was a little weird, but it gave us cash poor college students something to do.

  Olivia and I pedaled across the street, locked our bikes. We wandered through the exhibits, taking our time and doing all the exercises designed for youn
g children. And then I rounded a corner and saw it. The dollhouse. My favorite part of the exhibit. The miniature home was a recreation of the Ball house in Muncie. I’d never been to the original house; but I sure liked looking at the tiny replica. I turned to Olivia and laughed.

  “You know, the only thing missing is-” I began.

  “The Freaking Family!” We said at the same time.

  Olivia reached in her pocket and pulled out four tiny action figures. The Freaking Family. Freaking Mom and Freaking Dad and their children, Freaking Todd and Freaking Amy. I grabbed Freaking Todd from Olivia’s hand and picked up the game where we left off all those years ago. I crouched low and put on a pretend voice.

  “Freaking Dad, I can’t believe you won’t let me have an orgy at the house tonight!” I said, moving the action figure as if he were walking through the house.

  Olivia bent down to join me. She held the Freaking Mom doll up and had the doll slap Freaking Todd.

  “Don’t you talk to your father that way!”

  I grabbed Freaking Amy and had the toy pretend to run down the stairs.

  “If Freaking Todd gets to have an orgy, then I get to set the guest house on fire!”

  We played for an hour as the museum guards giggled at the adventures of the Freaking Family. I stood up to leave and Olivia stopped me.

  “One more thing before we go.”

  She led me by the hand to the vintage carousel and pointed at the hand painted horses.

  “We have to ride before we go.”

  I followed Olivia to the ticket booth; she slid a twenty across the counter.

  “There’s two of us,” she told the attendant. “And we’ll ride for as long as $20 get us.”

  “It’s a dollar a ride- you wanna go ten times in a row?” The bored attendant raised his eyebrows.

  “Yep.”

  “Ok. Fine.” The attendant sat back in his chair. “Ten times, it is.”

  We spent the rest of the afternoon galloping on pretend horses under a Christmas light ceiling while carnival music played. It was a perfect afternoon. I saw the charm in letting someone surprise you.