Joytime Killbox

by Brian Wood

  I wanted to warn that girl. I wanted to tell her she couldn’t take back what they were going to do to her. But I felt Doug pulling my arm, steering me clear of them.

  Most of the way home we didn’t speak. We listened to the radio until I couldn’t take the noise any longer. I turned it off.

  “I like that song,” Doug said. He turned it back on.

  I cranked the volume down. “Why’d you pull me to the car like that?”

  “What?” He forced a playful laugh.

  “I’m serious.”

  “They’re just kids, Lauren. It’s not like we’re their parents.”

  “I feel sorry for their parents. That poor girl.”

  “It’s the summer. They’re having fun. We used to do the same thing.” Doug looked at me and I couldn’t tell if he winked or if the muscle twitch in his cheek was acting up again. “Remember that? Those hot summers.” He put his hand on my thigh and squeezed.

  It seemed as good a time as any to tell him I was leaving him. But I wasn’t sure how to start. And I didn’t want things getting heated while I was trapped in the car. I turned the volume up on the radio. The rearview mirror shook and distorted the road. That girl, that howling pack of boys, must have been gone by now. I wondered where they’d take her.

  After the movie was over, and after Doug was finished and sleeping, I stole out the front for a cigarette. I went down past the steps to the flower bed, so I wouldn’t get ash on the porch. It was late and the heat still hung in the air. I could smell Doug on my skin. And my fingers trembled as I smoked.

  Down the sidewalk, I saw my neighbor coming in from a walk with his little dog. The dog pulled at the leash, but my neighbor kept him reined in. When the leash snagged at his collar the dog shuddered and pulled a tight circle before trying to run ahead. “Easy,” he kept telling the dog as he tugged the leash.

  I waved as he passed the edge of our yard.

  “Ms. Lauren.” He stopped and rested his foot on our steps. “Didn’t see you at the homeowners meeting.”

  “Miss anything good?”

  He grazed his hand along our bush. “Shrubs no higher than thirty-six inches. Smoking is now designated to back porches only.”

  “Really.” I ashed my cigarette. “You going to tell on me?”

  “We didn’t see anything,” he said to his dog. “Did we?” He picked him up and let him lick his face.

  A man and his dog. It seemed like a good thing. And I wanted to know how he came about such a good thing. “Are you happy?” I said.

  “Sorry?”

  “You and Marvin.” I tilted my head toward their house. “You guys seem to have it together.”

  He closed both eyes and flattened his mouth. “Child, please,” he said. “We keep appearances, but we keep better fences.” The dog tried to jump from his arms, but my neighbor held him tight. “How’s Douglas these days?” “Same,” I said. I watched the dog shiver in the heat. It looked at me with wide, nervous eyes. “You ever let him off the leash?”

  “Out back we do. But he’d dart off out here.”

  “My whole life I’ve had one dog.”

  “Didn’t think you and Douglas were dog people.”

  “When I was a kid. Her name was Pepper.”

  “Pepper.” He stroked between the dog’s eyes. “How cute.”

  “She was half German shepherd, half something else. But she was a good dog. Knew tricks and everything.”

  “That’s great.” He kept petting his dog as he looked past me, trying to see into our house.

  “Back then we lived next to a pasture. And if we didn’t tie her up, Pepper would run off our property, jet out to the neighbor’s field. So one day she’s out there, off the leash and running, and her paw gets snapped in one of those fox traps.”

  My neighbor made a sour face. “Oh, no,” he said. He shifted the dog to his other arm. “Poor thing.”

  “Know what a dog does when it’s stuck like that?”

  The dog was licking his master’s knuckle now. My neighbor shook his head.

  “You’ll love this.” I twisted my cigarette into the flower bed. “Somehow a dog knows when it’s hopeless. So she gnawed it off. Beneath the knee, right through the bone. And she still had the sense to limp all the way back home.” He stopped petting his dog and gave me a feeble smile. He looked concerned. Just not enough to ask.

