Mayhem (The Remarkable Adventures of Deets Parker Book 1)

by J. Davis Henry

  At a few minutes after five, the double doors to the courtroom flew open and people streamed into the hallway. Miss Treadwell announced to our group that the cross examination had been completed, and the jury would begin deliberations the next morning. We were all free to leave. She added the Polczewski family would be coming out in a few minutes and wanted to thank us for our testimony.

  I caught Treadwell’s eye. “You mean I don’t have to testify?”

  She answered, smoothly, but I caught the undertone and lie. “No, Mr. Parker. We appreciate you coming all the way up from New York, but the way the trial was going, we decided not to call you.”

  In other words, they thought I was nuts. Having shown up wearing lime green, fluorescent shoes and a purple Victorian costume jacket, add in my yelling about Santa disappearing in the bathroom, and I was a liability.

  I didn’t say a word. I remembered Hank and I on the bus with our panda bears tucked on our laps and realized I had done what I could, helped in my way. Admittedly, I felt slighted, unrecognized for the part I had played in Betsy’s recovery and Richard’s arrest. My emotions were tempered, though, by the guilt I could feel clunking around inside me. Suspecting Doctor Steel had manipulated Richard somehow, I kept thinking Betsy would have been spared if I hadn’t written her.

  The Polczewskis came into the hallway, Betsy in a wheelchair pushed by her father. Her hair was short, the massive indentation on the side of her head healed, but scarred purple. She was smiling gracefully, speaking to the prosecutor. Two pandas sat snugly in her lap. As she wheeled closer, I noticed a pattern of small white decorative feathers covered her blouse.

  Ahh, of course.

  She looked right through me, not a shred of recognition. Professor Polczewski kept rubbing his chin, studying me with puzzled concern. Betsy’s mom shook each of our hands and thanked us for supporting her daughter.

  Betsy rolled by me.

  “Betsy, you look wonderful.”

  She spun the larger wheels around in opposite directions to turn towards me.

  “Thank you.”

  “Thanks for your lessons on the theory of mass and energy.”

  She laughed politely, happily perplexed as she studied my face. “You weren’t one of the witnesses.” Her hand went to one of the pandas, wiggled its ear. Her expression became serious. “I don’t remember much from before I was hurt. You were a friend of Hank’s, weren’t you?”

  “I didn’t know him long, but yes, we were very good friends.”

  She dropped her eyes to the pandas as she fiddled with the black furry ear. “This one likes to be tickled.” She raised her head, looked at me apologetically. “I wish I had my memory back.”

  I laid my hand on hers gently in farewell. “You’ll always find a way to be happy. It’s who you are.”

  “What’s your—”

  A loud commotion sounded down the hall, interrupting her.

  The defense’s retinue had assembled. Richard’s lawyers were beaming with some secret knowledge. Richard managed to look both brave and humble, a distinct change from his earlier haunted appearance. Uncle Ted boomed loudly as he gripped my dad’s shoulder, the two of them enduring the family’s ordeal together. They never looked my way as they descended the stairwell and out of sight.

  My dad not saying goodbye hurt.

  In that instant, I felt I had no path in life. My family was acting like they didn’t know me as I sat next to Betsy, who didn’t remember me, while I prepared myself to go home to Teresa, who didn’t care much about being with me right now.

  Chapter 57

  I drove halfway across Massachusetts, then down through central Connecticut, taking my time. Close to midnight, I maneuvered my way through the streets of New York.

  At a traffic stop about ten blocks east of Washington Square, a woman knocked on the passenger window of the Volkswagen bus.

  “Can you give me a ride?”

  I recognized Lola.

  “Yeah, hop in.”

  She jumped in, large bracelets clanging on her arms, her rainbow skirt swirling.

  “I know you.” She was enthusiastic, happy. “You’re that guy.”

  “Yeah, cool. The last time I saw you, you were tripping out of your head.”

  “Oh yeah, you took pictures. But really, I remember you from when you were dating Maureen.” She howled with laughter.

