The Skin Show

by Kristopher Rufty

“What a bust.” The yomping sound of pizza being consumed followed.

  “Yeah…I’ll check his documents and photos.”

  “Be careful.”

  Andy laughed. “Right.”

  The word files were scarce. Nothing important was on any of them. The pictures folder was large, but after clicking on a dozen or more, he realized they were nothing more than pictures of women downloaded from the internet, and some Rosco had obviously taken of himself with a slew of thick girls. Andy gave up on those for now, deciding to come back to them later if he found nothing else useful.

  “He really did like them bigger, didn’t he?” asked Karen.

  “Appears so.”

  “No wonder he never hit on me like all the others.”

  “Did Danny?”

  Karen sighed. “I’m not going to answer that. You already have enough issues with your brother.”

  That was her politician’s way of answering the question without answering anything. “Gotcha.”

  He explored Rosco’s hard drive through his tired burning eyes. Nothing jumped out that Andy thought should be flagged for importance. He felt his frustration building. Then he opened the temporary internet files. There, he found even more pornographic pictures and website links. Deciding to narrow the search down to the past month, he conscientiously examined each day. A half hour passed before he found an online search that arrested his attention.

  “What’s this?”

  Karen sat up. “Find something?”

  “Well…I’m not sure. It’s only one search. I can see that others were made around it, but there’s a gap in time.”

  “What’s that tell you?”

  “It tells me Rosco was deleting his cookies and internet history to hide what he was looking for.”

  “He didn’t get them all?”

  “Nope. There’s one left in this missing block of time.”

  “What is it?”

  “All it says is ‘The Skin Show’.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Sounds like a porn site,” said Karen, still eating. Her lips made irritating smacking sounds as she chewed.

  Andy’s slice had gotten cold. That was okay, his appetite was lost anyway. “But why delete this other stuff? Looks like he found it, then tried to delete all traces of it.”

  “Maybe he didn’t. It could’ve been something else he was deleting.”

  “Could be…”

  “Look it up. See what it is.”

  “Yeah…okay.”

  Minimizing the screen for Rosco’s hard drive, he double-clicked on the internet icon. Google loaded as his homepage. Not knowing what else to search for, he did just as Rosco had and typed three words into the search bar: The Skin Show.

  When he tapped the Enter button, the screen immediately went black. The hard drive fan stopped spinning. The machine blanked out, showing no signs of life.

  “What just happened?” asked Karen.

  “Looks like it crashed.”

  “Crashed?”

  “Yeah. Like the hard drive just died.” He pushed the power button a couple times and nothing happened. “What the hell?”

  “Think Rosco’s hard drive had a virus on it and it transferred to yours?”

  “I wouldn’t doubt his is infested, but I have a block on mine. It should have warned me if something harmful was trying to access my hard drive.”

  There was a soft click from the computer. The fan started to hum again.

  “Now what’s it doing?” Karen asked.

  Andy had no clue, and just like Karen, he stared dumbly at the laptop as a fresh screen launched. A solid red background emerged, an information bar in the center. In italic font below the white bar phone number was written.

  “What is this?” he said.

  “Don’t ask me, you’re the computer guy.”

  “That doesn’t make me an expert on shit like this.” He stood up.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Grabbing my cigarettes. Want one?”

  “Usually I’d say no…”

  “And, usually I’m a former smoker.”

  “I think I’ll take one if you’re offering.”

  “I’m offering,” he said, stepping into the kitchen. His cigarettes were beside the sink where he’d left them, the lighter on top. He grabbed them, then filled a cup halfway with water.

  He went back into the living room, sat down beside Karen, and placed the cup on a small section of table that was free of clutter. He took two cigarettes from the pack, giving one to Karen. He lighted hers first, then his. Both puffed silently, staring at the screen.

  “Now what?” she said after a few moments.

  “I don’t know. Looks like I might be on some kind of private server or something.”

  “You accessed that just by typing The Skin Show in a search engine?”

  Didn’t seem possible, he realized, but it looked as if he was on a secure network of some kind. He’d been permitted to access it just by, as Karen had said, typing those words.

  “What phone number does it want?” Karen asked. It sounded as if she was thinking aloud more than actually asking.

  “Do you think it wants my number or some other specific number?”

  She threw her hand up and let it fall. “I would imagine your number. But, I don’t know what good that would do. If you’re not a member of this site, typing your phone number in seems pretty pointless.”

  “Agreed.”

  “But, there’s only one way to find out.”

  “True. But, I don’t feel comfortable typing my number on some random site.”

  “What choice do you really have?”

  “X-ing out of the screen.” He went to move the cursor to the top right hand corner where the X should have been. Nothing was there. So, to prove his point, he attempted shutting the computer off by holding down the power button.

  It remained on.

  There seemed to be no way, other than smashing the machine, to get away from this screen.

  “Looks like you’re stuck,” said Karen.

  “This is bullshit.”

  “I have to agree. We can type in my phone number if you don’t want to try yours.”

  “No, it’s fine. Should I do cell or home?”

  “If it’s some kind of a telemarketing scam, you definitely don’t want them having your cell number.”

