Anyway, the gun worked so I’d left the range, cleaned it, and it’s been in my trunk ever since. As I stared at it now I couldn’t help but think it was always going to be a part of me. I don’t know how to explain it, but ever since that first time shooting guns with Tooth, I’ve always felt better having a gun nearby. Maybe it’s just the fact that I know I’m good at it. It’s weird, it almost feels like a calling. Oh, I’ve dwelt on it many times, this whole notion of why I’m still alive, why I made it out of Skinny Man’s sadistic terror dome unscathed. I’ll always wonder if I was just lucky or if I was meant to get out. When I see this gun, I start to believe I was spared for a reason. What that reason is, I couldn’t tell you.
After I slammed the trunk and began hoofing it down a small foot trail to the lake, I realized I could trump Victoria’s hypothetical win in our payback game. I fumbled out my cell phone and dialed the gallery. She didn’t pick up, which meant she must already be on her way. I left a message: “I’ll leave it to you in my will. I win. I rule.”
Chapter 4
The lake was calm, but what lake isn’t? A film of dust from the surrounding desert had settled as a dull skin on the water. I wondered if there were fish in there. No one had any fishing poles so it was either void of life or full of the type of fish you don’t eat, stuff like sunfish and minnows.
I found a good spot not far from the parking lot, near some half-dead bushes, and set up my easel. I popped open one beer and put the other on the ground. Mixing the colors took another few minutes and then I set brush to canvas, constantly scrutinizing the scene before me. It was as I’d imagined it: the lake, some California Palms over the park benches, foothills and desert beyond, and a blue sky above it all. It didn’t get much cheesier than that. I’d make a good buck off it.
The first beer went down quick, and I began to get a nice buzz. Working outside is pretty peaceful, all told. There’s a sense of communion with the land, and you start to notice things you wouldn’t if you were just passing by: the way the trees have character, the smell the water gives off, the occasional insect fluttering in a wild flower. Just little things that reassure you the Earth is still moving.
A half hour passed and I had most of the water painted. From there I’d do the dirt and scrub brush that surrounded it. But first I wanted the other beer. As was my ritual, I talked to it. “This one’s for you, Tooth. Hope you can taste it, because it’s cheap and it tastes like shit. Just like your girlfriends used to say about you.”
I popped the tab. It hissed and spit beer all over me. “Sonofa!”
How a beer that had been sitting still on the ground for thirty minutes could do that was beyond me. Maybe Tooth was getting me back. “Great. Just great.”
I set it back on the ground and went back to my car to look for a napkin. That’s when Victoria’s Taurus pulled in next to me. Sitting next to her in the front seat was her boyfriend, Gabe. A frown spread involuntarily across my face.
“Roger!” she said, getting out. She opened the back door and took out the painting she’d spilled coffee on. Gabe got out and pitched a cigarette into some dry brush. Way to go, Smokey the Bear. He was wearing a black T-shirt, the sleeves rolled up like a greaser. Not a bad looking kid, but still not worth Victoria’s time if I had anything to say about it.
“Roger, see. Look what I did. I’m such an idiot.” She came around the car and handed me the painting. There was a large brown stain in the middle of the sky. “Barry is so on the rag today. Can you really fix it?”
It wouldn’t be easy; I’d have to repaint most of the sky, but I could pull it off. “Yeah, no problem. Take me about twenty minutes or so.”
Gabe cleared his throat. Victoria grabbed his shoulder and ushered him toward me. “Oh, this is Gabe. My boyfriend. I think I’ve told you about him before.”
“Yeah,” I replied. I put out a hand and we shook. His grip was tight. Guys will do that sort of shit to test each other, to establish some messed-up sense of dominance. Tooth was always trying to crush people’s hands. I saw more than a few “tough guys” try to hide a wince when they shook his hand. Problem is, some guys take it too far, actually go for some pain. Gabe was teetering on that fence, the prick. I clenched my jaw and dreamt of hitting him.
“Spill something there?” Gabe said, indicting my Ghost in the Shell shirt with a flick of his head.
