Shapeless

by Glenn Bullion

  He didn't want to tell her the truth.

  They left the apartment together. Brady realized as he followed her down the stairwell that he liked Lily. Maybe it was her laugh. Maybe it was the fact that she assumed he was a porn junkie, but didn't seem to mind. Or maybe she was simply an exceptional woman.

  "Are you staring at my ass back there?" she asked as she approached the bottom landing.

  He wasn't until that moment. The stairwell wasn't well lit. He couldn't appreciate her figure even if he wanted to.

  "Uh, well, I wasn't, until you said something," he joked. "So it's kind of your fault."

  "You're just very quiet. And why weren't you staring at my ass? You don't like it?"

  He didn't know what to say. She reached the door first and turned to push it open with her back. Her eyes met his, and he saw the humor, the twitch in her smile. She was playing with him. He laughed and shook his head. Lily would be fun to figure out, assuming the two became friends.

  Lily was already behind the wheel when he circled around her car and opened the passenger's side door. A tote bag sat on the seat, with a book and some papers sticking out. He reached to move it.

  Her eyes lit up.

  "I've got it."

  Her hand moved fast, a little too fast. Brady said nothing. He simply watched her shift her bag to the back. She tucked it away carefully, into the shadows behind the seat. He recognized a secret when he saw one.

  He wondered if her secrets compared to his own.

  "Give me one sec," she said, texting on her phone. "Need to tell my friends I'm standing them up for once."

  He felt awkward, almost guilty. He doubted that a late night with nearly a complete stranger could rival a night out with friends.

  Especially when that complete stranger was him.

  "You can eat and run, if you want," he said.

  "No way. You said we were watching a movie. Too late to back out now."

  Brady smiled.

  It wasn't long before they pulled up outside the Chinese restaurant. Lily was at his side as they approached the open front door. She offered a ten-dollar bill.

  "Here," she said. "For dinner."

  "It's okay. I got it."

  She opened his palm by force and closed his fingers around the money.

  "I'm a big girl," she said, smiling. "I can buy my own dinner. If I don't, then this becomes a date. And dates are bad."

  He nodded and laughed.

  "Yeah. Terrible. Nothing more awkward than being on a date that will never end."

  She nudged his shoulder. "Tell me about it. This one time, this guy went on and on about how big his dick was."

  Brady stopped in the middle of the parking lot. Several things hit him at once. He couldn't take his eyes off Lily, nor shake the feeling that they were already fast friends.

  "I have to know how that date ended," he said.

  "Normal, believe it or not. A hug at the door, some empty words about how we'll talk again soon. But the funny thing is a week later, when he comes into the store."

  Brady hung his head, afraid of where her story was going. A laugh escaped.

  "Oh, no," he said.

  "He didn't know I worked there, and didn't see me until he got to the counter. He had everything you can think of to make a small dick bigger. Lotions, pills, fucking gadgets."

  He raised an eyebrow. "Gadgets?"

  "Oh, yeah, gadgets. And they did not look fun to use. I rang him up slow on purpose. He didn't say a word to me, just looked down with the reddest face I'd ever seen."

  "Wow. Are you still dating this guy? I'd love to meet him."

  She laughed and smacked him lightly. "Shut up."

  *****

  The sound of a phone vibrating slowly pulled Lily from sleep. The first sensation that struck was a pain in her neck. Her legs were pulled into her chest, and the muscles groaned as she extended them. She felt a couch under her that wasn't her own.

  Her vision slowly came back. Brady sat on the other end of the couch. His head was leaned back in the cushions, his eyes closed. His chest rose and fell in the rhythm of a steady sleep. Lily stretched her arms over her head, letting out a moan, and smiled as the night's events came back to her.

  Boring, and utterly beautiful. It was a nice change of pace from her typical night out. No bouncing from club to club. No trying to remember the names of the newcomers Emma brought along. No dodging of Steve's romantic pursuit of her, or Emma's other attempts at matchmaking. It was just a movie and half of another, and Chinese food.

  Along with surprisingly good company.

