314 (Widowsfield Trilogy) Page 18

  Stephen groaned and shook his head. “Please. I’m a fucking Casanova. All my girlfriends say so.”

  “Ha, ha,” said Rachel blandly. “Very funny, jerk.”

  “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever met someone more in love with another person in my whole life,” said Jacker. “Paul was a mess when I met him. I kept trying to convince him to forget about her and move on, but he was determined to win Alma back. I figured he’d get over it after a few weeks, but he didn’t. I’m happy that everything worked out like it did. He deserves a chance to show her how much he loves her.” Jacker spoke as if lamenting an old, lost friend. There was a distant sadness in his words.

  Rachel scooted over to the side of the couch to be closer to the loveseat that Jacker was sitting on. She put her left hand on his arm and then clasped his hand with her right. “Hey, you okay?”

  “Yeah, sure,” said Jacker unconvincingly.

  “Thinking of your girlfriend?”

  Jacker shrugged and didn’t look at her. “I guess.”

  “Then don’t,” said Stephen as if that was the simple answer. “All you need is a super hot girl to give you the right sort of attention and you’ll forget all about her.”

  “Ignore him,” said Rachel. “It’s okay to be sad. I can’t imagine how tough this week has been for you.”

  “It’s been shitty.” Jacker continued to avoid eye contact and he tightened his grip on her hand.

  “Here, honey,” said Rachel as she got a box of tissues off the coffee table and handed it to the big guy.

  “Oh crap,” said Stephen. “Hey, Barbara Walters, stop making our guests cry.”

  “Shut up, Stephen.” She gave him a dismissive wave.

  Jacker chuckled as he took the tissues and wiped his eyes. “He’s right. You’re pulling some sort of chick-flick voodoo on me. The last thing I wanted to do tonight was start thinking about Debbie.” He laughed uncomfortably as he wiped his eyes.

  “Give the guy a break, Rachel,” said Stephen.

  “Okay,” said Rachel. She moved back down the couch, away from Jacker, and back into Stephen’s arms.

  “I need a shot,” said Jacker. “Do you guys have any hard liquor in here?”

  * * *

  Stephen told Rachel that he’d forgotten to pack the Holdsten Quad Meter in the van. He made up the name, aware that Rachel wouldn’t know that it was fictitious. Jacker gave him the keys to the van, and Stephen grabbed his cell phone before heading out behind the house.

  It was chilly out, and he could see his breath as he quickly searched his phone’s list of contacts for the name of the girl he’d met in Branson that was familiar with Widowsfield. He called her, and anxiously waited for the young girl to answer while keeping an eye on the back door of his condo in case Rachel followed him.

  “Come on, answer,” he said impatiently.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, it’s me, Stephen.”

  “Oh hey,” said the girl before yawning.

  “Listen, there’s been a change of plans.” He spoke quietly, just in case one of the windows of his condo was open. Then he walked briskly over to Jacker’s van and got in, deciding it would be better to talk there than out in the open.

  “What’s up?” asked the girl.

  “Are you still working at the bar?” asked Stephen.

  “Yep,” said the girl.

  “And are you still in the escort business?”

  She didn’t answer immediately. He heard her rustling, as if getting out of bed. “Hold on,” she said quietly. Stephen heard a door close on her end, and then she said, “Not anymore, but if the offer’s good enough I might reconsider.”

  “Okay, good,” said Stephen. “I think I’ve got a plan.”

  CHAPTER 12 - Manipulations

  March 11th, 2012

  It was past midnight when Paul and Alma got back to Rachel’s apartment. Jacker was smoking a cigarette on the front steps when they pulled up. He waved at them and Paul stopped Alma from approaching once he turned off the bike.

  “Do me a favor, babe,” said Paul. “Just head on inside. Let me talk to him.”

  “Why?” asked Alma. “What’s the matter?”

  Paul didn’t want to say. “Just trust me on this one.”

  Alma set her helmet on the back of Paul’s bike and then walked towards the apartment. She waved at Jacker as she passed before Paul sat down beside his friend.

