Jagger

by Kristopher Rufty

  “We should start cleaning out the van,” he said.

  “Van?” asked Teresa.

  Clayton was heading into the barn. He glanced at her from over his shoulder. “Freddy’s van.”

  Teresa followed him. Freddy hung behind her, probably watching how her legs worked under the dress. She hated she’d worn something so short and revealing.

  If I’d known we were coming here, I would’ve changed into jeans and a sweatshirt.

  She doubted that would have kept Freddy from ogling at her.

  Clayton better not leave me alone with him.

  “Where is the pooch at?” Freddy asked from behind her.

  “Familiar with Eagle’s Nest?” she asked.

  “Wait,” said Freddy.

  Clayton stopped ahead of her, turning back. Teresa stepped next to him, then turned around as well. Freddy stood a few steps away, holding out a hand.

  “You said her name was Amy?” he asked, his voice rising in pitch.

  “Yeah,” said Teresa.

  “Amy Snider?”

  Teresa frowned. “You know her?”

  “Actually, yeah. I knew her old man really well. He’s one of the people that funded all this.” He pointed his finger up and twirled it.

  Teresa looked around. She saw a fenced-in area. There was no light on, so the metal of the fence was a pale glimmer as it made a circle around loose, trodden soil. From where she stood, it looked like a pit.

  Where the dogs fight.

  And Amy’s dad was in on this?

  She wasn’t surprised, really. She’d known Mr. Snider for a long time and he’d always come across as a very shady person. Even Amy had kept her distance from him whenever possible—which had been most of the time.

  “Shit,” said Clayton.

  “It’s kind of fucked up to be messing around with her dog,” said Freddy. “Mr. Snider’s kind of like our founding father or something.”

  “You’re not going to help me?” asked Clayton.

  “She and I used to play around out here when we were kids. Her daddy would bring her to see the dogs. We fed them, gave them treats.” Freddy laughed. “She stopped coming around when I tried to poke her between the legs with my finger.” He shrugged. “I was ten, didn’t know any better at the time. She was just wearing these shorts that were really loose and I could see her undies. They were pink...”

  “Dude,” said Clayton. “That’s messed up.”

  Teresa was glad Clayton stopped Freddy’s perverted recollection.

  “Got my ass whooped real hard for that one. My dad was not pleased I’d pissed off Amy’s daddy. I don’t think Snider ever forgot about it, either. He seemed to always hate me, even after my daddy died.”

  “Are you helping me or not?” asked Clayton. “Time’s running out. We have to get moving if we’re going.”

  Freddy swiped his hand in the air. “Hell with it. Let’s go get the pooch.”

  It took a long time to clean out the van. It was loaded with gorged trash bags, old car parts, and anything else Freddy had decided to toss in there instead of getting rid of. Not only did it smell like a chicken coop inside, there were feathers sprinkled throughout the cargo area’s floor. She didn’t ask what they were doing there, and nobody offered any explanations. She figured it had something to do with the dogs, or maybe they were also hosting cockfights in the barn.

  Again, she wondered why she was here, what she’d gotten herself into. And again she told herself things would be fine once they were finished. When this was behind them, everything would fall back into place.

  Teresa didn’t believe it and figured she never would.

  Close to six in the evening, they were heading to Eagle’s Nest. Clayton had the syringes filled with sleeping juice in a plastic shopping bag, as if he’d just come from the store.

  Freddy drove, every now and then glancing in the rearview mirror to see Teresa. Where the backseat was positioned, she figured he had a nice view of her legs, possibly up her dress. She decided to let him look. How her legs were pressed together, she doubted he could see everything. He grinned around the cigar clamped between his teeth. Even with the windows in the cab down, the whole van still reeked of the sweetly pungent odor.

  Nobody spoke. Teresa couldn’t stop shaking. Through the hem of her dress, she could see the tremors of her thighs. No matter how many times she wiped her sweaty palms on her stomach they remained damp.

