Gated

by Matt Drabble

  The pounding man took this to be encouragement and doubled his efforts; Janet was suddenly squirming for different reasons as she tried to extricate herself from her elevated position. Michael stood transfixed to the spot, his embarrassment total and all consuming; his face burned and he looked away.

  “Alvaro, ALVARO,” she shouted, slapping her partner’s face.

  The man turned and saw Michael. His face drained and paled. He stumbled backwards, his pants around his ankles and he desperately pulled at his clothing to cover his nakedness. Alvaro clutched at his pants and Michael could not help but think that there was nothing more ridiculous than a man’s erection, as it fought against its unwelcomed enclosure. Alvaro staggered out of the patio doors at the rear of the kitchen and out into the garden, buttoning his shirt as he lurched towards an ungainly escape.

  “Michael, Michael,” Janet panted as she hastily tried to rearrange her own clothing and Michael caught sight of a lot more than he wished to, as she pulled up her underwear.

  For what seemed like an eternity they stared at each other, neither quite knowing what to say, both knowing that anything would be insufficient. When she finally spoke, it was the last thing that Michael expected,

  “Please don’t tell Casper,” she begged.

  ----------

  Alvaro Hector Rodriguez - or more accurately, Brian Thompson - ran for his truck like his life depended on it. Clutching his unstable pants, he just about managed to climb into the driver’s seat without being seen. Brian had inherited his Hispanic looks from a grandparent on his mother’s side. Growing up in a provincial neighborhood, he had found that when it came to the local ladies, there were certain benefits to standing out from the competition. He had worked through more than his own share of shitty jobs, and had been desperate to get his own business started. He had found that he loved working outdoors and had discovered a natural aptitude for gardening. He’d also soon discovered that “Brian Thompson’s” gardening services were viewed with suspicion, whereas “Alvaro Rodriguez” seemed to fit the pigeonhole more acutely. During the six months or so that he had been operating his business, he’d also come to discover the delights of the suburban bored housewife.

  He lived and worked out of Hanton, some twenty four miles away from Eden. Normally he wouldn’t have even considered taking on work so far away, but Eden was different. He greatly enjoyed the pleasant drive out to the gated community. The grass seemed greener, the air fresher and the sky bluer. He held the contract with Christian Casper, the town manager for several of the neighborhoods. Casper was a creepy dude at the best of times, and he had laid down the law to Brian before he’d even set foot in Eden. He had been warned extensively about his conduct in the town, and his behavior towards the residents. The money had been great and the work easy, with the added benefit of the scenery. He’d been able to look and not touch the fabulous tanned legs of the beautiful housewives, until Janet. The woman had simply not taken no for an answer, and he was simply not able to resist for more than a couple of weeks. He’d started to schedule the Beaumonts work for the times when he knew that Mr. Beaumont would be home, reducing Janet to sulky pouts from a distance. Then one day, a couple of weeks ago, he’d walked into the kitchen via the rear patio doors to find Janet bent over the kitchen counter with her back to him. She wore black pumps with six inch silver spiked heels, her swishing short white tennis skirt was hiked up to her waist, and she was gloriously naked underneath.

  “I think I need a little pruning,” she purred seductively, and that was all it took.

  For the last two weeks, Brian had been drained by the insatiable woman. It was getting to the point where the work that he was actually there to do was going dangerously unattended. He cursed himself for his stupidity. He’d had a fantastic deal going here, and he’d screwed it all up. Janet’s neighbor had walked in and caught them and Casper was going to find out for sure, and he was going to lose the contract.

  He slapped the steering wheel hard in frustration. It was not fair, and it was all her fault. When he’d tried to break it off, she’d threatened to accuse him of rape. She was just spiteful enough to do it. Janet was a woman desperately used to getting her own way in all matters.

