Drama Dolls: A Novel: [Dark, Suspenseful, Fast-paced, Exhilarating]

by Tanamor, Jason

  Peeking over Lena, the driver’s expression softening, he said, “I’ll tell you what. Just take care of him. I’ll give the car back. No charge.”

  Lena’s body sank in relief. Displaying an endearing look toward the man, Lena smiled. “Thank you,” she said. She extended her frame, standing up on tip toes, and kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” she said again.

  The man put his hands up in surrender. Taking one last look at the vulnerable cheerleader, he said, “Seriously. Take care of him.” He cringed and then jumped into his truck.

  The tow truck receding into the distance, Lena plopped down next to Jeffrey and put her arm around his waist. Swaying left to right, a calming motion as if she was trying to put a baby asleep, Lena finally turned to Jeffrey.

  Cradling the ball close, his eyes red from crying, Jeffrey smiled at the ball.

  Sitting on the parking stoop was an eternity. Stretching her legs out in front of her, Lena leaned her body back and looked up to the clear sky. There was not a cloud around, only a straight shot to Heaven. Both her spouse and Jeffrey’s looking down at them. Lena, she wondered if the two had met. If they, also, had bereavement groups for losing someone. Was Heaven one big baseball game to attend? These thoughts and more passed through her mind.

  A soothing breeze picked up, blowing her hair into her face. Opening her eyes, her vision focusing on the pale blue backdrop in between strands of hair, Lena exhaled softly out of her nose.

  Staring into the ground in front of her, she said, “Are you OK?”

  Nodding his head, Jeffrey said, “Yeah.” His voice, it was innocent and soft. The ball was warm and sticky from the heat. The smell of leather in his nose, he said, “We can go.”

  He looked around to see that the tow truck driver was gone. “Where’s—”

  “I took care of it,” Lena said.

  The pair stood and entered the Corvette. Starting the car, the radio’s volume turned up, Jeffrey shifted into drive.

  A circle of light led Barb and Brittney up the staircase toward the bedrooms. Leading the heist, gripping the flashlight with one hand, Barb took each step with caution. Brittney followed behind. Pillowcases slung around their shoulders, the dynamic duo stopped on the landing that joined the bedrooms of the house.

  Mask situated, cheerleader uniform freshly washed, Brittney struck a pose. Her fist on one hip while her other arm extended into the air. Legs straight and flexed, the Drama Doll’s skirt was just above her bare knees.

  Her lower legs shaved and smooth, her ankle socks the same length, Brittney muffled the words, “Ready? OK!” This time around Brittney’s wig hair was tied back into a pony tail.

  The mask pulled down tight over Brittney’s chin, Barb could tell that she had pride in her appearance.

  Sighing, reluctant to participate, Barb gave Brittney a look.

  Brittney didn’t budge. Her body still stiff in posture. Flexing her limbs, Brittney’s legs began to shake.

  Staring at the cheerleader as her body trembled with each second that passed, Barb rolled her eyes. Giving in, mirroring the pose, opposite hand on her hip, free hand lifting up her mask, Barb said, “OK.” Pulling down the mask over her face, she extended her hand into the air.

  Brittney, pumping her open fist, she cheered, “Dee, ar, ay, em, ay, what’re we gonna do today? We’re gonna rob, we’re gonna thieve, we’re take this shit then leave; We’re gonna run, we’re gonna hide, we’re gonna sort this shit inside; My house, my house, as quiet as a mouse.”

  Barb stared as Brittney announced the anthem.

  “Dee, oh, el, el, es, we’ll be out in thirty or less; We’re gonna dress, as our best, we’re gonna wear high skirts and breasts; We’re gonna cheer, we’re gonna play, Drama Dolls are here to stay!”

  Standing like a statue, waiting for the conclusion, Barb dropped her head to her chest.

  Finishing the cheer, Brittney said, “Drama Dolls!”

  The cheerleaders broke position, and then went to work. Inside the master, the flashlight stationed on the drawer to give them light, the masculine cheerleaders assessed the situation. The Victorian homes’ ceilings were tall to give them open space. Having gone through the house with the realtor reduced the time to get in and out.