  Her stomach was in pain. She was hungry, yet had no appetite and the dread inside was a nauseating bubble that kept growing. She was betraying her best friend for Clayton. There was no easy way of accepting what she was about to do. She’d tried lying to herself in an attempt of making it somehow seem justified, but there was no getting around the truth. Most likely, Amy would never know. But Teresa was convinced she would somehow be able to tell.

  Teresa wondered if she’d ever be able to look her friend in the eye again.

  Probably.

  Not at first. It would take some time, but eventually she’d be able to block out what she had done. Wouldn’t be the first time she’d deceived Amy’s trust.

  Nick.

  Amy’s on-and-off-again boyfriend of the last couple years.

  How many times had he spent the night in her apartment?

  Plenty.

  And Amy never knew. At least, Teresa didn’t think so. Sometimes Teresa wondered if Amy had some suspicions, but she’d never accused of her anything.

  Jagger hated Nick.

  He would not go to Amy’s house because of the dog, so if Amy wanted to see him, she had to go to him. And Amy had never spent the night at his house. Not wanting to leave Jagger alone all night, Amy had adhered to a self-made curfew that had given Nick too much freedom and too many nights of disappointment. Eventually things had progressed to Nick spending his Amy-less nights with Teresa.

  And it had been fun. Though she’d wake up in the mornings with guilt sapping her energy, she’d kept doing it until she met Clayton at Honkers. Since then, she’d been devoted just to him.

  The van dipping off the road made Teresa gasp and bounce in her seat. Her legs flew wide. Looking up, she saw Freddy watching her through the rearview. How his eyes were scrunched up, she figured he was smiling.

  “Just a bump, girl,” he said in that feminine voice.

  Teresa pushed her dress down, shutting off his nice shot of her panties. Crossing her leg over her knee, she pulled at the edge of the dress and pressed it against the side of her thigh.

  Freddy laughed.

  “Almost done,” said Clayton. He turned around and looked at her. Though he offered a comforting smile, his eyes were grim. “It’ll be over soon.”

  Teresa tried to smile back at him, but the expression felt awkward on her face.

  He turned back in the seat, staring forward.

  There were no windows in the back, so Teresa couldn’t see what was on either side of her. But through the windshield she recognized the reaching branches that seemed to be growing around the power lines. The bouncing and rocking the van made over the trenches in the road was familiar.

  They were in Eagle’s Nest.

  Oh God...

  Just get it over with. Hopefully Jagger was outside. It would make it easier. That way they wouldn’t have to break in.

  The car port was clear. Amy’s Jeep was gone. Teresa felt herself relax some seeing that it wasn’t there.

  When they drove around the side of the car port, past Amy’s house to the back, Teresa saw Jagger right away. He was inside the fence, watching them approach. Head tilted slightly, his ears were lifted high. She could see his nose working as he sniffed the air. Not recognizing the van’s scent, he ripped into a cacophony of barks.

  Raising a hand to her mouth, Teresa watched as Jagger’s massive jaws snapped, making sounds like a bear trap. Drool flung from his mouth in thick spatters. For the first time, she noticed how big and sharp his teeth really were. She imagined them crunching around her arm, splintering
the bone. Felt them close on her neck.

  “Teresa?”

  She jerked. “Yeah?”

  Clayton, turned in the seat, frowned. “Ready?”

  “I don’t know...”

  “Don’t wuss out now,” said Freddy.

  “Shut up,” said Clayton.

  Freddy, both hands gripping the wheel, lifted a shoulder in a half shrug.

  Teresa leaned forward, watching Jagger chew at the thin links of the fencing as if he wanted to eat his way out of there just to kill them. “I’ve never seen him worked up like that before,” she said.

  “He can sense his doom,” said Freddy. And smiled. “They all do. You learn to ignore it. Remember you’re the dominate species. Don’t let them see you’re scared. They’ll have you then. Always be tough. Speak loud and firm. And if that doesn’t work, kick them in the dick. That will teach them real fast.”

  What an evil, fat asshole.

  Teresa saw herself slapping him, but didn’t dare. Maybe once this was over she’d kick him in the crotch. See how he liked it.

