Pretty Bad Things

by C. J. Skuse

  She took the top off the cologne and sprayed a little into the air. She sniffed and put the top back on.

  “If he hadn’t been in jail, he would have been at the country club. You were right to go there, Pais.”

  Paisley held out Two Woo to kiss Two Wit.

  “You know what I finally realized?” I said.

  “What?”

  “You remember when Dad would take us into the city? And we’d go to The Roosevelt and we’d play with Eddie and go up the stairs and eat candy and stuff …?”

  “Yeah,” she said softly.

  “They were casing the joint. Him and Eddie. And those two other guys.”

  Paisley sat up and hugged her knees to her chin. I thought she was gonna call me a douche for even considering such a thought. But she bit her bottom lip, then said, “I try not to think about it. I always tried to believe he took us there ’cause he wanted to show us the places he worked. He did it for us, though, Beau. To get money for us.”

  “Always sticking up for him.” I smiled.

  She smiled back. “Like he was sticking up for us,” she said, then blew out her cheeks and spat her gum in the direction of the trash can again. This time it missed.

  “Great,” I said. “I’ll be picking that one out of my socks all day tomorrow.”

  She chuckled. “So did Hansel and Gretel make it back to their dad?”

  “Um, yeah. In some versions they just find their way outta the woods and make it home. Others, they have to cross a river on a white duck.”

  “A white duck, huh?”

  “Yeah. A white duck carries them across the water on its back.”

  “How come you know the different versions?” Paisley said, lying back down.

  “I read ’em all. I went through a little phase of being kinda obsessed with it. I thought it was us. Because it was. We are those kids in that story….”

  “Tell me it,” she said, closing her eyes. “Especially the part when Gretel pushes the witch in the oven. I wanna think happy thoughts.”

  And as I told my sister the tale of Hansel and Gretel, the stress went out of her limbs and the wishbone crease in her forehead disappeared and she became heavy beside me. This time it was me who couldn’t switch off my brain as easily. I stared at the walls for a while before carefully reaching out to the nightstand for the remote. I pressed POWER.

  Someone was being sexy and dramatic and probably a vampire on The CW. On the History Channel it was the biography of some saint. Discovery was in the ocean. Disney was something colorful and unfunny set in a diner. On HBO some faux-hawked rock band was screeching live from Mandalay Bay. The nightly news was just starting on ABC, CBS, and NBC. Breaking news on CNN was the president’s meeting with the latest British prime minister. I clicked to Fox. Two old guys debating: One of them loved it; the other thought it “deplorable and dangerous.”

  I switched to Fairly OddParents on Nickelodeon. Paisley stirred and propped herself up on her elbows.

  “What time is it?” she garbled, rubbing her eyes.

  “Almost seven. Wanna go get something to eat?”

  She nodded, a little blonde firework party dancing on the back of her head. “I need to take a shower first.”

  The bathroom door closed. I sat up and reached for the half-bottle of blue Gatorade that had been on my nightstand for a few days. I winced at the warm syrup as it trickled into my mouth. I twisted the lid back on and threw the bottle over to the trash can under the desk. It missed. I lay back again, feeling my eyes go heavy. I heard the water go on. I turned over on my side and shut my eyes, my ass pressing down on the remote. OddParents turned into the news. It got louder, too, and before I could find the remote to turn it off, I heard …

  “… Police still don’t know who the duo might be or how old they are. They say they could be anywhere from sixteen to twenty-four. The pair are shown here on a surveillance tape holding up a Las Vegas candy store….”

  That’s when I looked up.

  “… known only by their code name, the Wonder Twins …”

  “HOLY SHIT.”

  “… fansites have already been launched in their honor, all trying to decipher their curious message, ‘Tell Buddy we love him.’ Anyone with any information is being urged to contact the Las Vegas Police Department at the following number …”

  Paisley came running out of the bathroom, all sudsy and wrapped in a bath towel, stinking of vanilla. “What the hell …?”

  I pointed at the screen like an idiot, jumping up and down on my knees, barely able to get the words out. “It’s us. It’s us; we’re on TV. We’re on ABC!”

