The Dream Virgin

by Don Quine

  She had the balls.

  CHAPTER 48

  Three jocks from Eastern Oregon University were getting their rocks off in the hayloft. Before Reimer showed up the old couple charged a hundred bucks for free beer and a fuck. Now the jocks got the beer, but only a hand job. If they wanted to get laid, it was fifty bucks more. Same for a knobby. Both for ninety.

  After his first Friday night barn party, Reimer saw a way to make some money and cut a deal with the old couple. Told Jeff and Janette who looked to be in their sixties, that they could collect the hundred bucks a head at the barn door like they always did, but once the customers got inside, Reimer would handle the chores with the whores and split any additional revenue fifty-fifty with them.

  So here he was three Fridays later, killing time with the Pigs who had an upcoming job for the Aryan Wasps Reimer wished he could get in on.

  Instead he had to wait for Fred to work out the details on the blackmail plan while he kept his eye on a bunch of young jocks joking around while they listened to country, chugged beer, and yelled at their wasted buddies who paid five bucks to stay on Fu-Manchu for thirty seconds.

  The Pigs were watching things, too, coming on as Death Before Dishonor vets who you respected for their service to their country.

  A big Pig stood by three life-sized color photos of young women posing nude and lewd. The girls and their names were mounted on cardboard and set against the silo wall next to the ladder that led to the loft.

  The big Pig kept the pussy line in order.

  Reimer sat on some haystacks near Seymour and pimped the whores, Janette next to him with a red Sharpie. They took orders, collected and split the cash, wrote F on top of the trick’s left hand to tell the whores they paid for a fuck. BJ or BF on the right for those options. The clever coding was Reimer’s idea. Soon as a student climbed down from the loft, Reimer sent another one up with a condom and a warning.

  “Our ladies of the evening expect generous tips. Deserve them.”

  Reimer would stare at them, smile and show off his Pure Pain dentures, then say, “Understand what I’m saying about generous?”

  The young jocks most always nodded quick, then climbed up to the loft to visit Trixie, Vixen, or Jade. When the night was over, the whores would take care of Reimer for getting them bigger tips.

  But early this Friday evening, this particular trick, a burly kid with a EOU soccer shirt, he didn’t nod at Reimer. He stared at the Pure Pain smile like it was candy, checked out the back of Reimer’s skull and said, “Those pure pain chompers are full freak and your upside-down chick-on-the-cross is skull kill!”

  The jock raised his big fist with a grin.

  “Gimmie some love, bro.”

  Reimer bumped fists. Not many praised his teeth and his cross or asked Reimer for some love.

  Ten minutes later, after the burly jock visited Vixen, he climbed down the ladder, nodded to Reimer with a spent smile, and said his name was Jeb.

  Jeb asked Reimer did he want to take a break, snort some Oxy.

  Over by the mechanical bull, a quiet and observant Pig watched Reimer leave. His name was Aaron, but he liked to be called Adele by those he knew and cared for. Aaron was one of Daddy-O’s eunuchs.

  He was big, beautiful, and very loyal.

  Outside where all the college cars were parked and a Pig stood by the ghost town’s makeshift gate next to a Mad Maxish motorcycle, Jeb asked Reimer if he thought Jeb was too wasted to drive, then tried to do the DUI foot-in-front-of-the-other-foot drill and couldn’t and thought it was a crackup that he couldn’t.

  Reimer laughed and asked Jeb what kind of wheels he had, and Jeb was about ready to tell Reimer when another EOU jock staggered up and said, “Got Saturday morning practice, and I feel really fucked up, man.”

  “You look shitty, Nico,” Jeb said to the jock who continued to stagger over to a gold Cadillac convertible with the top down.

  Reimer watched Nico crawl into the back of the ragtop and conk.

  Then he said, “Nice wheels, Jeb.”

  South out of Flora, OR-3 ran straight for near fifty miles. About half way, before it turned into OR-82, Reimer pulled the Caddy off to the side of the road.

  The Pig who was guarding the ghost town gate trailed the car in a camo-painted cycle rigged for dual sport. His name was Seymour and he was a big albino who was far more ugly than Marilyn Manson, forget any makeup.