  A syringe hovered in front of her. For a moment she thought Clayton was about to stick her with it, but she quickly understood he was trying to hand it to her. Thankfully, she’d refrained from flinching away.

  Teresa took the needle without speaking. She heard the murky liquid in the plastic tube slosh quietly. He gave Freddy one as well, keeping the third.

  “I figure the easiest way to do this is by all of us getting him at the same time.”

  Wait...he wants me to...

  She looked down at the syringe, the pricking tip covered by a plastic cap.

  “You’ll have to distract him,” said Clayton.

  Teresa looked up, saw he was talking to her. “Me? Why?”

  “He knows you.”

  Teresa’s throat felt as if hands were slowly squeezing it. She nodded.

  He knows me. Trusts me.

  That dog loved her, and Teresa knew it. Not only was she betraying Amy, she was betraying Jagger.

  He’s just a dog. He doesn’t know.

  When they exited the van and Jagger saw her, his barking stopped. Seeing how his tail started to wag, she realized how wrong she was. Jagger would know. He would always know.

  Tears wetted her eyes, making her vision blurry. She didn’t wipe them, though. Not wanting Clayton or Freddy to notice she was starting to cry, she kept her arms down.

  The syringe felt odd and wicked in her palsied hand as she removed the cap. Numb inside, she approached the fence.

  Jagger whined, wanting her to pet him.

  “Hey, buddy,” she said in a hoarse voice.

  Though it was barely audible even to her, Jagger heard it clearly. His mouth opened, tongue dangled out. His breaths were heavy and fast, excited. Eager.

  “Hurry up,” said Freddy. She glanced at him and saw he was constantly looking around, checking things out.

  She looked back to Jagger and noticed how he ignored the guys, no longer considering them a threat. Since they were with her, he must think they were friends.

  Jagger...how wrong you are.

  She hoped he would run away from them, maybe even come after one of them. Hopefully Freddy.

  Teresa felt the temptation to yell at him to go away. The words burned the back of her throat, trying to force their way out of her mouth.

  She remained quiet, kneeling at the fence in front of him. His big paw swiped the fence, claws scraping the metal with a sound like two knives clinging together.

  “Damn, he’s a big dog,” whispered Clayton.

  “I think you’ve got your ticket out of this mess,” said Freddy. He pointed his nearly smoked cigar at Jagger. “He’s a fucking beast.”

  Teresa tried not to hear them. She raised her hand to the fence. Jagger pressed against it, his weight making the links bow outward. She stroked the poofs of black fur through the oval spaces.

  Whining, Jagger pushed even harder, wanting more contact.

  He got it when the three needles pierced his fluffy flesh.

  Jagger yelped.

  ****

  Teresa bolted upright, the sheet falling away from her wet skin. She felt gelid droplets trickle down her sides. Panting, she looked around. The room was filled with darkness. She saw the pale shape of her dresser, the mirror on top glowing like a dim pool in the night. She turned her head and saw the window was open. The curtains swayed inward from the breeze. She felt its cool breath drift over her sweaty skin.

  She pulled her legs to her chest, hugging them. Her thighs felt tacky and warm against her breasts, polished in sweat. Her turgid nipples ached as they were pushed back. She rested her chin on top of her knees.

  Taking several deep breaths, she made herself calm down.

  Just a dream. Just a fucked up dream.

  The relief that flowed through felt great. It soothed her aches and chills, relaxed her muscles. Then she heard snoring from beside her. She held her breath. Turning her head slightly, she looked beside her. In the dim smear of moonlight from the window she saw Clayton. Lying on his back, his flaccid penis hung to the side. His chest rose slowly with the soft rattling snore.

  It hadn’t been a dream. What had woken her in the middle of the night, seized in panic, was a memory.

  Lowering her face to the crease between her legs, Teresa sobbed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Amy opened her eyes. The ceiling was bright with daylight. It hurt her eyes to look at it. Closing them, she started to roll over.

  And dropped.

  Her fall was short. She pounded the floor. Her arm knocked against something hard. Cheek flat on the floor, she groaned into the carpet. Her breasts were smashed against her chest.

