by Skye, Mav
He grabbed the carpet and tossed it out on the mess in the hallway, glancing back and forth down the hall to make sure no one had heard them. It was empty. He then scrambled back inside. He went into Baldy’s bathroom and flipped on the lights. He jumped at the sight of himself in the mirror. The blood! “My God,” he said to himself, hardly recognizing the tidy gentleman he groomed himself to be.
He turned on the hot water and let it warm. Sir Sun tossed off his t-shirt and began scrubbing his arms and face with the water, then the shears. Blood rinsed into the drain. And as it did, he thought about things. He noticed the surge of adrenaline in his veins, the fast throb of his heart. It excited and sickened him at the same time. He looked in the steamy mirror, at his eyes. One thing was for sure, whacking an old lady to death with a mutilated leg and offing Baldy, even if only in self-defense, had changed him. Although, Velva would say he was already like this.
He’d never be able to go back to his old life.
He searched in Baldy’s single dresser for a t-shirt. Mostly, there were dingy boxers, old condoms, and playboy magazines. In the bottom drawer were socks and a single (folded!) shirt.
Sir Sun held it up. It was bright red and small, much smaller than Baldy’s wide chest. Across the front in bold white letters it said, Girls just wanna have funyuns!
Had Baldy worn this, or was it his girlfriend’s?
Sir Sun grimaced at the decision he had to make. Either he wore this or his bloody white tee. He picked up his tee. A glob of blood fell from it.
He swallowed. Hard. He’d have to be a Funyun girl. He slipped it on refusing to look at himself in the mirror. He stuffed his bloody white shirt in his back pocket so it looked like a rag.
The closet drew his eye. Perhaps there were more shirt options in there. He pulled back the door. And Sir Sun gasped at what he found. A black trench coat was the only hanging item. A pair of men’s dress shoes sat neatly beneath the coat. And yes, up on the single shelf above the coat, was a pair of dark shades.
Proof. They were proof and just what he needed. He didn’t think he should take them now, though. He didn’t want to get his fingerprints on them. He’d leave them there until he discussed it with Velva. Perhaps there was a way out of this mess after all.
Sir Sun walked out of the bedroom tapping his finger on his jaw. He’d need Baldy’s keys so he could get back into the apartment later.
Sir Sun glanced around the grungy apartment, finding Baldy’s keys on a side table. He took them and left, turning out all the lights, in case Baldy had any friends. (Sir Sun highly doubted it.) They would think he wasn’t home. He needed to dispose of Baldy’s body—quickly—in case Baldy’s girlfriend came back.
He locked the deadbolt behind him and didn’t bother with the handle, since it automatically locked, then turned down the dimly lit hall towards the stairwell. There was something slick on the keys, and they slid out of Sir Sun’s hands. He didn’t even want to imagine what was on them. He bent to pick them up, wondering how many people lived on the top floor. At least five—Kelisha with her two daughters, Baldy, and the guy he mentioned in 407. Sir Sun didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself, he’d leave 407 alone.
He slid Baldy’s keys into his back pocket. Just as he turned to leave, the door directly across from Baldy, (407—of course!—) opened. A mid-thirties guy sprang out. His eyes danced as if in high fever. His thin cheeks were flushed.
He beckoned to Sir Sun. “Come here,” he said, glancing back and forth down the hallways. “I have to tell you something.”
Sir Sun leaned in, wondering if the guy had heard him and Baldy. “What’s wrong?”
The guy grabbed Sir Sun by his arm, spun him like a ballerina so that Sir Sun’s back whipped against his chest. He held a knife to Sir Sun’s throat and whispered, “I’m Daniel. You’re coming with me.” Daniel backed himself and Sir Sun into his apartment and kicked the door closed.
18
Tenth Planet from the Sun
Daniel was scrawny and smelled of pot. He wore a Route 66 cap, his light hair grunging out around it. His cowboy boots clacked on the floor as he edged Sir Sun down his hallway and into the living room. Sir Sun noticed wild, abstract paintings on the wall. Black, silver, and red bled, smeared and ran into streaks of lightning blooming into suns, moons and stars. He said, “I want you to slowly lower your right hand and toss that gun on the floor.”
