The Nines

by Dakota Madison

  “Like what?” I prod. I doubt they could tell me something that’s worse than what I’ve witnessed.

  The guys eye each other again and this time Hector replies, “I’ve heard that frat houses have rape rooms. They drug girls and then bring them into the rooms. And they apparently videotape everything that goes on in those rooms.”

  My stomach knots. “Why would all of those girls line up to go with guys like that?”

  “The guys in those frats come from the most wealthy and well-connected families in the state,” Hector explains.

  “So?” I’ve never been impressed by wealth or status.

  Claire looks at me like I just landed on Earth from another planet. “They think hooking up with those guys is a quick way to becoming popular.”

  “I don’t care whether I’m popular or not,” I mumble more to myself than anyone else.

  Just as Julio opens his mouth to say something Claire interrupts him. “I know. Stay away from the frat boys. I got it.”

  Julio pulls Claire closer. “I’ve got to protect my girl.”

  “Here it is,” Hector announces as we stop right outside of Romano’s.

  The pizza place is one of the most popular spots off-campus. It’s practically busting at the seams with college students.

  “Allow me.” Hector opens the door, and I can’t help but smile at the chivalrous gesture.

  As Claire and I head inside a petite redhead with freckles nearly runs into us as she tries to make her way out the door.

  “Oh, my God,” the redhead says. “I’m super sorry.”

  “Wendi?” Claire exclaims as she looks the redhead up and down.

  “Claire! I can’t believe it’s you.”

  Wendi grabs Claire and gives her a big hug.

  “I thought you were going to Brown,” Wendi says.

  “And I thought you were going to Dartmouth,” Claire replies.

  “We have to get together. This is fantastic.”

  Claire nods, then it seems to dawn on her that the three of us are standing right next to her. “I have to introduce you to my boyfriend, Julio. And his roommate, Hector. And my roommate, Roxie.”

  Wendi gives us a friendly wave and smiles. “Great meeting all of you.”

  “Wendi,” a male voice says. “We’ve got to split if we want to catch the movie.”

  “I’m being summoned.” She laughs. “Give me a call. You still have my number, don’t you?”

  “Give it to me again just in case.”

  Wendi recites the number as a tall, lean guy grabs her by the hand and pulls her out of the restaurant.

  The place is so crowded there aren’t many tables available. When one small table opens in the back the hostess says we can have it if we don’t mind sitting next to the kitchen door.

  “I don’t mind,” Claire announces. “I’m starving.”

  As we head toward the table Claire pulls me aside and whispers, “I think Hector really likes you.”

  “And what makes you think I’m interested? I told you I’m not into the whole dating thing.”

  She frowns. “You’re a freshman in college. That’s what you do. Go out with guys.”

  “Maybe that’s what you do.”

  “That’s what most girls do.”

  “Well I’m not like most girls,” I remind her.

  “I can’t think of one way in which that statement is not true.”

  Just as Claire and I are about to take our seats next to Julio and Hector a gawky, young delivery guy hurries out of the kitchen. He’s obviously not paying attention to where he’s going and before I have a chance to move out of the way he slams into me.

  Luckily Hector has quick reflexes because he flies from the table and manages to grab me just before I land on my ass on the floor.

  “Are you okay?” Hector’s forehead is lined with concern.

  “Just a little flustered.”

  “Dude.” Hector grabs the delivery guy by his shirt collar and lifts him off of the ground a bit. “You ran right into my girlfriend.”

  “I’m not his girlfriend,” I correct. Then I turn to Hector. “I’m not your girlfriend.”

  “You just ran into my date,” he says to the delivery guy. Then he turns to me. “Is that better?”

  “I think even date may be an overstatement of what’s happening between us…”

  When the delivery guy starts to choke and cough Hector glares at him.

  As the poor guy starts to turn red he pleads,” Will—you—please—let—go—of—me? I—can’t—breathe.”

  After one final intimidating stare Hector releases his grip on the delivery guy’s collar. “Now apologize to my—um—the girl I’m having dinner with.”

  “Sorry,” the guy mumbles.

  The small table is a tad crowded for the four of us. Hector is almost on top of me; our chairs are so close together and our arms are touching. He doesn’t seem to mind one bit. He keeps looking over at me and smiling.

  “Thanks for coming to my rescue.”

  Hector nods. “I’m at your service. Whenever you need me.”

  When an older guy in a dress shirt, tie and pleated pants approaches the delivery guy with a scowl on his face I make the assumption he’s the manager.

  The manager tries to hand the delivery guy the pizza box he’s holding, but the delivery guy throws up his hands and refuses to take it.

  “I told you I’m not delivering that pizza. I don’t want anything to do with that freak show.”

  “Someone needs to make the delivery,” the manager counters. “And you’re the only one here right now.”

  “The guy wears a mask. Around his own house. That’s not normal. What if he grabs me and goes all Silence of the Lambs on me. I don’t want to be anyone’s precious and have to rub the lotion all over my skin. Skin that will one day be part of the freak’s human hide suit.”

  The manager frowns. “You watch way too many movies.”

