Laughing. Susan had been laughing when they went up the steps. Joel too. Laughing just like the Potomac boys when they ditched him.
The kitchen door opened. Teddy leaned into the hall to better hear. There were footsteps downstairs now, Irma’s heels clicking out a telegraphic warning across the linoleum. The sarge said something from the garage, three words that went unanswered. Soft, oblivious noises continued in Susan’s room.
They had been laughing at him. They’d ditched him. And they would ditch him for good soon.
Teddy moved back into Darryl’s room. He would say nothing. He would let this happen. His heart began to pound, even quicker than it had when he first saw their naked bodies. Irma’s footsteps were at the bottom of the steps. On them. Teddy moved deeper into the room. Irma was on the second floor now. She switched on the hall light. Teddy moved all the way to the back corner of the room, slotting himself into shadow. There were two dull thuds as she kicked off her shoes, then the hushed sound of her nyloned feet coming down the hall. Teddy’s heart was pounding so loud in his thin chest that he was sure she’d hear it. She stopped outside Darryl’s bedroom. This is it, Teddy thought. Busted. But her attention was on Susan’s door. She was about to knock when something stopped her. Her hand froze; her back stiffened.
There were more footsteps on the stairs. Heavier this time. Truax.
“We’re almost out of pretzels,” he said.
Irma pushed her daughter’s bedroom door wide open. From his vantage point, Teddy could see exactly what she saw. Joel, standing quickly, his semi-erect cock bobbing, the rubber making it paler than the rest of his skin. A creamy wattle shook from its tip like a miniature punching bag. Behind him Susan rose to an elbow before spinning quickly away, reaching futilely for covers that had been pushed into a single, insoluble knot at the foot of the bed.
Irma screamed. Teddy had never heard anything like the sound. It revved like an air-raid siren, starting as a low moan but quickly becoming a piercing shriek. She didn’t move. There were no theatrical gestures, no grabbing of the head or flailing arms. Just the shrill, sourceless wail coming from her paralyzed body.
And then Truax was in the doorway. Joel had half turned by now and was desperately trying to get his foot into the twisted leg of his jeans. His sheathed cock continued to bobble. Truax pushed past his wife and moved toward Joel, who gave one last wild stab against his twisted jeans. He fell just as Truax swung his gloved fist. The blow skimmed off the top of Joel’s head, doing little more than hastening his fall. He crashed through the open closet door, pulling several peasant dresses down on top of him. After that he lay perfectly still, his head and shoulders covered by the settling fabric, his naked legs sticking out into the room. Truax looked down at him. Irma continued to scream. Susan had yet to move.
“Go,” Truax said finally, his deep voice cutting through his wife’s high-pitched screams.
Joel rose quickly, collecting what clothes he could, including that stupid fucking visor, which hung from a knob on the dresser. He left the shirt—Truax was standing on it. He covered his crotch with his balled pants and ran from the room in a half crouch. As he passed Irma she jumped out of his way, banging the door into the wall. Nothing happened in the room until Joel crashed through the front door downstairs. The sound seemed to release Irma, sending her racing across the room in her stockinged feet. She placed a knee on the bed and began to slap Susan’s skinny back. After a half dozen furious blows Truax moved over to her, placing his big left arm between mother and daughter.
Teddy chose that moment to walk out of Darryl’s room. Quickly, quietly and totally unnoticed. He skipped down the steps and right out the still-open front door, leaving behind the sounds of Irma’s shouts and Susan’s sobs. He paused on the walkway, trying to see which way Joel had gone. The neighborhood was quiet. No lights flaring on. No gawking crowds. Just the night the lights went out in Georgia.
“Fuck.”
The voice came from the garage side of the house. Teddy hurried around the corner, finding Joel pulling on a shoe behind the big air-conditioning unit. He looked up, frightened, at Teddy’s approach. His eyes quickly settled into anger.
“Where were you?” he hissed.
