by Baron Sord
“Wait, are you into chicks?”
Kristy snickered, “No. I’m really busy Arnold. Same as Doug. I don’t have time to date anyone. Any one.”
“Are you celibate?”
“Lately,” she laughed. “You’re sweet, Arnold. I mean it. Keep being you and you’ll find someone.” She suddenly winced. “I should really go. I can hear someone about to get shot up in LA.”
“Do you want me to come with?” Arnold offered. “I brought my Glock and my bulletproof vest.”
“No!” She shook her head. “Doug would never forgive me if you got hurt because of me. I would never forgive me either. But thanks. I mean it.” She patted Arnold’s forearm and let go.
Arnold reluctantly climbed out of the car. Before closing the door, he leaned in and said, “Hey, seriously, if you get tired later, you can sleep here.”
She grinned, “Thanks. I’ll think about it. Bye, Arnold.”
“Bye, Kristy,” Arnold nearly giggled. “Bye. I mean, night. I mean, good night. Bye. Just, bye. Heh heh heh.”
He kept giggling to himself giddily when he closed the door and waved. Stood where he was watching Kristy drive away while sighing and smiling to himself.
When her car was gone, he crept quietly into his parents’ house — he had a key. Inside, he reset the alarm — he knew the code. Marched upstairs and checked on his parents’ bedroom, to see if they’d heard him come in. Their double doors were closed. They were probably asleep.
He went to one of the guest bedrooms and got ready for bed. Crawled under the covers and quickly texted Doug that he’d made it here. Set his phone on the nightstand and pulled the fancy comforter up to his chin with a shit-eating grin.
That night while lying in bed, Arnold could not stop thinking about Kristy. No matter how many times he beat the bishop, flogged the dolphin, spanked the monkey, squeezed the squirrel, strangled the snake, or whacked the weasel, he could not get her out of his mind.
Arnold Beaks was in love.
—: o o o :—
My Robot phone buzzed me awake around 4:30am. I was kicked back in the darkness in Jeff’s easy chair with a comic book open on my face.
Arnold texted: I’m at my parents.
Me: Good. Call if anything funny happens.
Arnold: 10-4, good buddy.
I considered asking him if he had behaved himself with Kristy, but I didn’t want to get irritated by his answer. I wanted to sleep. I shoved my phone back in my pocket and closed my eyes.
—: o o o :—
Hours later, after Arnold’s tank was empty from constantly harassing the animals (and the bishop who tended to them), he fell asleep.
Only to be woken by a strange noise coming from somewhere in the house.
Arnold wasn’t worried because Doug had never told him about what Gray Eyes had done to Jeff Strickland earlier tonight.
—: Chapter 57 :—
When I opened my eyes, sun beams were lancing through the venetian blinds in the trailer where I still sat in Jeff’s easy chair. My phone was buzzing me awake.
This time it was a call coming in, not a text.
Thinking it was Arnold and something was horribly wrong, I pulled my phone out of my pocket to answer. When I saw it was Stazia calling, my excitement shot through the roof — in a good way — and I almost dropped my phone. It bounced dramatically in my hands a few times before I got it under control.
I took a deep breath before answering. Not wanting to wake Jeff — who was snoring quietly in the back of the trailer — I whispered, “Hey, Stazia.”
“Hey you,” she said. “What’re you up to?”
“Nothing much,” I whispered.
“Did I wake you?” Stazia asked.
“Yeah, actually,” I yawned.
“Should I call back later?”
“No, you’re fine. I mean, it’s fine,” I smiled, still whispering.
“Why are you whispering?”
“Oh, uh, I’m at my friend’s house. I don’t want to wake him.”
“Him or her?” Stazia asked with pointed amusement.
“Definitely a him,” I grinned.
“Oh. Oh! Wait, are you…?” She obviously meant gay or bisexual, which made perfect sense after the way I’d abandoned her without explanation.
“No,” I chuckled.
“So… did you stay out late partying last night or something?”
