Funland

by Richard Laymon

  “I propose we all get drinks,” Tanya said, “and hoist one to the memory of the good troll.”

  She led the way to the bar, stepped behind it, and uncapped a liter bottle of rum.

  “Yo ho ho,” Heather said.

  Tanya dumped half the bottle’s contents into the cut-glass punch bowl. The liquor slurped into the red juice with soft plopping sounds. Setting the bottle aside, she stirred with a glass dipper.

  When everyone held a glass full of the spiked punch, she raised her own glass. “To the one who took the big dive,” she toasted, “and shall be known henceforth as Fish Food.”

  “I’m not going to drink to that,” Nate muttered.

  “Lighten up, would you?” Tanya said. “He was a fucking troll.”

  “He was a human being, and we killed him.”

  “We didn’t kill him. It was an accident.”

  “A lucky accident,” Liz added.

  “And I missed it,” Cowboy said.

  “We murdered him,” Nate said.

  Tanya stared at him. She looked annoyed, frustrated. “It was an accident. He would’ve been okay if he hadn’t been a fat slob. He would’ve been okay if your Ferris wheel had safety bars worth a shit.”

  Nate’s face went slack. “You think I don’t know that?” he asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

  “Okay,” Tanya said. “We went out to nail a troll and we nailed one. He happened to die. All the moaning and whining in the world isn’t going to bring him back to life.”

  “Who’d want to?” Liz said.

  “So let’s just have a good time, huh? I didn’t ask everybody over here to bellyache about it. The whole idea’s to loosen up, have some drinks, fool around, and put the whole thing behind us. We all know what happened out there. None of us is happy about it.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Liz said. “Me, I think it’s great. One less troll in our faces. We oughta do it to all of ’em.”

  Grinning, Cowboy rubbed her hair. She smiled and put an arm around him.

  “I’m with Liz,” Samson said. “Fuck ’em all. The deader the bedder.”

  Nate gave him a betrayed look, then turned his eyes to Tanya. “It has to stop. We should’ve stopped it a long time ago. It’s just been getting more and more out of hand. Something like this was bound to happen…”

  “You sound like that shit editorial in the paper.”

  “That shit editorial was right! We proved it right last night, didn’t we? And don’t give me this crap about not being happy about it. You were delighted that the old guy fell. You’ve been itching to…You tried to set the one on fire Tuesday night!”

  “Could’ve had us a weenie roast,” Cowboy said.

  “Are you all crazy?”

  “It’s war, man,” Samson said.

  “What’d they ever do to you?”

  “They piss me off.”

  “Oh, isn’t that wonderful. They piss you off, so you kill them?”

  “You dumb fuck, that was an accident and you know it.”

  “You’re in this because of me,” Nate said. “Same with you, Cowboy. Remember? I wanted you to help me kick ass because of what they did to Tanya. You never had anything much against the trolls. I talked you into it. And it’s time to stop. We kicked ass. We paid them back a hundred times over. For Tanya and for Shiner’s sister.”

  Nate’s fierce eyes moved across the faces of the trollers and stopped on Randy. “What’ve you got against them? Nothing, that’s what. You just have this thing about Tanya. Is it worth killing for? Same with you, Karen.”

  Smirking, Karen gave him the finger.

  “What’d they do to you, Heather? You’re just in it for the company. And great company we are! Lose some weight and join the world.”

  Heather pressed her lips together and blinked at him.

  Nate’s eyes met Jeremy’s. “I don’t know what your story is. Do you hate the trolls? Do you want to kill them? Or is this just some kind of a social club like it is for Heather?”

  Jeremy, face hot, didn’t dare speak.

  “Some goddamn war,” Nate said, glancing at Samson.

  “You’ve had your say,” Tanya told him. Her voice sounded calm but hard. “Now, get out of my house.”

  “Call it off,” he said. “You’re the only one who can. You tell them it’s over, and it’s over.”

  “All that’s over is you and me.”

  “You’re right about that.”

