Part of the problem with his head feeling not right, he hadn't caffeinated. After calling the number, he celebrated his pending execution by unearthing a couple of Cokes from the fridge and downing them, one right after the next.
A coffee maker hung out with a grinder. Sipe didn't know how to grind beans. A spoon-it-from-the-canister kind of man. Even easier than that apparently non-existent option was popping the tab on a caffeine-rich soda or two.
He tried to think of the most likely person flying out of Seattle, armed, their sole mission to clean up the mess. His mess. It'd been years since he'd gone and done that particular job. He hadn't begged off. They just knew some guys took to it, some didn't. Some would rather escort the Old Man to meetings, to the gym, to Sonics games -- at least until the Sonics had been sold off. That'd been a pisser. That whole mess. God help the man caught texting or even looking at a cellphone in the Old Man's presence. About the only other thing as certain to dip you up to your chin in a shit that didn't wash off was to show up with a Starbucks coffee in your hand. The Old Man so pissed off at the way Howard Schulz lost the Sonics to that faggot from Oklahoma, all the errands the Old Man ran, whoever navigated was bestowed the impossible task of avoiding driving past a Starbucks. Even if you called up a Google map and showed the Old Man the sheer, stunning insidiousness of the chain, he wouldn't care. He didn't want to be driven past one. Figure it out. If you couldn't, he could hire someone else with the know-how.
After talking to Susan, Sipe had sped up his search. He was looking for two things. A gun. Unlikely. Keys to the Honda in the garage. So far, no dope.
All he'd unearthed in the mother's bedroom was a sex device in a box in the bottom drawer of a bedside table, buried under a Bible, a box of See's Candies. The plastic dingus set on top of layers of silk lingerie. It kind of made him curious what Henry's mom looked like, but he didn't see any pictures. He wondered if the step dad was prevalent in pictures that might've otherwise hung from the walls. Henry's mom too raw from the experience. She might've thrown them out.
Out the mother's bedroom window, facing east, a dirt road wound around one side of the Forest Service. It kept going up. Past a house, then a street with at least two houses he could see, some little kids out at the intersection, one on a Power Wheels. He knew guys that would leap at the chance. Escort the little kids back to mom or dad. Imply gun. Imply wholesale slaughter. Tie 'em all up and drive away in whatever rig was available. Sipe wasn't armed. He didn't trust his head. He'd get halfway through a procurement like that and blackout.
The blonde walked into view, walking up the road, followed by Henry. Henry carried the scythe, some sort of garden tool. The kids paused at the bottom of the driveway. Sipe pressed up against the bedroom north wall and then edged out from the wall far enough to look out at the action.
Tiffany producing a lot of arm motion, most of it directed towards the house. Henry slow to respond. Tiffany a toucher. Even putting both hands on Henry's chest, looking up into his face.
A woman exited the Forest Service. She called out Henry's name. Waved. She was a big one. Sipe's scalp tingled. Residual effects of his run in with Millie. Another Amazon. Eastern Oregon might be ripe with them. The lady looked both ways before crossing the street. She wore a burgundy blouse, a skirt, tennis shoes.
Moving out the bedroom, Sipe ducked his head down. He circuited down the hall, through the living room, the kitchen, and opened the door into the garage. It was dark and cool. He walked past the front bumper and down the driver side of the Toyota. There were glass panes head high in the retractable garage door. He angled his head towards the door. He couldn't hear words. He could hear them talking out there, the females at least. But he couldn't hear the words.
He tried the car doors again. Locked. Back when he was about Henry's age he knew a kid that could hotwire a car in record time. Once, just to fuck with random strangers, the kid broke into three parked cars, started all of them, and left them running curbside. It was 4 a.m. January. The kind of kick you got off on absent booze or girls.
Outside, gravel crunched.
Sipe hunched down, backed up, brushed a rope tied to the garage door, some sort of guide rope. Clutching it, standing along the doorway, he looked out the garage door windows. Henry and Tiffany walked up the driveway, into view, and then past the side of the house, out of view. A moment later came screeching sounds, the metal-shed doors opening. Sipe pondered the little brown structure next to the woodpile. He imagined spare car keys hanging off a hook inside the shed and just as quickly shook off the notion.
