by Aven Jayce
“To hell you are.”
“To hell I’m not.”
“You don’t know anything about that city.”
“But I have obedient assistants with me who do.” He tilts the rear-view mirror in our direction, narrowing an eye. “They’re keeping quiet in the back seat. A good little boy named Quinn and his pretty fuck buddy, Addie.”
“You’re driving? Doing this now? You’re in your car?”
“Uhhh, no. I’m on a train and have the body in a suitcase. Yeah, Dad, I’m in my fucking car. What do you think? And it’s 2 a.m., the dead of night... shit, that’s funny. I didn’t mean to say that. Good one, though.”
“Jack...”
“Perfect time for a body dump.”
“Jack...”
“Huh?”
“Am I on your Bluetooth system? Are they listening?”
“Yep.”
“Damn it!”
“Hey. You’re the one who insisted I should never look at my cell while I’m driving. And you’re the one who made me swear I’d always answer your call, hands-free, no matter what. And—”
“Keep your mouth shut and stop acting like a teenage fuckup. Jesus Christ.”
The force of his dad’s voice vibrates the windows and stirs Jack to slam his fist against the dash, causing both Quinn and me to jerk back.
“You’re going to break that system,” his dad grumbles.
“Why did you call again? Get it over with so I can do my thing.”
“Your thing is why I called. Your problems are my problems.”
“There’s no problem.” He looks in the mirror at Quinn and me. “Is there a problem, kids?”
We remain quiet. The abrasive jute rope used to keep my hands confined behind my back is making the skin around my wrists itch. I have no idea why he found it necessary to ask Dylan to bind us. It’s not like I was gonna take off running through the woods right in front of the sick monster.
Sneaking around is one thing, trying to escape in front of him is another, especially in the nude. I’m thankful that Dylan at least let me put on my jeans and a shirt, but my sneakers were left behind, and Quinn’s still bare-chested.
“I can’t hear you back there.” He cups his ear. “Reassure my dad so he doesn’t fly out here and break our necks. Tell him life is good. He’ll be happy to hear I’ve made some new friends.”
We don’t say a word; the two of us just sit and stare straight ahead.
Jack brings out the same feelings in me as the gruesome scenes in horror movies. My heart races and palms sweat. I want to cover my eyes or rush out of the theatre. Only I stay, needing to find out what happens in the end.
“Stop playing games. No one’s in the car with you.”
“They’re being friggin’ cock-twats.”
“Jack, dispose of the body properly, do away with the witnesses, and call me when you’re finished... and don’t forget to take your meds.”
“Dad?”
“What?”
“One of the witnesses is a woman.”
“Is she real or imaginary?”
“Ha, ha... ha. Do you hear how cold I sound from your constant ridicule? Is she real? You want to make fun of me? Fine. Wait ‘til I get back and bone your wife.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Dude, did you fuck your mom?” Dylan asks with a burst of laughter.
“She’s my stepmom and she’s gorgeous, but no, not yet.”
“Not ever!” his dad shouts.
“I’m closer to her in age than you are.”
“Age has no meaning... wait, who the fuck was that? No, on second thought, don’t tell me. Don’t say another word. I get it now. You’re driving me into an early grave so you can get your inheritance and take over my hotel and Afterglow. This wild... thoughtless... irrational behavior—people in the car, letting them in on our family business, and witnesses... we never have witnesses. You know that.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Is this some form of entertainment for you? Or are you hoping I become so frustrated that I back out of the company and hand it over. Is that it? You must think I won’t take the hit for your mistakes.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Or maybe that’s your new plan. Fuck up and I’ll step in and go to prison for you. Then you’re free.”
“Uh-huh.”
Dylan sits up and looks back at Quinn with a big grin. “Hear that, bro? Good to know I’m not the only one. When I was rotting in that cell I went mad thinking I was there because I beat that guy up for you. Guess I’m glad I stepped in, though. I was watching over my flesh and blood... like this guy on the phone.”
“You’re watching over me? Is that why my hands are tied?”
Those are the first words out of Quinn’s mouth in over an hour.
“Jack, unless you’re lying again, those were male voices, but you said there’s a woman.”
“Yep.”
“So three witnesses? Three? Fuck. I’ll be on the first flight out in the morning.”
“No, hold up. Dylan’s my new bodyguard, and the other guy’s his brother.”
“Bodyguard? There’s no reason... God, I should’ve known better than to let you head out on the road without me this summer. You know what your problem is?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.”
“You talk too much. Learn to shut your mouth. Everyone’s affairs aren’t your affairs. Stay out of other people’s crap and don’t bring people into ours. Are you listening to—”
He ends the call and pulls out a tin, tossing it onto Dylan’s lap. “Light one up. My old man said not to forget to take my meds.”
“Was that a joke?” Dylan asks.
“What? The meds?”
He nods and opens the tin, taking out a rolling paper and a small baggie filled with weed.
“He’s referring to getting high, although he did force me to see a shrink years ago. That guy said I was bipolar and he wanted to medicate me, but I was like, who isn’t bipolar? I never laughed so hard in my life.”
“Why would he say that if it wasn’t true?” I ask.
“Oh, now she speaks.” He reaches back and grabs my knee, moving it from side to side.
“Why?” I ask again.
