Come Out Tonight

by Richard Laymon

  Yeah.

  So he started there.

  Soon, the covers felt too hot and heavy on top of him. He shoved them out of the way, keeping only the top sheet. Lifting his head off the pillow, he saw that the sheet was jutting up like a tent over his groin.

  I’ll never fall asleep thinking about this stuff.

  What should I think about? he wondered.

  AIDS.

  The word leaped into his mind as if it had been lurking nearby, waiting to pounce.

  It landed on him hard.

  Knocked his wind out.

  You’re gonna die, he heard Sherry say. You fucked me. You bit me. You got my blood in your mouth. You got AIDS now.

  Stomach hurting, Toby went cold all over. He felt as if he were shriveling.

  He rolled onto his side and curled up.

  She didn’t have AIDS, he told himself. It was a lie. She was just trying to get at me.

  And man, did she!

  And man, did she pay for it!

  The numbing terror loosened its grip as Toby found himself reliving what he’d done to Sherry—payback for scaring him like that.

  Oh, yes. Got her so good.

  He lingered on the way she’d flinched and squealed. On how she’d jerked rigid. On how she’d thrashed and whimpered. On how her whole body had shuddered just before the end.

  Oh, did she pay!

  Toby moaned in pleasure, remembering.

  If only she’d lasted longer…

  Best night of my life, anyway. Especially there on the bed. Especially the payback. If she did give me AIDS, it was worth it.

  Did she?

  Probably not, he told himself. It was probably just a lie. And even if she had it, doesn’t mean I’ll get it.

  But what if I do?

  He felt the terror beginning to creep into him again.

  I’ll still have a good ten years, he told himself.

  Maybe not so “good”.

  Fucking bitch. I oughta…

  Oughta what, kill her again?

  No, but I can kill her whole fucking family for her.

  Even if she didn’t give me AIDS, he thought, I told her I’d nail them all if she gave me any shit—and she went for the gun. I owe her for that.

  Besides, he thought, I want to.

  First, I’ll take care of her mom and dad. Get them out of the way, then take my time with Brenda.

  An image of Brenda filled his mind.

  Oh, man.

  She’ll be even better than Sherry, he thought. What I’ve gotta do is figure a way to keep her. Maybe take her someplace where we can live together.

  That’d be so cool.

  Keep her as my prisoner for as long as I want.

  Do everything with her.

  To her.

  That’ll be so great!

  But where do I keep her?

  How about here?

  I can do her right here on my own bed! That’d be so incredibly great! Tie her down…

  Sure, he thought. That’d be great, all right. Except for one thing.

  Sid and Dawn.

  That’s two things, he corrected himself.

  Well, not really. Two people, but they’re both the same problem.

  Not really. They’re different problems. Dawn, she’d be shocked and go ballistic. Sid, he’d muscle in and take over Brenda for himself.

  I can’t do it with them in the house.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Some of the others had stripped down to their swimming suits. Not Brenda, though. She had kept her sneakers on, and she still wore her Piglet T-shirt and cut-off jeans over her bikini. She was glad of it, too, when she saw her parents’ car pull into the school parking lot.

  “Is that your mom and dad?” Fran asked, and wiped her face with a sleeve of her sweatshirt.

  Fran, like Brenda, was barefoot and wearing cut-offs. Instead of a T-shirt, however, she wore a large, bulky gray sweatshirt. Brenda had rarely seen her friend not wearing such sweatshirts. Fran seemed to like the way they disguised her hunky torso, never mind how they made her sweat in hot weather.

  “It’s them, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “Yep. They probably came over to check up on me.”

  “As if,” Fran said. “They’re nice.”

  “They’re okay.” She turned away from the car she was washing and tossed her sponge into a bucket. “Guess I’d better see what’s up.”

  “Maybe they want their car washed.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

  As Brenda walked toward the car, the driver’s side window slid down and her father smiled at her. “How’s it going?” he asked.