  The delivery guy shakes his head. “No way. I’m not doing it.”

  “He orders a pizza every week. Not one delivery person has ever had a problem. And he tips well. Now go before I fire you.”

  “Seriously? You’re gonna fire me if I don’t do it?”

  “Seriously. Now go before his pizza gets cold.”

  The delivery guy seems to give it some thought. Then he takes in a deep breath. He looks like he’s getting ready to say something else, but then thinks better of it. He merely shakes his head and storms away with the pizza box in hand.

  As Julio stuffs his face with bread from the small basket on the table Hector glares at him. “Dude, thanks for helping me out.”

  Looking up from the bread basket Julio replies, “What? I’m starving. Besides it didn’t look like you needed my help.”

  Hector shakes his head. “You’re like a bottomless pit from the neck down.”

  “I work out a lot,” Julio fires back.

  “What were they talking about?” I ask. My curiosity has gotten the better of me again.

  Hector and Julio glance at each other for a few seconds as if they’re trying to decide whether to answer my question or not. Once Hector gives a quick nod, Julio says, “There’s a rumor about some crazy guy who lives close to campus. He supposedly only comes out at night and he wears a mask.”

  “A mask?” I don’t know where the question comes from or why I’m so intrigued. Maybe it’s because I’m a psychology major and people outside of the norm fascinate me. “What kind of mask?”

  “We don’t know anyone who has actually seen him,” Hector adds.

  “It’s supposed to be like that guy in Phantom of the Opera,” Julio explains.

  “The Phantom,” I state. “He’s the one who wears the mask.”

  “Whatever.” Julio waves dismissively. “It’s weird if you ask me.”

  “Why would someone wear a mask?” I wonder out loud.

  “Maybe because he’s not all there,” Hector offers.

  “Do you know
where he lives?” I look back and forth between Hector and Julio to see if I can get any more information.

  “Why do you want to know that?” Claire puckers her brow. “I don’t blame the pizza guy for not wanting to go over there. He sounds like a weirdo.”

  “I’m starving. Where is our server?” When Julio reaches for another piece of bread Hector swats his hand from the basket.

  Julio reacts to the gesture with a long, hard stare. “What?”

  “Don’t be a pig. Maybe the girls want some bread.”

  Julio oinks a few times in response.

  “What I want to know is where this masked man lives.” I make a point of looking back and forth between Hector and Julio again. I’m not letting them off the hook that easily.

  “Why are you so curious?” Claire sounds exasperated. “Are you longing to finally find someone who is weirder than you are?” She gives me one of her megawatt grins. “And I say that with the utmost affection.”

  “Don’t forget that saying,” Julio chimes in. “Curiosity killed the canary.”

  “It’s the cat,” Hector corrects. “Curiosity killed the cat.”

  “It’s a really good thing I’m not a cat then.” I give Hector a sly grin.

  “Fine,” Hector finally agrees. “Since it’s obvious that you’re not going to give up on this quest to find out everything you can about the masked man I’ll tell you what I know.”

  “Thank you. Please proceed.”

  He continues. “I heard through the grapevine that the guy lives over on Macedonia Boulevard.”

  “Don’t think about going over there by yourself,” Claire warns. “It’s not safe.”

  “I don’t have to worry about that,” I reply dismissively. “Hector is going with me.”

  “I am?’ Hector’s voice cracks.

  I’ve never considered myself an expert at flirting, but I manage to bat my long lashes at him a few times. “You don’t want me going over there all alone. Do you?”

  I know it’s pure manipulation on my part, but it seems to be working. He gulps. Hard. “Of course I don’t want you to go over there alone.”

  “So you’ll take me over there tonight?” I urge.

  “Tonight? Seriously?”

  I nod. “You did say you were at my service,” I remind him.

  He heaves a resigned sigh. “Sure. Why not?”

  “Good.”

  When our meals finally arrive the four of us spend time talking about typical college stuff. What we’re majoring in and why. The professors we love and those we hate. And the seemingly endless number of homework assignments. Even though Hector and Julio are both computer science majors they definitely defy the stereotype of the computer geek.

  The more I get to know Hector the more I can see us being friends. But is he someone I would date, if dating was an option for me?

  When the check arrives I reach for it, but Hector insists on paying.

  “This isn’t a date,” I remind him. “You don’t have to pay for my dinner.”

  “Maybe I want to,” he says as he removes his wallet from the pocket of his jeans. “You can get it next time.”

  Next time. Will there be a next time? My stomach clenches at the thought of someone getting close to me; wanting to know about my past.

  “Is everything okay?” Hector asks.

  “Sure, why?”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know. You just look upset.”

  “I’m fine. Just tired.”

  “We don’t have to find the masked man’s house…”

  “Nice try. We’re going.”

  “You have to be the most persistent person I’ve ever met.”

  He’s right. I am persistent. Once I’ve made my mind up about something it’s difficult for me to let it go. And I’ve become fixated on finding out why someone would wear a mask. Maybe it’s because I feel a weird affinity towards him. People wear masks to hide parts of themselves they don’t want others to see. More often than not I feel like I’m hiding in plain sight. Even though I’m not literally wearing a mask, I’m still disguising my true identity.