  “I can’t imagine what exactly you’re thinking of.”

  She let out a high pitched squeal and tried to muffle an outburst of chortles and giggles with her hands.

  “Oh my god, that was so funny when I tossed her underwear at you.”

  “Pretty good aim.”

  She laid her hand on my leg. “Let’s party tonight. I know where we can have a really wild time, get blown away.”

  I was tired from my trip and depressed with my circumstances, but all that abruptly evaporated with her touch, her mood, and her promise.

  “Sounds cool.”

  She directed me to a warehouse in the East Village.

  We rode a freight elevator up to the third floor and stepped out into a large open area sectioned off in a half-hazard setup of roofless cubicles and rooms made from plywood, curtains, and boxes. Candle flames flickered everywhere. A naked guy with a bushy beard walked by, muttering and cackling to himself.

  “C’mon, let’s go blow some weed.” Lola grabbed me by the hand, leading me through a series of passageways weaving around the hovels. We passed a room where a man was sitting cross-legged playing guitar, another where a single candle illuminated a naked woman laying on a cot. She was talking into the night, twisting a kaleidoscope aimed at a large crystal globe with flowers in it. I could see by the dragon design on the toy that it was the same brand sold at Good Stuff.

  In a small cubicle, we found a couple of smokers puffing marijuana using a two-foot tall hookah. We sat and took a few hits until Lola grabbed a lit candle and motioned me to follow her.

  “Let’s go explore.”

  She led me to a studio space with easels and paintbrushes.

  “Let’s paint each other,” I said and picked up a jar of yellow acrylic.

  “Cool. Here’s a brush. There must be a board or canvas around.”

  “No, I mean, let’s paint each other.” I scooped my finger into the paint and waved a yellow fingertip a few inches from her face. She smiled as I placed a dot on her chin.

  We sat across from each other dabbing color on each other’s face. I put wavy lines on her forehead and blobs on her cheeks while she decorated mine in swirling patterns.

  “Unbutton your blouse. Let me decorate your tits.”

  “Well, I’ve seen you naked, so I guess it’ll make things even.”

  Staring up her dress in the park leapt into my mind. “Actually…”

  But she wasn’t listening, her eyes had become dreamy as she removed her blouse. I painted a sunflower design radiating out from her nipples. Leaning back, she shifted her legs, and I could see she wasn’t wearing any underwear again. She was breathing heavy as she unzipped me.

  “Oh, what a sticky mess. I’ve got yellow all over your dick and pants and my shirt.”

  “Is there any water around?”

  Off in the dark, echoing through the high ceilinged building, someone was yelling, “Have you seen the rabbit? The magician lost his rabbit.”

  The guy with the bushy beard walked by us and leaned in close, studying our faces. He pointed at me, twirling his fingers in the air, tracing the patterns on my face, “I’ve never seen a case like this. You could die of this.” He pulled at his beard thoughtfully, then wandered away.

  Lola stood up, put on her blouse.

  “C’mon. Let’s bug out. You’ve got a case of painted dick. We can clean up, and I can cure it at my place. And hey, man, I’ve got some really good pot.”
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  I could have dropped her off and headed back to Teresa, but we were kissing and pawing, and Lola was offering a good time between her legs. At that moment, the excitement of her body promised no burdens, no arguments, just pleasure.

  She still roomed with Maureen and another girl. It was two in the morning, so we tip-toed into the shower, where we soaped and washed each other, building up our excitement. I was about to burst when we climbed into bed. She rummaged around in a bedside table drawer and lit up an already rolled joint. We lay there under the covers getting high while I fondled her body.

  I heard a slight click and knew someone had opened the door.

  “Lola?”

  Lola whispered to me, “It’s my other roommate.”

  “Everything cool?” The newcomer asked from the doorway.

  “C’mon in, we’re doing some weed.”

  “I smelled it. That’s why I came over. Who’s with you?”

  “Deets. He’s an artist friend of Maureen’s.”

  She slipped into the room and closed the door.