  “It’s going.”

  “Hi, dear,” Mom called from the passenger seat.

  Brenda bent over and put her hands on the window sill. “So how was breakfast?” she asked.

  “Great,” Dad said. “We went to Coco’s.”

  “Ah, for the famous cinnamon bread French toast?”

  “That’s what I had.”

  “Big surprise. What about you, Mom? Corned beef hash and eggs?”

  “Not today.”

  “You were wrong!” Dad blurted. “I can’t believe it!”

  “I get a second try,” Brenda said. “Country fried steak and eggs.”

  “There you got it,” Mom said.

  “I never fail.”

  “Not if we give you enough tries,” Dad pointed out.

  “So what’re you guys doing here?” she asked.

  “You mean you don’t know?”

  “You came to get the car washed.”

  “Not bad,” Dad said. “First try, too. I’m impressed.”

  “Are you sure it needs a wash? It hasn’t been a year yet.”

  “That’s what I said,” Mom said.

  “We just want to support your endeavor,” Dad explained.

  “Has Sherry come by?” Mom asked.

  Brenda shook her head. “Not yet. But it’s still early. If she spent the night shacked up with Duane or someone, she might not get the message for hours. Anyway, it’s no biggie if she doesn’t show. I’m glad you guys came by, though. Some of us are thinking about going for pizza after we get done here. Okay if I go along?”

  “Sure, honey,” Mom said. “I don’t see any problem with that.”

  “Where’re you planning to go?” Dad asked.

  “It’s not definite. Shakey’s or Pizza Hut, probably.”

  “Do you have plenty of money?” he asked.

  She rolled her eyes upward and said, “Yes. My money situation hasn’t taken any dramatic turns since we discussed it earlier this morning.”

  “As a matter of fact,” Dad said, “when we discussed the situation then, you weren’t planning to go anywhere for dinner.”

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Do you have enough?” Mom asked.

  “Yes.”

  “How’ll you be getting to the pizza place?” Dad asked.

  “In a car, I imagine.”

  “In whose car?”

  “We’re not sure yet.”

  “We could drive you and your friends over.”

  “That’s all right, Dad. We don’t have a shortage of drivers.”

  “How about responsible drivers?”

  “I’m not going to let some jerk drive me around.”

  “Do be careful who you ride with,” Mom cautioned her.

  “I will, I will. I’m not a moron.”

  “So then,” Mom said, “we won’t pick you up at five and we won’t expect you home for supper.”

  “You got it.”

  “What time will you be home?” Dad asked.

  Brenda grinned. “In time for bed. I’m not the daughter who stays out all night.”

  “You’re the daughter who’s a smart-ass.”

  “Mom, you gonna let him talk to me that way?”

  “You are a smart-ass.”

  Laughing, she said, “I try.”
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  “What time can we expect you?” Mom asked.

  “I don’t know. Nine? Ten?”

  “You’re planning to spend five hours eating pizza?” Dad asked.

  “We might wanta do something later. Take in a movie, go to a mall…have a drunken orgy, rob a Speed-D-Mart.” She shrugged elaborately.

  “Ten will be fine,” Mom said. “If anything comes up and you won’t be back by then, call us.”

  “Okay.”

  “And call us if there’s a change of plans,” Dad added.

  “Sure, why not?” She held out her hand. “You got five bucks?”

  “Ah, you do need more money!”

  “Ah, I don’t. It’s for the car wash.”

  “Ah,” he said.

  “Ah.”

  He leaned away, pulled out his wallet, fingered its bill compartment and drew out a ten-dollar bill.

  “You’re gonna make me make change?”

  “Keep the whole thing. It’s for a good cause.”

  “Just five’ll be fine. That’s all we’re charging. Don’t you have some ones?”

  “Take the ten, okay?”

  She shook her head, rolled her eyes upward, sighed, and took the ten. “Happy?” she asked.

  “Overjoyed.”