  ***

  “Thanks again for agreeing to walk me over to the masked man’s house.” I give Hector a quick smile.

  “I feel like I’m feeding your obsession,” he replies. “Since it’s obvious there’s nothing I can say or do to stop you I’ll go with you because I don’t want you to go over there alone.”

  Hector holds out a hand for me to take. I look at it for a moment before I acquiesce. Holding hands is definitely outside of my comfort zone, but Hector may be like me in more ways than he’s willing to admit. He seems to be just as persistent as I am. We might be here all night, with me staring at his outstretched hand, if I don’t take it.

  I’m surprised at how soft his hands are. He’s a little gritty and rough around the edges. I guess I expected his hands to be a bit coarse too. Unfortunately I don’t feel as much of a spark between us as I want to. It might not be fair, but I think I’ve already put Hector in the friend zone.

  The night air is brisk and I feel a bit chilled without a jacket. When a shiver rolls through me Hector immediately notices my discomfort.

  “You’re cold?”

  “A little.” I try to hide the fact that my teeth are chattering.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t bring a jacket. I could put my arm around your shoulder. Just to make you feel warmer.”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Just to make me feel warmer? You’re sure that’s the only thing on your mind.”

  “Definitely not.” He laughs. “But I promise I’ll be a good boy.”

  When his arm drapes over me and he pulls me close I do feel a lot warmer. And Hector smells nice, like fresh soap with a hint of spicy cologne.

  I really want to like Hector. I imagine the fun we might have going on double dates with our roommates. But the chemistry just isn’t there. In the back of my mind I’m still afraid of anyone finding out about my past.

  “If we turn down Second Street instead of Third we’ll run into Macedonia. That’s where everyone says that guy who wears the mask lives.”

  My heart starts to beat a little faster just thinking about the possibility of seeing him. I’m not sure why but I feel a small rush of excitement surge through me.

  Hector’s right. I am starting to get obsessed with him. I’m not even sure what’s fueling my fascination.

  The quiet block is lined with older, but well maintained, craftsmen style homes. The setting is almost idyllic. Like something you’d see in a movie that indicates an All-American middle class neighborhood.

  All of the houses are dark except for the house on the corner with the kitchen light on. It is Friday night so maybe the other homeowners are out like we are.

  “Do you think that’s the house?” I point to the corner house with the light on.

  “That would make sense. It doesn’t look like anyone else on the block is home. And he did order a pizza.”

  When I come to a sudden stop right in front of the lighted kitchen window Hector doesn’t have much of a choice but to stop with me.

  Much of the rear of the house is obscured by the large bushes that surround the back yard. The little I can make out through the small window seems very—well—ordinary for lack of a better word. Not that much different than the kitchen in my parents’ house.

  I notice Hector’s eyes darting around nervously. “We probably shouldn’t be peeping into his house.”

  “I’m not peeping. I’m just observing.”

  “Maybe we’d better go.”

  “Do you know anything else about him?” I whisper to Hector even though there’s absolutely no one else around to hear me. Somehow I feel like I’m disturbing the silence.

  He shakes his head. “Not really. Someone told me they thought he was a student, but that seems strange, doesn’t it? He’d have to take all of his classes online if he doesn’t leave the house.”

  I know that some of the students who han
g out in the psychology student cyber café take classes online. I make a mental note to do some digging when I get back to my dorm room.

  “Let’s see what the front of the house looks like,” I suggest, and head off before Hector can stop me.

  “Okay.” Even though Hector agrees, he sounds hesitant.

  The front of the craftsman has nothing to distinguish it from any other house on the block, which is a little disappointing. A streetlight illuminates the front porch and yard so I can see the place is well maintained and obviously cared for. The lovely plantings make me wonder if we really do have the right house. The upkeep on the front yard gardens would require a lot of attention and for someone to spend quite a bit of time outdoors to achieve.

  “You look disappointed,” Hector comments.

  “It just looks so…I don’t know…normal. More like someone’s grandmother lives here rather than a mysterious masked man.”

  “Did you expect to see blood dripping from the doorframe? Or maybe hear the muffled screams of his latest victim as he sliced off skin for his new human hide suit?”

  “I haven’t learned anything more about him,” I say as I start for the small set of stairs leading up to the front porch. “Just that he likes to garden.”

  He grabs my elbow. “What are you doing?”

  “I want to see if the door is unlocked.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” His voice sounds strained.

  We both stare at each other for a long moment. Then he finally releases me from his grasp. “I doubt you’re going to find anything. Who leaves their door unlocked in the twenty-first century?”

  “Where I’m from no one locks their doors at night.”

  “And where is this magical place where no one locks their doors?”

  “Just a small town,” I say vaguely, and then chastise myself for my slip up.

  “A small town where?” he pushes.

  “Aren’t you just full of questions?”

  “That’s what people do when they’re on a date. They ask each other questions. And some people actually give answers too. It’s how people get to know each other.”

  “This isn’t a date,” I remind him.

  Hector eyes me. “I think this became a date when you manipulated me into bringing you here.”