“Uh…” I wanted to tell her the truth, but I didn’t want her getting dragged into my FwCKing mess because she knew too much. That said, I had to tell her something. I sighed, “Uh… my friend, uh, fell and hurt himself last night.” I meant Jeff. Him falling was close enough to the truth. “He’s pretty old and lives by himself.” I wasn’t sure of Jeff’s exact age, but he was much older than I was. “I brought him home from the hospital really late and stayed here at his place to keep an eye on him. Make sure nothing happened during the night.” That part was 100% correct.
“That’s sweet of you.”
“Thanks.”
“Is that why you didn’t call last night?”
“Yeah, I saw your text, but I was busy here or at the hospital.” Yes, I had conveniently left out any mention of my brief visit with Kristy at Flashbacks. Hardly worth a mention. Ahem.
Stazia asked, “Do you always go around helping people in the middle of the night?”
Nearly every single night, I thought. I chuckled and lied, “Sometimes.”
“Soooo…” she said suggestively.
I couldn’t read her mind over the phone, which was odd but shouldn’t have been. After two months, I was getting used to always knowing what people were thinking. Not sure what she was getting at, I echoed back her word, “Soooo…?”
“So, you owe me an apology.”
I grinned. “That’s right. Sorry, I’ve been a little bit distracted since last night.”
“Was that your apology?” She was teasing. Or was she?
“No,” I chuckled.
“Why’d you leave me hanging like that last Saturday? It was really… weird.” Now she wasn’t teasing.
“Sorry,” I said with a sigh. Part of me wanted to tell Stazia everything about my super powers and stopping that attempted rape at that frat party, but it was too soon. I barely knew her, and I certainly wasn’t going to tell her over the phone. I thought for a moment then said, “I didn’t want to say anything last weekend, but my best friend shot himself.”
“Oh my God!” Stazia gasped. “Your friend last night?!”
“No, a different friend. I mean my best friend Arnold. My roommate. You met him when you were at my house.”
“I remember him. Is he okay? I mean, he didn’t… pass away, did he?”
“No, nothing like that. We took Arnold to the hospital and the doctors said he can expect a full recovery.”
“Oh, thank God. Is that why you left Saturday? Because Arnold shot himself? I wish you’d told me.”
“Actually, no.” Although I was now telling Stazia true facts, I was lying left and right. Since I was, it would probably be best to stick to the true facts for consistency’s sake. “He shot himself a few weeks ago.”
“Wait, what happened last weekend?”
“Luckily nothing.”
Slightly irritated, she said, “Then why’d you drop me like a hot potato?”
I sighed, “I got a bad feeling.” That was the absolute truth.
“This isn’t making any sense.”
“Okay,” I sighed, digging myself deeper. “The thing is, Arnold says he shot himself while cleaning his gun.” That was true. He had said it. It was a lie, but he had said it, and Kristy and I had relayed his lie to Officer Eyeballs, and the doctors and nurses at the hospital, and Arnold’s parents.
“Oooooooh,” Stazia said. “Now this is making sense. He didn’t officially try to commit suicide, right?”
“Right,” I said. “He insisted he was cleaning his gun and it just went off.” I was completely obscuring the truth that Gray
Eyes had shot Arnold, but that didn’t matter, did it?
“And you had a bad feeling about it last Saturday?”
“Yeah,” I lied. The bad feeling I had had was about that young woman at the frat party, but Stazia didn’t need to know that. I added, “Last Saturday, before I went to your house, Arnold said some really odd things that had me worrying.” I repressed the desire to snicker as I harkened back to Arnold’s Don Corleone impression when he’d convinced me to borrow another $200 from him by threatening to kill a puppy named Patches. Snoopy too. Woodstock as well, if I remembered correctly. It didn’t get any odder than that, and I had been worrying about money at the time. That was absolutely true.