  Walking toward a closet, Brittney said, “You take the drawers.” A hollow expression from Barb, Brittney opened a walk-in and stepped inside. In a row on the shelf above the clothing rods were designer shoes, boots, and sandals. Women’s shoes galore. Jimmy Choo, Sam Edelman, TOMS Wedge Booties, Vince Camuto, and Dolce Vita. The boots were by Munro and Paul Green.

  Pulling down shoes into her case, the bag began to fill up quickly. Once the shelf was clear, Brittney looked down at the clothing rod.

  Gowns from Aidan Mattox and Adam Lippes were hung by color. Lined up like they had been placed in a particular order, Brittney stepped back to admire the clothing. Jaw dropping, her lips curled into a smile.

  In the mix were sleeveless crewneck crepe gowns, beaded bodice full-skirt gowns, and half-sleeve gowns with bow shoulders. Squeezing them together with her hands, Brittney pulled them down from the rack and threw them out onto the floor.

  Empty shoe boxes lined the wall. She kicked them over to make sure nothing was inside. Tumbling over, the cardboard boxes fell onto each other, making a Stonehenge-like stack in the corner.

  Startled by the falling boxes, cutting Brittney a look, Barb said, “What was that?”

  Stepping out, Brittney was shaking her head. She said, “Nothing.” Turning the flashlight so it pointed to the vanity, she grabbed an empty pillowcase and began pulling out drawers.

  Before Brittney’s eyes was a huge collection of cosmetics. Some used and others never having been opened. Foundation bottles, brand new, the caps tightly sealed, were thrown into the bag.

  Eyeliner, blush, lipstick, the score provoked Brittney into stealing makeup for herself.

  Mascara, eye shadow, fingernail polish, they were all taken from their drawer slots. Pulling out each item, reading the label as she went, Brittney tossed the individual pieces into her bag.

  Closing each drawer, returning it to position, the cheerleader stepped back and looked at the vanity. During the tour, the group had not been allowed to enter the master, so admiring the piece of furniture was a first. “Beautiful,” she said.

  The hand-carved cabriolet legs on the dressing table were classy. The smooth curves made for a great piece. In the beveled mirror, Barb’s reflection poured through dresser drawers. Separating T-shirts and socks, Barb felt her hand along the drawer’s inside and up and down the corners.

  “What’re you doing?” Brittney said to the mirrored image.

  Through the glass, Barb’s reflection turned toward Brittney. Her cardboard breasts uneven underneath the sweater, she said, “Sometimes people stash valuables in the back of dressers.” Never having had to justify her actions before, Barb said, “Why?”

  “Oh.” Brittney answered with a shrug. She said, “Just asking.”

  Instead of continuing on the vanity, Brittney watched Barb move to each drawer. The way she moved, it was as if she was gliding on air. Barb had studied the movement of gymnasts and ballet dancers so that she could incorporate the graceful motion into her secret identity. Sliding on the wood floor, elegantly rearranging the articles of clothing, Barb stylishly maneuvered through the fabric.

  The next drawer, filled with shorts and yoga pants, also came up empty. Closing the drawer shut, Barb pulled at the next bin. The wood sticking together, expanded from the humidity, the Drama Doll yanked it out. The frustration caused the wooden drawer to fall down to the floor.

  Articles of clothing went everywhere. Spread out around Barb as she moved away from the fallen drawer.

  Scattered amongst the sweatpants and workout clothes was a gun. A black semiautomatic. Single stack. A holy-fuck-you-just-found-a-gun!

  Stepping back, the nosy Doll craned her neck toward Brittney. Returning to the weapon, Barb kneeled to collect the piece. Sh
e held up the gun in plain view, spinning it around slowly to examine it.

  Brittney’s eyes bulged underneath her mask. The scene unfolding through the mirror’s reflection.

  The voice of scared shitless reason said, “Oh my God, oh my God! She’s got a gun. She’s got a gun!”

  Brittney dropped her pillowcase. The makeup containers crashed, some opening. The foundation glass bottles were loud on the hardwood. One bottle cracked, causing it to spill inside the bag. A peach colored spot formed on the pillowcase.

  Through the mirrored image, Barb was inspecting the firearm closely. Twisting it around, she observed the hammer, magazine, and the grip. Groping the piece, Barb felt the slide and barrel under her fingertips. She pointed it at Brittney, her arm extended out. A flick of her wrist, the gun going up toward the ceiling, acting as if she was pulling the trigger.