  “They went to bed,” said Jacker. “Door’s unlocked.”

  “Okay,” said Alma. “See you guys inside in a bit.” She was hesitant to close the door, as if afraid to leave Paul alone with the big man.

  Once the door closed, Paul got out a cigarette and lit it. The two of them sat on the steps in the chilly night air and smoked in silence as a cricket chirped from the nearby bushes.

  Jacker finished his cigarette first and flicked it out into the street. “I almost lost it, man.”

  “I know,” said Paul. He hadn’t been certain Jacker would say anything, and he would’ve been okay with that as well. He was here to support his friend in whatever way Jacker needed, even if that meant just sitting in silence. “I could see it on your face when I got here. What happened?”

  Jacker looked back at the apartment to make sure the window wasn’t open. “Rachel was asking about Debbie, and it just brought it all back, man. Rachel didn’t mean anything by it. She’s just one of those people that asks too many questions.”

  “That’s her job,” said Paul.

  “I know. I’m not mad at her or anything. I just had a tough time dealing with it.”

  “You stink like bourbon.”

  Jacker cupped his hand over his mouth so that his breath went back into his nose. “Do I?”

  “Yeah, man. Bad.”

  “I hit the bottle pretty hard. I’m not sure I’m like you, Paul. I don’t know if I can drink and still be sober – from the hard stuff, you know what I mean. I pounded shots, but man, I’d give anything for a hit.” He looked at the crook of his arm. “I think drinking just makes it worse for me.”

  “Well then don’t drink.”

  Jacker snickered at the suggestion. “Easier said than done, brother.”

  “No truer words have ever been said, but we’ve just got to deal with it.” Paul nearly finished his cigarette as they sat silent for another long moment. “Tell you what, I’ll quit drinking too. We’ll quit everything together.”

  “No, man,” said Jacker. “You don’t need to do that. You’ve got your shit straight. Don’t go switching it up for me.”

  “Hey, Jacker.” Paul punched his friend on the shoulder and smiled. “How about you shut the fuck up and let me do something nice for you for a change?”

  “Honestly, Paul, you don’t have to do that.”

  Paul grumbled and then changed his tone, “Remember a couple months ago, when I called you in the middle of the night, high as a kite?”

  “How could I forget?”

  “I was crying like an asshole, and you came right over to pick me up. You bought me dinner over at the Mexican place on Taft.”

  “Uncle Julio’s,” said Jacker, recalling the name of the restaurant. “Fucking amazing burritos.”

  “There’s something I never told you about that night.”

  “What’s that?” asked Jacker.

  “I was going to hang myself.”

  Jacker sat up straight and grimaced. “What the fuck? Are you serious?”

  Paul nodded and glanced back at the front door to make sure Alma wasn’t eavesdropping. “Yeah. I’ve still got the noose back at my place. It’s hanging in my closet as a reminder of how low I got.”

  “Fuck, man,” said Jacker. “I wish you would’ve said something. I could’ve…”

  “You did everything you needed to,” said Paul. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be dead. But I had a person I could rely on, and I owe you for that.”

  “You don’t owe me anything,” said Jacker.

  “Yes I do.”
Paul put his hand on the back of Jacker’s neck and squeezed as he shook the man back a forth a little. “I need you, big guy. So if turning down a few beers here and there will help you out, you’d better believe I’m going to do it. Understood?”

  “Okay, but you’ve got to do something else for me,” said Jacker.

  “If you ask me to give you a blowjob, our friendship is going to get mighty awkward all of the sudden.”

  “Oh,” said Jacker. “Then never mind, I guess.” They laughed and then Jacker said, “Throw out that noose. Or better yet, burn it.”

  Paul stamped out his cigarette on the step and then put out his hand for Jacker to shake. “Deal.”

  Jacker shook his friend’s hand and then added, “By the way, Alma is fucking gorgeous, man.”

  Paul looked back at the door to the apartment. “Yeah, thanks. She knocked my socks off when she got back from shopping with Rachel. Don’t get me wrong, I always thought she was beautiful, but holy shit. A hair cut and some make-up go a long way.”