“But your friend Arnold is okay?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “He’s actually staying at his parents house in Newport Beach this weekend. He’ll be safe there.” From Gray Eyes murdering him. Once again, I was using true facts to tell a lie. “And that’s why I bailed on you last Saturday. I didn’t want to have to explain about Arnold.” Because it would’ve been a lie. “There wasn’t time. I just had that bad feeling. So I went straight to…” that frat party. “…to check up on… things.” Did that sound suspicious?
“And he’s okay?”
“Totally okay,” I said truthfully.
“Next time, tell me. I could’ve gone with you. I’m good at these things.”
I shook my head, “I can’t ask you to do that.” I couldn’t ask her to come along on my distress calls either. Then I’d have to explain today’s lies and try to convince her of the truth, which would be significantly harder after explaining I was a liar. “You don’t deserve to be dragged into my drama.” That was true of everyone: her, Arnold, Arnold’s parents, everyone.
“Nonsense,” Stazia said. “My best friend in high school killed herself with pills senior year. Nobody knew how depressed she was. Not even me. I knew she was sad, but not that sad. If she’d’ve said something, I would’ve done anything to help her. Anything, Doug. Believe me. If your friend Arnold needs help, tell me. I’ll do whatever I can so you don’t have to go through what I did with my best friend.” Her sincerity was warm and nearly overwhelming. Everything about Stazia screamed quality human being.
And I had just lied to her like I was bottom-feeding scum.
“Guuh,” Jeff moaned from the back of the trailer. He was waking up.
“Hold on a second,” I whispered to Stazia.
“GUUUUUUH!”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Stazia said. “Is everything okay?”
I said, “That’s Jeff. I think I woke him up.”
“Your other friend? The old guy?”
“Yeah. He sounds like he’s in pain. He needs his pain meds and probably needs to go to the bathroom. I’ll have to help him with both. Can I call you back?”
“Oh, totally. Of course. I’m around all weekend.”
“Great. I’ll call you later.”
“Bye-eeeee!”
Sure enough, the industrial strength meds they’d given Jeff at the hospital were wearing off. I gave him some of the pills the doctors had prescribed, helped him with the bathroom, then put him back in bed.
When he woke up an hour later, he said he was hungry but his teeth hurt, so I ran to the grocery store and bought baby food. I spent the next several hours either tending to Jeff or listening to him sleep while I sat in his easy chair and read more of his comics. I would’ve called Stazia, but I didn’t want to wake up Jeff. I considered texting her, but I was gun-shy after our last text session had led to her telling me I was a mistake. But I was looking forward to both talking to her on the phone and seeing her again in person.
It was afternoon before Jeff was ambling around his trailer without my help. He said he could handle himself from here. I told him to call me if he needed anything, then left.
Time for me to check up on Arnold and see how he was doing.
—: o o o :—
Back in the Prius, I called Arnold. After the fourth ring, I left a voicemail telling him to call me.
While driving home toward Bankers Hill, I started to worry.
Arnold usually answered his phone right away.
Was something wrong?
It shouldn’t be. There was no way Gray Eyes would know to look in Newport Beach for Arnold. Unless someone had followed Kristy from Flashbacks to Arnold’s house in Bankers Hill?
Oh no.
That could easily have happened.
I should’ve warned Kristy to make sure she wasn’t followed!
Shit!
I immediately changed course. Instead of taking the 8 west to Bankers Hill, I took the 805 north and headed toward Newport, crossing my fingers Arnold was okay. A horrid picture ate away at my mind: Arnold, Gavin, and Natalie lying in pools of blood that were staining the expensive carpet of their mansion. I prayed that was only my imagination and not an actual distress call message.
When I passed through Mira Mesa 10 minutes later, my Robot phone rang. I saw Arnold’s name appear on the screen where it was resting in the center console.
I grabbed it and blurted, “Hello?!”
“GET ME OUT OF HERE!” Arnold screamed in terror.
Fearing the worst, and with visions of Gray Eyes and his men torturing Arnold in a medieval torture chamber — complete with red hot pokers, a rack, and a spiked iron maiden (not the band, the female-shaped torture enclosure) — I shouted, “Arn! What’s wrong, buddy?! Tell me! Are you hurt?! What’s happening?!”
