by Mike McCrary
A flowered sundress clings to her body. Her hair color has changed. She’s dyed it jet-black, cut it short—real short, military short. You can see splotches of skull when she turns her head a certain way and the light catches it just right. She’s also added some black horn-rimmed glasses to her look. One can only assume this is to mask her appearance, especially after the movie. She could cut her head off and I’d know her anywhere. She smells like R-something; she’s used her perfume.
I pop a pill.
“Where is she?” I ask.
“Did you miss me?”
“What did you do with her?”
“You did, didn’t you? Miss me, that is.”
“Ruby, where the fuck is she?”
She shushes me, placing a finger to my lips. “I forgive you. You know, for leaving me. You were afraid for your life. Fight or flight is powerful, and you flew away, you little birdie, didn’t you? You knew I could handle things and we’d meet up later. I get all of that, no reason to say it, no need to apologize. Don’t let some bullshit guilt drag you down. Guilt? What? It’s a wasted emotion, right?”
She kisses my forehead then gets up from the bed and heads to the table, pours herself a glass of water. My head burns through possibilities of what the next few minutes are going to bring my way.
None of them look good.
What is worming its way through Ruby’s broken brain? What does she want? How does she expect this to go? Only moments ago I was in the throes of an orgasm haze and now I want to throw my guts up, cry, and go screaming out into the hall.
“You keep asking about her. That pretty girl? The one I found sleeping next to you?”
Might throw up now.
“Yes, her,” I say.
“Never mind her,” she says.
“What?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Tell me.”
“Nope. Only upset you.”
My heart pounds inside my chest. My blood burns. Struggling to find calm, I say, “Ruby, tell me. Please. What did you do with her?”
“Okay, I’ll tell you, but we will never speak of it again. Deal?”
I nod, not really wanting to hear the answer.
“She’s in a bag. Several bags, actually. Wanted to spread her out so they can’t tie it back to you and all that. Since you were together all over the TV last night. You, sir, you can wear a suit. Sorry I missed the premiere. Read some reviews. Felt they were a touch harsh with their criticisms of me, Choke, and Boone, but it seems like your little movie was a success. No?”
I have nothing. Everything about me wilts.
“I hope you didn’t waste seed with her.”
I pop another pill, washing it down with whiskey. If I had a gun, I’d shoot myself.
Need to evacuate the pale blue dot.
“Did you enjoy my mouth?” Ruby asks.
107
I didn’t bother answering the question.
The evidence suggests that I did, in fact, enjoy her mouth.
Ruby says we need to leave and find a new hotel, somewhere out of LA, down the coast. She doesn’t feel safe here. I don’t bother telling her my calendar is booked solid today with business related to “my little movie.” Not sure it would matter. The pills are starting to take hold, and I’m losing my will to fight.
She killed R-something and more or less has me as her hostage. Although she hasn’t threatened me directly, I know she will if pressed. There’s an outline of a holster strapped to her thigh. Her favorite Glock is safely tucked away in there, I’m guessing.
“How’s the baby?” I ask. No idea why, just thought I’d bring it up.
Looking down, picking at a nail, she says, “I’m not pregnant. Thought for sure I was but I started my bleeding. I’ve heard it might take a few times, so that shouldn’t stop us from trying again.”
Trying again? Don’t show it on your face, don’t show it on your face…
She asks me if I still have the money.
I don’t answer.
She asks again.
I say yes.
She says she read I have even more now. She knows about the book deal and all the rest. She goes on to explain to me the escape plan Choke had for after The Massive is still in place. Safe passage out of the country to somewhere with loose extradition laws and people who don’t ask questions. All we need is money. She says we can live together and start a family.
It’s at this moment I realize something, a thing that I’ve probably known for a while.
I have to kill her.
108
How?