  “You have GOT to be kidding me!” she yelled. “Oh my God!”

  The next news story was about premature babies.

  “Try another station,” she said. I hopped through the news channels. The mortgage crisis. Afghanistan. The World Series. Promising cancer research. Iraq. And then …

  “… though it is still unknown why this M&M representative was knocked to the ground in such an unprovoked attack….”

  “Oh my God, Beau! That’s the M&M you floored! He’s being interviewed on CNN! We did that; we made that M&M famous!”

  “… Welcome back to Headline News. Police in Las Vegas are investigating a series of robberies of donut shops and candy stores …”

  “WHOA!” squealed Paisley, jumping on the bed. I turned up the volume.

  “… The duo, known as the Wonder Twins by the strange calling card they present at every crime scene, have been caught on security cameras in stores along the Las Vegas Strip. Holding this sales assistant hostage at the Chronic Chocolate Company, the female of the duo is heard shouting the words, ‘Tell Buddy we love him,’ before applying a Wonder Twins sticker to the assistant’s hand. The duo leaves every scene with ice cream, cookies, or candies before disappearing. They’re believed to still be at large in Las Vegas, and between sixteen and twenty-four years old. The public is warned not to approach either member, they are armed and dangerous, but if you see them, contact Las Vegas Police at this number …”

  “I can’t believe it,” I said. “I just can’t believe it!”

  No other channel was carrying our story, or if they were, we had missed it. Two of the biggest national news shows were, though. NATIONAL news!

  “Okay. Okay,” I said, pacing the floor, trying to be decisive but having absolutely no idea what to do. I stopped and bit my nail. “What do we do, Pais?”

  She was staring blindly at the TV screen, a little in a daze. “I need to rinse my hair, get dressed.” She snapped out of it. “We gotta get down to the Jumbotron. See if he’s there. See if he’s seen it!”

  I could feel my face fall. Of course: Dad. He was the reason we were doing this. Not just to get on TV, to find him. Didn’t I want to find him? Yeah, of course I did. I think. I liked it being just us for a while, together again, no friends or grandmothers or schools getting in the way. I didn’t know what I wanted. It felt good to be on the news, though. Really good. I looked cool in my shades, in my suit. I looked good.

  We couldn’t wear our uniforms to go down to Caesars. Now that we’d made the news, we had to go incognito in case any cops were around. Paisley suggested we wear jeans and our Mandie’s Candies T-shirts instead. I said this was kinda like advertising our crimes, but she wanted us to look the same, and I didn’t argue anymore.

  A lot of people were milling around under the Jumbotron, waiting for the bus, coming back from the volcano or the pirate battle, or heading to the Bellagio for the eight o’clock dancing fountains. Buying bottled water or monorail tickets.

  We looked and we looked and we waited, but Dad didn’t show up.

  The news was still on, and we sat on a bench for a while watching it. It wasn’t the same footage as before. This time, they named us.

  “… This just in on the breaking story of the duo dubbed the Wonder Twins, caught on security cameras holding up candy stores and ice cream parlors in the Las Vegas area over the las
t two weeks. We can now confirm that these two candy bandits are none other than twins Beau and Paisley Argent, who some viewers may recognize as the Wonder Twins who first made headlines ten years ago when …”

  “Candy bandits,’ yeah, I like that,” my sister repeated, grinning.

  “They know who we are now,” I said. “They’ll know all about us.”

  They were talking about Virginia.

  “… The twins’ grandmother, award-winning soap opera actress Virginia Creed, identified them from security camera footage. She also verified that the ‘Buddy’ the teen robbers refer to is their father, Buddy Argent, who has been in prison since the twins were six years old. In a further twist to the story, Mrs. Creed claims the twins stole one thousand dollars from her before setting fire to her house and also stealing her car….”

  “She gave us that money!” I practically shouted, forgetting for a moment that we were surrounded by hundreds of tourists.