“Gun?” asked Sir Sun. His hands remained in the air. His eyes glued to the feral canvases on the wall.
“Yeah! Whatever the heck is in your pocket, wise crack.”
“But I don’t have a—”
“Shut up and do it! I know you got you something in there.”
Sir Sun eased his left hand down and reached into his pocket.
Daniel poked the tip of the knife against Sir Sun’s throat. “Slow down, Mr. Goodfella. I won’t hesitate. I know where you’re from.”
Sir Sun squeezed the red handles of the shears and withdrew them.
“Now throw it on the floor so I can see it.”
Sir Sun tossed them.
“What are those?” Daniel still held the knife at Sir Sun’s throat, but also tried to bend down to get a closer look. “Scissors?”
“Shears.”
“Shears? Like…sheep shears? Hot damnation, I knew you were one of them.”
Daniel maneuvered Sir Sun towards an aged black leather chair and pushed him into it. “Stay, you hear? Stay, because I’ve got a gun, and I’m not afraid to—” That was when Daniel caught site of Sir Sun’s shirt.
He raised an eyebrow and shifted his face. “That’s Shelly’s shirt.”
“Shelly?” asked Sir Sun.
Daniel walked to the painting on the wall across from Sir Sun and pointed. “Shelly was a descendant from the ninth world order. Tenth planet of the system of discord by the order of Eris, where she birthed Xena.”
Across from the leather chair where Sir Sun sat, an abstract painting of the Milky Way covered the wall, floor to ceiling. Star constellations squeezed between ten planets in various textures, heights, linear and mock-angular velocities.
As Daniel jabbered his scientific explanation, he bounced the tip of the knife like a pointer stick from planet to planet, star to star. On and on he went, explaining his theory until Sir interrupted him. “Daniel?”
Daniel turned his crystal green eyes to Sir Sun, they flared almost as wide as his nostrils. “Huh?”
Sir Sun spread his fingers on his knees. “Why are you holding me hostage—if uh, that is what this is.”
Daniel smiled wide and threw a hand his way. “Because she told me to.”
“Who told you too, Daniel?” Sir Sun had a feeling he knew who she was.
“Oh, you don’t need to call me Daniel. Most call me Danny. Want an apple? It’s organic.” Daniel grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl on his small dining table. He had placed the table against the wall by the doorframe to the kitchen like Sir Sun had it in his place.
“No, no thanks,” said Sir Sun. “Now, who told you to—” He pointed at Daniel’s knife and then made a cutthroat gesture.
“Off you?” asked Danny as he hacked his knife into the apple’s core.
Sir Sun nodded.
“I wasn’t told to off you, just keep you here until she gets back. That’s all.”
“Yes, but who told you to keep me here?”
“Xena.”
Sir Sun grimaced. “Then what was that about in the hallway?”
“How else was I going to get you in here, man? Xena told me to convince you by any means necessary.” Daniel put his hand over his heart. “Long live the queen!”
Sir Sun asked, “Queen?”
“Daughter of Eris, tenth planet from the sun. Goddess of discord and chaos and shit.” Daniel waved his knife around while saying this, as if every child in the public school system had been taught, and it was stupid to forget.
Sir Sun rolled his eyes, why did he have an inkling he knew wh
o “Xena” was, but the woman who owned the Funyuns shirt he was wearing... where or who was she? “Who is Shelly, Daniel?”
Daniel glared at him. “I told you, it’s Danny.” He sighed. “Shelly was this chick, really sweet. Lived in 403 with some bastard. I suspected he was an Undergrounder living among us, but it’s hard to distinguish the Undergrounder kind from human kind. So, when Xena told me who he was. I was like Oh shit! he needs to go back underground! Especially, like, when Shelly came to me crying one day, wearing that very shirt.” He pointed at Sir Sun’s chest—Girls Just Wanna Have Funyuns! “Her right eye was as black as a blooming rose.”
“Blooming roses aren’t black,” said Sir Sun.
“Well, you know what I mean. It’s called flower poetry, man. Ease up. Anyway, I told Shelly that I’d take care of her, but we needed to take care of the Undergrounder first.” Daniel bit off the end of an apple slice.
“What is an Undergrounder exactly?” Sir Sun asked.