  Seymour pulled his bike up next to Reimer to ask what was up, but didn’t need to when Nico stuck his head over the side of the Caddy and heaved.

  After Nico wiped his face on his soccer shirt and flopped back in the back seat, a F-250 drove by, slowed down, then stopped.

  Backed up slowly.

  The driver of the Quik Sewage Repair pickup looked familiar, and so did the guy up front with him with the mustache growing out of his nose.

  Yep.

  The driver was the lumberjack with the brass knuckles who got into a fight with Jack. He looked like he did at S2S, mean and nasty, and he stared at the pocked-faced fucker driving the convertible and the pink-eyed albino staring back at him. The lumberjack spit.

  “You ugly fucks look like you could use a breath of air!”

  The lumberjack stomped on the gas and spewed a thick cloud of black smoke out of the pickup’s chrome-tipped exhaust pipes, stomped again to give the ugly fucks a double dose of diesel, and then peeled rubber.

  When the smoke cleared and the coughing stopped, the taillights of the pickup were red dots in the night.

  Reimer got out of the Caddy with a bent smile that only showed Pain.

  “That was a bad thing to do, Seymour.”

  “Disrespectful, Reimer.”

  Seymour flicked open a secret compartment on the floorboard of the modified Yamaha YZ250F that held two semi-automatics. Reimer reached in his pocket and pulled out a nasal decongestant bottle. Seymour handed one of the guns to Reimer and stuck the other in his boot. Reimer snorted, climbed on the back of the gnarly motorcycle.

  Seymour rolled the throttle, yelled, “Yippie-ki-yay!”

  Reimer raised the handgun and yelled, “Motherfuckers!”

  The college jocks watched the badass bike eat asphalt and disappear down the highway. Jeb moved into the driver’s seat.

  “I hope they catch those assholes!”

  Nico said, “I’m gonna miss practice,” and heaved again.

  CHAPTER 49

  The al fresco terrace that overlooked the gardens of Chez Chow was the place to dine at in Lake Meadows. On weekends the French-Asian bistro was reservation only. Two weeks in advance. Three for the patio.

  Since Leon owned half the restaurant with the chef, Ellen Devereux, he didn’t need to wait that long, which was good because his reservation was last minute.

  Early in the morning, Elfri had told Will, who told Leon, that if her project pilot got budget approval after her Dream Zoo presentation, she wanted to treat her pals to dinner with a cake that said Nestlings Blast Off!

  But she had funny feelings about paying for it out of the money Leon gave her every day for helping Chip. Elfri told him she didn’t want and wouldn’t take the money, but Leon paid her anyway. Every morning put a crisp hundred-dollar bill in a shoebox that was left in the breakfast nook with Elfri’s name on it.

  Elfri asked Will if he thought it’d be okay to take a couple hundred from the shoe box for a victory party for the Nestlings at Lake Meadows Pizza. There was enough in the shoebox to buy lots of tarantulas which was what Elfri figured Chip would do when she gave him the money after the festival was over.

  Will said he thought it shouldn’t be a problem, and then shared with Leon what Elfri had told him.

  Leon told Will to tell Elfri dinner would be on him. But they wouldn’t be eating pizza.

  When Leon called Chez Chow and spoke with Ellen in the
early afternoon to tell her he needed the patio, all six tables, Ellen asked if they wanted candles on the cake.

  Elfri was in heaven.

  Surrounded by people who a few months before were strangers, and to feel like they were family was a feeling Elfri had never experienced before and it felt so good to accept and embrace others more. Herself included.

  Not only did Leon invite her and Leah and Manny and Bob and Wayne to the ritziest restaurant in town, but he also invited Oliver and Nicole and Will and Molly and Jack and Chip to celebrate with them, along with a dozen Associates from the Nest that Elfri had grow to know and respect.

  From bacon wrapped bison cheeseburgers to pan fried scallops with cauliflower puree and vanilla foam, everyone stuffed themselves, munched, laughed, and discussed digital ubiquity, global hunger, counter-terrorism, and whether it make sense to stay single until thirty-five. Settle into yourself first. But if you wanted children you can’t wait too long unless you wanted to adopt which was worth considering.