  In the mirror, the muzzle pointed at Brittney’s back. Raising her hands in slow motion, Brittney played the part of victim. The reverse-imaged Barb released her position.

  Turning around, Brittney walked toward her counterpart. Together, the two stared at the semiautomatic, their phony smiles close to the gun. Brittney leaned in closer until the thermoplastic polymer was touching. Pulling back, Brittney removed the mask, her mouth dropping open.

  Heart beating faster, Brittney said, “Is it loaded?”

  Headlights came in through the window. The man cheerleaders ducked, the gun still between them. Barb shrugged. She said, “Should we take it?”

  The headlights rolled across the walls and then disappeared. Almost pitch black in the room, the only illumination came from the flashlight pointing toward the vanity. The mirror revealed the shine and blinded Brittney for a moment.

  “I don’t think so.” Her eyes went wide. Eyebrows up, Brittney said, “Put it back.”

  Barb, she was frozen without movement.

  Stepping backward to add separation, Brittney, she said, “Seriously, put it back.”

  Barb nodded, her mask displaying a ghostly smile. “OK,” she said. Her voice, calm and non-threatening, she said, “I’ll put it back.” Her white gloved finger was holding the gun by its trigger guard. The semiautomatic swinging, its barrel swaying back and forth. Fingering the guard, Barb placed it into the drawer and put it back into the dresser.

  The cheerleaders made eye contact. Barb through her mask and Brittney for real. They nodded, a mutual agreement, and then continued with the lift.

  A hairbrush with clumped hair strands was stashed in a small nightstand beside the bed. Inhaling the brush’s scent, its aroma, reminded Brittney of Her. The smell of shampoo, Her scalp, emanating from the bristles. The similar scent, possibly the same shampoo and conditioner, made Brittney emotional. Her knees buckled, causing her to fall downward temporarily. Straightening her legs, Brittney stood like a statue, breathing in the smell under her nose.

  The excitement from the ball game, the heist, it evaporated into depression. Brittney’s stomach began to convulse, a dry heave of crying pouring out of her. Pulling the brush into her, she rubbed her nostrils over the bristles. The brush tickled her nose. Scratching her nose with her finger, her eyes red and burning, Brittney wiped her eyes repeatedly. Standing in the dark, she closed her eyes tight.

  Barb continued to pile the bags with goods, ignoring the scene in front of her. Grabbing items with her hand, whatever could fit in her palm, she threw down into the pillowcase.

  A long humming escaped Brittney’s slightly opened mouth. A tear building, falling down her face. Shaking her head vigorously until the feelings went away, opening her eyes, Brittney exhaled. Mask falling from her hand, the fragrance from the brush causing her to drop it.

  Barb moved from her position, stepping over articles of clothing, makeup containers, and a small garbage can. Looking down into the trash as she passed over it, something jumped out at her.

  Reaching down inside the garbage, Barb found an unused tampon. The wrapper stuck to the inside of the trash can’s bag. She picked it out, its cloudy white surface fresh out of the packaging. There was a lipstick-drawn circle in the center. To mimic a period.

  Barb looked over at Brittney as she breathed in the hair. Brittney’s mask still on the floor by her feet. Holding the tampon between her fingers, watching what Brittney had become, Barb stuffed the tampon down into her garter.

  Coming out of her pity party, regaining composure, Brittney walked past Barb and moved to the next bedroom.

  Another guest bedroom, used as a dumping ground, was bare. An area rug plopped down in the middle, positioned equidistant from each wall, was storage for moving boxes.

  Rows of boxes with their flaps up, you could see the entire guts with one swoop. The contents were scattered in unorganized piles. The boxes filled to the top with mismatched jewels.

  Sorting through the mess, searching for the valuable pieces of jewelry, Brittney picked out a couple different items. A diamond solitaire pendant in 18k white gold, a 14k gold double heart diamond pendant, a bracelet with a circular yellow gold photo locket, and a confetti drop necklace with diamonds.

  Princess cut diamond solitaire studs, wisteria pearl earrings, white Kyocera opal earrings shaped like teardrops, the gems were all collected in one scoop. Kneeling on the carpet before the boxes, Brittney took her time digging through the valuables.

