“That’s not funny, Greg.” Peggy Ann laughed, tossing one of the couch pillows at him.
The gloomy mood of the room instantly lifted and for that, Greg could tell by her expression that Peggy Ann was thankful. Maybe he was being a little too serious about all of this. Seeing monsters and crazy dreams. Maybe it was all just in his head and what he experienced was just a coincidence when it came to this Elliott dude.
Peggy Ann stood and smiled. “You want some more tea?”
Greg laughed.
“What’s so funny now?”
“So far I haven’t really heard a thick accent on you, but just now,” Greg raised a brow, “that was as thick as they get!”
“What? You want some more tea?”
Greg laughed again. “Yeah, that, and yes please. I would love some more. He picked up his glass, took one large gulp and then handed it to her to be refilled. “I’ve got to say. You make a mean cup of tea.”
“I didn’t make it,” she said, retrieving the glass and walking into the kitchen. “My dad did.”
“That’s cool.” Greg said, standing up to look at all the photos on the walls while he waited. “You guys close?”
“I guess you could say that,” she said, returning with two refilled glasses of tea. “We’ve been through a lot together. Honestly, I think the only thing keeping me in this stupid town is my dad. I can’t say that I know what he would do without me and Teddy.”
“Yeah, me and my folks are pretty close too. We go a while without talking sometimes. I moved out when I was like 17. We’ve had our ups and downs. I guess all families do, right?” Greg sipped his glass of tea, looking at the framed photos perched atop the fireplace shelf.
“That they do,” Peggy Ann agreed, scanning the photos with him.
“Oh my God,” Greg smirked. “Please tell me this is Teddy.” He picked up one of the framed photos, a black and white picture of what appeared to be a 14-year-old boy, his hair spiked high in all directions. The mascara on his eyes was thick and the lone earing on his left ear totally ridiculous. “What the hell was he thinking?”
“He went through a goth phase,” Peggy Ann said, snatching the photo from Greg who was still laughing. “Who didn’t go through that kind of stuff at that age?” She shook her head at how much it tickled Greg, and then put the photo back.
“Please remind me next time I see him to give him shit about that,” Greg chuckled. “That is the best picture I have ever seen.”
“Well, I can tell you right know that he wouldn’t find it very funny.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” she said. “My dad gave him hell for it all through high school. Our dad swore up and down that the music he was listening to was demonic. The devil was getting into Teddy through the music. That was what made him dress like that.”
“What, the Devil?” He grinned.
Peggy Ann nodded, sitting back on the couch.
“Man.” Greg sighed, taking a seat next to her. “Your old man must’ve been pretty hard on you two.”
“As much as I hate him for it, can you blame him?”
“I don’t know, can I? I’ve yet to meet the man, remember?”
“Oh, that’s right.” She laughed. “Well, he’s got good intentions, so I guess it’s not so bad that he is hard on us sometimes. Hell, I’m 28 years old and I still live at home. What does that tell you?”
Greg grinned. I’ll tell you what that tells me. That tells me that you and I are practically the same age, my friend, which means that I am in-like-flin…“Ahhh, the way I look at it, that’s not so bad,” he said. “Your old man sounds like he can take care of himself. I haven’t met him, but he sounds tough. Besides, he has Teddy, doesn’t he? You’re not going to get any younger, Peggy Ann. Go out and do something with yourself. Quit that shitty job at the diner and move to a bigger city.”
“Yeah,” Her eyes scanned the floor.
“I will say, though,” Greg stared at her until she met eyes with him. “Whatever you do, keep that diner outfit. You’ve definitely got the legs for it.”
Peggy Ann blushed, sinking deeper into her seat.
Greg had been in this position once or twice before. His heart raced with the possibilities. As long as he didn’t screw up and say the wrong thing, she was putty in his hands. So far, it was working, and shit, the surprising thing was, she was practically his age. She sure as hell didn’t look it. When Teddy had said younger sister, he was guessing at least 20. When he met her in person at the diner, he was still thinking that. Greg bit his lip with excitement, scooting closer to her on the couch.
“So,” he coughed.