  For just a moment she looked stunned. As if she’d expected him to be staggered, maybe to relent or ask for forgiveness. Jeremy got the feeling that she didn’t want to lose him. Her upper lip made a tiny twitch. “Go on,” she said. “Get the fuck out of here.”

  “You’re obsessed, Tanya. Don’t drag them all down with you.”

  “Get out!”

  He set his glass on the bar counter. “I’m leaving. Anybody else? Samson? Cowboy?”

  “Not me,” Samson said. “Sorry, pal. I’m with Tanya on this one. We gotta clean the place up. I’ll quit my trolling when I can walk around all day without some slime bag asking me for two bits.”

  “Same here,” Cowboy said. “Far as I can see, nothing’s changed. I hate to lose you for a friend, and I hope it don’t come to that, but we got us a job to do here.”

  Nate kept shaking his head while he listened to Samson and Cowboy. When they finished, he glanced around at everyone. “You’re all making a big mistake,” he said. “She’s turning you into a gang of thugs.”

  Alone, he walked toward the stairs.

  “Don’t even think about going to the cops,” Tanya warned.

  He stopped and looked back. “I’m not trolling anymore,” he said. “But that doesn’t make me an asshole who’d snitch on his friends.” Then he started up the stairs and disappeared.

  “Chickenshit bastard,” Tanya muttered. “Who needs him, anyway?” With a trembling hand she lifted her glass high. “No trolls,” she toasted.

  “No quarter,” said Cowboy.

  They all gathered in close around Tanya and clinked their glasses together.

  Twenty-five

  Robin sat on the bed in the motel room, propped up with two pillows behind her back, and stared at the television while she waited for Nate.

  There was a chance, she knew, that he might not come at all. Giving her the key, Nate had assured her that he wouldn’t make a visit. She had believed him, too. But telling him the room number had been a clear invitation.

  He’d seemed surprised and confused.

  For all Robin knew, he might have a regular girl. Maybe he was with her right now. Or maybe he was still working at the arcade.

  He owns it, she reminded herself. He could get someone else to run the place, or he could even shut down early. He shut it early last night.

  Come on, Nate. Where are you?

  From the time Robin had arrived at the motel, she’d been expecting him to show up at any moment.

  While she waited, she took the opportunity to use the laundry room downstairs. Wearing a T-shirt and gym shorts, she stuffed all her dirty clothes into the washer, started it up, then hurried back to her room for a shower. She wanted to be clean for him. But she took the shower fast, fearing that Nate might knock and she would miss him.

  Maybe that’s just what happened, she thought now as she waited on the bed. Maybe he came, knocked, and left.

  If that’s how it went, he’ll come back and try again. Won’t he?

  Except for the time in the shower, she couldn’t have missed him.

  She’d waited in the room while her clothes were drying. When she went to dinner, the balcony in front of her room was always in sight. She’d taken a booth at the window of the café across the street and watched for him.

  Back in her room after dinner, she ached for a long, hot bath. While the tub filled, she stayed out of the bathroom so the noise of the rushing water wouldn’t prevent her from hearing Nate’s arrival. She arranged clothes on the bed so she could get i
nto them fast: panties, a bra, and a pale blue dress she’d bought at a souvenir shop that afternoon before leaving the boardwalk.

  With the water off and the bathroom door open, she didn’t need to worry about missing him. She settled down, sighing as the hot water wrapped her body. A bath was a rare luxury.

  Most of the time, she kept herself clean by washing in rest rooms. Coffee shops and gas stations often had doors that locked, so she could strip down and do a good quick job of it. Occasionally she used shower rooms at public swimming pools and Y’s. Many beaches had outside showers for getting the sand and salt water off before heading home, and she took advantage of them when she could, though she had to keep her swimsuit on. Often she bathed in streams and lakes, which were always cold.

  Only when she checked into motels did she get to take a hot bath in a tub. Usually once a month. If she could afford it.

  Then she would take marathon baths. Often fall asleep in the tub. Wake up with the water cool and her skin pruned. And take another the next morning before checkout time.