  “We had to put her down after that,” I said. “Don’t know why my father insisted on shooting her. She’d have been fine on three legs. Wouldn’t have had to tie her up anymore. But he put her down anyway. Said it was the right thing to do with a lame dog.”

  My neighbor’s mouth fell slightly ajar. As his focus shifted from my house to his, the dog leapt from his arms, blasting for the street. For a moment I thought the dog just might break free. A surge to the road and no looking back. Those ratty little claws clicking away on the asphalt, past the last light post, and gone, faded and free into an unknown darkness. But my neighbor yanked the leash tight and kept the thing near. “Come on, boy,” he said. “We’d better get inside. Daddy’s waiting.”

  ROUGH AIR

  Back when you could carry liquids on an airplane, a woman got me drunk. I was flying to Los Angeles to take Lauren out to dinner. It was about time to ask her to marry me. But thinking about it caused a panic in my head like I was drowning.

  From the aisle seat I watched each face board the plane. My hope was to sit next to a foreigner or a businessman. We could both nod and acknowledge our coexistence, then spend the next two hours ignoring each other. I wanted some peace. I wanted to figure things out before I landed.

  A fat man stopped at my row. He dragged a carry-on the size of a love seat. It upset me that he was carrying so much onto a plane this small. His oversized body. And his oversized bag that somebody should have seized before he got on. He went to work jamming the dumb bag in the overhead bin, puffing air out his nostrils the whole time. He sounded like he’d pedaled here on a bike. Listening to him breathe, right over my head, made me angry. When he had finished with his luggage, he studied his ticket. His eyes tightened behind his glasses. “Fifteen,” he said. “Section D. I think you’re in my seat. I have the aisle.”

  “Thirteen,” I said. “Fifteen is back there.”

  He scratched his scalp and counted down the rows.

  “Here, sir.” I tapped the ceiling next to the sign. It clearly said 13D. “You’re two rows back.” But he wouldn’t move. It was like he didn’t believe me, that for whatever reason me and the signs in front of him had conspired against him. So he kept blimping over me until I was ready to move just to get away from him.

  “Come on,” a lady said. “There’s enough seats.” She stood behind him in the aisle. She had sharp features that made her seem angrier than she probably was. But I liked the way she handled the man. “Just take the next one. We’re not going anywhere until you sit down.” She pressed herself against him and he was urged to leave. She’d had her way with him.

  “Sorry about that,” she said. She glanced at her ticket. “Looks like I’ve got the window.”

  I unbuckled my safety belt.

  “Don’t. I can manage.” She side stepped in front of me, straddling my knees. As her legs spread, her dress cinched drum-tight against her body. I leaned back as far as I could and tried not to notice. But she had a gravity I couldn’t ignore.

  She took her seat and I watched how her body moved. Everything about her was compact. She was small and smooth like a bird of prey. Her nose hooked from her skull and her cheeks were too wide for her face. She held an odd kind of attraction which made me uneasy sitting so close to her. I leaned away from her until my lap-belt cut at my thighs.

  I told myself Lauren was a good woman. She was perfect for me. Stable and patient. She was reasonable—more than that. Lauren was a saint. I had a good woman waiting for me. I volleyed this thought in my head. But the woman beside me had a wildness about her that tore at my best intentions. She knew she looked
good. It showed in the way she pulled her hair back fast and clean. Or the way her hand swam through the air to turn on the overhead light. She was dipped in confidence.

  Pretending to read, I thumbed through a magazine. I watched her unsaddle her purse. It was an expensive bag. That much I could tell. Lauren had one like it that she housed in a felt box in her closet. Before we could go out, she would take it out and buff the bag. Lauren hardly put anything in that big bag, but she gleamed when she had it on her shoulder. This woman kicked her purse beneath the seat. She tossed it around like a disposable luxury. As I perused an ad for the best orthopedic surgeons in California I made up my mind to ignore this woman. I knew Lauren wouldn’t have it. And I knew what I was capable of doing. But most of all, I knew there was a beautiful danger in the way she drew one leg against the other. No, I would not talk to her.