  Elfri and the Nestlings got to bond closer with Akizu and Marc and Irene and Josh and Hunter and some other very savvy and successful Ventures Nest Associates. Most still in their twenties who worked in R&D labs on the north side of the campus like Oliver’s Obstickle was.

  They were the hush-hush projects.

  Leah had become Elfri’s big sister, showing her how to use makeup, play up her eyes, let her hair down in a short summer shirt and high heels.

  The Chez Chow patio looked out on Main and more than a few of the many tourists who passed by, stopped to ask if the food was half as good as it smelled. A few got Elfri’s attention, asked was she a model, was her green eye a contact lens, or was the blue one? Did she ever get tired of being told how beautiful she was?

  By the time the Nestlings Blast Off cake was served and the seven candles were blown out to include Amarosa and Didjano, Elfri had been able to talk with Oliver a couple of times without Jack or Chip or someone interrupting them.

  They didn’t say much. Didn’t need to. They both knew where they were coming from. How the world of dreams they’d been exploring from childhood brought them together.

  Elfri looked at Oliver when he wasn’t looking and saw not just the man in her dreams, but also the man she was falling in love with.

  He hadn’t told Elfri he loved her yet, but she trusted her heart.

  Oliver looked at Elfri during the party; longer than he did when it was just the two of them. When, if he weren’t careful, he’d get lost in her eyes and find himself getting carried away to a place he couldn’t go to yet.

  When Leon walked over and told Oliver they needed to deal with something, Elfri couldn’t hear what Leon said, but she saw how he looked and how Oliver responded.

  Whatever Leon said to Oliver wasn’t good.

  CHAPTER 50

  Oliver didn’t know about Leon being in the Special Forces until he was fifteen and he and Jack went hiking in Hells Canyon and ran into a rattler. Jack said that Leon would have had the snake for lunch like guerrilla guys do.

  Oliver asked Jack what he was talking about.

  Jack had one of those expressions on his face that you get when you say something you wish you hadn’t. But he knew Oliver kept his word, so he told him that when Molly told Jack about Leon’s background with the Marines, she told Jack there were reasons why Leon didn’t want that part of his life to be talked about.

  Jack asked Oliver to keep what he was going to tell him private.

  Oliver promised and Jack told him that during the breakup of Yugoslavia when he was in his twenties, Leon flew helicopters in Bosnia and Herzegovina. He was in a Special Forces aviation regiment called Nightstalkers. Leon knew the horrors of war.

  Oliver landed his little helicopter that Leon helped him build a safe distance from where the cop cars and the Caddy were parked, on the opposite side of the OR-3 highway. Oliver knew that the headlights and spotlights bouncing off the flipped Sewage Repair pickup with bullet holes in its body and tailpipe tips rimmed in blood, the almost dead bodies on stretchers with faces that looked like coal, that was no big thing for Leon.

  But it shocked Oliver and made him sad.

  He wished the lumberjacks had taken him up on his burger and fries offer.

  A roadblock was set up to check the line of vehicles that belonged to the college boys from the barn. No time to write DUIs, the cops were looking for two armed and dangerous felons on a customized dirt bike, a pink-eyed albino named Seymour and an ugly companion named Reim.

  Scared and sober, Jeb and Nico stood near the wreck with several cops, Oliver, Ray, Jack, and Leon. They watched the ambulance wail away toward the Memorial Hospital; squad cars heading back toward the ghost town.

  Jeb turned to Oliver who he felt he could relate to more than the cops.

  “That’s totally fucked, man. You think they’ll make it?”

  One of the cops with a strut, said, “They may not want to,” and then asked Jeb how he’d feel with a tailpipe shoved up his ass, diesel exhaust blown into his gut and out his throat. “You’d have to get a smog check, for damn sure.” The cop waited to see if he got a chuckle.

  When he didn’t and Leon asked Jeb how he came to know the bikers, the cop told Leon that he was asking the questions, not Leon.

  Until Sheriff Todd Haskins who was burly and familiar looking told the cop to set up some more road signs, then nodded to Ray Stewart in his freshly pressed Lake Meadows Security outfit.