  “It’ll be about a five-minute wait,” she said. “That okay? I know how you love to wait.”

  “No problem,” Dad said.

  “Okay. Well, you’ll be next after we get done with that red car. Why don’t you pull in behind it? We’ll get to you as soon as we can.”

  “No hurry,” Dad said.

  “Better put your windows up,” Brenda told him.

  “How about if we leave them open until you’re ready to start?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself. See ya.” Stepping backward, she pointed toward the red car.

  “I know,” Dad said.

  As he started backing up, Brenda turned away and hurried over to join the rest of the crew.

  When they were done washing the car, Dad started the engine and rolled down his window.

  Oh, please. Not in front of everyone.

  But all he said was, “Have a good time.” Then he smiled and drove off.

  No last-minute interrogation or advice.

  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

  As Quentin waved a Land Cruiser forward, Brenda nudged Fran’s arm. “How about going out and having some fun after we get done here?”

  “Huh?”

  “We’ll get a few of us together and go someplace. You know? I was thinking maybe the Third Street Promenade or the pier or something. I don’t have to be home till ten.”

  Fran smiled, but she looked wary. “I don’t know,” she said.

  The Land Cruiser pulled forward and stopped in the midst of the washing crew.

  Knowing what was coming, several students backed away from it.

  Ralph stepped toward the front of the vehicle and opened up with the hose. The water shot out and exploded off the windshield. Spray flew. Brenda saw how it sparkled in the sunlight. She felt cold sprinkles on her legs.

  Turning to Fran, she asked, “What do you say?”

  “Huh?”

  “Tonight,” she said, raising her voice. “Santa Monica.”

  “That’d sure be pretty cool. Only thing is, my folks are supposed to pick me up at five.”

  “Give them a call.”

  “I guess I could. But I don’t think they’ll let me go anyway. I mean, you know.”

  “Oh, do I ever.”

  Ralph started circling the Land Cruiser with his hose.

  “My parents,” Brenda said, “are so overprotective it hurts. Thing is, nobody has to know what we’re really up to. Just tell your folks that the whole group’s going out for pizza afterward. Tell them everyone’s going, and you don’t want to be the only one left out.”

  Fran grinned. “You’re so devious, Brenda.”

  “It’s one of my many charms.”

  “If they let me do it, though, they’ll insist I be home by…like seven.”

  “Tell them you’re invited over to my place afterward.”

  “I hate to lie.”

  “You are invited. That’s no lie. You can actually spend the night if you want to.”

  “You mean for real?”

  “Sure. It’d be a kick.”

  “What about your parents?”

  “I didn’t ask, but they wouldn’t have any problems with that. Half the time, they’re begging me to make friends and bring them over. They’re afraid I’ve got recluse potential.”

  Fran laughed. “You do.”

  Done with the preliminary hose-down, Ralph backed away from the Land Cruiser. “Have at it, gang,” he called.

  Brenda hoisted her bucket of sudsy water. Flanked by Fran and Baxter, she moved in. Baxter carried a sponge in one hand, a stool in the other. As they reached the Cruiser, Baxter said, “Excuse me,” and plunged his sponge into Brenda’s bucket. Then he planted his stool on the pavement, stepped up and started to wash the vehicle’s roof. Brenda set the bucket down. She and Fran took out their sopping sponges and split up to wash the Cruiser’s side.

  Baxter climbed down. He gave his sponge another dip. As water spilled out of it, he said to Brenda, “I’ve got a cell phone in my car.”

  “Glad to hear it,” Brenda said.

  His face went crimson. “No, I mean you can use it if you want. Fran can use it. What I mean is, I happened to hear you talking about…you know, tonight. I wasn’t trying to listen. It’s just that you were talking pretty loudly and I was just standing there, and…”

  “That’s all right, Bax. Don’t worry about it.”

  “I’m just saying she can use my phone. I mean, my car’s right here and everything.”

  “Okay. I’ll ask her about it. Thanks.”