  The voice of immature reason said, “It’s like a real life claw game.”

  One box contained various types of trinkets. Chain bib necklaces, gold color hoop earrings, metal hinged bracelets, and polished bangle bracelets in sterling silver.

  Necklaces knotted together were left behind. Earrings without pairs or backs, they were tossed aside. Cupping items in her hand, Barb’s footsteps moving down the hall behind her, Brittney got to her feet and examined the rest of the room.

  The only other thing in the room was a moveable coat rack. Suits hanging from the rack’s rod, the pants folded over the hangers with their respective coats draped over, were color coordinated from light to dark.

  “All the clothes in this house,” the voice of curious reason said.

  Flipping through the selection, the suit sizes looked familiar. Brittney collected them all and stashed them into the pillowcase. Folding them in half and then pushing them into the bags, Brittney left the rack empty.

  Barb screamed from downstairs, “Let’s roll!”

  Running flat footed down the street, the weight of the bags were hard on her knees. With her skirt flailing from the motion, Brittney slowed to a jog.

  Barb followed suit. The cheerleaders, they decreased their speed to a walk. The night was hot and sticky like the rest of them. High summer temperatures started to take their toll on the path to freedom. Holding the bags became harder and having their heads covered in plastic was a challenge.

  Barb’s face was wet from trapped sweat underneath her mask. Lifting up her mask above her mouth so she could feel the air, Barb took a quick glance toward Brittney.

  Plodding forward, steady in her pace, Brittney kept to herself.

  Far enough away, pushing through the wooded escape trail, Barb moved the bags from shoulder to shoulder. Her pom-poms were lost in the stream. Her white shoes, they were peppered with brown mud spots. And her ankle socks were stained with dirty water.

  Broaching the subject, Barb said, “What did you find in that room?” She was breathing heavy from the getaway and periodically would raise her mask to get some air on her face.

  Taking short breaths, breathing hard out of her mouth, Brittney said, “Just some boxes filled with jewelry. All kinds.” Stepping over a branch, she said, “There were a shitload of diamond necklaces. Stuff like that.”

  Showing concern for her friend, Barb said, “You feeling alright?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Walking ahead on the single lane trail, Barb said, “You broke down back there.”

  “I’m fine.” The leaves breaking under her feet, Brittney watched a rabbit running alongside. The hopping soun
ded like a potato chip bag being twisted. The rabbit stopped, burying its face into a pile of leaves. When it pulled up to run away, the pile of leaves uncovered something shiny.

  Brittney walked faster toward the object, the distance between her and Barb increasing.

  Following behind, picking up her pace, Barb said, “What?”

  Bending down, collecting the medium gauge curb chained piece, Brittney rose to her feet and held it up.

  Her gait now a trot, edging up next to Brittney, Barb said, “Is that a necklace?”

  Ducking into the alley, squatting behind the area where the dumpsters met the buildings, a smell of french fries touched Brittney’s nose. With nothing in her stomach all day save for the cup of coffee at the diner and the beer at the stadium, she was feeling woozy.

  The foundation on her skin began to itch. The blush more like blobs than circles. Brittney could taste the lipstick on her tongue. The inside of the mask, its plastic was now a smeared maroon.

  Breathing in the salty potatoes, the stench entering the tiny hole on the mask’s nose, her insides began to growl. Trapped underneath the plastic, the lingering fries surrounded her. Brittney pushed the dumpster away from her to gain some separation.

  “You OK?” Barb said.

  Nodding, breathing in the mix of Chinese food and mayonnaise-covered fries, Brittney closed her eyes. Her heart was racing. Her breathing heavy.

  Her knees buckling from hunger, Brittney collapsed down onto the asphalt.

  Dropping the pillowcases on the gravel, the tops came undone. The uneven streets caused pieces to fall out. Bracelets rolling into sewers, earrings into cracked pavement. Handfuls of jewelry spilling out onto the pavement.

  Barb ran over to Brittney. Heaving her up, propping her against the building, Barb said, “Brittney!” Shaking her with no luck, she said, “Brittney!”

  There were sounds of water drops below in the sewer. Plopping down the drain were bracelets and miscellaneous items.