  He sped down to the main road, narrowly missing the tram as it approached, annoyingly adhering to its timetable. Brian flipped the driver the bird as he passed, taking great delight in the friendly face’s shock at the vulgarity. As attractive as Eden was, he was often struck by a feeling of smothering claustrophobia. He didn’t know just how these people kept a perpetual smile twenty four seven. As far as Brian was concerned, a little piece of paradise went a long way.

  He drove quickly through the downtown area, ignoring the curt looks and disapproving shakes as he passed, eager to be gone before Casper caught up to him. Let the freak fire him over the phone when he was safely back in Hanton. A face-to-face meeting with an angry town manager was the very last thing that he wanted.

  He swung through Fairfax and Jubilee, taking the corner too quickly; his equipment in the back slid over and thumped angrily into the side of the truck. He saw one of Sheriff Quinn’s deputies glare up furiously from his coffee cup as he sat parked on a bench outside a Starbucks. Sheriff Quinn was not a man to piss around with, so he had heard, and it was not a theory that he wished to put to the test. Quinn was a junkyard dog, big and mean, but he still had a master to pull his leash.

  Casper had always exuded a natural magnetism. When Brian had first met him, he had witnessed the man turning the charm on full bore to a couple of executives from Dunkin’ Donuts. The two men seemed reticent about placing a franchise so far out of the way, but Casper had turned the headlights on full beam and had turned them around in minutes. Brian’s appointment had been immediately after, and he had watched the change in Casper as the two Dunkin’ Donuts executives had left on a cloud. The temperature seemed to drop in the office as Brian entered, and when Casper swung his attention to him, he had wilted under the gaze. Casper had spoken with a religious fervor about the rules and expectations of his town, and he had laid out every do and don’t for Brian with excruciating detail. As far as Brian could tell, his job was to provide an expert service and remain very firmly below the sightline of the residents. There would be no access to the town outside of his allotted hours, and he would never leave any kind of mess or equipment behind. He was not permitted to frequent the facilities downtown, and under no circumstances was he permitted to socialize with any residents. Brian had been preparing to tell the creepy dude just where he could stick his contract when Casper had presented him with the fee that was on offer. Brian felt his moral indignation slide away when he looked at all of those zeros; for that sort of money, he could put up with some snobby stuck-ups. Casper’s tone and rhetoric had been friendly enough, but there was a low rumble beneath his words, a roll of thunder on a hot summer day that said, do not fuck around with me, boy. Brian had promised himself that he never would. He had a couple of steady girls back in Hanton who were only too pleased to please him on a regular basis. But those long tanned legs and pert ass bent over a counter top were drenched in forbidden lust, and they had overwhelmed both him and his senses.

  He snatched a worried glance back at the deputy and his stomach sank when he saw the burly man bark into the radio on his shoulder. He pushed the rickety truck faster. His unsecured valuable tools rolled around ominously behind him. His hands sweated on the leather steering wheel, and his knuckles whitened and cracked with tension.

  He was through the housing and stores’ development now. The land opened up and he could see the town outskirts. The great wooden tall walls beckoned him as he drove faster now that the road had straightened. He drove desperately for his freedom as the town inexplicably bore down on him. The smothering claustrophobia was tangible, and the air crackled with menace. His skin felt clammy despite the dry heat and he pushed the accelerator to the floor. Suddenly he was desperate to be outside of Eden. He felt terrified. His primal instincts t
old him to get gone, to get out through the barrier and never come back. The truck’s speedometer read seventy and the engine roared and spat in disapproval as the temperature gauge moved dangerously into the red, but he did not ease up. He was almost to the security gates and freedom when the flashing blue lights suddenly appeared behind and he knew that it was too late.

  ----------

  Michael sat on a plush leather sofa, nursing a cold beer whilst facing Janet in a matching chair opposite. Her face was drawn and heavy, adding years to her normally youthful appearance.

  “Sometimes, I can’t breathe here you know,” she whispered through watering eyes. “Some mornings I cry just because I’ve woken up again and nothing’s different.”

  “I thought that you and Chris were happy. You always seemed to be,” Michael offered, uncomfortable with the intimate moment.