“An Undergrounder is one who comes back after he’s or she’s—you know, under the ground.” Daniel’s green eyes flared again. “That isn’t supposed to happen.”
Sir Sun nodded in agreement. “Most certainly not.”
Daniel smiled, happy for the comradery. “Sure you don’t want an apple?”
Sir Sun nodded again and put his hands up to catch.
Daniel tossed him a red apple, and Sir Sun caught it easily. He rubbed the apple on his shirt—Girls Just Wanna Have Funyuns.
“Ha, ha, man. That shirt should say, Girls Just Wanna Have Apples. I’d wear that.” Daniel cackled at his joke and swung his butt up on his dining table, legs dangling like a young boy. He jammed his knife into the tabletop and took another bite.
Sir Sun wasn’t sure what to think about Daniel, but he liked him—crazy and all, and Daniel knew Velva. Perhaps this was his chance to glean much-needed information about her. “So, what did Xena tell you to do about Undergrounders?”
Daniel snickered, “Poison.”
“Poison?” Sir Sun looked at his apple.
“No, no, that one’s fine. I went to Shelly’s apartment and offered that bastard Undergrounder some poisoned tea with arsenic. It didn’t work because the Undergrounder flipped the cup out of my hand and called me a fag for drinking tea. Personally, I think it’s perfectly fine—gay or not—to drink tea. I really do.” He took another bite. “And, I think it’s perfectly fine to be gay.”
“Are you?”
Daniel shrugged. “Sometimes. I think it’s called bi. I don’t care. I like who I like, you know?”
Sir Sun thought of Velva. “Me, too.” They both remained quiet, munching apples, and then Sir Sun said, “So, where’s Shelly now?”
“Ha! Says the guy wearing her shirt.” Daniel pointed at Sir Sun and guffawed.
Sir Sun choked on a bite.
“Nah, nah, bro, it’s cool. Actually, it’s a sad story. Better seen than said.”
“Shelly is?” Sir Sun had a bad feeling about Shelly. Perhaps Daniel was the one tying up women, like Mrs. Chow.
“I can take you to her if you want.” Daniel stood and wiped his hands on his jeans. “You took care of the Undergrounder in 403,” Daniel’s sharp eyes snapped a look at Sir Sun, “didn’t you?”
Sir Sun nodded, setting down his apple. He took care of him all right. “I thought Xena wanted us to wait for her?”
“Yeah, yeah, but, we’ll need to dispose of the Undergrounder’s body properly, or he’ll come back. Xena will understand. She’d want us to do this.” Daniel’s eyes danced. He took off his Route 66 hat, ran his fingers through his spritely, grunge hair, and set it back on his head.
Surprised, Sir Sun watched Daniel and considered. He didn’t trust Daniel, but he liked him. Velva had put Daniel here on purpose. Sir Sun decided to help him.
“Shelly is where we are going to put him. So you can see her, too.” Daniel stood and walked over to his wall, tracing his fingers around the sun. “Xena said Shelly was tainted by the Undergrounder. And when an Undergrounder taints you, it’s well…” Daniel shrugged.
“It’s what?” said Sir Sun.
Daniel sighed. “You’ll see. Shelly was my friend, so we keep her somewhere special.”
“We?” asked Sir Sun.
Daniel nodded his head.
“Take me.”
“Yeah, okay, but we need to get the Undergrounder out first.”
Sir Sun said, “How we do get his body out? Do you have some tarp?”
Daniel smiled, and when he did, Sir Sun’s flesh goosepimpled under the Girls Just Wanna Have Funyuns shirt. A premonition.
Daniel walked to his balcony and opened the door. The hunter’s moon glowed as bright and full as the gleaming edge of an unused axe.
Standing in the moonshine, Daniel smiled, teeth sharp and bright. He raised his hand like a freak show carnival barker pulling the dark sheet off the three-eyed, one toothed, bearded rhino man crouching in an ape cage. Only, the only freakish thing behind Daniel was the giant maple where Ah lam’s body weight creaked the rope. She pirouetted in gentle spins. The river gurgled behind her. Daniel said, “It’s simple. We shove the body off the balcony, and down the river he goes.”