  “Can we just get this over with?” she said.

  “Pardon?”

  “Come on, really.” She extended her hand. I did not take it, but she nudged it closer. Her wrist was sturdy for a girl her size. “Veronica. I’m in HR. Girl’s weekend with a college roommate.” The strength of her grip surprised me. I released my hand from hers.

  “I’m Doug. Police Department. I’m going to see my girlfriend.”

  “Isn’t that fun.” She uncapped a tube of lip gloss and ran it around her mouth.

  “I’m going to propose.”

  Veronica let her mouth tug to the side. “Terrible idea.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Cops aren’t any good at marriage. But I’m sure you know this already.” She reached overhead and pressed the call button.

  I tried to ignore it, but her comment made me itch. “What do you mean?”

  “Is this working?” She leaned over me to examine the button. “Did you hear it ding? I don’t think this works.” Veronica jabbed the button. I could feel her breasts jostle the air by my face. I shifted toward the aisle.

  “What do you mean ‘terrible’? How is that terrible? You don’t even know me.”

  “It’s not just cops. Nobody’s good at it really. Half my job is updating paperwork. Such a hassle changing last names.”

  There was something about her I couldn’t grasp. The way she poached my attention. She made me feel like I was being handled. I wanted her to think I was bored with the conversation. I flipped to another page in the magazine as loud as I could. “Veronica, it was a pleasure. But I have to get some reading done.” I focused on the page, a map near the back with arcing blue lines showing all the nonstop flights you could take. From the corner of my eye, I thought I saw her smirk.

  The flight attendant tapped our call button. The cut of her blazer made her seem impossibly tall.

  “I’d like to place an order,” Veronica said.

  “This button is reserved for emergencies.” The attendant spoke to Veronica with that odd blend of nonsense and graciousness. “Like a heart attack or the need for immediate medical attention.”

  “Great. We need two cups of ice,” Veronica said. “It’s an emergency. Overflowing with ice. And an unopened can of tonic.” The attendant feigned an apology. She tilted her head and told Veronica drinks couldn’t be served until we were in the air.

  Veronica looked at me. She fluttered her eyes and wobbled her head. “Once we’re in the air.”

  Moments later, with the wheels just free from the ground, Veronica punched the call button again.

  “Are you going to order anything?”

  Without taking my eyes from the magazine, I shook my head.

  “Splendid.” She bent down to paw through her purse. Her dress draped from her chest. I could see the scalloped edge of her bra. I forced myself to look past her. Through the window I watched everything I knew become meaningless. The cars and freeways, houses and buildings. They slipped into strange shapes, shrinking into points of color until I could no longer recognize their purpose. I felt a vast space tear open between me and my home. I was leaving. And either way I knew I couldn’t come home the same.

  None of it made me feel any better.

  Veronica placed her hand on my shoulder like we were old lovers. “I want you to get a tonic. And ask for the can. We need the whole thing.” I felt my pulse quicken when she said we. There was an unexpected excitement in we. Veronica put her tray table down. She put mine down too. “Me and Doug are going to enjoy ourselves.” She pulled a sandwich bag from her purse. It was packed with lime wedges. Then she pulled a handle of gin from her bag. It was then that she gave me a smile so hot and terrible it made me want to do something reckless. She had the kind of mouth that made me want to transfer my savings into checking, spend it all on a weekend of empty bottles and room service.

  Banking right, the sun blasted through the window. It backlit Veronica’s face. The light fanned behind her head. And I felt something deep and good start to well up toward my head and I knew I was in for some kind of trouble.

  Who are you? Where did you come from? I wanted to ask her. But there was no need. I already knew. She was here and she was pulling liquor from her bag. She was anybody but Lauren.

  They wheeled us the ice and tonic. Veronica poured them fast. Mostly gin with a shake of tonic.

  “You could be the greatest bartender in the world.”

  “Or the worst,” she said. “First one all the way?”

  I stirred at the lime in my drink. “Should we toast to something?”

  “It’s not that kind of drink.” She tilted her glass.

