Funland

by Richard Laymon

  He muttered, “Dumb bitch.”

  He thought: Thank God.

  Torn between relief that she’d made it home and anger that she’d caused such trouble with her stunt, he pulled in behind her car. He leapt out and rushed to her door. He jabbed the doorbell button, heard the ringing inside the house, waited.

  Come on, dammit! Move your tail.

  He listened for her footsteps. And remembered other times he’d stood here, times when he’d been eager to hear Gloria approaching the door. Those times were not very long ago.

  How could everything change so quickly?

  A hot wave of guilt spread through him.

  She brought it on herself by being such a…

  Where is she?

  Dave pounded on the door, shaking it in its frame.

  “Gloria,” he called. “Come on, open up. We need to talk.”

  She didn’t open up.

  Her house key was in Dave’s hand, still clipped to his key case. He fumbled it away from the others, unlocked and opened the door partway. He put his head into the gap. The living room looked deserted. There was a stillness to the house.

  He swung the door wide and entered.

  “Gloria!” he called again.

  She was a very sound sleeper and always locked her bedroom door before retiring for the night, so Dave supposed he might’ve failed to wake her. He strode down the hallway. The bathroom door stood open. She wasn’t inside. He continued on to her bedroom.

  Its door wasn’t shut. The bed wasn’t made.

  He took four steps into the room.

  The chair beside her closet door was piled with clothes.

  On top of the heap was a dirty gray sweatshirt. From where he stood, Dave could see ragged holes in it. A corner of purple fabric drooped off the chair’s seat. The legs of red tights hung to the floor. The tights, like the sweatshirt, gaped here and there with holes.

  These were the clothes that Joan had described to him yesterday at lunch. Must’ve been up half the night snipping away at them.

  Dave walked to the chair. How many times had he thrown his own clothes onto it? Gloria rarely used it for that herself. She must’ve been really beat when she came in last night, too tired to bother putting them away or tossing them in the hamper.

  Maybe left them heaped up on purpose, to improve their rumpled appearance.

  Dave picked up the sweatshirt and flung it onto the bed. He lifted the next garment off the chair seat. A grimy white T-shirt. She hadn’t been at this with scissors.

  He wrinkled his nose at the faint stale odor of sweat and tossed the shirt aside.

  She’d sure gotten into the spirit of her masquerade. Even down to the small detail of going without antiperspirant.

  He picked up the skirt. Joan was right about it. Gloria hadn’t owned a frumpy thing like this; she must’ve picked it up at the Salvation Army store or someplace else that sold cast-off rags.

  It was the kind of skirt that fastened at the side with a button and zipper.

  The button was gone.

  Not only was the button missing, but so was a small patch of fabric where it must’ve been sewn to the waistband.

  As if Gloria had ripped the skirt open.

  Gloria, or someone else.

  After flinging the skirt onto the bed, Dave got down on his hands and knees and searched the carpet. He found no button.

  That doesn’t mean it’s not around here someplace.

  He looked for the button on Gloria’s nightstand, and on top of the bureau.

  This is crazy, he thought. Upset about a stupid button. It could be anywhere.

  Could be on the boardwalk. On the beach. Where someone yanked her skirt open.

  Christ, don’t jump to conclusions.

  Dave’s hands were trembling as he picked up the red tights. They were dirty and torn, but Gloria had undoubtedly made them that way on purpose.

  A pair of black panties remained on the chair. He picked them up. He had seen her wearing them, or similiar ones. There was little to them other than a thin elastic waistband and flimsy, sheer fabric a few inches wide at the top that tapered down to almost nothing where it would pass between her legs.

  Dave scowled at the panties.

  For some reason, he found them as disturbing as the lost button.

  Why? They weren’t torn.

  What’s wrong here? Dave wondered.

  He dropped the panties onto the chair, stared at them, and knew.

  What the hell were they doing at the bottom of the pile? Underneath the tights that had to come off first. They should’ve been on top of the tights, probably on top of the skirt, as well.

  For that matter, they should’ve been on top of the entire heap. She nearly always took her panties off last. Often left them on, and nothing else, while she paraded around the house doing last-minute chores before bed: hanging up clothes, brushing her teeth, turning off lights.

  Why were her panties at the bottom of the pile?

  Dave could think of only one explanation: her clothes had been removed elsewhere, then carried to the chair.

  Hold it, he told himself. Hold it just a second here. Don’t get crazy. Gloria probably took them off in the bathroom, had a shower, and brought them in herself.

  He hurried to the bathroom and searched for the button. He didn’t find it.

  Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.

  Makes a lot more sense than thinking someone else was involved.

  He opened the medicine cabinet. Gloria’s toothbrush stood upright in a mug. He rubbed its bristles. They felt dry. She hadn’t brushed her teeth this morning.

  He stepped to the bathtub. The bottom of the tub looked dry. Gloria’s washcloth, draped over the shower-curtain rod, wasn’t even slightly damp.

  Too many things wrong.

  She had to come back last night. Her car’s in the driveway.

  Dave left the bathroom. His heart was pounding. He felt tight and sick inside.

  He walked the entire house, searching for Gloria.