  “It’s more than that,” said Jacker. “She loves you. Any idiot can see that. When she’s with you, she looks happy. Bear with me here, cause I’m about to sound like a chick, but seeing you two together has made me believe in love again.”

  “Holy shit, bro,” said Paul. “You are sounding like a chick. What the hell did they do to you in there?” He pointed back at Stephen and Rachel’s apartment.

  Jacker laughed and then threatened to punch Paul, who feigned a flinch. “I’m serious, man. The past six months that I’ve known you, I’ve been trying to convince you to give up on her. I wanted you to move on because I was worried that your whole ‘true love’ thing was bullshit. I just wanted to tell you that I was wrong. Seeing you two together…” he shrugged and tried to come to terms with what he was feeling. “I don’t know, it just makes me feel good. I never felt that way about Debbie. I think I stayed with her because she didn’t bitch too much when I touched her boobs.”

  “Forget her, man,” said Paul. “We’ll find someone for you. You’re too good a guy to be wasted on a tramp like that.”

  “Two years clean,” said Jacker, “right down the drain because of that bitch.”

  “Every day’s a struggle, man,” said Paul. “And every day sober is a win. Doesn’t matter if it’s been two years or two days. You’re the one that taught me that.”

  “Does that make you my sponsor now?”

  “Shit,” said Paul as he pretended to be deep in thought. “I guess you’re right. Oh man, you’re fucked.” They laughed and Paul reached into his pocket to pull out his sobriety coin. He offered it to Jacker.

  “What’s this for?”

  “I wouldn’t have it if it weren’t for you. Figure I owe it to you.”

  Jacker took the coin and clasped it tightly.

  * * *

  Alma Harper touched the walls of her new music room. She was still beaming from the memory of the reveal, when she’d been surprised by her students and fellow teachers at her school. She didn’t feel worthy of the work that went into this new room, but she had to remind herself that it was okay to let good things happen. Alma had become accustomed to expecting the worst out of life, and she was trying to have a more positive outlook.

  The walls of the new music room glimmered in the dim light. At first, she thought it was textured wallpaper that gave the room such a distinct appearance, but instead she discovered that it was tightly compacted wire. All four walls were composed of thin, black wire that had been pulled taut between the floor and ceiling. She pushed the tip of her finger between two of the wires and found more behind.

  “What in the world?” She was smiling as she inspected the bizarre and unique building material. She’d never seen anything like it, and was curious how deep it went. Alma pushed her hand further through the strands until her fingers disappeared within. The metal wires were cold on the outside, but warmer inside, as if she were reaching through someone’s clothes in search of flesh.

  The tip of her finger touched something hard, and then she felt a hot wetness that caused her to panic. She withdrew her hand, but something came out with her. The liquid that she’d touched within was hot and stung her flesh, and something white was stuck to her as she shook the acidic fluid away. A tooth hit the floor.

  “Ben?” asked Alma. She was terrified that her brother was trapped behind the wire wall, although she couldn’t explain what caused that fear. She wiped her hands off on her jeans, and then tried to pull apart the wire to look for her brother.

  Then another tooth fell from the wall. It made a distinctive ticking sound as it bounced on the wood floor. She stared down at it, and another tooth came loose. Alma released her hold on the wires and stepped back. As she stared at the black wall, more teeth began to push forth from between the wires. They bounced on the floor in rapid succession as more and more sprang out. There were so many teeth falling free and ticking on the wood that the noise became cacophonous. Then, as the volume muddied the distinction of the individual teeth, the noise changed. It no longer sounded like a mass of bones tapping on wood, but rather a single person’s teeth chattering in his mouth right beside Alma’s ear.

  “Pour it in,” said a man’s voice that Alma recognized as belonging to her father.

  Scalding water spewed forth from the wall. It stank of chemicals, and the flood moved too fast for Alma to avoid it. When the first wave struck her, she woke up.