That’s the big question, isn’t it? She’s strong, tough, she’s killed and maimed more people than I care to comprehend. Have to get that gun away from her. There’s no other way. Maybe during sex she’ll take off the holster. If it’s across the room, I’ll have to get to it and pull the trigger before she can get to me. She’s fast. I’m no gun expert. What if it jams? What if I miss? The odds of me getting a lucky shot like I did at the beach are not good. What if I get her to wear the holster during sex? Tell her how it does a little something to me. I can slip it from her thigh and put a bullet in her head. That’s the most high percentage shot I can think of. That’s a lot of moving parts though. I have to get erect, which means tabling, for a bit, the idea of splattering her brains out. Then I have to pull the gun free from a holster I’ve never used before and shoot her point-blank with a gun I’ve never shot before. She’s not going to just lie there and let me shoot her in the head either, so if there’s the slightest hiccup in getting the gun out, she’s going to stomp my throat in or bag me up.
Still.
I have to try.
This cannot go on.
109
We find a Motel 6 in Chula Vista, outside of San Diego.
Ruby wanted to head south. She didn’t say why, but my guess is her exit strategy has something to do with Mexico. We picked a nondescript place so as not to draw attention. Ball cap and sunglasses for me and she went as is, thinking her new do and glasses were enough. The movie is just being released today, so the odds of her being randomly recognized by the general public are minimal.
She uses cash to pay for the place. When we get into the room, she immediately hands me a crumpled piece of paper with wiring instructions to a bank I don’t recognize. The country isn’t listed, but currency looks like something Eastern Bloc. She tells me to wire as much as I can and then we will skip the country tonight. I tell her the bank isn’t going to let me wire that much over the phone, I’ll probably have to go into a branch. She says that’s fine, we can go into San Diego if need be.
She tells me she’s so happy about us.
She tells me she can’t wait to get started with our new life.
She tells me if I ever fuck another woman, she’ll tie me to a chair naked and cut me once a day until I bleed out. She’s heard that can take a while.
Playing the part, I tell her, “We should get started on this baby making and have us some sex.” She giggles like a high school cheerleader at my playful charm. She tells me she’s a mess and wants to take a shower first.
A shower? As in you can’t shower with a gun type of shower?
Deciding not to give in too quickly, wanting to make it look good, I say I can’t believe she’s going to make me wait. She calls me a dirty boy and says something about how she wants to be clean before she gets messy with such a dirty boy.
I giggle like a silly schoolboy and say okay.
She blows me a kiss.
As she slips into the bathroom, I think I can still get to my two P.M. meeting if I shoot her soon.
110
The gun is resting on top of her dress that’s piled up on the closed toilet lid.
Steam is starting to creep from the tiny bathroom. Sitting on the side of the bed, I stare at the gun, then the shower, then the gun. I know what I have to do, but it doesn’t make it any easier. My hands are shaking, my throat is as dry as a funeral drum, and I can’t find
a hint of saliva. As my heart races, I stand, knowing what I have to do.
She needs to be put down. It’s what’s best for everybody, I tell myself.
I move toward the bathroom, the slowest steps in history. I’m terrified beyond reason.
This ends here and now, I tell myself.
As my foot reaches the tile, there’s a knock at the door.
I spin around.
Ruby’s head fires out from behind the shower curtain. “That the door?”
“Yeah, I’ll check it.”
Ruby shuts the water off, flying from the shower, not bothering with a towel.
Before I can make it to the knob, a folded piece of paper is slipped under the gap between the carpet and the door. It’s a folded piece of yellow legal pad paper.
Nice touch.
Ruby is already behind me, naked, dripping, with her gun in hand. She throws open the door, checking outside. No one is there.
I unfold the paper.
Choke has left us a note.
111
My first thought is the FBI sucks at identifying dead people in a fire.
Two people I was told are dead are not. Disappointing, to put it mildly.