  “God, when’s she gonna fuckin’ flatline?” Paisley muttered. Then she chuckled. “She must be so jealous. We’re more famous now than she ever was. She’s gonna pin everything on us so the cops ratchet up the charges. Any unsolved murders in Vegas recently?”

  That was like asking if the sky was blue. I turned back to the Jumbotron.

  Virginia appeared on screen. The news crew was filming her back at the charred remains of her house. She was trawling through the wreckage.

  “… I brought them up. I gave them a good home and love and care …”

  “Liar,” said Paisley.

  “… and this is the thanks I got.” She started to cry. “Now I’m living in a motel with my partner, Matthew.” Matt appeared stage left. He held her hand and rubbed it.

  “'My partner, Matthew'?” Paisley parroted. “And here I thought they just hooked up in her pool house. I didn’t realize they were partners.”

  “… They’ve stolen my money, ruined my life. I don’t know why. I think they’ve gone completely crazy. So many teenagers do nowadays.” She looked into the camera. “It’s not surprising. I don’t think punishment is the answer, but they need to know that what they’re doing is wrong. They can’t do these things to people. They can’t do this to me.”

  I couldn’t stop looking at the screen. It froze on her face for a couple of seconds, a glitch in the broadcast. The look in her eyes sent a quiver straight down my back. It made me more afraid of her than I’d ever been.

  The news anchors were back in the studio, talking about that week’s football games.

  Paisley was still looking around for Dad. “What about him?” She nudged me, pointing to a huddled mass in the shelter of the Deuce stop. The bus pulled up and the mass got to its feet, and we saw it was a black guy wrapped in blankets.

  We both turned around and went back to watching the news briefs. Tourists on their way to and from shows along the Strip would pass by every so often, laughing about Spamalot, carrying posters or Cirque du Soleil programs. Some drunk and disorderly. Or bemoaning large losses at blackjack. Then a small gaggle of teens about our age appeared and stood under the Jumbotron. Our bulletin came on again and they cheered.

  “We love you guys!” they shouted at the screen. They booed at Virginia.

  Paisley looked at me. I sank down a little in my seat. She pretended to look at something else. Both of us were still listening.

  “We totally should get T-shirts,” one of them said as they walked past.

  “Yeah, a ton of people have asked for them on the site.”

  I looked at Paisley and smiled. “Wow. Did you hear that? They must host one of the fansites!”

  “Wait, there are fansites?” Paisley said.

  “Yeah. I think you were still in the shower for that part.”

  “How can we check them?” She grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. “They have computers at the Fashion Show Mall. In a store. You know, display models. I checked my e-mail on one the other week while I was waiting for you.”

  “The mall?” I said. “Where you pointed a gun at a woman in a clothes store and scared the crap outta her? Won’t that be like returning to the scene of a crime?”

  She shrugged. “Wanna check the Internet or not?”

  Hey everyone, it’s Nancy Nightmare here, official President of the Argent Army website. This is the place to come for the absolute latest info on what the twins are up to, and THE place to come for your official Argent Army T-shirts. Due to overwhelming demand, we even have awesome new Team Paisley and Team Beau shirts, available in either pink or blue, and wristbands with a variety of slogans, including “Tell Buddy We Love Him” and “We’ll Just Take the Donuts.” So hurry up and order yours now. They’re going fast!

  “Unbelievable,” I laughed. I cruised in and out of fansites set up in our honor, read through countless message board threads, and after a while became so brainwashed that I wasn’t sure who we were anymore.

  “What?” said Paisley, coming back over to the computer where I was standing. I was quicker with computers, and she was better at fending off sales attacks from overdiligent store clerks. She’d already tried out a new digital camera, MP3 player, and 3D TV, but she kept circling back to check what I’d learned.

  “Does that say, ever since the fire?” said Paisley, loitering. “We’ve had fans since then? “

  “Yeah, apparently local LA news picked it up. Then there was a Facebook group, A told B, B told C; you know how it is. Once they found out it was”—my voice dropped to a whisper—“us doing the robberies, the whole thing just snowballed. The kids love us!”