  “I don’t think it’s anywhere close to being a telemarketing scam. But…” He typed in his home number. Hesitating, his index finger hovered above the enter key.

  “Go on,” she said. “Can’t hurt to try.”

  Ignoring the tugging feeling he felt, his finger tapped down. The screen went black again, his computer rebooting.

  After a moment, Andy scratched his head. “What the…?”

  The phone rang, silencing Andy and prompting a squeal from Karen. Gasping, Andy whipped his head around to the counter. He could see the cordless phone on its base, an annoying chirp resounding like a hammer pounding nails in the quiet room.

  Karen turned to Andy, her eyes wide. “You don’t think…”

  “There’s no way.”

  “Then answer it.”

  “I don’t…” He stopped talking. He was about to tell her he didn’t want to answer the phone. But, why wouldn’t he want to? Why would he ignore it?

  Because I’m scared.

  Andy would not allow himself to believe that. Standing up, he walked on shaky legs to the counter, snatching the phone from the base. Checking the caller ID screen for a number, he found nothing but a blank space. He felt a slight flutter of fear looking at the numberless bar. He looked at Karen one more time. If she would have told him not to answer it, he wouldn’t. And, he was actually hoping that she would.

  She did not. She only gaped at him as if waiting anxiously for him to steal something.

  He pushed the Talk button, raising the phone to his ear.

  “Huh-hello…”

  “Mr. Raab?” The woman’s whisper
y voice sounded like a soft breeze in his ear.

  “Yuh-yes.”

  “It’s my pleasure to talk to you.”

  “How do you know who I am?”

  The voice playfully giggled. “You inquired us, remember? By typing in your number, you have reached out to us. Now we are reaching back.”

  “Um…”

  “Put it on speaker,” said Karen in a harsh whisper.

  Nodding, Andy took the phone away from his ear and thumbed the speaker button. Then he walked back into the living room and sat down.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  “Who I am is inconsequential. It’s who you are that’s important.”

  “Well…you obviously already know who I am.”

  “Not necessarily. How did you find us?”

  “Us?”

  “Yes. You searched us, so someone must have suggested us. We are a very private association. We don’t track you down, you track us down, at your own blessing.”

  “Um…well…” Andy had no idea what to say to this woman. He knew this would be his only chance, and he didn’t want to risk messing up and having her hang up on him. “My brother mentioned you.”

  “Oh? And do we know your brother?”

  “Danny Raab?”

  “Yesssss…” There was an orgasmic moan to her voice.

  “So, are you a business?”

  “What we are is whatever you need us to be at any given time. We are pleasure to all. We are The Skin Show. A place where you come and be whoever you want to be. We grant you the freedom and in return, we request your loyalty.”

  Andy shivered. He felt pressure on his knee. When he looked down, he noticed Karen had put her hand there. It was not a gesture of affection, but a supportive tactic to try and calm him.

  It wasn’t working.

  “When can we expect you?” the woman asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You want to come to us, yes?”

  “Well…” He looked at Karen. She nodded. “Yes.”

  “Will you be coming alone, or bringing a friend?”

  He didn’t get Karen’s approval before saying, “Bringing a friend.”

  “Ahhh, excellent. We looked forward to meeting you both.”

  “How do we find you?”

  “I recognize that what you seek is not what we give, but what we are will become all that matters. Yes?”

  Andy didn’t know how to respond. His mouth felt dry, as if coated in chalk.

  The voice continued. “We want you with us, Andy Raab. You will find soon, that you want it too. Start traveling west. The show starts again Friday night. We’ll find you along the way, so you won’t be late.”

  There was a click, then silence.

  “Hello?” said Andy. “Are you there?” After a few seconds passed without a reply, the phone started to chirp, so he turned the phone off. He looked at Karen. She was leaning forward, her smart phone out, and using her index finger to poke at the screen. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to find what’s west.”

  “Plenty is west.”

  “Well…” She frowned. “I better not type The Skin Show, or someone might be calling my phone.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Damn…I don’t know what to search for.”

  Andy detected a sharp electrical smell, like rubber melting. He looked at the laptop and noticed reedy plumes of smoke emanating from the drive-mate. “Shit!” He quickly yanked the USB cable from the side of his laptop.

  “What’s wrong with it?” cried Karen.

  “The damn thing’s on fire!”

  Andy grabbed the drive-mate, singeing the tips of his fingers. Groaning in pain, he hopped off the couch and ran into the kitchen. Heavier gusts of smoke came from the external casing, stinging his nostrils and making his eyes water. He dropped the drive-mate in the sink, cracking it open. Tiny flames licked out the cracks.

  He felt Karen leaning against him, smelled the fruity scent of her hair as she rested her chin on his arm. “Tell me, please, that this sort of thing is common.”

  “What? Hard drives randomly bursting into flames?”

  “Yes. That.”

  “Want me to lie?”

  “Please.”

  “Very common.”

  “Ah…” Karen sighed as if relieved. “Guess there’s no need for me to worry, or to try and look too deeply into it, then.”

  “Same here.”

  The flames started to dwindle, the height of their orange-blue teeth shrinking.

