Come Out Tonight

by Richard Laymon

  “Guess so,” Brenda admitted.

  Jack turned onto a sideroad. The heavy forest was soon replaced by driveways, lawns and sprawling, stucco houses.

  “It’s just up here.” Jack drove past several homes, then slowed in front of a peach-colored house. Though only a single story, it was spread out like a hacienda. It had white trim and a roof of red Spanish tiles.

  “This your place?” Quentin asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Not a bad-looking joint.”

  “It’s fabulous,” Fran said.

  “Nice,” said Brenda.

  Baxter, sitting beside her, nodded in agreement. He seemed tense.

  Maybe he’s just nervous about being stuck in the back seat with me, Brenda thought.

  Though they’d been working together on the school newspaper for more than a year, Baxter had always been shy around her. She supposed it must be agony for him to be sitting this close to her, especially since he wasn’t wearing anything except his swimsuit.

  And me in my bikini, she thought. But at least I’ve got a T-shirt and cut-offs on. What would he do if I took them off?

  Not about to find out. That’s Fran’s department.

  Jack drove up the driveway to an iron gate and stopped. “The other cars are in back,” he explained. He swung open his door. “Let’s go through the house.”

  They all climbed out.

  Brenda felt as if she’d escaped from a refrigerator. The heat felt wonderful. She took a deep breath. Smelling smoke on the wind, she looked all around. The air seemed a little hazy.

  Jack and Fran were already heading across the front lawn. Quentin walked a few strides behind them, while Baxter waited beside Brenda.

  “Worried about the fires?” Baxter asked.

  “A little.”

  “I think they’re pretty far away. You know, you can smell the things for miles.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And there aren’t any cops or firemen around. Or helicopters. If nothing else, there’d be news choppers all over the sky if this area was threatened.”

  “That’s for sure.” She started walking after the others, Baxter by her side but walking in the grass. “I just wish we’d stayed at the car wash. This was a lousy idea.”

  “Fifty bucks is a lot,” Baxter said.

  “I’m not so sure about this guy.”

  “He seems okay.”

  “Fran likes him. That’s the thing. She hasn’t had very good luck with guys.”

  “I know how that goes.” He laughed and shook his head. “I don’t mean with guys.”

  “I know.” She smiled and watched him blush.

  They caught up with the others on the front stoop. Jack was just opening the door. “Come on in,” he said.

  Everyone followed him into the house.

  The air was warm and pleasant. It carried a smoky odor that frightened Brenda for a moment. Then she recognized the scent as balsam. Somebody had apparently been burning incense.

  Jack shut the door.

  The others stood mute in the foyer, looking around.

  “You don’t have to worry about my parents,” Jack said. “They’re gone. Nobody’s here but us, so we can just like relax and have a good time.”

  “Sounds cool to me,” Quentin said.

  “It’s a gorgeous house,” Fran said.

  “Thanks.”

  “How about showing us around?”

  “We’d better get to the cars,” Brenda said.

  Fran gave her a peeved look. “I think we could spare two minutes.”

  “I’m game,” Quentin said.

  Jack shook his head. “I don’t know. The place is a real mess.”

  From where Brenda stood, she could see that he wasn’t kidding; straight ahead, what looked like several days’ worth of newspapers were scattered over the carpet in the middle of the den.

  “Why don’t I show you the kitchen?” Jack suggested.

  They followed him to the right.

  “It’s sort of a mess, too, but we can get some drinks.”

  “We’d better get started on the cars,” Brenda said. “Maybe when we’re done with them…”

  “I could use a drink,” Quentin said.

  “Yeah,” said Fran. She gave Brenda another look. “Me, too.”

  Turning to Brenda, Baxter said, “I’m not thirsty. If you want, we could go ahead and get started on the cars. They could come out when they’re ready.”

  “I’d have to open the garage,” Jack said.

  “Okay,” Brenda said. “Why don’t you do that, and we’ll…”

  “What’s the big hurry?” Fran asked.

  They entered the kitchen.

  “We shouldn’t even be here,” Brenda said.