She stiffened, pulling back. Awkwardly starting up small talk, Peggy Ann lifted her glass of tea up between them. The signal was clear. Greg sat back doing his best to hide the one-sided sexual tension. She was being hard to read or hard to get, but he wasn’t sure which. Either way, it just made him long for her even more.
They talked for a while about silly surface level nonsense. Greg told her more about his background; what it really was like being on the road and in a band with a bunch of sweaty guys. The road was tough in many respects, but it was well worth the work. He loved the freedoms and missed a lot of the adventures. He talked about the crappy job he had, and about how when he got home, he planned to look for something more enjoyable. She told him that he should consider working at a music store or a vinyl shop of some kind. He liked the idea and had considered it a time or two. It was just that most of the great jobs like that were either all filled or didn’t offer enough hours to really cover the bills. Peggy Ann could definitely relate to that one. She told him the tips at the diner were terrible. Not even the regulars were good tippers and there was no way she could get a place of her own while working there. All she had done was to prove his point and he simply reinforced the idea that she move to one of the bigger areas nearby, like Monroe for example. Hell, if she wanted to, she just need to say the word and he would call his roommate and make room for her at their place for a few months while she looked for a job.
What Greg liked about that idea more than the fact that she was smoking hot and possibly into him was the fact that it looked as if she was actually contemplating it as a possibility.
“I’m serious.”
“Obviously, Greg. But as nice as that sounds, we just met, and us small town people aren’t much for spontaneous wildness like that. I’d kill to get out of this town, but I have to be realistic.”
“Well, that’s fine.” Greg said soothingly. “Let’s start off being realistic. The reality of it is that, if we knew one another better, you would be more likely to make the move, right?”
She nodded, taking a sip from her glass then setting it on the coffee table. Greg did likewise, taking the opportunity to scoot a little closer. This time Peggy Ann didn’t pull back. Greg smiled and she smiled back. This was it. This was the moment that he was waiting for. The moment that he had driven to Alexandria for and didn’t get. The moment that had been denied simply because that stupid bitch had the nerve to stand him up. His heart raced with excitement, but this was much different. He would be lying if he didn’t admit that the girl he was going to see the other night was just an online booty call. A call that he would have thoroughly enjoyed had she not stood him up. But Peggy Ann wasn’t a booty call. No, she was growing on him in a way he thought never possible.
He kissed Peggy Ann, and yes, he enjoyed it.
This was different, because he felt a connection with Peggy Ann. The kind of connection that went beyond social networking sites and bogus surface chitchat. Sure, they’d stuck to mostly surface level talk, but not all of it had been. In a way, Greg knew that this was something he would never find surfing MySpace and Facebook for single girls his age. Peggy Ann knew him, and what she saw she liked. At least that was how he felt about it. She knew he wasn’t a successful rock star. The band he was no longer in hadn’t really gotten anywhere, despite what her brother said, and that was just f
ine. He felt like maybe he had found someone that would like him for him rather than who he could or should be.
Peggy Ann kissed him back, but then pulled away.
“I’m sorry.” Greg lifted his hands. “I shouldn’t have. It’s just that I…”
“It’s okay,” she explained. “I kind of saw it coming, even back at the diner.”
“What? Really? Please don’t tell me that I’m that predictable.”
“Well,” she smiled, “kind of. It’s fine though. Really, it’s just that the last guy I liked didn’t work out for the best and I did a lot of things I regret. I like you, Greg, but let’s be real. I only just met you today and you don’t even live around here.”
“What do you mean I’m not from around here?” Greg scoffed, calmly. “Monroe isn’t more than an hour away. If that.”
“I know, it’s just that…”
The room fell silent for a moment. Greg tried to make eye contact with her, but her eyes didn’t leave the floor. After a second failed attempt at eye contact, Greg gingerly picked up his glass of tea and sipped on it.
“It’s your dad isn’t it?”
“Um, I don’t know how I can explain. Peggy Ann fidgeted with the polish on her fingernails. “It’s just that I, well, it’s dangerous.”