“I am never doing that again!” he shouted.
“What?!”
“I heard my parents having sex this morning!” he grumbled with intense disgust.
“What?”
“Sex, Doug! Two hours of them having sex!”
Realizing I was worried over nothing, I laughed in relief.
“It’s not funny!” he whined.
“You’re funny,” I said. “Them having sex means they’re still in love.”
“No, it means I’m scarred for life!”
“No you’re not,” I chuckled.
“I heard vibrators, Doug. Vibrators! Zzzzz! Zzzzz! Zzzzzzzzz! For like two hours! I had my pillows in my ears and I still heard it! ZZZZZ! ZZZZZ! ZZZZZZZZ!”
“Two hours? That’s a really long time. Were they using them on each other?”
“What is wrong with you?” he demanded, horrified. “How can you even ask that?”
“Forget about it, Arn,” I said with relief.
“I can’t! ZZZZ! ZZZZZ! ZZZZZZZZ!”
Laughing, I said, “I’m heading home. Where are you now?”
“In the backyard at my parents’. As far away from their bedroom as possible. ZZZZZZ!”
I chuckled, “Can you meet me at our place in an hour?”
“Am I allowed to leave finally? Or do you still want me imprisoned here in my parents’ House of Sexual Horrors?”
“No,” I snickered. “You can come home. I’ll be there before you. I need to go over something with you.”
“Your game plan to erase my memory from this morning?”
“No. It’s… fun stuff.”
“Oh. The fun kind of fun?”
“Basically,” I sighed.
“Anything to get me out of here. See you in an hour.”
—: o o o :—
I bought burritos on the way home. Ate all of mine while waiting for Arnold, but saved one for him. When he got home, he sulked at length about hearing his parents having sex. I had to practically jam his burrito into his mouth to shut him up.
While he ate, I told him the basics about Gray Eyes going into Flashbacks last night to demand his money from me and Kristy.
Arnold nodded and said, “How much does Gray Eyes say you owe him?”
“$250,000 altogether.” I smirked, “He was nice enough to let us make ten installment payments.”
“What a saint,” Arnold said sarcastically, chewing on his burrito. “Wait, how much?”
“A quarter million.”
> Arnold’s face sagged, “You should’ve taken that money when you were at the drug warehouse. Then at least you’d have it.”
I smirked, “Then I really would owe him.”
“No you wouldn’t,” Arnold scowled. “He owes me for pain and suffering. After last night at my parents, that’s worth at least two million.”
I chuckled, “What about for him shooting you?”
He waved a hand, “Two hundred thousand for that. But last night? Definitely two mill.”
I laughed.
Arnold said, “Next time you see him, tell him he owes me two-point-two.”
“My hope is that there is no next time.”
“You know there will be,” Arnold grumbled. “He already tracked down Kristy. By the way, was she happy to see you at Flashbacks?”
“No,” I chuckled.
“Figures. Did she give you a free lap dance?”
“No,” I snorted. I wasn’t going to tell him about my private booth dance, partially because I paid for it and partially because I wanted to keep it to myself.
“Anyway,” Arnold said, “what’s to stop Gray Ass from coming here to get his money?”
“Gray Ass?” I chortled.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “I bet it’s all old and wrinkly.”
“He’s not that old,” I chuckled.
“His ass is. Like an old gray baboon ass.”
“You might be right,” I grinned. “We don’t know what it looks like under his pants.”
“Like an ancient zombie baboon ass covered with beetles and cockroaches,” he shuddered at the thought. “Anyway, what’s to stop him from coming here?”
“You mean the house, right?”
“Yeah.”
I said ominously, “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“You want to kill him? I will totally back your play if you want to kill him. Heck, I’ll be the trigger man. I will gladly kill his old gray ass.”
“What? No! I don’t want to kill him.”
“Why not? He shot me. What’s to stop him from shooting me again? Or somebody else?”