  “Sure.” He flashed a wild, frightened smile, then dipped his sponge again and mounted his stool to resume washing the roof.

  Brenda hurried over to Fran. Crouching beside her, she said, “Baxter says you can use his cell phone.”

  “Huh?”

  “To call your parents about tonight. He told me you can use the cell phone in his car.”

  “Baxter?” She looked up at him.

  “Yeah. He was eavesdropping on us.”

  “Eavesdropping? Ha! You know why?”

  “Why what?” Brenda asked.

  “Why he was listening.”

  “Sure I know.”

  “Sure you do. You know everything.”

  “Precisely,” Brenda said. “It’s one of my many charms. I’m legendary for—”

  “So tell me.”

  “I’m not big on quizzes.”

  “That’s because you don’t know.”

  “I do know.”

  “Prove it.”

  “Why do I have to prove it?”

  “Ha! You don’t know.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Wanta bet?” Fran asked. “Betcha five bucks you can’t tell me why he was listening.”

  “No way. Betting’s for suckers.”

  “You just don’t know.”

  Smiling with exceeding sweetness, Brenda said, “Ah, but I do. He was listening because he’s madly in love with me.”

  Fran beamed at her. “You do know everything.”

  “Damn betcha, baby.”

  Fran laughed. Then she knitted her eyebrows. “If it works out and we can really go, why don’t we ask Baxter to come along with us?”

  “Get real.”

  “Come on, Brenda.”

  “He’s a twerp.”

  “But he’s a nice twerp, and he’s crazy about you.”

  “All the more reason not to ask him.”

  “He’s got a car,” Fran pointed out.

  “Hmm. Let me think about it.”

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Jeff looked over his shoulder at the kitchen clock. Again. He’d been checking the clock ever since they sat down to drink their Pe
psis. A while ago, he’d taken a break from his vigil to hurry outside. He’d returned with the empty glass and Pete’s copy of A Moveable Feast. Dropping into his chair, he’d resumed watching the clock.

  Now, he grimaced at Pete. “She’s been in there an awfully long time.”

  “My mom disappears for at least an hour every time she takes a bath.”

  “Mine, too,” Jeff said. “But this is almost an hour and a half, and Cherry’s messed up. You know? I think we oughta check on her. Make sure she hasn’t passed out, or something.”

  “Maybe we oughta give her a little more time.”

  “So she can drown?”

  He didn’t add, Like my sister. He didn’t have to. Pete saw it in his eyes.

  “Okay,” Pete said. “I guess it won’t hurt anything to knock on the door.”

  They hurried out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the guest bathroom. Their heads almost touching the door, they stood motionless and listened.

  Pete heard nothing from the other side.

  Jeff shook his head.

  Pete knocked gently on the door. No response came, so he called, “Cherry? Are you all right?”

  Nothing.

  He met Jeff’s eyes.

  “We’d better go in,” Jeff whispered.

  “I guess so, but…”

  “Now.”

  “Okay.”

  As he reached for the doorknob, it turned and the latch popped with a sudden thump. Startled, he flinched. Jeff gasped. The door swung inward and warm, moist air drifted out. Standing in the wispy steam, a towel spread out on the floor beneath her feet, was Cherry.

  “Hi guys,” she said.

  She no longer wore the black string bikini. Her naked body, clean and shiny, was dripping onto the towel.

  Pete and Jeff gaped at her.

  She made no attempt to cover herself.

  Doesn’t she know what she’s doing to us?

  Trying to keep his eyes on her face, Pete said, “Uh…We were getting worried. We wanted to make sure…Are you okay?”

  “Better,” she said. “Thanks.”

  “You look better,” Pete said. Blushing, he added, “I mean like more alert.”

  “Guess you didn’t drown,” Jeff told her.

  “No.”

  “Glad of that. We’d hate to lose you.”

  “Can you help?” she asked.

  “Sure,” Jeff said.

  “What do you want us to do?” Pete asked.