“I zoned.”
“Teddy, man …”
“Joel, I’m sorry. I didn’t hear them.”
Joel looked up at the house.
“They caught us.”
“I know. I know.”
“I mean, Truax tried to kill me.” He looked back at Teddy. “Where the fuck were you?”
Teddy didn’t answer. Joel stood.
“I gotta go back to Susan.”
Teddy cast a baleful look at his friend.
“Bad idea.”
“I can’t just leave her there, man. You should have seen them.”
Teddy could tell by Joel’s eyes that he really was about to go.
“You go back up there and that crazy motherfucker will kill you.”
Joel sat down on the air conditioner and buried his head in his hands.
“What am I gonna do?”
At Joel’s words, Teddy felt a wave of pleasure shoot through his body nearly as intense as the jolt he’d felt back in Darryl’s room. For the first time in ages, Joel was asking him what to do.
“Look, I’ll check on Susan.”
Joel waited. Listening. Needing Teddy now.
“Just let me get you out of here first. You can crash at my house.”
Joel looked uncertain. Though he was still paying attention.
“Then I’ll come back here and make sure they haven’t crucified her. I’ll make like you didn’t say what it’s all about, just that you wanted me to see if everything was all right.”
Joel looked up at the night sky.
“I don’t know, man.”
“Look, that way I’ll be able to see what’s what. Check how pissed her folks are. If they’re going nuts on her I can stop them. They won’t fuck with me.”
“I don’t know.”
“Joel, look at me.”
He did.
“Let me handle this.”
Joel thought about it for a moment. Teddy could see he didn’t want to go. But there was nothing left to do.
“Yeah,” he said. “All right.”
Damn right it’s all right, Teddy thought.
They didn’t say anything on the drive back to Prospero’s Parade. The enormity of what had happened hovered between them. Susan and Joel had been caught. Which meant they were finished. There was no denying it. They’d heard Irma’s screams and seen the anger move through Truax’s body like a shaken sheet. That sheathed boner, swinging out there for everyone to see. Jesus. Irma would chop her legs off before she let that thing near her daughter again.
And Teddy had let it happen. Not that he felt guilty. This was their fault. They shouldn’t have treated him like they did. Besides, the more he thought about it, the more he realized he had just done his friend a big favor, painful as it might now seem. This Susan thing had gone way too far. Letting Joel get caught was like the removal of a tumor. It would be hard at first. There would be shock and pain. But Joel would eventually come around. Things would return to the way they were. Sure, he’d have his bimbos. Only now they wouldn’t interfere with the friendship. There would be no more giggling in distant rooms, no more dirty looks from Susan. And there certainly wouldn’t be any more ditching. It would just be the two of them. Teddy and Joel. As it should be.
It was after eleven by the time he’d settled Joel in the guest room and returned to the Truax house. He didn’t bother to hide his car this time. The place was lit up like an ocean liner. Even Darryl’s room glowed. Teddy thought about that unicorn and smiled, digging the humor of it now. Fairly fucking funny. Figure that one out, little sister. It took a long time for anyone to come to the door. It was Truax. The glove was off his right hand, revealing a bandage stained the color of a banana gone bad. His fierce expression wavered when he saw it was Austin Swope�
��s son.
“Mr. Truax, I hate to bother you at this time of night.”
Teddy could smell the hand now. It reminded him of the time he’d raked back a mound of rotted leaves to discover the maggot-riddled corpse of a squirrel.
“It’s just … Joel came by my house and was pretty upset.”
Truax’s small eyes darkened and his thin lips almost disappeared. But that single unassailable fact hung between them. This was Austin Swope’s son.
“I think he and Susan must have had some sort of argument or something?”
Truax’s expression clouded.
“Yes. There was trouble.”
“Well, this is awkward … but he just wanted me to come by and see if she was all right.”
“She’s fine.”
“Which of course is exactly what I told him.” Teddy smiled. “But you know Joel. He can be pretty … excitable.”