  “This place just smothers everyone; it gets so that you can’t even think for yourself anymore once you’ve signed that damned lease,” she said bitterly.

  Michael opened his mouth, hoping to find a secret relationship file to delve into, one that lurked around the hidden corners of his mind; he snapped it shut, realizing that he had nothing useful to offer. He desperately wished that Emily was here. She was the people person and she would know what to say. “Why were you worried about what Casper would think?” was all he could think of to ask.

  “Huh?” she said, looking up vacantly, her perfect makeup now smudged and blotched.

  “Casper. You said don’t tell Casper.”

  “I said Chris.” She looked down at the floor as she spoke, “Please don’t tell Chris, Michael; it would ruin us. I still love him in spite of how all this mess looks.”

  Michael left her with promises of silence; despite her protestations, he knew what he had heard. She had said Casper and not Chris. It had been the thought of Casper finding out that had terrified her and not her husband.

  “She did what!” Emily exclaimed, unable to take in the information as Michael shushed her, flapping worriedly as though their neighbors would hear through the walls. They were sitting in the large open plan lounge area after she got home from the school. She checked Michael’s face again; at first, she had assumed that he was joking in his weird offbeat way that she often didn’t follow, but she could see that he was serious. “With the gardener?”

  “Yep.”

  “In the kitchen?”

  “Yep.”

  “On the counter, where we’ve had coffee?”

  “Afraid so,” Michael said with a grin as Emily’s nose wrinkled.

  “And she was worried about Casper? You’re sure she didn’t say Chris?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. She said Casper at first and then changed it to Chris, but she was lying.”

  “You must have misheard,” Emily said, shaking her head firmly. “You’re not always the best when it comes to paying attention, you know.”

  “I know what I heard Em; it was too weird, you know. This place… it’s… it’s alright, isn’t it?”

  “How do you mean?” she asked, puzzled.

  “Well, it is a little Stepford, you know.”

  “Oh hey, it’s just different from what we’re used to,” she answered in a considered tone. “You told me that yourself. All the attention and the friendliness, it’s just not what we’re used to. Back in the UK, most people don’t look you in the eye on the street when they walk past. How long did we live in that apartment without ever getting to know our neighbors?”

  “Have you noticed anything weird?” he asked.

  “Well, I took over from a woman called Jessica at the school, and she and her husband lived here before us. Perhaps they disappeared!” She waggled her fingers at him jokingly.

  “What happened to her?” he asked seriously.

  “Michael, calm down, I was just teasing,” she laughed. “That imagination of yours may pay the bills, but sometimes it does run away with you.”

  “So what do we tell Chris when he gets back?”

  “Oh hell, we are not touching that with a ten foot pole,” she said seriously. “I genuinely liked Janet, or at least the woman that I thought was Janet, but after this, she’s on her own.”

  “I didn’t know that you were so cold,” Michael said, a little worried. “I hope that I never screw around on you.”

  “You’d better not,” she said, punching his arm not quite lightly. “Speaking of which, why don’t we retire upstairs? I fancy an early night.” She grasped his hand delicately.

  He watched as she gently pulled him upstairs, her face a beautiful mix of innocence and seduction. Judging by what was happening next door, he felt blessed and lucky in equal measures.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Sheila’s eyes drooped dangerously. The beaten and battered Chevy swerved worryingly across the road as she jerked awake again. The morning was hot and getting hotter, and she had been driving almost solidly for the past twenty four hours. Her laser mind had refused to allow her body to pause, even for a second.

  Sheila Murray had been crossing the country for over a week now, following her son Colin’s last route as he trekked across the wastelands, retrieving rental cars to cover his passage home for the holidays. Colin was a conscientious boy, a solid student and an intelligent young man. She had raised him well and single-handedly, and she took great pride from her dedication. She’d worked herself into the ground to provide for her child and given him the best possible shot at life.