“You mean your dad is dangerous? Trust me, I’ve dealt with my fair share of disgruntled fathers.” Greg grinned with confidence. “I can handle myself if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s not that at all. It’s something much wor—”
The sound of a key sliding into the lock at the front door silenced Peggy Ann. Greg’s eyes grew wide with concern as her expression fell solemn. His gaze turned to the door as he watched the doorknob twist. He swallowed hard, feeling his chest tighten with anxiety. Her dad couldn’t be that bad. Yeah, the guy was the Sheriff and most small town gunslingers like him were pretty rough around the edges, but he couldn’t really be that bad. Teddy and Peggy Ann seemed nice and he had raised them, and you are the product of your upbringing. At least, Greg figured as much. Nice parents raise nice kids.
The front door swung open.
“Honey, I’m home!”
What glimpse of the Sheriff that Greg did get was brief. The large figure charged into the room. His hair was dark and his face was covered in a thin, dark goatee.
“Who the hell is this?” The Sheriff shouted. His tone was harsh and forceful. “Is that my daughter’s lipstick on your face, boy? Who the hell do you think you are?”
Greg wiped his lip. Some of Peggy Ann’s makeup came away on his hand.
I can explain, Greg wanted to say, but before the thought left his mouth, he was cut off.
“No Daddy, not this one!” Peggy Ann screamed.
That was the last thing Greg Teeter heard before everything went black. He looked up as the large man in the officer’s uniform charged him. He wasn’t sure what it was that struck his head, but whatever it was, it was blunt and heavy. That much was obvious, because that one hit was all it took.
Greg was out cold.
Chapter 9
Brian wasn’t really sure why he found himself in the old pawn shop. He looked around in confusion. Last time he’d checked, he hadn’t had any experiences with sleep walking or anything of that nature. He felt like he was losing it in many respects. First, it was remembering that he had put some chew in his mouth and then later not knowing what had happened to it. Then there was the unexplained crap that had gotten all over his shirt. Whatever the hell it was, it reeked. It was like his mind was shutting off and kicking back on later. All the while, life still went on without him being cognizant of it. He didn’t like that one bit. Now, he was standing in a pawnshop, of all places, with even more of that nasty gunk all over his clothes.
“What the hell is this shit?” He said to himself, lifting his shirt to smell it. “Fuck it, that’s rank as shit.”
He released the shirt from his grip in utter disgust. Living on the street left you filthy, but this was an all-new kind of foul that not even the most ragged homeless person would stoop to. He took the shirt off and discarded it. With the flick of the wrist, the shirt glided across the air and landed on a stack of dust covered VCR’s. He wiped his hands on his bare chest and looked around at the dust covered appliances and electronics. He still wasn’t sure why the hell he found himself where he was.
He scratched his head and looked around some more. Walking up and down each aisle, his mind raced with hopes of finding the answer. Maybe something in the room would cause the light bulb to go off in his head. He thought of one memory in particular from way back. It was before he lost everything. Before the economy plummeted to nothing and his wife left with the kids. He had been in the living room watching television. Thirsty, he eventually coaxed himself into getting off the couch and he went into the kitchen. After getting something to drink and making his way back to the living room, he found that the remote control for the TV had vanished. It took forever before he decided to retrace his steps. Had he not done that, he might have never found it again. After going back to the kitchen, he found the remote sitting in the refrigerator next to the beers. This was just like that. All he needed to do was retrace his steps, and like a snake in the grass, it would jump out and remind him.
What the hell am I doing in the pawn shop?
Retracing his steps, Brian walked down each aisle scanning the random crap that no one wanted to buy. It was no wonder the place was closed for good. To him all of the crap they were selling was just that; crap. He laughed to himself at the thought while rounding the aisle of small TV’s. As he headed down the last row, he looked up facing a bunch of worn out sports gear. Still nothing. His mind was a blank. At the end of the aisle there was a pile of gunk steaming on the floor. It looked as if it had been stepped on.
He walked up closer to get a better look. It smelled awful. The red and black pile of sludge reeked. The stench reminded him of the junk that was splashed across his shirt. Maybe that was where he got it from. He fell in this stuff. Yeah, that was it. That had to be where he got that stuff on his shirt. But still, that didn’t tell him what the hell it was or why he found himself standing alone in the dark, damp pawn shop.