Truax nodded.
“Those two can get fairly intense at times, I guess,” Teddy continued.
“That’s not going to be an issue anymore. And you can tell Joel that.”
Teddy held up his hands in mock surrender.
“Hey, I don’t want to get involved here. I’m just doing the guy a favor. He wouldn’t leave me alone until I promised. He’s a good guy, Joel. Just sometimes he gets so … out of control.”
Truax nodded terse agreement.
“Well, I think I’ll head on back. I’m really sorry to bother you …”
Susan suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs. Her swollen, teary eyes narrowed in confusion when she saw who it was. There was an angry red welt on her neck. Her hair was wild and she wore Paddington Bear pajamas.
“Teddy …” she said, bewilderment in her voice.
Before she could say another word her mother was beside her, hissing in German and pulling her back into the darkness.
“Good night, Teddy,” Truax said.
“Yeah. Cool. Good night.”
He smiled as he walked back to his car, the anger and shame he’d felt earlier gone completely. Nobody would be ditching him now. He drove home fast. His friend was waiting for him.
11
The phone cut into Wooten’s hungover sleep like one of those machetes the Filipino chefs had wielded the night before. He checked the clock: 6:41. Which meant he’d only been asleep for a few hours. It had been very late by the time they finally made it out the Swopes’ front door. Not that it mattered—the twins were sleeping at a neighbor’s house and wouldn’t have to be picked up until the afternoon. Wooten always shipped them out for Swope’s party. It was the one night a year that he let himself stay out until all hours, knowing the next day he could sleep as late as he liked. So a crack-of-dawn phone call was the last thing he wanted. It took him three groggy attempts to pluck the receiver from its cradle. If this was about work, somebody was about to have a bad day.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Wooten, this is John Truax.”
Last night swam into his mind. The angry confrontation on the porch. That cake, falling slowly, like a holed ship slipping into the cold sea.
“We’ve got a problem,” Truax said.
“A problem?”
“We have to talk.”
“Mr. Truax, it’s six in the—”
“Sergeant.”
“Excuse me.”
“It’s Sergeant Truax.”
Wooten paused for a moment.
“It’s six A.M. on a Sunday morning,” he said coolly.
“This concerns my daughter’s honor.”
“Honor?”
Truax said nothing.
“Yes,” Wooten said eventually, understanding now that this was serious. “All right.”
“You and your wife should come over here as soon as possible.”
“Now?”
“As soon as possible.”
Wooten hesitated. There was a stony silence on the other end of the line. He realized that there hadn’t been much sleep at the Truaxes’ last night.
“We’ll be there by eight.”
“Fine.”
“Do you mind telling me what’s going on?”
“Ask your son,” Truax said before hanging up.
Ardelia was sitting up in bed, staring at him wide-eyed.
“What?”
“It was John Truax. Says something happened between Joel and Susan last night. They want to talk to us right away.”
“What happened?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
Wooten swung his big legs out of bed. There was an unsteady moment after he stood, his bloodhungry brain protesting at the early rise. But he quickly gathered his wits. There’d been trouble with his son. He hurried down the hall, tapping twice on Joel’s door before pushing it open. It took him a moment to realize that he would have to wait a while longer for any answers—the bed was empty.
They left for the Truaxes’ just before eight. It hadn’t taken them long to track down Joel at the Swopes’. Wooten hated to call Austin so early, especially the day after the party. But they had to find Joel. Especially after that call.
Swope answered on the eighth ring.
“Austin, it’s me.”
There was a pause.
“Earl? What is it?”
“I’m sorry to bother you but I’m trying to track Joel down. I just got a call from John Truax. Something seems to have happened between Joel and their Susan.”
He could hear another voice. Great. Now Sally was up as well.
“Hold on a sec …”
Swope and his wife spoke for a moment.
“No panic, Earl. Joel’s in the guest room here. Sally said she saw him before she went to bed. She figured you knew.”