  We burned down the gin until the ice hit our teeth. She set up another and we raced them just as fast. She let me take my time on the third. But as a point of pride I shot that one too. I shook my glass at her. “What’re you waiting for?”

  “Yes, officer.” And she set me up again.

  Between sips her eyes rested on me with a tired stare. With liquor whiffling from her mouth she asked, “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

  I took another mouthful of gin and exhaled. “That’s a little personal, Veronica.”

  “That’s kind of the point, Doug.”

  I took the bottle from her and topped off my glass. A man in the row across from me watched us. He was sitting next to a lady so tired and bored she must have been his wife. He was drinking his coffee and staring. I could see he was jealous. Of the booze or me sitting with Veronica, I couldn’t tell. But he had that look of a man wanting. “Never thought of bringing liquor on a plane,” I said. “Who gave you this idea?”

  She sipped from her cocktail straw and shook her head so her hair fell into her face. She looked at me through her bangs. “You first, Doug. Worst thing ever?”

  I didn’t have to search far. The gin had started working on my head and my thoughts rode off my tongue. “Years back I had to ID a victim.”

  Veronica leaned forward. “Like a lineup in the movies?”

  “Now’s not your turn. This is my story.” Her eyes narrowed. I could tell she liked this kind of exchange. I waited for her to see that I was in charge. “So I was with the coroner in the hospital basement. And he takes me to the vic, pulls back the sheet—that whole thing.”

  Veronica touched my arm. “Were they murdered?”

  “You going to let me tell it?”

  She held up her hands, mocking an apology.

  “We roped him out of the river. Water in his lungs. Time I got there, the man was already all examined and sewed up.” I drew a line in the air, the shape of the incision. Veronica touched her collarbone. “We don’t hang around for that sort of thing. So, I identify the body and the doctor leaves. It’s just me and the guy. He’s laying there under the light all still. And I don’t know why, but looking at that drowned man I start to get angry. Something in the way he was laying there. How quiet everything was. You could hear the lights humming. And he looked young and strong enough but he wasn’t moving. I don’t know. I just let loose and slapped him. Right on the face. I slapped his dead face with all I had.”

  “Wh
at’d it feel like?” Her eyes narrowed.

  “I can’t remember.”

  “Was he cold?”

  “I think so.” I finished my drink in a single pull.

  “You ever think hard enough about it? Enough to know why you did that?”

  “No.” I stared at the headrest.

  “Ever done something wrong just because you could?” Veronica hid her mouth with a fist. Her eyes glinted like she’d just plucked an old memory. I wanted to know her secret.

  “I guess I liked the danger of it,” I said. “The doctor in the other room, being so close to trouble.”

  “Oh, Doug.” Veronica laughed and her wide face got wider. “You have no idea how good you had it down there.”

  I shook my head. “It wasn’t right. He never did anything to me. Far as I know, he was a good guy.”

  “Then why’d you do it?”

  I glanced at the man across the aisle. He had finished his coffee. He was leaning into his old lady’s ear, his hand rubbing her hand. I think I would have slapped him too if he looked at us again. “Hell.” I shook my empty drink. I laughed a little. “I’m not sure I can—I never told anybody that story before.”

  Veronica’s eyes kept a strange sparkle. “Your lady friend doesn’t know?”

  “Lauren? God, no. She doesn’t have the stomach for that sort of thing.” I felt dry behind my tongue. I forced myself to swallow. “I don’t think she could be with a person like that.”

  “Jesus, you’re a strange breed.”

  “Men?”

  “Cops.”

  “How’s that?”

  “You’re reckless.”

  I gave her a look that told her I wasn’t buying. “Think about it,” she said. “When there’s danger and everyone else in their right mind is running away, you guys are running toward it.”

  I blew the air out of my nose. She had me there. I couldn’t keep clear even if I wanted. But I didn’t let her know. I took the bottle and filled our glasses. We were out of tonic and were doing them straight now. And maybe that’s part of why I didn’t get away from it when I knew I still had time.