“Beer.”
“Sweet. Got any more?”
I shook my head. “Sorry, didn’t know you were coming.”
Victoria gave Gabe a friendly shove. “He showed up right as I was leaving. He wanted to take me to lunch--”
“But she said she had to come here,” he cut her off. “So . . . here we are.” He looked around and readjusted his nuts. “Middle of fucking nowhere.”
“Stop being a douche,” Victoria told him.
He pointed past me. “’S’like that lake in that Creepshow movie. Look, there’s even a weird film on the water.”
My inner geek quivered and I wanted to tell him that the name of the vignette was The Raft, based on the short story by Stephen King, but I didn’t like him enough to try and impress him. And Victoria most likely wouldn’t give a shit.
“Bet there are bodies in there,” he continued. “Drug cartel kills, all bloated and skeletal at the bottom.”
“You’re being morbid, babe.” Victoria checked her watch. “Really? Twenty minutes?”
I tapped the painting under my arm. “Time me.” I smiled at her and she smiled back. Man, I really wanted to kiss her. Why did she have to bring this putz with her? “C’mon.” The napkin could wait, I decided. I waved them over to the easel, took the work-in-progress down and replaced it with the coffee-stained painting.
“Have a sip of your beer?” Gabe asked.
“Yeah, go ahead.” I wanted to say no.
He took a long gulp that emptied half the can. Dickhead.
“It’s actually a beautiful lake,” Victoria said. “I’ve never stopped here. Some friends used to come here in college and get wasted. I never came. Not sure why.”
“To busy studying like a book worm,” her boyfriend said. Then to me: “She reads, like, a book a week, if you can believe that.”
“What books?” I asked her.
She pushed her hair back over her ears. “Oh, anything. Mysteries mostly. I like Ayn Rand too. You ever read her?”
“I read bits of Atlas Shrugged,” I replied.
“Yeah? I loved that one.”
As I mixed some paint to match the color of the sky in the painting, Gabe took out another cigarette and lit it up. “Please don’t have some feminist talk. Ayn Rand should get her ass kicked by a rat monkey.”
Ok, at that point I couldn’t help it. “Rat monkey? You mean from Dead Alive?”
He blew out a cloud of smoke. His eyes lit up. “Shit yeah, I love that movie. You ever see Bad Taste?”
“Of course. And Meet the--”
“Feebles! Yes! I love that movie. Peter Jackson is the man. Lord of the Rings and King Kong.”
“That movie sucked,” Victoria said. “The stupid monkey ice skates? C’mon. The original is so much better.”
“You into Carpenter?” I asked Gabe.
“The Thing! Fucking love that flick. Best horror film ever made, man.”
Suddenly I was having flashbacks of watching that movie with Tooth. Boy, I’d had so many flashbacks today I was beginning to miss my medication. Even worse, I was kind of starting to like this Gabe guy. At least his taste in movies was good.
“I’m getting hungry now,” Victoria said. “I may run back to that stand and get some fruit. Want me to get you something, babe?”
Gabe snorted. “Fruit? For lunch? Nah. I’ll get a burrito when we get back.”
“Suit yourself, babe. Just thought we could still get lunch together.”
They way she kept referring to him as “babe” made me jealous. I’d never been with anyone long enough to trade terms of endearments. Only thing I could do to mak
e myself feel better was keep on painting. The coffee stain was slowly disappearing. Had Barry not seen it beforehand he’d probably never know it had been painted over. Hopefully he’d leave Victoria alone when she brought it back.
She put a hand on my shoulder. “Roger, you want anything. Oranges? Strawberries? ”
I wasn’t very hungry, but for some reason I felt like I should be more gracious than her boyfriend. “Um, maybe just an orange. Hang on, I’ve got a dollar here somewhere.”
She laughed. “Please, like I’m gonna make you pay for an orange when you’re saving my job. It’s on me. I’ll be right back. You two can stay and talk about your weird movies.”
“Thanks.” I smiled. Like an idiot.
She stepped around me and kissed Gabe on the mouth. I spiraled a bit further into depression. “Love you, babe.”