  Tonight she didn’t fall asleep. Though the caressing heat seemed to steal away all her strength, she wouldn’t allow herself to drift off. If she slept, she might not hear Nate’s knocking.

  When the drowsiness threatened to overpower her, she left the tub. She dried herself with a threadbare towel. It was a tiny thing. She wrapped it around her waist. Though the corners met, there wasn’t enough for a tuck. She hung the towel on a bar and left the bathroom. She returned with her toothpaste and brush. She cleaned her teeth.

  She took a fresh towel from its clamp on the wall. Sitting on the bed, she rubbed her hair dry. Her skin was hot and moist from the bath. A breeze came in through the open window, lifting the curtain, cooling her. When she felt dry enough so her clothes wouldn’t stick, she put them on.

  Then she brushed her hair in front of the big mirror over the bureau.

  She was pleased with the way the dress looked. It was a short-sleeved pullover. It hung almost to her knees.

  A dark blue emblem above her left breast showed a silhouette of the Ferris wheel with the Hurricane roller coaster in the background. Both owned by Nate’s family, she thought, smiling. It read “Funland” above the illustration, “Boleta Bay, California” below it.

  The dress was soft and clingy. In the shop, she’d been concerned that it might be a nightshirt until she noticed that one of the clerks wore an identical garment.

  It does look like a nightshirt, she thought as she studied her reflection.

  She went to her pack and took out her freshly laundered belt. The belt was woven of bright reds and blues to match her banjo strap. She tied it loosely around her hips, its ends hanging down the side of her left leg. Now the dress looked like a dress.

  She put on her necklace of white shells. The V neck of the dress was wide and low enough to let the necklace show. In the mirror, the shells resting against her tanned skin looked as white as her teeth.

  Slowly she turned around, watching her reflection.

  She looked like Robin the tourist or Robin the coed. Certainly not like Robin the street musician.

  Cockless Robin.

  Poppinsack.

  Her skin went hot.

  The bastard.

  Don’t ruin it thinking about him.

  Hope you rot, you…

  Forget him.

  Nate, where are you?

  Robin saw that a new program was starting on the television, and realized a full hour had passed since she’d finished dressing. She climbed from the bed. At the window she parted the curtains and looked outside. Night had fallen. Must be nine, she thought.

  He’ll come, she told herself.

  And no more than a yard away, he walked past the window and did a double-take when he saw her, and Robin wondered if her mind were playing tricks. Nate stepped up close to the screen. A smile tugged a corner of his mouth. “I guess you’re here, all right.”

  “I guess so.” She hurried over to the door and opened it.

  He stood on the balcony, staring in at her. “You look…very nice.”

  “Thanks. Come on in.”

  His eyes shifted and he glanced into the room behind her. “Maybe we should…would you rather take a little walk? It’s nice out tonight.”

  She felt an odd mixture of disappointment and relief. “Okay. Sure. Just a minute.”

  He waited while she put on white socks and tennis shoes.

  “How’s the room?” he asked.

  “Great. I love it. Especially the bathtub.”

  She snatched the motel key off the dresser, stepped onto the balcony, pulled the door shut, and tested the knob. Then she turned to him. “I don’t have a pocket,” she said.

  Nodding, he took the key from her and slipped it into a pocket of the chamois shirt he wore like a jacket over his T-shirt.

  “Now, don’t lose it.”

  He smiled. “I’ll try not to.”

  They began walking side by side along the balcony. There was no fog, but the night was cool and breezy. Nate probably felt just right in his heavy long-sleeved shirt and jeans. Robin, in her thin dress, shivered.

  She thought about going back to the room for something warm to wear. But she didn’t want to ruin the way she looked by putting on her windbreaker or sweatshirt. The chill wasn’t that bad.

  They trotted down the stairs and crossed the motel’s parking lot.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “Anyplace but Funland,” Nate said.

  “Good choice.”