19
Why the Willow Weeps
Sir Sun helped drag the body from the canoe, soaking his trousers and shoes. The breeze had caught up with them, and he felt like a living icicle. He inspected the dark shoreline, squinting his eyes. “I don’t see a graveyard.”
Daniel fished the canoe out of the water, heaving it up on the rocks. “Oh, it’s here alright. It’s through the gate there.” He pointed beyond the brush.
Sir Sun inspected the thick maze of cottonwoods and blackberry bushes.
Daniel brought a flashlight out of his coat pocket and aimed the beam into the shrubs.
Sir Sun shrugged. “I don’t see anything.”
“Optical illusion. She keeps it hidden like that on purpose.” Leaving the body, Sir Sun followed Daniel to where river rock and bushes met. Daniel turned and said, “I’m going to go get a wheelbarrow to haul that…thing,” he pointed at the Undergrounder. “You hold tight ‘til I get back.”
Sir Sun nodded and watched Daniel disappear into the brush, a few seconds later he saw the flashlight bobbing around faintly in the darkness. He sauntered back by the body and waited. An owl hooted nearby, spooking him, and Sir Sun found himself squeezing the handles of his Felco’s over and over.
The thin cottonwoods swayed and shimmied, their branches moving as one in the wind. Sir Sun tried to ignore their soft song, but after awhile, he detected something like a whisper. It was so light and breathy he almost didn’t hear it.
Timothy.
Startled, he glanced around him. Tall, skinny trees waved their limbs, worshipping the darkness, obscuring the whispers.
Timothy.
He whipped sharply to his left. And there in the halo of moonlight, swayed a young willow. Its branches bobbed and waved like that of the spider plant. It wasn’t trying to pull itself up and creep towards him. But certainly, in the midst of those oscillating wisps of wood and dying leaves, deep inside where stem had grown into trunk, where its darkest and inner most secrets were kept, in the middle of that… there was a hollow. Only it wasn’t a hollow, it was a mouth. A full mouth that bled lips full as the sun and moon combined. Timothy, it said, lips moving like a seductive sashay of hips.
It was then that it struck him how very familiar those lips were, the mouth, the ice white teeth—they belonged to Miss O’Hara. He’d never forgotten her drop dead gorgeous lips. How he’d daydreamed for hours about that mouth. And now it was smiling. At him.
“Are you in there?” he asked, taking a step toward the tree. Its branches no longer resembled wispy tree limbs, but wild hair—fuck me hair.
The lips changed form. They opened wide, and inside a form pushed out, the form grew, shape-shifting into a shapely head and shoulders— a redhead with blushing cheeks peeked out at him. Miss O’Hara. �
��I want you, Timothy.”
Sir Sun licked his lips and took another couple steps toward the willow. Could it be? Could it really be her? She drew her white slip up and out of the hollow and sat on the rim. She spread her legs wide and then together again, agile as a ballerina. “Do you like my dress? Isn’t pretty, Timothy?” She ran her fingers over her bosom, dark nipples obvious through the thin silk.
He nodded, drawing closer, closer, unable to stop himself. “I… I want you, too.”
She smiled, her buxom mouth beckoned to him, and she emphasized her need with the slightest come hither flick of her finger. “Come on, you.”
He stepped closer, closer, subconsciously opening and closing the shears in his hands the same way he might tap on his jaw while roaming his living room back and forth. “How can you be here? I thought you were… were—”
She locked her eyes on his, puffing out her ample breasts, the ghost white slip revealing every curve. “You know where I’ve been, you naughty boy.”
When he was two feet away, he stopped, gazing at O’Hara in her nearly naked beauty. The slip revealed more than just her breasts. It clung to her sculpted body, indenting the curve of her thighs, pelvis and the sweet spot below. He blushed and said, “I’ve kept your roses while you’ve been gone. The old lady that lives there calls me every spring.”
She reached out a creamy white hand and touched his face. Sir Sun closed his eyes, feeling her light touch on his skin. Desire stirred him, and where he had felt cold as an icicle moments before, her touch warmed and melted him. His body temperature rose as if with fever. It wasn’t the only part of him that rose.
“Oh, Timothy, do you really think I’d cared about the roses?”
“Of course, you did. Do.”
Another emotion pricked and burned inside like a stinging wasp, buried so long ago, he had forgotten what it was or how it felt.