  Colin was a sociology major, who’d been raised with a strong work ethic both inside and outside of the classroom. She’d never been happy with his idea to pick up cars and trucks from strangers out in the middle of nowhere, as she’d feared for his safety, but in the end she’d had to respect his fierce independence. She’d offered to send him the money for a plane ticket to fly home, but he’d been raised too well to accept charity, even hers. He’d always called her after every drop off to let her know that he was safe and sound. Six calls like clockwork, and then nothing. His cell phone was dead. It did not ring and it was never answered, no matter how many times she called. She’d alerted the police on the first day that he’d missed his call, but the local police had been unwilling to even bother contacting the rental firm to start a trace. As far as they were concerned, he was an adult, and probably just taking a detour on his travels. As the days passed, she grew more and more convinced that some tragedy had befallen him. Regardless of how far away he was, she could always feel him. But now there was only a deep, dark cavernous hole where her son had been, and she could feel him no longer.

  The car swerved again as it drifted across two lanes. A loud horn blast startled her back from her thoughts and she yanked the steering wheel hard to the right. The Chevy lurched and spat gravel as she overcompensated and threatened to drive all the way off the road and down the embankment. She righted the car and ignored the angry looks and gestures of her fellow travelers as they swerved to avoid her. She knew that she should pull over and rest properly, but she was so close, so close.

  She had managed to track her son’s movements up until his last point of call in some town called Eden Gardens. She had followed the trail to a larger town called Hanton, where a bus terminal worker thought that he remembered Colin getting on a bus there. The rental company had confirmed that their car had been picked up from Eden and dropped off as scheduled. She had found the dealership where the car had been taken after Eden, and managed to convince a tired looking working mother to grant her access to some of the company’s information. The woman had been reticent at first, point blank refusing to divulge any details, but Sheila was not for turning. She had followed the woman on her lunch break and battered her into submission with expert guilt prodding and tear teasing from one mother to another. Eventually the woman had agreed to help and had slipped Sheila into the office after closing when the building had been deserted. They had managed to track the rental car’s pickup and delivery and she’d struck gold when the woman had informed her that the de
alership had excellent CCTV coverage. Her heart caught in her mouth when she watched the car in question pull into the lot and a man exit the vehicle. Despite the man being covered with a heavy coat and a pulled down baseball cap, she could tell that it was not Colin; regardless of the similar body types, the man’s movements were all wrong.

  She’d tried the local police in Hanton, but had been met with dismissive skepticism. As far as the police were concerned, Colin was old enough to make his own way home. He was over twenty one and not a child. Common opinion was that he was most probably shacked up with some skirt that he’d met on the road. Sheila had been literally dragged out of the station kicking and screaming. She knew that her hysterics were detrimental to her cause, but sheer exhaustion had stolen her reason.

  She now knew that Colin had headed for Eden on the Arrowhead bus to collect a rental car, but that someone else had driven the rental car away from the town. She would find her answers in the gated community.

  Slowly, the traffic thinned as she headed westwards until it disappeared completely. The road was long, straight, narrow and empty in front.

  Suddenly from behind, a large black SUV appeared in her rear-view mirror. The big car closed the gap fast and was soon right on her rear bumper. She could just make out that a large man was driving, and he filled the driver’s seat and occupied the whole space with ease. He had large, broad shoulders and wore what looked like a tan colored uniform shirt of some description. He wore wraparound mirrored sunglasses and a blank expression. He sat behind her, matching her speed for a few miles.

  Sheila gripped the steering wheel with worry, her eyes darting around desperately searching in vain for help, or witnesses. Just as the road began to curve and snake ahead, the SUV abruptly accelerated and pulled up alongside her, presumably to overtake. She let out a soft sigh of relief, thinking that whatever the man’s game had been, he’d tired of it. She slowed and braked gently into the sharp corner as the road swung to the right. She swore under her breath as the man maintained his course into the corner on the wrong side of the road. She looked over as they drew parallel with each other. Time slowed as their eyes met and he smiled for the first time; it was not a pleasant smile and her bones chilled.