  “What about Perez? Did we make Perez yet?” she asked, nudging me over. I’d minimized the two celebrity gossip pages I had opened. I maximized one of them again to show her. We were all over it.

  “Cool!” she shrieked.

  A store nerd came scurrying over. Paisley turned and asked him which was their biggest TV.

  What dreams have you had about the Argents? What presents would you buy them? Where are they: the latest sightings! The “We Hate Buddy Argent” thread. Help celebrate National Beau and Paisley Day. What would you do to show your love for them? Baisley: fan fiction.

  “Ugh. That’s disgusting.”

  “What?” she said, coming back to me.

  Black or blond: What’s the best hair color for Beau? Screen shots from security camera film. Is Beau Argent gay? Is Paisley Argent gay? Paisley and Beau: early years news footage. Who is Buddy Argent? They’re looking for their dad! What places would you like to see them rob? What animal is Beau most like?

  “Ooh, this I gotta see,” she said, taking over the mouse and clicking on the link.

  NANCY NIGHTMARE: I think he’d be a little koala bear ’cause he’s so cute and he’s got little sticky-out ears ever since he got his hair cut. LOL.

  “Shit. Do I?” I said.

  WONDER GIRL: No it has to be a puppy bc of his brown eyes. I swear his eyes are sooooo beautiful I could just drown in them! It’s like he completes me.

  “Give me a break,” Paisley said, and went back to the clerk and the TV she swore she couldn’t leave the store without.

  I clicked on the eBay link at the bottom of the page.

  Now available: Own the cutlery used by the Argent twins at Denny’s. Starting bid: $1,700.

  “Seventeen hundred bucks? Holy crap!”

  I clicked on the discussion board “Argent Angst.”

  LITTLE MISS BOSSY: I just had the worst day ever. My mom’s been crying a lot lately since my dad left, and seeing Beau and Paisley doing their stuff makes me so happy. Paisley’s so the girl I want to be. And Beau is just so amazing. I just wanna hug him….

  NANCY NIGHTMARE: Aw, I feel bad for you, Little Miss B. But I know what you mean. Beau and Paisley are awesome. I wish we could help them get their message across.

  CLUELESS: It’s really hard for me. Since my dad died, I feel like there’s no one who understands what I’m going through. I see people way older than me who still have their dads,
and I’m so jealous. Sometimes I wish other people’s dads would die or just leave, and I feel guilty for thinking that but I just want someone to feel the way I do. When I saw on the news that they’re doing all this stuff to find their dad, I thought it was so cool. Beau and Paisley know exactly how I feel. They’d do anything to find their dad and so would I.

  TWINZ ADDICT: OMG, I know what you mean. I’d do the same thing if I thought my dad gave a rat’s ass about me. LOL. Sometimes the only way people will listen is if you effing make them listen. I wanna go with them!

  BUNNY BOILER: Srsly you guys, I don’t think I can live much longer without Beau Argent being my husband. He is the most beautiful person in the whole world.

  There was a little yellow blob with hearts coming off the top, followed by a line of smooching red lips.

  Paisley returned. “I didn’t buy the TV. Not big enough. Find anything else?”

  “Oh my God. People love us, Pais. I’m serious. We are in demand. Some of the discussions are weird, though.” “What?”

  “They’re talking about me and you, like as a couple.”

  “We are a couple.”

  “No, like a … sex couple.”

  “What?!”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Paisley grimaced like she was trying to swallow her fist. “… and some of these girls are talking about doing stuff to me and they’re, like, thirteen.”

  “So? I know girls, like, eleven and twelve who’ve done it. It’s no biggie.”

  “Oh, okay, I’ll put that on the website, then. Have sex, preteens. It’s no biggie.”

  “Stop being so judgmental. Get that smug twitch out of your eyebrows.”

  I looked back at the screen. “For real, these guys love us.”

  Paisley peered at it. “They’re mostly girls,” she said. “And it’s mostly you they’re loving. As far as they’re concerned, I might as well be a piece of shit. They all think you’re adorkable. I can just see the spread in J-14. Wait till they find out you read books.”