  For someone who owned entirely too large of a pornographic movie collection, Brady had good taste in other movies as well. He put on a comedy she'd never heard of, and they spent the late-night hours laughing and eating. She remembered picking out a second movie, but not much after that. The last time she checked the time it was nearly three in the morning, and she had every intention of calling it a night and heading home. But sleep claimed the both of them.

  She smiled as she watched him. Not once did he flirt with her, throw out a cheesy line, or make the evening uncomfortable in any way. Brady was a good guy, completely blowing away her impressions of the man who stopped at her store every week to purchase masturbation material.

  A phone vibrated once again. Lily thought it was Brady's, but then remembered he didn't have one. She shook her head at the thought of someone their age not having a mobile phone. She thought the no-phone pundits were all thirty years older than they were.

  She reached for her phone as yet another text message arrived. Emma had been texting her all night. A quiet laugh escaped as she read the comical trail.

  Aww, you're not coming out with us? Steve is going to cry. What are you doing?

  Lily? Are you there?

  Lilian?

  I thought you'd answer to Lilian.

  Are you sexing with a hot guy?

  An ugly guy?

  Lily, text when you can. Getting worried.

  She responded, her fingers dancing.

  I'm alive. Be home soon.

  She set the phone down, next to an empty carton of Chinese food. Her shoes sat in front of the coffee table. She must have kicked them off while she slept. As she slipped them back on, a frightening thought stilled her.

  What did she look like?

  Lily was in touch with her faults, and one of them was she wasn't a morning person, not like Emma. It took time and effort to even pry herself out of bed, much less clean up the multicolored spider's nest that was her hair. She rose from the couch and straightened her shirt. Her eyes fell on the front door. She would have liked nothing more than to slip out unnoticed, but she really needed to use the bathroom.

  She circled behind the couch, to avoid Brady's gaze. Gently grabbing his shoulder, she leaned close to his ear.

  "Brady," she whispered.

  He roused in his sleep, but didn't awaken. His head drifted back close to hers, nearly touching. She smiled. Lily wasn't trying to, as Emma would say, sex Brady up. But he was cuter than she originally thought.

  "Wake up, sleepyhead," she said.

  "Yeah?" he said.

  "Do you mind if I use your bathroom?"

  "Sure." He tried to point, but it came out more like a twitch of the arm. "It's down the hall."

  "Yeah, I know. This place isn't that big."

  "What time is it?"

  "Almost six in the morning."

  "Damn. We fell asleep on the couch?"

  "Looks that way. You tried to feel me up and get me drunk. I slapped you and knocked you out."

  One eye opened, along with the hint of a smile. "I knock out easy."

  She laughed and headed for the bathroom.

  Her curiosity got the better of her as she washed her hands. Brady's bathroom was small and spartan, almost unnaturally so. Only a single towel hung from a hook on the back of the door. A toothbrush and toothpaste sat on the sink, along with a bar of soap in a tray. She knew men kept di
fferent bathrooms than women. She had enough boyfriends to experience that. But with the supplies Lily and Emma kept in their bathroom they could survive a month.

  She opened the medicine cabinet, and her brow furrowed.

  It was completely empty. No razor, no shaving cream, nothing to take for a headache, no medicine of any kind. Not even a comb or brush. She opened the cabinet under the sink to reveal more of the same. Only rolls of toilet paper greeted her.

  "Hey Brady!" she called. "Don't you ever shave?"

  There was rustling in the living room, followed by footsteps in the hall. He stopped outside the door.

  "What?"

  "I said, do you shave?"

  There was an awkward silence, which drew a smile from Lily. It wasn't exactly great etiquette to scream a conversation through a bathroom door, but she'd never been accused of great etiquette.

  "Are you looking through my stuff?"

  "Yeah."

  "Isn't that like…a bad thing to do?"

  "Only if you're not friends. And we're friends."

  "Of course, I shave."

  "Well, where's all your shit?"

  "My dog stole it."

  "You don't have a dog."

  "I know. I kicked him out after he stole my shit."