  “Nobody’ll know the difference.”

  “I know the difference. We were supposed to stay at the car wash, not go traipsing off somewhere.”

  “That’s a good one coming from you.”

  Jack opened the refrigerator. “We’ve got Pepsi, Diet Coke, and beer.”

  “Beer?” Quentin asked.

  “Coors, Corona, and Bud Lite.”

  “No beer,” Brenda said.

  Fran smiled at Jack. “I think I’d like one. How about a Bud Lite?”

  “Jesus H. Christ,” Brenda muttered.

  “I’ll have a Corona,” said Quentin.

  “Me, too,” said Jack. He reached into the refrigerator, handed a can of Bud to Fran, then took out two bottles of Corona. The glass of the bottles was clear. The beer inside was pale yellow and looked to Brenda a lot like urine.

  “How about you, Baxter?”

  “No thanks. I don’t drink.”

  “Go ahead,” Quentin told him. “Have a brew. Live a little. I know you want one. You’re just scared of going against Brenda.”

  Baxter’s face went crimson. “I am not. But we’re not here to have a party. Besides which, you’re all under age.”

  “Big fuckin’ deal,” Quentin said. “Gonna be a pussy all your life?”

  At the counter, Jack pried off the Corona tops with a bottle opener. Then he handed a bottle to Quentin.

  “Gracias,” Quentin said.

  Smiling at Brenda, Jack said, “I guess you don’t want a beer.” He had a funny look in his eyes.

  Bastard, she thought.

  “No thank you,” she said.

  “Pepsi? Diet Coke?”

  “No thanks.”

  Fran popped open her can. Some beer fuzzed out of the top. She sucked it off. Then she said, “Why don’t you just have something, Brenda?”

  “Like Baxter said, we didn’t come up here for a party.”

  “Couldn’t hurt,” Quentin said, and took a drink. “Never hurts to party.”

  “That’s what you think.”

  Glaring, Fran said, “You just have to always control everything.”

  Brenda stared at her, shocked.

  She’s just showing off for Jack.

  I could put her down so hard. But she’s still my best friend, even if it has slipped her mind.

  “I’m obviously not in control of this,” Brenda said, pleased to hear herself sounding so calm. “You want to have a party, have a party. I’m not the boss. Do whatever you want.”

  “You always have to be so superior.”

  That’s because I am.

  “It’s all right,” she said, shrugging. “Enjoy yourself. You’re free to do whatever your heart desires.” She watched the three of them take drinks of beer. Then she said, “So am I,” and walked out of the kitchen.

  “Where are you going?” Fran asked.

  “Out,” she called back.

  “I’ll come with you,” Baxter said.

  She paused to wait for him.

  He hurried toward her, an embarrassed look on his face. “Is it all right if I come?”

  “Maybe you’d better stay here. You’re not wearing any shoes.”

  “Where you going?”

  “Back to the school.
”

  “Now?”

  “Nobody’s interested in washing cars around here.”

  “But you’re walking?”

  “Looks that way.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “You’re barefoot and it’s a long hike.”

  “That’s okay.” Hurrying ahead of Brenda, he pulled open the front door. “I’m going, too. Unless you don’t want me around.”

  “I’d be glad to have you.”

  His eyes lit up as if magic had entered his life.

  “No, wait,” Jack called.

  Brenda looked back. Jack was frowning at her from just outside the kitchen entrance. “You can’t walk all the way back to the school. It’s miles.”

  “Ten at the most. Probably less. So long.”

  “Hey, don’t.”

  Fran and Quentin came out of the kitchen and stood behind Jack. The three of them stared at Brenda and Baxter. Fran looked disgusted. Quentin, apparently amused, smiled and shook his head.

  “What’s so wrong with having a beer?” Fran asked.

  “It’s the principle of the thing.”

  “Why do you have to be such a tight-ass?” Quentin asked.

  “Just my way. Have fun, everyone.” She stepped past Baxter, who was holding the door open for her. “You sure you want to come with me? It’ll be a hard walk.”

  “Oh, I don’t care. I’m with you.”