He stopped for a moment, thinking everything over.
“That son-of-a-bitch.” Brian clapped his hands together. He turned around headed back down the aisle away from the pile of gore. “You thought I wouldn’t figure you out, you stupid little shit,” he breathed between gritting teeth.
He shook his head as he stomped his way toward the pawn shop’s back door. How could I be so stupid?
Elliott fucking Racca. That was exactly who was behind this shit. He was slipping him something. Making him lose it. Causing him to forget things. Go crazy. That had to be the only explanation. Racca and most of the other people he hung out with were taking drugs. They had to be. They were all a bunch of loons. He hadn’t actually seen any of them taking anything, but the way they acted and talked made them seem like a bunch of LSD taking bums. Brian wasn’t like that. He drank a lot, but never messed with any of that harder stuff. That was just outlandish, but the question was how and when was this stuff getting slipped to him. Maybe while he slept.
“That must be it.” He grinned, pounding his first into an open palm.
Then his foot scraped something on the grounded just as he reached the end of the aisle. It sounded metal. He looked down and noticed a small black object sticking out from under the shelving. From what he could see in the bleak light, it looked like the handle of a gun, but what the hell would a gun be doing…that’s exactly what it was!
He pulled it out from under the shelf. Perplexity and excitement filled him as he cradled the weapon in his hands. It was black and bulky. A 9mm to be exact. He’d shot a 9mm pistol with a friend from time to time. His friend had several acres of land with targets set at various distances, but that friend was no friend now. Beth, his wife, was sleeping with that back-stabber
now. With all that land, she was drawn to his success. A success that Brian was struggling to regain. He was no expert marksman, but he could hit the target at 15 yards away. He bounced the handgun in his palm to get a feel for the weight. He ejected the clip to find it was full and he confirmed that a round was in the chamber. Surprisingly, the safety was off. Whoever had dropped it had dropped it in a hurry. Well, whoever it was, Brian made a mental note to thank them later.
He smiled, stuffing the gun in the small of his back between his jeans and boxers. He’d seen it done that way on the movies. Top Gun was one of his favorites. That and pretty much anything similar to those Die Hard movies. Those were awesome. Nothing like a good man movie. He gritted his teeth. He hadn’t had those kinds of luxuries in quite some time.
He suddenly filled with anger. He was angry at everything and everyone. He hadn’t seen a movie or been to the theater in God knows how long and none of it was his own damn fault. The economy dropping wasn’t his problem and for better or worse was what he meant when he married that whore. So it didn’t make sense why the hell his wife had to leave when the shit hit the fan. Things would have gotten better, eventually. So what if he hit her a couple of times. He was stressed out. Times were tough and money was, well, they had no money. There was no point in thinking about any of that. He could go see a movie later. He may not be able to get his old lady back or see the kids, but he was still in control and he was going to prove it.
Nobody fucked with him. Especially not Elliott, my-finger-is-my-best-friend, Racca!
“That stupid LSD takin’ prick wants to start slippin’ me shit.” Brian hissed, kicking the back door to the pawn shop wide open with the heel of his work boot. “I don’t fuckin’ think so. He’s got another think comin’.”
He was startled to find that he wasn’t alone in the back alley. Normally during this time of day the area was vacant. Most of the homeless community were out collecting cans or bumming for change outside of stores and stuff. Brian never did any of that crap. He was smarter than that. He had tried it a few times when he took over Elliott’s spot at the coffee shop, but it didn’t bring in much. So, after realizing that the alley was cleared out most afternoons, he resorted to stealing. He would just sift through all the junk left in the abandoned buildings. He took whatever he wanted. Hell, just the other day, he had a clean break and was able to snag up 15 bucks worth of bagged cans. Already crushed down too. Brian didn’t think anything of it either. They had it coming. No low life bum leaves his earning in an abandoned building for others to just up and take. That’s just asking for it. So what if it was your claimed sleeping spot. That didn’t mean jack to Brian. Most days, the only person around before sundown was Bonnie. Even then, she mostly just stayed huddled up in the back room of the old diner.
Hitchers Page 10