The roof overhang provided shade outside the front living room door and the door opening out the side of the garage. Sipe exited the latter, and edged out a little more with each second, crossing the meridian into sunlight, looking towards the Forest Service, wondering if the Amazon-lady remained outside. She could've caught his scent. She might be waiting, eager for sport.
"He's awake. Hey! You're awake!"
He'd been too focused on the Forest Service. The kids able to practically sneak up from behind. Tiffany walked up to him, smiling. Henry lagged behind her.
"How's your head?" She made a face. "It's still kind of bleeding, you know?"
"Who was the lady?" asked Sipe.
"What lady?"
"One you were just talking to."
"Gwen," said Tiffany. "She's Henry's mom when Henry's mom is gone."
"No, she's not." Henry sounded put out like he was being treated like he wasn't even here.
"You'd like her," said Tiffany. "She used to be a school teacher even. Not here. Somewhere. I forget where, but she got tired out. Probably because of kids like me. I sap people. Little energy-sucking Tiff." She sucked in her cheeks and moved her mouth, producing a sound like a dog trying to lick its genitals clear of its torso.
Sipe looked at the Forest Service. The windows were tinted. He could imagine faces looking at him. Suspicions gathering force.
"Who's the girl in the picture?" asked Tiffany. "There's a girl in a picture in your wallet. She's got frosting on her face. It looks like she got frosting on your face, too. She's real cute. Is she your daughter?"
"No."
"Who is she?"
"Some kid."
"It's really cute. You don't really come off as the kind of guy that lets just any kid sit in his lap and get frosting all over him. I don't know. Maybe it's a thing up there in Seattle."
Tiffany sharing a look with Henry like this was just the surface sweep, you should hear all the items unearthed on her background check into Sipe.
"You always ask things like this?"
"Like what?"
"Personal things."
"Aren't all things personal things?"
"You still have my stuff?"
She tilted her head. Innocent.
"Come on. You have it? The wallet?"
"The wallet. The gun. Yeah."
"I'm gonna need them. Soon."
"And you can have them. Soon. But I need a favor."
"I might not be able to do you a favor."
"I think you will. I think you'll want to. Really, really, really." She raised a finger and said, dropping it, "Really."
He didn't ask why he'd want to. Something adult pushed away all the kid, melted the extraneous fat on her face.
"While you were out, you know?, on the field on the other side of town, I took pictures of you with my phone," said Tiffany. "A lot of pictures. I posed your hands on my boobs. I posed your mouth on my boobs. I even unzipped your pants and made it look like you were holding my head down and making me give you a suck job. For that one I made it look like I was crying while smiling with your knob in my hand. I worked up some spit for that one. I wiped it off, but I can still smell it on my chin."
Behind Tiffany, Henry had gone pale. Sipe guessed he was in close pursuit of the same chalky shade.
"So the thing is this, if I have to, I'm going to send those pictures to a bunch of people. My uncle. And Sutton, this guy that works at our store. Gwen, the nice lady you seem so interested in. Some of my teachers. I already attached a little text telling them who you are. What your situation is. A man just getting around on two feet probably isn't going to get too far around here.
"The other thing is, I know you might try and grab the phone off of me. I don't have that one on me. I have my Uncle Norm's phone on me. And my phone, where is it?” She exaggerated a shrug. “And also, so you know, Sutton, he expects me to call later. If that doesn't happen, dominoes start to fall. Boom, boom, boom, boom, like that. My phone will turn up. And boom. All that bad stuff you made me do, it comes home to roost."
Sipe said, "What do you need?"
She smiled. She probably had the same unsettling smile since she was 4. Not evil. Knowledgeable. Someone who knew they were preternaturally talented in some respect. Bemused that God had oversupplied them this way.
"Shit," said Henry. He touched Tiffany's shoulder. "Hey. Hey. Gwen."
The Amazon, marching from the Forest Service, coming on over to join them. Sipe couldn't help it, but he checked her hands, convinced all the big ones in Oregon came armed with stun guns.
The Lipless Gods Page 8