  “Good man.”

  “Don’t go,” Jack said, walking toward them.

  Brenda ignored him.

  She turned toward the bright afternoon daylight outside the doorway and took a step and jumped at the sudden hard blast of noise that crashed through the house. She jerked her head sideways.

  Wisps of pale smoke drifted from the muzzle of the pistol in Jack’s hand.

  It looked like the same kind of pistol Sherry liked to use.

  It was pointed her way.

  She didn’t feel that she’d been hit, but then Fran was squealing and Quentin was standing motionless with shock on his face and Brenda whirled around in time to watch Baxter drop toward the floor as if all the muscles had been chopped out of his legs. His face was all bloody and he had a hole in the middle of his forehead.

  He sat down hard, hitting the marble floor with an impact that seemed to jar his entire body.

  Then he fell backward. His head whapped the floor with such a loud thock that Brenda heard it through the ringing in her ears.

  “Don’t try to run!” Jack yelled.

  Brenda lurched for the doorway.

  Jack fired and his bullet took her down.

  Chapter Fifty-six

  Quentin was tanned and had a pretty good build. Though not nearly as powerful-looking as Sid had been, he looked as if he wouldn’t have much trouble overpowering Toby in a fight. But he just stood there hanging on to his bottle of beer, an astonished, vaguely amused expression on his face.

  Fran was the problem. She was screaming and she’d already dropped her can of Bud so she could wave her hands at the sky like a gospel singer.

  Toby slammed her across the face with the side of his pistol. The screaming stopped. Blood started to spill out of her split cheek. She clutched her face with both hands and sank to her knees, sobbing.

  That wasn’t so hard, was it?

  He’d been worried. Four of them, after all.

  He aimed his pistol at Quentin’s bare chest. In spite of his muscles, the guy was sweaty and gasping for air. With a twitchy smile at Toby, he raised the Corona to his lips. He drank. And tipped the bottle higher and drank some more, gulping down the beer.

  Wants to finish it off before I kill him.

  Maybe just wants to show me how macho he is.

  Toby looked over at Brenda. She lay curled on her side, half out the doorway. From where he stood, he could only see her up to the waist. Her right hand was clutching the back of her thigh where the bullet had torn through just below the faded denim of her cut-off jeans. Her hand was all shiny and red. She squirmed as she held the wound.

  “I’ll drag her in for you,” Quentin said. The bottle was empty. He had an excited look in his eyes.

  “Go ahead.” Toby aimed the pistol at him.

  “It’s cool,” he said. He set the bottle on the floor, then strolled sideways into the foyer. “I’ll help you with Bax, too. The fuckin’ pussy.”

  “Just get Brenda in here.”

  “You got it, pal.” He stepped past Brenda, crouched and grabbed her by the ankles. When he pulled her legs straight, she cried out and rolled onto her back. He dragged her the rest of the way into the house.

  “Stop there and shut the door,” Toby said.

  Quentin didn’t lower Brenda’s feet to the floor, he dropped them. The heels of her sneakers bounced. Brenda yelped, then rolled onto her side and curled up and clamped her hand to the bullet’s entry wound near the back of her thigh.

  Quentin grinned down at her.

  This guy’s okay, Toby thought. Or trying to fake me out.

  Turning toward Toby, Quentin brushed his hands against the sides of his trunks. “What’s next?” he asked.

  “Maybe I’ll put a bullet through your face.”

  “I got a better idea.”

  “Bet you do.”

  “Let’s strip Brenda. Know what I mean?”

  Toby laughed.

  “I mean it. Get her naked, you can have all kinds of fun with her. I’ll hold her for you.”

  Fran, still on her knees, was sobbing and whimpering.

  “Shut up,” Toby told her.

  She hunched over and buried her face in her hands.

  “Okay, Quen,” Toby said. “Mind if I call you Quen?”

  “Call me anything you want.”

  “Get the T-shirt off her.”

  “All right!”

  “And tie it around her leg. Real tight. Make the bleeding stop. I’m gonna keep her around for a while and I don’t want her crapping out.”