Reading the note, I start laughing. Don’t know what else to do. Should I crumple the note up in my fist and say something as overly dramatic as I can? Go full-on Shatner with it. “Damn you, Choke. This is the last note you’ll ever fold.” Or throw in a tortured pun that includes some watered-down, violent threat. Perhaps I should fall to my knees, let the tears stream, and raise my hands to the heavens. As my eyes move down the page, I think of critics’ blurbs. Blurbs that would be used if the critics reviewed the note: “Brilliantly satiric,” and “Savagely funny.”
The note only says a few words, but those words make me laugh. The note simply says…
You’ve hurt me.
I’m laughing so hard even Ruby thinks there’s something wrong with me. Something inside of me has come unhinged. She reads the note. She doesn’t laugh, at all. As a matter of fact, she seems pissed at me for my reaction.
Underneath the words are an address and a time.
“It’s in an hour,” Ruby says.
“Yeah,” I get out, now on the floor in hysterics. Rolling back and forth with tears making their way down my face. Can’t remember the last time I laughed like this. It does feel like I’m unspooling. Coming undone. My insides are releasing what’s been caged up for so long.
“Release the kraken,” I say and laugh harder.
Ruby has no idea what I’m talking about as she steps over me, heading back to the bathroom. Stepping into the shower again, she tells me we’re leaving in thirty minutes and I’d better be ready. She says it as if I were a child on the floor throwing a tantrum about not wanting to go to school.
“You got it, babe,” I say.
I laugh even harder.
112
Choke has chosen the bottom level of an underground parking garage in San Diego.
A carefully chosen secluded spot. Smart choice given the fact the three of us together would make one helluva photo op.
It’s the middle of the day, and there are not a lot of people around, especially down here. Not well lit, stinks of exhaust, and the cars passing on the floor above us give the effect of rolling thunder.
Choke looks worn-out. Pale. Sunken eyes. Almost looks he’s been shipwrecked for years and just returned home. This is weakest I’ve ever seen him. His arm is in a sling, and his face is marked up with cuts and scratches. His dark raccoon eyes still find a way to bore through me. Even when speaking with Ruby, he still manages to eyeball me. He does make sure I see the gun tucked into his belt.
He and I don’t speak to each other, Ruby’s idea. She does the talking.
Choke says little.
There is no talk of feelings, family, or anything other than business. Even though the talk is not emotional in any way, Ruby’s face is racked with her feelings kept on a leash. Her words do not match her watering eyes, her shaking hands, or the red splotches that have taken up territory on her face. Like lava under her skin ready to blow.
Choke tells us he has copies of all the video he shot. Says it contains footage he edited together. “It looks a lot like he shot W. Gains,” Choke says, still not addressing me directly. Says he also has recordings of my pitch meeting in the cabin. My heart freezes. This is not good. I look at Ruby; she doesn’t even flinch, as if this doesn’t matter. I’ll have to explain it to her later. About how I will go to jail and how people like me do not excel in a prison environment. He goes on to explain he has made arrangements that if he should die prematurely, the videos will be released to major news outlets.
Smiling, he turns to me. “Have you ever seen the television show Lost?”
“Yes,” I say.
He goes on to ask if I remember the guy who has to push a button every day or the world will end.
“Yes,” I say.
He says it’s something like that—he has a button he has to push every day or the footage goes viral.
Again, Ruby says nothing. I’m about to have a heart attack. Not laughing anymore. Ruby finally asks him what he wants. He talks about the safe passage that is still good. He wants all the money I owe him, and he wants Ruby to leave with him after The Massive. Choke still wants to take down The Massive. He’s completely unfazed by his condition and other obvious problems. He demands Ruby and I help him. He adds that if we don’t help, he will release the footage anyway.
Ruby fights this idea at first. No one is asking for my opinion. Choke breaks her with a single glance. She bursts into uncontrollable tears. Her entire body trembles. Choke still stares at me. After a few uncomfortable moments of sobbing, she pulls herself together and gives Choke a nod.
She’ll do it.