Gabe kissed her back and patted her butt. “Love you too, gorgeous.”
It really sank in at that moment that they were in love. It was a strange “opposites attract” kind of love, but you could see it was for real. Clearly she dug his bad boy attitude. Tooth had always had that same kind of “asshole” quality that girls liked. I’ll never understand it. She squeezed his hand, then made her way back to her car.
She was genuinely happy with this guy. It made me sad.
As she was pulling out, a muddy SUV passed by her on its way to the other side of the lake. All the windows were down. Arms dangled out of them, attached to cigarettes. The two guys in the front seat, and the one guy in the back seat, all leered down into Victoria’s car. I guess attractive girls get that a lot. But for some reason it set me on edge. These guys looked creepy, like the type of guys that hang out in biker bars just looking for trouble. And I mean real biker bars, not those hipster dive bars.
Gabe saw it too and actually yelled out to them. “She’s taken, assholes!”
The guy in the backseat leaned out and flipped him off as the SUV continued on. Gabe returned the sentiment. For a minute I thought they’d come back and start some shit, but they didn’t.
“You get that a lot?” I asked. “People looking at her like that?”
“Fuck. Everywhere we go. I swear I had to start lifting weights just so I could get guys to leave her alone at the bars.”
“Well, be glad you have it.”
He finished his cigarette and stamped it out. “You go the bachelor route?”
Not by choice, friend. “I guess.”
“Don’t sweat it. I used to be like that. All I wanted was a good fuck. Nowadays, I dunno . . . Victoria kind of changed me. She says she domesticated me. I told her not to turn me into anything with more than two syllables ’cause it hurts my head.”
He laughed at his own joke. I cracked a smile myself.
“But I miss the old days, too. I had a lot of ’tang about two years ago. I fix cars. You know, a mechanic. So I’d trade work for favors sometimes. Don’t tell Victoria I told you that.”
“Mums the word.” Well, at least now I had some ammo to use against him should I desire to break them up. Which, of course, is not how I am. Just wishful thinking and all.
“She gives a hell of a blowjob though. I swear. Sucks my eyeballs into my fucking skull. Don’t tell her I told you that either.” He paused. “You must get laid a lot doing this shit, huh?” He pointed to the painting.
Why people think artists have girls clamoring for them is beyond me. Unless my fish is female--and I have no idea how to check so don’t ask--there isn’t a girl on the planet who gives two shits about me. The fish only likes me because I feed it. And really, it has no idea where the food comes from anyway, just that it suddenly appears on top of the water, so even if it is female you can scratch that notion, too.
“Not really,” I replied.
“Why not? Don’t girls go all stupid over art and shit? Don’t they all take photos and write poetry and hang up flower prints over their beds? You telling me no girls are willing to suck you off for a free painting?”
I wished he’d stop pressing this issue. “Kind of have a . . . strange history. Most people don’t really get it.”
“Strange history? What? You on the run or something? Blow up your high school?”
“Not quite.”
“Wait, you’re not in the closet are you? That would explain why Victoria likes you. She’s has a couple of gay friends. She’s got a fag hag side to her. Not that I mind . . . I mean . . . if you are.” He paused again. “Fag hag is okay to say, right? It’s, like, accepted and all?”
“I’m not gay, Gabe.” I picked up the beer and downed the rest of it in as manly a way as I could. Even rolled out a low burp just for his benefit.
“So you’re straight?”
I rolled my eyes. “As an arrow.”
“Just checking. Like I said, nothing against gay guys . . . but I never know what to talk about with them. Have some gay guys that bring their cars to me. Nice guys, actually. You think they like Peter Jackson films?”
I should introduce this guy to Cam at the art store. They could both solve the “mystery” of homosexuality, which so far consisted of trees with assholes in them and ignorance of New Zealand filmmakers.
The coffee stain was completely gone now, so I took the painting off the easel and carried it to my car, placed it in the backseat. As I went back to work on the previous painting, Gabe picked up a rock and pitched it into the water. It made a kerploop, and the film on the water’s surface spread out in a wide circle.