  Bringing her knee up, it bumped the same hard object as her arm. At first, she thought it was Jagger, but quickly realized it was too firm. There was no soft padding to it. Carefully, she reached out and felt wood.

  Now she was confused. What was in her bed?

  I’m on the floor.

  Okay...then what was in her room?

  Opening her eyes, she saw the blurry shape of the coffee table beside her. As even more confusion came over her, she started to notice the weak sensation in her muscles that came on the mornings of a hangover.

  I drank last night?

  Yes, she remembered. With Mark. The cop.

  The cop.

  It all came back to her in a painful flash.

  Jagger wasn’t here. He was gone. She’d come home and he’d been gone.

  A draining feeling opened inside her, pulling her heart into her stomach. She felt a terrible cramp in her abdomen.

  Jumping to her feet, Amy ran for the hall. She staggered toward the bathroom, falling against the walls and pushing herself up. She pushed the door open, dropped in front of the toilet, and vomited. The stale, beer-tasting froth splashed in the water. Her muscles constricted, legs squeezed and she pushed out another wave. Her body kept heaving, though nothing else came out.

  Just beer. That was all she’d had on her stomach last night. No wonder it hit her so hard. No wonder she was sick this morning.

  Amy remained squatted a bit longer, and when she decided her body was done punishing her, she sank to the floor. The linoleum was cold on her legs. Hugging the porcelain bowl, she leaned her face against its frigid smoothness. It felt good on her heated skin, almost soothing.

  Her forehead felt stiff and moist, as if she’d been frowning all night. The throbbing in her head sent tendrils of pain down her neck. Felt as if a migraine was coming on. She needed to pop some aspirin before it got worse.

  Need to eat something.

  Her stomach made a fizzy gurgling sound at the thought of food.

  Even if it was bread, she needed some kind of food to settle her stomach.

  She wasn’t sure how long she remained in a pitiful embrace with the toilet, but she finally made herself get up. She walked over to the tub, then sat on its edge.

  Amy turned on the faucet, cran
king the dial as far to the hot side as she knew she could handle. Then she pulled the switch. The water in the faucet shut off and spray fired from above. Cold droplets dabbed her skin, making her flinch as if she was being bitten by tiny teeth.

  Sitting on the edge of the tub, she looked around. She’d left the bathroom door open. Usually she had to close it. Jagger liked to stick his head through the curtain and watch her shower like the canine peeper he was. His face would get drenched and fill the bathroom with the stink of wet dog.

  She smiled, remembering how his fur seemed to weigh his face down, making it drag. The expression died when she realized how much she missed it.

  Where are you, Jagger?

  She should go see if he’s outside. Maybe he’d come home.

  No. Somebody took him.

  But why?

  Mark thinks he ran away.

  He never said as much, but she could tell. He was a nice guy, and had gone out of his way to comfort her, but she knew he was only doing so as courtesy. He didn’t believe somebody had come into her yard and dognapped Jagger.

  But the cigar...

  He did seem a little troubled about that. She wished she would have noticed if it had been there before last night. It could have come from anywhere. Maybe the mailman dropped it there when putting bills in her mailbox.

  The mailbox is out front. The cigar was in the back.

  Unless he was snooping around.

  Like Big Jim Riley.

  She remembered that day he’d watched her lying out in the sun. She’d pretended to be asleep, but had known he was there.

  Should’ve gone inside.

  Not wanting to embarrass him, she’d allowed him to watch, though she felt sick knowing that he was.

  Jim doesn’t smoke.

  Somebody had left it there. And she could hear a thousand explanations coming from Mark as to why it had been.

  He might not even look into the cigar.

  He will. He likes me.

  And she might like him. Hopefully it wasn’t the alcohol last night making her think such things.

  The hissing of the shower mixed with the tapping of the water in the tub pulled her thoughts from the cigar. Standing up, she peeled off her top. It clung to her skin and pulled away as if it were melted plastic. Her breasts felt free and no longer compressed. The warm air was wonderful as it drifted across them.