  Karen looked up, her lips close to his ear. “Since you said you would be bringing a friend, I guess that means I’m going with you?”

  “I only said that to see if it was even allowed. I bet that’s how Danny got involved. He tagged along with Rosco to check it out.”

  “And now I’m tagging along with you?”

  “Can you? Can you get the time off?”

  “Well, we’re just going to check it out, right?”

  “Well…yeah. But, I have no idea how far away it is.”

  “Either way, we’d have to come back late tomorrow, so it won’t be a big deal. I’ll reschedule my appointments and tell my superior that I have to go home for an emergency. No problem.”

  Although Andy shouldn’t feel this way, he couldn’t stop the faint jitter of excitement. He felt like a detective of sorts. And taking a trip with someone that looked like Karen made him tingle with eagerness.

  “Are we leaving now?” she asked. “Heading west until they find us?”

  “Fine by me.”

  Before leaving, they each used the bathroom. Karen packed up what was left of the pizza and grabbed the cold jug of tea from the fridge. Andy insisted on taking Ebony. He felt more comfortable being in his car, and this way, he could drive. If he sat in the passenger seat of Karen’s car where he could relax, he’d definitely fall asleep and miss the time with Karen.

  Karen agreed to the driving arrangements. Before they loaded up in the car, Andy set the ruined drive-mate outside. No longer burning, he felt it would be safe. The components were charred black, rendering Rosco’s hard drive useless. Knowing there was more to it than just a simple malfunction, he ignored his feelings and climbed behind Ebony’s steering wheel.

  The car was on Highway 165 within fifteen minutes of Andy’s conversation with the woman and her mysterious breathy voice.

  Chapter Twelve

  After filling the car up with gas, Andy was about to climb in when he noticed Karen had dozed off. Sighing, he stood in the space between the car and open door. He was still going on zero sleep, and had hoped conversation with Karen would keep him from feeling groggy, plus buzzing about what they were doing.

  He would have to stop again for coffee before they got much further into the countryside. Where he lived was considered rural, but the areas they’d driven through in the last twenty or more miles had been barren. He’d seen a lot of trees and empty fields, some smeared green shapes of foothills off in the distance. Not much of anything to suggest civilization, other than this gas station that didn’t even have a sign to tell him its name.

  He was about to sit down, but stopped. Maybe he should see if they had some coffee inside. He hadn’t gone beyond the gas pump because of the installed credit card slot on the machine. It was all that suggested the gas station had embraced any kind of technology.

  Knowing what they’d already driven through left Andy with little hope of coming across a Starbucks between here and The Skin Show. So, quietly, he eased his door shut again. The sticky heat of the day fell heavily on his clothes. A smart man would have put on shorts. But, Andy was wearing jeans, and he still had to do his laundry, so he was stuck wearing pants. Myriad birds chirped all around, insects buzzed, adding their own tones to the chorus of the day. It was a pleasant sound that Andy had always enjoyed.

  He crossed the parking lot, his shoes scuffing along the cracked cement. Grass and weeds sprouted through the many jagged fissures. The con
crete was the color of sand with oil stains spattered throughout. He noticed the service station door was up and a car was inside, raised on the lift. Clattering sounds resounded from the garage, but he saw no one working.

  The bells jangled loudly when he entered the store. The heavy door slipped from his hand and slammed shut. He stood there, letting the door finish trembling in its frame. The sounds of an air socket wrench carried through the walls. It felt a tad cooler in here, but from the din of hums, Andy guessed the scarce amount of cool air was coming from fans.

  The inside of the station matched the outside: filthy. The tiled floor was missing blocks, the non-cracked sections smudged with dark-colored gunk. There were no other customers in the small building, just a woman sitting behind the counter, looking as if she’d been built with the station and was just as worn down. She had yet to acknowledge Andy had entered the store. Her attention seemed to be fixed on a tabloid newspaper opened in front of her on the counter. Approaching the counter, he noticed inside the paper was a black and white photo of a hairy beast with a bold caption below it that stated: Wooly Booger!

  “Excuse me,” he said, his voice flat.

  She made a responsive grunt.

  “Do you have fresh coffee?”

  “If you can stomach it, there’s some in the back.” She pointed, not taking her eyes away from the article. “It’s complamentry.”

  Andy smiled at her mispronunciation, and nodded. “Thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me; you haven’t tasted it yet. Might put hairs on your chest…or make ‘em fall out.”

  Andy made his way to the back, passing half-empty racks. What stock of snacks he saw were powdered in dust and well past their expiration dates. He arrived at a small folding table. The free coffee was provided by a tarnished, overused Mr. Coffee coffeemaker. The pot was filled halfway with what could have been the same kind of tar used on the road. It was all he had to choose from, so he would take it.

  Grabbing a Styrofoam cup from the stack beside the pot, he filled it with coffee. It was thicker than what he was used to, glopping into the cup like oil. There was a tan-colored container that claimed to be creamer. He sprinkled that in, and added three packs of sugar. Then he mixed them all together with a stirring straw. Finished, he dropped the stirrer in the trash.