  For her body? No. Come on, you’re making too much out of this.

  But he looked in every room, in every closet, behind and under furniture where there were spaces large enough to conceal a person.

  Along the way—partly, he suspected, to protect himself from the knowledge of what he was really looking for—he kept an eye out for any detail that might prove she had returned alive and well last night.

  He found Gloria’s keys and purse on the dining-room table. The eighty dollars in the billfold convinced him that robbery wasn’t a factor. But the presence of the purse told him nothing more. She probably hadn’t taken it with her yesterday. Joan said she’d been carrying a grocery bag.

  The only grocery bags he found were neatly folded and clipped to a plastic holder on the back of the utility-room door, or being used as liners for her wastebaskets. None of the wastebaskets contained wadded sacks. The one she’d been carrying and the two she’d worn on her feet were missing.

  She might’ve discarded the makeshift booties before heading home. But what about the other? Could’ve left it in her car.

  I’ll check the car.

  He wondered if it was locked.

  And suddenly realized he’d seen her keys on the dining-room table.

  Her keys are here. Gloria isn’t. And the house was locked.

  Too damn much is wrong.

  He took the key case with him and hurried outside. He peered into the side windows of the Volkswagen. A grocery bag, stuffed full, was on the floor behind the passenger seat. He opened the driver’s door, sat down, swung the seat back forward, and lifted the bag onto his lap.

  It contained nothing except the old blanket that Gloria usually kept in the car’s trunk.

  Where’s her cassette recorder? She never went anywhere without that.

  He checked inside the glove compartment. No recorder.

  Maybe it’s in the house, and I missed it.

  But something else was wrong.
/>   Dave reached out and gripped the steering wheel. He stretched his legs until his feet touched the floor pedals.

  The wheel and pedals were the right distance away for him. Too far away for Gloria.

  Someone had adjusted the seat’s position to give himself leg room.

  Someone Dave’s height had been the last person to drive Gloria’s car last night.

  He squeezed his eyes shut, slumped in the seat, and heard himself groan.

  Thirty

  The telephone jangled, startling Robin awake. She saw the ceiling above her, realized that she was in a bed instead of her sleeping bag, and knew where she was. She also knew who was calling. She rolled onto her stomach. Propping herself up on an elbow, she reached to the nightstand and brought the telephone’s handset to her ear. “Hello?”

  “This is your wake-up call.”

  “Hi, boss.” Her raised position allowed cool air to come in, so she shoved the pillow under her chest and sank onto it.

  As she reached back to cover her bare shoulders, Nate said, “Did you get a good night’s sleep?”

  “Not very. And it’s all your fault.”

  “My fault?” He sounded perplexed, amused. “How could that be? Bad choice of motels? Was it too noisy? Was the bed lumpy? What? I got you back early. I left right away.”

  “That’s the thing. You stayed.”

  “Huh?”

  Robin shifted her body a little, just to feel the caress of the warm pillow and sheets. “I couldn’t get rid of you. You kept me awake half the night.”

  “Wish I’d been there to enjoy it.”

  “So do I.”

  The earpiece went silent except for the empty, distant sound of white noise.

  “You still there?” Robin asked.

  “Sorry. I was busy punching myself.”

  “Aw, don’t do that.”

  “Boy, do I feel like a dope.”

  “You’re not a dope. You’re a sweetheart.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I wish I’d known how you felt.”

  “You knew. Didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. I guess so. But I just didn’t want you thinking the whole idea was so I could…stay. I mean, that’s how it would’ve looked. Right? Getting you the room. Hiring you. I didn’t want it to look like I was just pulling cheap tricks to get you in bed.”

  “Whereas we understand, of course, that that’s precisely the case.”

  The soft whuff of a laugh came through the phone. Robin could almost feel the breath of it against her ear.

  “You’re something else,” Nate said.

  “You too.”

  “Are we still on for breakfast?” he asked.

  “Sure. I’m ready when you are. How fast can you get here?”

  “Ten minutes, if I push it.”

  “So push it.”

  Robin hung up and scurried out of bed. The chill morning air gave her goose bumps. She shivered as she hurried into the bathroom, used the toilet, and brushed her teeth. A bath would feel wonderful. She didn’t have enough time. She knew she could’ve asked Nate to wait awhile, but the bath didn’t matter. All that mattered was being with him again as soon as possible.

  When he had left last night, Robin felt as if he’d taken part of her with him. It was peculiar, not to feel quite whole. But it didn’t hurt much, because she knew the missing piece would be restored to her when he showed up again.

  The missing piece is Nate, she thought as she washed at the sink. Or maybe it’s my heart. How about both?

  She wondered if there might be a song in the concept of the missing piece.

  He borrowed my heart and he walked away, but he’ll bring it back when he comes to stay…Bring it back on a silver tray? Screw the tray, sounds like John the Baptist.

  With my heart in his pocket, he walked off that night. I reckon he’ll return it in the morning light. If his dog don’t eat it, I’ll be all right.

  Robin grinned at her wet face in the mirror, then grabbed a towel and dried herself. She left the bathroom. Wanting to look her best for Nate, she decided to wear her new dress. The dress with the Funland emblem would, she thought, also be more appropriate for her new job as an actual employee.