  Alma was laying in Paul’s arms, on Rachel and Stephen’s couch. He was asleep, oblivious to her nightmare. Jacker was in the loveseat caddy corner to the couch where Paul and Alma slept. The big man’s limbs were haphazardly hung from various places on the small seat, but he was asleep and snoring despite his uncomfortable position.

  Alma glanced at her phone, which was on the coffee table a couple feet away. She debated looking at it to see what time it was, but she didn’t need to look to know. There was no doubt in her mind what she would’ve discovered had she picked up that phone.

  It was 3:14.

  * * *

  “Wake up, freeloaders!” Stephen was chipper and loud as he came into the living room where his guests were sleeping.

  Alma threw a pillow at him. “It’s too early to be so happy,” she said and pressed her face back into Paul’s side as they lay on the couch

  “Today’s the big day,” said Stephen as he went into the kitchen. “The van’s all packed, and we’re ready to go. I’ll buy some breakfast on the way.” No one responded, so he spoke louder. “Come on, guys! Let’s go!”

  “Holy shit, dude,” said Jacker. “Is the sun even up?”

  “It’s almost seven,” said Stephen. “Come on, we’re already running late.”

  “In my world it’s impossible to be running late for anything at seven in the morning,” said Jacker, but he sat up anyhow. His hair was standing straight out on either side of his head, making him look like a clown as he sniffled and yawned.

  “That’s some serious bed head, brother,” said Paul.

  “You try sleeping on a love seat, see how good you look in the morning.” Jacker stood up and stumbled forward, unbalanced. “I feel like the fattest anchovy in the smallest can.”

  “Alma,” said Stephen as he came into the living room with a stack of papers. “Can you do me a favor and look over this real quick? It’s the waiver for our show. If everything looks good, just sign and date the bottom of each page. Cool?”

  Paul took the papers because Alma didn’t want to get up yet. She kept her head pressed into her boyfriend’s side.

  Alma groaned and finally sat up. “Can’t we take showers before we go? I don’t want to be in a van with a bunch of stinky guys all day.”

  “I already took one and Rachel should be getting done soon. I’ll kick her out of the bathroom and make her do her hair in the bedroom. She takes for freaking ever to get ready.”

  “It takes me a while to wash and dry my hair too.” Alma instinctually reached for her long hair to drape it
over her shoulder, but discovered it was gone. “But I guess not anymore. I forgot it was gone. God, that’s weird.” She ran her hand through her newly short hair. “It’s like having a phantom limb or something.”

  Stephen heard a hair dryer turn on in the bedroom. “Sounds like Rachel’s out of the bathroom.”

  “I’ll jump in the shower next,” said Jacker. “Give you three a chance to go over the papers.”

  “It’s pretty basic,” said Stephen. “I added in a clause about giving you final say on any portion of the show that features you, or anything about your history with Widowsfield. I even included the footage from the school in there. I want to make sure you know that I’m not trying to be deceptive or anything. It’s all there. Look it over and let me know if you have any questions.”

  Stephen went to the kitchen to make coffee, but watched Paul and Alma as they read the contract. Alma looked it over first, and pointed out a few things to Paul who then took the papers and started reading. The entire show depended on Alma signing the contract, and Stephen was nervous as he waited to see if she would sign. His heart was racing, a side effect of the pills he took every morning to help him get going. When he first started taking the diet pills, he was just trying to lose a few vanity pounds, but they’d become an essential part of his routine now. Coffee hardly had an effect on him, and a few weeks ago he had to go up to four pills each morning instead of the recommended two, but he craved the energy they gave him. He’d never been so productive in his life.

  He drummed on the counter as he waited for the water to boil. “Come on, you fucker,” said Stephen as he stared at the water in the pot. “Boil, already.”

  “Stephen,” said Alma.

  He was startled by her voice. He’d fallen into a bit of a trance as he stared into the pot of water, and jogged back into the living room to see what Alma needed. “Yep?”

  “I didn’t expect to get paid,” said Alma. “Rachel already bought me so much stuff. I feel bad taking more money for doing an internet video.”