  “My pleasure,” Quen said. He sank to his knees and tugged the T-shirt up Brenda’s torso. When he had it rucked above her bikini top, he said, “Raise your arms.”

  She did as told and Quen got to work again. The T-shirt turned inside-out. It took on the shape of her face and then it hid her arms and then it was off.

  “Want me to take off the rest?” Quen asked.

  “Want me to shoot you?”

  “Not much.”

  “Just do the bandage like I said.”

  Quen spread the shirt on the floor, rolled it lengthwise, then wrapped it around Brenda’s thigh. He looked back at Toby. “I can’t tie it. It’s too short.”

  “Hold it a minute.” He looked around for something that would serve to fix the makeshift bandage in place.

  Maybe a lamp cord…

  His own leather belt would be perfect. He unbuckled it and stripped it out of its loops.

  His loose, baggy shorts, weighted by heavily loaded pockets, dropped around his ankles.

  With a laugh, he stepped out of them.

  Quen said, “Cool,” and caught the tossed belt. He wrapped it twice around Brenda’s shirt-wrapped thigh, then fit the end of the strap into the buckle. As he pulled it tight, she jerked rigid and gritted her teeth. He fastened the buckle.

  “Good job,” Toby said.

  “Now what?”

  “You get a treat.”

  Worry flickered in Quen’s eyes.

  “Take off your trunks,” Toby said.

  He looked as if he didn’t know whether to be delighted or terrified. With a trembling smile, he pulled down his swimming trunks and stepped out of them. Toby saw that he was partly aroused.

  Can’t fake that.

  “She’s all yours,” he said.

  Quen’s face lit up. He looked down at Brenda.

  “Not her. You gotta be kidding me. She’s mine, you dumb shit.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Quen managed a feeble smile. “Sure.”

  “You get Fatso.”

  Fran le
t out a whine.

  “That okay with you, Quen?”

  “Sure.”

  “Better a lard-ass than no ass at all, right?”

  “You bet.” He stepped toward Fran.

  “Leave her alone,” Brenda said from the floor, her voice shaky.

  Toby grinned at her. “She’ll love it.” He turned to Fran. “Won’t you, Porky?”

  Still on her knees, she sobbed into her hands.

  “You’re gonna love it, right?” Toby asked.

  “No,” she gasped. “Please.”

  “Hopin’ it’d be me, huh? I know. I saw how you been looking at me. Only one problem, I don’t fuck fat ugly cows like you. That’s how come I’m givin’ the job to Quen.”

  “Leave her…alone.”

  “I am leaving her alone. Think I’d touch her? No way.” He nodded to Quen. “She’s all yours.”

  “Quentin,” Brenda said. “Don’t.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Please.”

  “Gotta do what I gotta do,” Quen said. “It’s not like I’m exactly looking forward to it.”

  “Oh, I think you are,” Toby told him.

  “Quen looked down at himself and chuckled. “Oh, that. Has a mind all its own.”

  “Don’t do it, Quentin.”

  “Gotta.”

  “What’s Fran…ever done to you?”

  “Offended my eyesight?”

  Toby burst out laughing.

  “Anyhow,” Quen said, “this’ll be the best thing ever happened to her. Bet she’s never gotten it from a handsome dude like me.”

  “Or from anyone else,” Toby threw in.

  “She’s lucky I’m not making her pay for it.”

  “Don’t,” Brenda said again. “You wanta mess around…mess around with me.”

  Quen glanced at Toby.

  “No can do,” Toby said. “Now just shut up and lay there before somebody gets hurt.” To Quen, he said, “I think Fran’s ready for some lovin’.”

  “I do believe you’re right, Jack.” He stepped in front of her, clutched her short brown hair and pulled her head back. She looked up at him, her eyes red and wet and bulging. “Where do you want it?” he asked.

  “No!” she blurted. “Please!”

  He jerked her head forward and prodded her in the eye.

  She squealed.

  “There?”

  “No!”

  Brenda, looking fierce, rolled onto her back and shoved with both arms at the floor.