  At the sidewalk, they turned their backs to the distant amusement park. The street was brightly lighted and noisy with passing cars. People were all around, entering and leaving stores, walking by.

  “Did you close the arcade early?” Robin asked.

  “No. My brother-in-law’s working it. Where would you like to go? Are you hungry?”

  “Not right now.”

  “How about a movie?”

  “It’s fine with me if we just walk. Maybe we could get off the main drag, though, and find someplace a little more peaceful.”

  “Good thinking.”

  They were in the middle of a block when a troll staggered around the corner. He started toward them, shambling along with short, unsteady steps, scowling and shaking his fists, blurting gibberish in an angry voice.

  “Why don’t we cross here,” Nate said.

  “Good thinking.”

  He smiled and took Robin’s hand. They waited for a break in the traffic, then hurried to the other side of the road. When they got there, he didn’t let go of her hand.

  “I’m getting a little tired of those people,” Robin said.

  “Everyone’s tired of them.”

  “Maybe the trollers have the right idea.”

  Nate said nothing. At the corner, he led her to the right. The street ahead sloped upward, but it didn’t look steep. A lone car was approaching. All the other cars in sight were parked at the curbs or in driveways. The houses were small and close together. The only person in sight was a woman walking her dog.

  “This is a lot better,” Robin said.

  “It’s a nice town. Mostly. It has a lot going for it.”

  “The downtown section is pretty ritzy.”

  “A lot of artists and poets and things. And people with money who like the atmosphere.” He looked at Robin. “You’re a poet.”

  “Not that kind.”

  “Yeah, your stuff makes sense. At least from what I’ve heard. But this is still a good place for…creative people. A lot of bookstores, and the university. Coffee shops where you can sit all day and write. I think Funland is great. I see too much of it, but I get a kick out of the place. It’s wild and picturesque and trashy.”

  “You like trashy, do you?”

  “In its place. But there are a lot of different sides to Boleta Bay. You can’t judge it all by a couple of bad experiences on the boardwalk.”

  “You with the Chamber of Commerce?”r />
  “It’s just that Funland is its own thing. The whole town isn’t…seedy. It has a lot that’s nice about it.”

  “Are you saying I shouldn’t be in such a hurry to leave?”

  “Yeah.”

  Robin felt a quick spread of warmth in the pit of her stomach. She squeezed his hand.

  “Are you going anywhere?” he asked. “I mean, are you on your way to Hollywood or something?”

  She laughed. “Hardly. I’m just a roving minstrel girl.”

  Cockless Robin.

  The echo of Poppinsack’s voice, this time, seemed faint. Being with Nate, she supposed, had robbed it of the power to upset her.

  “If you don’t have any real destination,” he said, “why don’t you stay around for a while?”

  “I guess I could.”

  They crossed a deserted road. Nate led her onto a walkway that traversed a park. The park was dark except for a few lamps along the walk. In the spray of glow beneath each lamp was a bench.

  From here she could see several of the benches.

  Each was empty.

  “Where are all the trolls?” she asked.

  “There’s a neighborhood patrol. They’ve discouraged the riffraff.”

  “Sort of like a grown-up version of the trollers?”

  “Not much. They’re good citizens. From what I’ve heard, the trollers aren’t much better than thugs. That’s why I don’t want you sleeping down near the shore. That’s where they hunt. The boardwalk, the beach. I know you’re not a troll—”

  “Well, thanks.”

  Nate halted and faced her. He took her other hand in his. Holding both, he stared into her eyes. He was frowning. “It’s nothing to joke about. They hurt people, and they might hurt you if they catch you around there at night.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” Robin asked. She wished her heart would slow down. But it kept racing. Because she knew what was going on here. Nate planned to fix it so she could stay. Because he wanted her to be with him.

  Jesus!

  Trying to keep her voice steady, she said, “You’re asking me not to leave town. At the same time, you’re saying I might get attacked by the trollers if I stay. And I already know the bums are dangerous. So I’m risking my butt if I sleep on the beach. You can’t put me up in a motel every night.”