  She had just finished knotting the sash at her hip when she heard footsteps on the balcony. There was a knock at the door. “Hold on a minute,” she called. Stepping in front of the mirror, she brushed her hair. Then she rushed to the door and opened it.

  Nate stepped into the room. And into Robin’s arms. She squeezed herself hard against him. Their mouths joined. The part wasn’t missing anymore.

  She was all together again.

  Easing herself backward, she looked up into his eyes and whispered, “I missed you.”

  “I missed you more.”

  “No you didn’t.”

  “Yes I did.”

  “Yes you did.”

  He laughed. She felt his breath on her lips.

  His hands moved gently down Robin’s back. They didn’t stop at her sash. They curved over her rump, then pressed it, bringing her tight to his body.

  Wanting to look at him but reluctant to break the contact, she bent backward from the waist. “I haven’t packed my stuff yet.”

  “You’ve got plenty of time. Checkout’s eleven, and it’s only eight now. You might want to relax here for a while after breakfast.”

  “Ah-ha!”

  She saw a bath in her future, after all.

  “What time do I have to start earning my keep?”

  “When you’re ready. Just come to the arcade. I’ve got a back room where you can leave your things.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Yeah. So. Ready for breakfast?”

  “Starving.”

  “Good.”

  She kissed him again, then left him for a moment while she got her handbag and room key.

  Holding hands, they walked along the balcony. The day was clear, but a cool breeze made Robin shiver until they left the shadows of the motel and started across the parking lot. There, the warmth of the sun took the chill away.

  Nate led her to the passenger side of a red Trans Am.

  “I guess you weren’t kidding when you said you’re loaded.”

  “Nope.” He opened the door for her.

  “There’s a really good place right across the street, you know.”

  Smiling, Nate threw the door shut. “You’re the breakfast expert.”

  They crossed the street and entered the coffee shop. They sat facing each other at a window booth. A waitress filled their mugs. Robin took a sip of coffee, gazing over the mug’s rim at Nate. Steam drifted upward, hot against her nose and eyes.

  “I don’t know when I’ve ever felt this good,” she said.

  “You should stay in motels more often.”

  “It’s not just the motel. It’s everything. Most of all, it’s you.”

  Nate blushed. “I’m not all that wonderful.”

  “You beat up old ladies?”

  Though he smiled as he said, “Worse than that,” Robin saw a grim look come into his eyes.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Just hungry.” He picked up one of the menus and studied its back.

  Robin looked at her menu.

  “What do you recommend?” he asked. “Being the breakfast expert that you are.”

  “Number one. The two eggs, country sausage, and hash browns.”

  “I should’ve known. And I bet you like your eggs sunny-side-up.”

  “Righto.”

  The waitress came, and they ordered. When she was gone, Nate stared out the window.

  “It’s a beautiful day,” Robin said.

  “Yeah.” He looked at her. “Too bad we have to waste it working.”

  “It’s all right with me.”

  “We can quit at five. I’ve got Hector coming in.”

  “Hector the doufuss? I thought you didn’t trust him to run things?”

  “W
ell, in an emergency…”

  “What’s the emergency?”

  “I have to be alone with you. I’m gonna go crazy.”

  Robin felt a warm, swelling sensation inside. Her throat tightened. She reached across the table and held Nate’s hand.

  “I thought we might go over to my house,” he said. “I’ll barbecue a couple of steaks. We can swim in the pool.”

  “I think I might be able to live with that.”

  “Great. Great.”

  “You mentioned something about being alone with me. Where are your parents while all this is going on?”

  “Where they are right now. San Francisco. They won’t be back till next Wednesday.”

  “Wednesday?” Robin’s heart suddenly began to pound very hard.

  “You can stay till then. If you want to. We’d have the run of the place.”

  She murmured, “God.” She was trembling. Along with the terrible excitement and hope, she felt nervous.

  It’s happening so fast.

  “You don’t have to,” Nate said. “I mean, I don’t want to push you into anything. We have a couple of guest rooms. Or if you’d rather stay in a motel until we can find you a place…”

  “I’m just a little overwhelmed, is all. Jeez.”

  “Well, don’t try to decide right now. About staying over. But you’ll come for the steaks, won’t you? Then…whatever you want. See how you feel when the time comes.”

  When the time comes.

  “Okay. You can count on me for dinner. And…we’ll see about the rest.”

  The waitress came with the food. Robin stared at her plate.

  “What’s wrong?” Nate asked.

  “I’m not sure I can eat.”

  “I’m sorry. Look, if it bothers you about tonight…” He shook his head, frowning. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll go back, when we’re done eating, and register you for a couple more nights. I’ve got tomorrow off. We can spend the day apartment hunting. Okay? You’re still planning to stay, aren’t you? I haven’t…scared you off? Me and my damn mouth. I knew I shouldn’t have tried to get you to…Shit, I really blew it this time. It’s not like I wanted you to shack up with me. I know that’s how it must look, but…” He stopped. He looked perplexed. “What’s so funny?”

  “You.”