  Lily laughed, willing to let it drop for now. Brady was a weird, wonderful mystery. With a cute smile.

  After running her fingers through her hair for several minutes she felt presentable enough to leave the bathroom. Her plan was simple. A quick goodbye. A statement of how much fun she had, which was true. She truly enjoyed hanging out with Brady. Somewhere in there, she'd throw out a gentle reminder that last night wasn't a date, as great as it was. Then she'd leave and go home to her familiar bed.

  She tossed her hair over her shoulder as she left the bathroom. Date or not, she didn't want Brady to think she was a beast in the morning. He was carrying their trash from the night before to the kitchen, but slowed to offer her a warm smile.

  "You need a hand?"

  "No," he said. "I got it."

  "I had fun last night," she said. Her cheeks turned pink from her words. "Holy shit. That probably came out completely wrong."

  Brady only laughed. "Me, too."

  "I'm going to get out of your hair. But—"

  She stopped when he left the kitchen holding two bowls of cereal. She watched in silence as he set a place to eat at the coffee table for both of them. Cheerios and orange juice. It had been quite some time since someone made breakfast for her.

  "Have a seat," he said, patting the couch.

  She did so, keeping a respectable distance. The pair ate in comfortable silence. They didn't feel the need to entertain each other, or ramble about nothing. It was a nice moment, and it was then that Lily realized that for all their chat and joking about friendship, she'd truly made a new one.

  Her life had been hectic the past few years. She struggled to think of the last time she ate a relaxing bowl of cereal with someone.

  The memory hit her. Alyson.

  If Brady noticed her change of mood, he said nothing. Lily didn't want to let the memory of her cousin cloud her morning. It would have been the last thing Alyson wanted, to watch Lily moping over a bowl of cereal.

  But Alyson was gone.

  She rubbed her tattoo without realizing. Brady was saying something, but she completely missed it.

  "Huh? What's that again?"

  "I asked what your plans were for the day."

  "Probably going out tonight with my friends."

  "Didn't they go out last night?"

  "Yeah. We go out pretty much every night."

  "Damn. Sounds exhausting."

  Lily sighed, louder than she meant to.

  "It can be."

  "Are you okay?" he asked, finishing his cereal.

  She wasn't far behind him, and carried her bowl to the sink. It wouldn't be long before she broke down, shed a few tears. She needed to get away before that happened.

  "I had a great time. Thanks so much for having me over." She kept her voice steady and even.

  "Hey, thanks for the movie."

  "I need to get going, though. Before my roommate sends another text and kills my phone."

  "Ah," Brady said, glancing at her phone on the table. "Is that what that was?"

  Lily couldn't stop the grin. She had one more joke in her.

  "Yeah. You'd know if you had a real phone."

  "I'm a man. I use smoke signals."

  They laughed together, and again she felt more at ease. Brady had that effect on her.

  "Anyway. I'm going to get moving."

  "Cool. I'll walk you out."

  To her surprise, Brady walked with her all the way out of the building. Everything looked different in the light of the morning. A mother and son left the same building and gave Brady a wave. They must have known him.

  She gave him one last smile at her car door.

  "See you Friday?" she asked.

  He smiled. "You know I love my porn."

  She couldn't take her eyes off his smile. Five seconds passed before she found the car handle and opened the door. Alyson was still in the back of her mind, but for the moment, the pain was gone.

  "Maybe an eight," she said.

  Brady narrowed his eyes, confused. "What?"

  "Nothing." She slid behind the wheel. "Later."

  He waved. "Take it easy, Lily."

  Lily was on the highway. Strangely, she felt okay, simply thinking about the night with Brady. Maybe her new friend had done the impossible. Maybe the pain would keep its distance this time.

  But then the tears started.

  She missed Alyson. Lily thought of Alyson as more of a sister than a cousin. They were born only six months apart and grew up together. They had their share of fights, but there was no one she could depend on more when she needed someone.

  The tears turned into sobbing, and she had to pull over. Emotions battled each other. Frustration, fear, guilt, sadness. The pain had lessened over the years, but it never completely went away. Sometimes the way someone on the street walked would remind her of Alyson, and the tears started.