  I could sense the woman making her way over to the bed in the dark. She approached my side, felt along the blanket, settling her hand on my leg. I passed her the joint as she lowered herself onto the edge of the bed. We smoked. No one spoke. I couldn’t see any of the new arrival’s features, except her lips when she took a drag. Lola and I carried on with our hands under the sheets, tantalizing and slow. Lola didn’t seem to care that another person was with us. The air became a static charge of invitation when the shadowed roommate lifted the blanket to slide in beside me.

  She had a T-shirt and undies on, felt thinner and bonier than Lola. My heart leapt around in my chest. Immediately, I knew she was hot and anxious.

  I was in bed with two women again.

  I slid one hand across the newcomer’s stomach, then slipped it under her waistband. Lola became more aggressive, and I rolled around between the two of them, sucking their tits, keeping my hands busy between their spread legs while they double-jerked at my cock. Finally I entered Lola, wiggling and twirling my finger in the other woman’s cunt.

  As we all pounded and bounced, I began to hear a high-pitched whistling sound. Lola’s roommate was gasping, breathing fast and hard, the air punctuated with chirps as she reached orgasm.

  Oh man, it’s Brenda the Tweety bird. I’m in bed with that lunatic again.

  I was too far gone on marijuana, her cunt, and riding Lola to worry about our past history. When I finally rolled off Lola, Brenda snuggled close to me. I felt like she was trying to pull me away from Lola.

  What now? Just let me sleep.

  In the morning, I woke up alone in the bed. Someone was banging around in the kitchen. Not wanting to face Maureen, I stayed put, listening for clues in my head about my situation.

  Teresa probably thinks I’m in Rhode island with Ham. I just slept with Maureen’s roommates. I shouldn’t care what Maureen thinks, but here I am, hiding from her. Brenda is back in my life. I should get the hell away from her. And quick.

  The door opened, and Brenda stepped in. Naked. She briefly met my eye, then scurried quickly across the room like she thought I’d recognize her and reject her again. She climbed back into bed next to me.

  “Lola left early. Maureen’s not dressed yet, but she has classes this morning. We have the whole day to ourselves.”

  “Tweety. I recognized your Tweety bird call last night.”

  “Why did you treat me like shit after we slept together last New Year’s?”

  “I don’t know... I didn’t want to get involved. My workload was overwhelming, so I thought I’d play the field.”

  “That’s a lie. You started to date someone just a few weeks later. You’re still with her.”

  “Did you follow me home one night? How in hell do you know about Teresa? Did Maureen mention her?”

  “No, she didn’t. I followed you the night it was sleeting, watched you get into that cop car willingly. I can’t believe it. What are you? A narc?” Her lip curled up in a sneer. “Another day, I saw you with your camera, and you met up with that skag you live with, so I followed you. You didn’t spot me like you did the first time because you were yapping so much to her.” She flapped her fingers violently in my face like they were talking lips. “She’s a witch that’s blinded you.”

  “I can’t believe this. I’m leaving.” I sat up.

  She raised herself behind me and wrapped her arms around me.

  “Deets, don’t treat me wrong again.” She started breathing into my ear and rubbing her hand across my chest. “You can do anything to me. Please don’t throw me away. I’ll share you with anyone—Lola, Teresa, Maureen—just make love to me. I won’t bother you.” Her tits pressed against my back, she lowered her hand to grasp my cock, and despite my anger, I couldn’t stop my arousal nor my primal impulse to lower her back onto the bed. She was wet, so without any foreplay I was inside her, rough and fast, with her feverishly insisting I push harder and harder as she tore apart my back with her nails.