  Oliver, Leon, Ray, Jack, and Sheriff Todd listened to how Jeb and Nico came to know the biker guys who they didn’t really know. They were pretty fucked up and the guy with the tricked-out teeth offered to drive them back to school so they didn’t get a DUI; stop off at Burgerville.

  “He told me my Caddy was a street-meat magnet and I figured they were badasses when they pulled out their guns after the pickup smoked us. But never thought they’d do what they did to them with the tailpipes and all. Nobody deserves that,” Jeb told the cops. “Not even assholes like them.”

  Jeb thought they really did deserve it and was glad Pure Pain and the freaky albino reamed the dirty bastards.

  But he didn’t tell the cops that.

  The old couple told the cops that the Friday night party for the college boys was business as usual, boys having fun, not a tad of trouble.

  The Pigs, playing their veteran roles, Aaron doing the talking, said the guys who the cops said they were looking for, Reimer Gore and his albino buddy, they were guys they hardly knew.

  They rode into Fauna yesterday looking for work. Last they saw of them was early evening when they gave them each two twenties to help keep things in hand in the barn. They didn’t really need their help; they were just helping them out.

  The white-haired, pink-eyed fellow looked like he wasn’t too far from being one of the poor Vets who offed themselves, twenty-two every day. PTSD is a mean motherfucker.

  No, sir. The Pigs had no problem showing the police their IDs. Be happy to. Aaron’s said he was Gunnery Sgt. Arnold J. Tegan, USMC.

  Arnold told the cops that asking him and his jarhead bros to stay in Fauna until their investigation was all wrapped up was no problem. Arnold pointed to a rusty truck parked near a pack of hungry-looking hounds staked close to the campers.

  “When that bucket of bolts is willing, only time we take her for a spin is on Wednesdays to go to the liquor store in Troy, cash our enormous checks, buy smokes and kibble for Jeff and Jeanette’s dogs. Play Powerball.”

  All this information was relayed by Sheriff Todd to Lake Meadows Marshall Ray Stewart who relayed it to Oliver, Leon, and Jack before Todd and the other cops left Fauna to file reports and get some sleep.

  Ray told Oliver, Leon, and Jack that he’d wait in the ghost town for Rahim and George. Ray watched the helicopter fly away into the night.

  He didn’t see Aaron sneak up a
nd hit him in the head with a rock.

  CHAPTER 51

  Fred was on her way home when she got the call around midnight. She was feeling pleased it went so well in Lake Meadows, her first night there and being able to gather enough info to know that blackmailing pet lovers who promoted zoophilia was not going to be profitable. But maybe some other enterprise could be. The town had changed a lot in eight years. Big investments had been made. She was thinking about Lake Meadows real estate when the call came from Aaron.

  Fred pulled her car to the side of the road.

  The eunuch filled Fred in on how he got a call from Seymour about three minutes ago. He said Seymour and Reimer had a run-in with a couple of truckers a few hours ago and shots were fired.

  Aaron called a Joe they knew up in Pendleton to meet the boys north of Maxville by the junkyard with a truck they could hide Seymour’s bike in.

  Aaron was about to tell Fred that Reimer got shot in his shoulder when Fred said, “Gotta call you back, Adele.”

  Fred popped her third Adderall of the evening and took Seymour’s call to tell her how he and Reimer was on their way in a panel truck down to Athena, there was an under-the-table doc there who’d stitch Reimer’s shoulder. Got it tied up tight with a bungee, bleeding wasn’t too bad. They’d get it stitched, get dropped off up on Route-204 near Elgin and bike up the back forest trail into the hideout.

  Then Reimer got on the phone and asked Fred when were they gonna get to it. Simple fucking blackmail shouldn’t be that big a deal to figure out a plan. Fred told Reimer he was on the loose, he was suppose to lay low until he could go back to Colorado and help Daddy-O; he wasn’t supposed to go ballistic and have a highway shootout.

  Daddy-O wasn’t going to like that.

  No point or profit to it.

  Cops would be crawling all over more than ever now.

  Fred heard Reimer take a snort, then tell her he was a big boy, didn’t need Daddy-O to tell him what to do. He could take care of himself as soon as Fred stopped wasting time and told the pet fuckers what to do, where to send the cash. He’d be just fine and dandy then.