  It took a few minutes to regain her composure, for her breathing to calm down. Rational thoughts returned, as the list of chores for the day worked itself into her mind.

  Clenching her eyes shut, she leaned her head against the steering wheel. In her hurry to escape she forgot to give her newest friend her phone number, or invite him out with her and the rest of her friends.

  It was Saturday morning, and she already looked forward to Friday.

  CHAPTER 11

  Weeks of preparation, of research. Countless hours of surveillance and meticulous note taking. Staring through binoculars, in crowded vans. Hunched over laptops in dark corners.

  All their work and efforts would be realized in the next several minutes.

  Donovan sipped at his cold coffee as he took in display after display. They were several blocks away from a condemned apartment building on the outskirts of a small town in Alaska. He always hated Alaska. Too cold, too far from home.

  Despite his mood, he'd gotten to know the other residents of the rundown building. They were no more than squatters.

  Tina, a cocaine addict, stumbled as she rounded the stairs on camera one. Camera four showed the old laundry room, and a rather passionate sexual encounter between Martin and two females Donovan didn't recognize. Camera five pointed out the back of the building, toward a rusted swing-set, where a dog searched through leftover garbage.

  Wheatley, a man Donovan worked with for nearly thirty years, nudged his shoulder.

  "Sir," he said, pointing to camera two.

  Their target had arrived. Donovan and Wheatley watched as the forty-year-old scientist walked toward the building. He was unlike anyone else living in the place. Clean, well-groomed, a solid, steady gait. He carried a bag of fast food at his side. They watched his path through the different cameras as he made his way up. As always, he kno
cked on apartment two-twelve and handed the elderly Miss Ida a hamburger.

  "Regular as clockwork," Donovan said. He grabbed the radio next to him on the van floor. "Everyone, get your game faces on."

  Between meetings, traveling, and assignments, Donovan hadn't slept in his own bed in nearly a year. Some of his team had gone even longer. At long last, this assignment was coming to an end.

  Then the work he did, cleaning up messes, fixing problems, would be someone else's responsibility. Most likely Wheatley, if Donovan had his way.

  His final job. He would rather be in the Bahamas. Or maybe Hawaii.

  He truly hoped he wouldn't have to kill anyone.

  Wheatley gestured to another camera. "Sir."

  "Goddamnit, Wheatley, for the millionth time, call me Donnie."

  Wheatley nodded, but said nothing. As he motioned to camera two, Wheatley adjusted his glasses. A nervous habit that he never could shake. Donovan leaned closer, but already knew what he'd see. Draeke, a violent twenty-something who ran a meth lab on the other side of town, was beating a prostitute foolish enough to follow him to his torn-up bed. Draeke liked his prostitutes, and he liked hurting them. Donovan looked away, not giving the sight a second thought. Draeke was of no concern, nor were the women he abused.

  Dr. Larry Hoyt was why they were in Alaska.

  Larry stopped on the third floor to tie his shoe. The angle was odd, given the location of their hidden camera. For a moment, it almost seemed like he stared directly into the lens. It wouldn't have surprised Donovan. Larry was smarter than most, managing to elude them for nearly six months. But his team found the doctor, like they always did. He contacted his girlfriend, a move he would end up regretting. It was always the ties to loved ones that did a person in. Donovan was an expert at exploiting that.

  Only one person ever disappeared completely. He didn't like thinking about that.

  Larry walked into the apartment he'd claimed on the third floor. Donovan slapped Wheatley on the shoulder and nodded, then grabbed the radio.

  "Go."

  Wheatley led the way. He threw the van's rear doors open and jogged ahead. Donovan didn't bother running. He brought up the rear, crossing the empty street with a slow, steady march. His small team collapsed on the building from all directions, climbing fences and jumping through empty windows. Their movements were simple, organized. They didn't parachute from the sky, didn't come up from the sewers. None of that was necessary. The best plans were often the simplest, but Donovan always left room for the occasional curveball.