“Want to know the real reason I tried to take Vic to lunch today?” he said.
I finished the top of a palm tree on the canvas before asking, “Why?”
“This.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. He opened the top and shook the contents out into his other hand. It was a diamond ring. “I’m going to propose.”
To say my heart sank would be an understatement, but I didn’t want to let on how much I suddenly hated his guts again. Chances are she’d say yes and all my daydreams about going on a date with her would never be anything but that--just daydreams.
“You don’t have a box?” I asked.
“I do, but it bulges out in my pocket and I wanted to surprise her. It’s a quarter carat, which ain’t much, but the guy at the store said we can upgrade over time. Trade it in for a half carat in, like, two years. What do you think?”
I sighed. What could I say? “Think you’re one lucky guy.”
“Yeah, except now we won’t have time to go to lunch.” What do you think about doing it here, at this lake? Is that romantic?”
“Spontaneous maybe. Romantic? I dunno. Better than at a Burrito shop though.”
“You think?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. She seems to be really into you.”
“Well, shit, almost two years now, she’d better be.”
I kept on painting, trying my best not to think about it, hoping maybe he’d just put the damn ring away and change the subject. Go back to talking about horror movies and girls who gives blowjobs for oil changes.
He snapped his fingers. “Oh shit. I just had an idea. You could, like, paint a picture of us and we could hang it in our apartment. Would you do that?”
Paint a picture of the girl I had the hots for and her grease monkey husband? Sure, why not. Why should I ever get to paint stuff that actually makes me feel good?
“I mean, I’ll pay you. Like, fifty bucks. Is that cool?”
Normally I’d charge about four hundred for a portrait, but I relented since it would be for Victoria. Yeah, I’m a sap. “Sure. I’ll need to get a photo of you.”
“I think I have one in my wallet.” He took it out of his back pocket and rummaged around in it. “Shit. Guess not.”
“It’s okay. I brought my camera. When she gets back I’ll take one--”
“But don’t tell her what it’s for. I want it to be a surprise. I’m gonna go find a good spot around here to pop the question.” He took off toward the water. When he reached the edge
of the lake he began walking around the perimeter. Across the water I could see the SUV parked near some picnic tables. Three arms hung out the windows, all smoking cigarettes. Hopefully Gabe wouldn’t be stupid enough to walk by them alone. Maybe it wouldn’t matter though; there were a handful of couples still laying in the grass, and one guy playing Frisbee with his dog. It was rare you saw three guys beat someone up in broad daylight in front of witnesses.
Of course, Skinny Man had attacked us in broad daylight. So who can say.
Chapter 5
Victoria came back about ten minutes later, parked her car, and walked up to me. She picked a few strawberries out of a little container. “The oranges all looked gross so I spared you. I got these instead. They’re super juicy. You want one?”
I shook my head. I hadn’t really wanted the orange that much anyway. And I’d since lost my appetite knowing Gabe was about to propose. All I really wanted was another beer. Maybe some weed. And for Gabe to fall in the lake with his ring and drown.
“Hey, did you fix the painting?” she asked.
“Yeah, it’s in my car. Hang on.” I put my brush down and walked with her to the parking lot.
When she saw the painting she did a little jump. “Oh wow! You can’t even tell I spilled on it. Thank you thank you!”
She leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. My face flushed and I felt electricity flow through my body. I’d wanted for so long to feel her lips against me. Her breath smelled of strawberries and she got some of the juice on me but I didn’t want to wipe it off. I know, that sounds creepy, but I still felt it there and it was a sweet reminder.
She took the painting and put it in her own car, then checked her watch. “Oh crud, I need to get back before Barry calls me and chews me out. Hey, where’s Gabe?”
“He went for a walk over near the water.”
“Dammit. He knows I need to get back. Sometimes he’s such a retard.”
“Yeah, but you love him. Right?” I stressed the last word a bit too much and she cocked her head at me.
Born To Bleed (The Roger Huntington Saga, Book 2) Page 4