That’s all he needed. “We leave tonight.” He gives us a new address where to meet him. Before he goes, he kicks me in the balls and lands a punch to my nose, dropping me to my knees in an oil spot in parking space 55-D. When Choke is a safe distance away, Ruby glances down at me. “I’ll have to kill him, ya know?”
113
“I don’t even know what The Massive is,” Ruby says.
“What?” I ask.
We’re back at our dumpy motel room, which smells of mildew and McDonald’s. Ruby didn’t say much on the way back, and I didn’t press her. When a woman tells you she needs to kill her father, you should probably give her some space. At the very least, don’t ask a ton of questions.
She stuffs some fries into her face. “It’s the thing Choke always talked around but never talked about, ya know? He never gave any details, just kept saying it was the job to end all jobs. Shaw and him went to war over it, but we never knew what the hell we were fighting over. They were in the military together. You know that?”
“Who?” I ask.
“Choke and Shaw.”
“What? They served together?”
She nods, wrapping her greasy fingers in mine. “I’ll go alone.”
“What?” I ask, fighting to keep up with her spiraling train of thought.
“I’ll go alone to kill him. He wants to meet. I will meet him and kill him.”
“What?” I ask. I know I keep saying what like an idiot, but it’s all I’ve got.
“There’s no need to put you through that,” she says.
What she means is I’ll be little or no help in the killing of Choke. I’ll be in the way. Like a mother telling her child he should go play in his room and let her finish doing grown-up stuff. Ruby’s look and tone are very parental and very annoying. I brush that off best I can.
“What about the footage he has?” I ask.
“That’s all bullshit.”
“You don’t believe him?”
“I do not.”
“What if he’s telling the truth? What if he has all the footage he says he does? I’ll be—we’ll be—”
“A lot of ifs, Jasper,” she says.
“It’s so
me deep shit if he’s not lying,” I say.
“If he’s telling the truth. If he has a setup to release the video he says he has, and if he dies. Then we’ll figure it out. That’s what couples do.”
I need my pills, a drink, and to be anywhere but here.
She grips my hand tighter and looks me in the eye.
“We’re a family now,” she says.
Trying to leave the room mentally, I can’t do it, I’m rendered psychologically impotent. She hands me some papers. “Now get that money wired to this account. If he’s telling the truth and that video goes out, then we’ll need to vacate the country lickety-split.”
She gets up and checks herself in the mirror, running a finger across her lips, then says, “Before I take off, I’d like you to tell me something.”
“Yeah?”
“Your second film, what’s it about?”
My jaw actually drops. I can’t believe she’s asking me this. Now. With all of this shit happening. You kidding me? Now?
As calmly as I can, I say, “I don’t talk about—”
“Secrets between us? No. Can’t have them. Won’t have them. You understand?”
I take a moment, reset, and say, “Ruby, it’s not personal. Nothing against you or us for that matter. I just don’t talk—”
“You do now,” she says, fingering her knife. Her face is stone. Void of feeling. It’s as if all the air has been sucked from the room. Feels like the temperature ratcheted up twenty-plus degrees. In my mind I can see her standing up, cutting my throat, and then she’ll finish her fries as I twitch on the floor. She’ll do it right here, right now, if I don’t answer her. I know I have no play here.
No runway.
No soft landing.
Closing my eyes, I say, “When I was a kid, my parents had a baby. A little girl. She was my sister. My brother and I hated the idea at first. Bitched about it nonstop. But after she was born and came home, Alex and I took care of her, played with her constantly. She was amazing. I thought she was the sweetest, purest thing in this world. Unfortunately, as I’ve learned, the world is not sweet, nor pure. She was only my sister for a handful of years. She got sick, really sick, then she wasn’t my sister anymore.” I try to control my shaking voice. Shutting my eyes tighter, I say, “Now. You’re only the third person on the planet that knows that bit of trivia about my second film. The one that sucked balls. The one I personally financed and lost everything over. So, if you and I are cool now, I’d like to go back to not talking about it.”