  There was nothing soft in my mind. I plowed blindly between her thighs. As I started to climax, she screamed a dreadful scream. Not of pleasure or pain, but rage. She hissed, “You bastard,” and her one hand scrambled beneath the pillow. I caught a flash of a knife coming at me just before a searing pain cut sharply across my shoulder. My mind exploded in a confused passion as I grabbed both her arms and realized I was about to come. May the gods forgive me—somehow I held that orgasm and punished her with my thrusts. She struggled against my grip, trying to raise the knife towards me as she wrapped her legs whip-like around mine. Conflicted, I wasn’t sure whether she was trying to pin me down to stab me again or if she was balling me. I plunged deep inside her, and she pumped furiously, pulling me in further. We were vicious, barbaric, thrashing and rolling all over the bed. She kept grinding away at me with a wild, feverish rhythm. Her breathing became a whistling frenzy, and I held on tight. Then her entire body shuddered, and she whimpered as she came, the knife slipping from her hand. After I finally flooded into her, she gently enfolded her arms around me. I lay still on her, feeling a bewildered tenderness towards her. Yet, I knew she was insane and had tried to kill me. I raised my head to read her eyes, but all that registered was crimson splattered on her lashes and cheeks, red flecks in her black hair, and a blob of my blood dripping onto the pillow her head rested on.

  “I’d better get to a doctor. I think I need stitches.” Grabbing at some clothing to staunch the flow of my wound, I realized, as blood soaked through the fabric, that it was my underwear. I dressed, not really remembering how yellow-paint handprints came to cover the crotch of my jeans.

  I’m a fucking mess.

  I headed for the door, turning to tell a silent Brenda I would report to the doctors I was mugged. She was sitting naked in bed, my blood smeared on her face and breasts and stomach, down her legs, between her thighs. The knife was in her hand, her arm already sweeping forward. As she heaved it at me, the world turned to slow motion. I watched the blade tumble through the air, arcing at my chest, and knew right away she had thrown a perfect strike. I ducked and swerved. But not enough. It sliced my neck, then embedded itself in the wooden door.

  I wondered why dying involved so much noise and bumping and jostling. A face appeared above me.

  “All right kid, just hang in there.”

  A respirator mask pushed against my nose uncomfortably. My neck felt paralyzed, my arms useless. A man in blue had a syringe in one hand while his other was twisting some knob on a small machine at the periphery of my vision.

  I heard an urgent voice. “We’re losing him.”

  Then the most beautiful rushing sensation swept through me. I was traveling fast. Oh, it’s a wonderful feeling to die. The speed of light was left somewhere behind as I wooshed through a tunnel that was at once organic and ethereal. Bursting out the f
ar end, my entire being had become a golden radiation. Purity. Part of an eternal orgasmic joy. I found myself floating gently in space eons and light years away from earth, gravitating towards a central swirling mass of light.

  Home, finally home.

  Soft, reassuring voices were emanating from the spinning galaxy. Then a dog’s barking rose vehemently, drowning out the soothing murmuration.

  Suddenly, in place of paradise, horrific choking spasms took hold of me, forcing every shred of my existence to jolt my lungs back into sucking, pulling, or—God, please—stealing air. My body jerked with each heavy thump of my heart.

  An ambulance siren screamed through me, and my head felt like it had been severed from my body. The guy in blue, from back on earth, was pounding my chest.

  “Stay with us kid, hang on, just hang on.”

  People scrambled. I was moving somehow, flat on my back, lights sweeping above me. A woman in white was ripping open a plastic bag. Tangles of tubes jostled across my chest.

  Men in masks hovered above me. A voice affirmed the situation. “He’s back.”

  And there was a dog, somewhere, who kept barking and barking.

  Chapter 58

  My eyes patched together a hazy fog in a dim room. I could feel the coolness of white, stiff sheets, sense the indistinct outline of someone sitting in a nearby chair, watching me.

  I sunk back into the dream I was having.

  Wrenching open a door, staggering, calling out, crashing against a coffee table. A wonderfully pretty face, mouth open wide, eyes finally comprehending what they saw. Maureen in a bloody shirt, screaming and screaming. A wild woman running naked down an eternally long hall. Maureen wrapping me in cloth, in her arms. An angel’s tear splattering into my eye as she held me. Heavy footsteps and deep voices bombarding my senses. Dizzying spirals of helplessness and pain. And Officer Al was spinning too, smeared in blood, commanding, organizing, moving.