“Thank God.”
“You want me to wake him?”
“No, that’s all right. Just send him home when he gets up. Hey, Austin—thanks. I’m really sorry about this.”
“Did Truax say what happened?”
“No,” Wooten said. “But whatever it was he seemed pretty upset.”
“Let me know if you need any more help.”
“Thanks, Austin. I appreciate it.”
He hung up, glad to know that, whatever had happened in Fogwood, at least his son was in safe hands.
The Wootens arrived at the Truaxes at exactly one minute to eight. That was one thing about building a city—you knew how to get where you were going on time. Especially at this hour on a Sunday morning, when the only people on the streets were health nuts and the seriously religious.
Truax answered the door before the chiming had stopped.
“Come in,” he said grimly.
Wooten grasped his wife’s elbow as they entered the house. A house Wooten had built, one of a hundred such models he’d raised in the past few years. Truax led them into the living room. Irma was sitting in a big brown chair against the far wall. She stood as they entered, wiping her hands on her skirt. For having been as drunk as she was ten hours earlier, she now looked as sober as a judge.
“Hello, Irma,” Ardelia said, not one to beat around the bush. “What is this?”
“Is everything all right?” Wooten asked. “Is Susan all right?”
Irma snorted.
“Won’t you sit,” she said, her voice sarcastic, as if the idea of the Wootens sitting were laced with hidden implausibilities.
Wooten and Ardelia perched beside each other on the lumpy green couch beneath the front window. The shelving in front of them contained two dozen glossy sculpturines. Children and animals. Rustic scenes. A bird taking wing. Irma dropped back into her chair. Truax sat in its twin. Both now faced the couch at oblique angles.
And then Wooten noticed it. His shirt. Folded neatly on the coffee table in front of him, right next to a National Geographic with some African woman on the cover. She was right out of the Stone Age, this one—her neck stretched by some horrific metal collar, her nose and ears pierced by painted bone. Her hair was as nappy as a stray cat’s. Breasts like spatulas
. Wooten checked the date. Almost two years old. It was the only magazine in sight.
He looked back at his shirt. It was one of his favorites. Ardelia called it his Sammy Davis Special. Checkered, with twin breast pockets and squared tails that he could wear outside his belt without looking like a slob. He wondered for a moment what it was doing here. Then he remembered that Joel had been wearing it yesterday. Now that he was filling out he could just about get by with wearing his father’s things.
And now it was on the Truaxes’ coffee table.
Wooten looked up. Irma stared at him, her pale blue eyes hateful and triumphant.
“We don’t want Joel to see Susan anymore,” she said.
The Wootens sat through a silence.
“Why?” Ardelia finally asked.
Irma’s gaze traveled from Wooten’s face to hers.
“We caught them.”
“Caught them?” Ardelia asked.
Wooten understood immediately. Something moved inside him, a fear stronger than he’d felt in a long time. So now it’s happened, he thought. He nodded once at Irma, letting her know that he got it, that nothing more needed to be said. She met his eyes and he could tell by her expression that she understood. The conversation could proceed. Arrangements could be hammered out, accommodations agreed upon. No details, no blame. Just four people making something wrong into something right.
And then she said it. The woman just went ahead and said it anyway. Maybe because she was German and didn’t really know what the word would do. Or maybe simply because she was evil. Whatever the reason, she said it. Tossing it like a grenade into this bland suburban room.
“Fucking,” she said, those middle consonants sounding harder than Wooten ever thought they could. “We caught your son fucking our girl.”
“Where?” Ardelia asked, the thinness of her voice making it clear this wasn’t what she wanted to ask at all.
“In her room,” Irma said. “In my daughter’s room.”
Wooten looked back at Truax, his talk of honor suddenly making terrible sense. He wondered how that went. If Truax laid his rotten hand on his son. But if Joel were hurt Sally would have said something.
The New City Page 17