“Because I love to fight, fuck, and spend money, because I can’t live without drugs and alcohol, because I don’t give a shit whether I live or die, because I’m depressed and can’t sleep... I’m sort of a liar, too.”
“And that makes you bipolar?”
“Nope. That stuff only makes me a Jameson... besides, I just said I lie a lot, maybe none of that shit about the shrink is true.” He shakes his head and says, “So gullible.”
I lean forward and watch Dylan roll a joint, while Jack whistles and taps the steering wheel, seeming wide awake and full of pep.
“Here.” Dylan passes him a joint. “Go ‘head and self-medicate.”
I work furiously at the rope to get free. “This is ridiculous. Untie my hands in case we’re in an accident. Don’t light it... don’t... Jesus, not when you’re driving!”
“I love it when you call me, Jesus.” He holds a deep inhale with a grin, a moment later expelling a short cough as he passes the spliff to Dylan. “Did you tie a good knot on her?”
“Nice n’ tight,” he says, pointing in the direction of Tivoli Park. “Slow down and make a left. There’s a dirt road coming up you’ll want to turn down. See it?”
“I see it.”
“Drive to the end.” Dylan rolls down his window and sets his arm on the sill, the airflow sending smoke in my face. “Trent showed me this spot a couple days ago. It’s just around the corner from my dad’s house. He said it’s where he hangs for a job, in case I wanted to make some quick cash.”
“And he was a squatter in this area? Did he sleep and shit here, too?”
“He said so. Mentioned it the other night.”
“Fucking perfect,” Jack says. “Open the glove box and take out that cheapo knife. Hold onto it for me and keep guard... you can be my bodyguard and my weapons man.”
I shake my head in disbelief as Dylan follows orders, happy with his new role in Jack’s world.
“You do realize this is real life, don’t you?” I ask.
“Who the fuck are you talking to?” He brings the car to a stop, turning with a nefarious glare.
“Both of you.”
“Change that fucking attitude. You think you were such hot shit last night? Like I didn’t know you were trying to put one over on me, leaving Quinn behind and walking back to Albany. Are you living in reality?” He raises his voice, then looks around the area and swiftly lowers it. “There’s a body a foot or so behind you and for some reason you keep shoveling shit out of your mouth like you’re not going to be next in line. Once he’s out, I won’t think twice about putting you in.”
Quinn lifts his head to speak, but after clearing his throat, changes his mind and disappears into silence again... come back to me.
“I miss you,” I whisper. “Please talk to me.”
“You could learn something from him.” Jack presses the trunk button on his key fob, steps out and slams his door, heading to the back while talking to himself... or me... yeah, he’s talking to me as he stands behind the car.
“Seeing and experiencing death when you’re still alive is reality. This... this is real life. I experience it every fucking day.” He pounds the side of the car and calls for Dylan. “Get back here and lift this guy out.”
Dylan joins him behind the trunk, grunting when he lifts the body, moving slowly to my side of the car.
“Stop there, next to her.”
Trent’s hands are tied behind his back, like ours, and his head’s covered in a black plastic garbage bag.
Jack set this up to look like a revenge style killing... is that to help clear us from the chaos that happened at the river, and if so, why?
He stands next to Dylan and speaks to me in a tranquil tone...
“When you work, play, eat, shit, and fuck... keep those muddied eyes of yours open. You don’t want to miss a moment. There’ll be plenty of time to enjoy the darkness when you’re in your final, deep sleep.” He gestures to Dylan to put the body down.
Trent’s lobbed into the ditch, an actual softball style toss. It’s shameful... and just plain sad.
“I don’t know who’s worse, him or your brother.” I elbow Quinn, but he only looks out the window without offering any verbal response. “Please don’t do this. Talk to me, okay? What Jack said in the barn hasn’t changed our relationship... not from my end. I don’t care if you kissed a guy or if you and Jack—”
“Fuck no, he never touched me. That whole story about him jerking me off in the closet is bullshit—just like him saying you killed your mom is bullshit.”
“Sorry.”
“Addie.” He lowers his voice and slides closer to me. “Look, I never sold my body or did anything with him, but I haven’t been up front with you about my scars. I’m disappointed in myself for not—”
“Stop.” I’m not gonna allow him to beat himself up over this. “You don’t have to tell me unless you want to. Like you said to Jack and Dylan, it’s your business. He’s just trying to drive a wedge between us.”
“I know. The more he gets under our skin, the easier we are to control, but—”
“Get in, let’s go.” Jack closes the trunk and opens his door, taking a quick look at us before sliding into the front and starting the car. “What did I miss?” He taps the steering wheel, waiting for Dylan. “Hey, what’s that dipstick doing? Taking a piss next to the body? Now that’s class for you. I sure picked a winner.”
I’m stunned by how everyday this is to both of them... they’re a scary duo.
My patience is gone, my head’s pounding, the smell of blood mixed with smoke and sweat are nauseating, my clothes are filthy, I left my damn cell in the barn... plus, seeing Dylan pee reminds me that I have to pee—again.
“The world’s full of ignorant men,” Jack says, watching him shake and zip before joining us in the car.
He backs out of the dead-end drive and onto the main street, grinning at Dylan.
“What?”
“You make my life easy.”
“How so?” he asks.
“Let’s just say if I had found a guy like you years ago, I wouldn’t have wasted hours, if not days worrying about where my trails led.”
“What do you mean?”
“Wait, that’s it? Just like that, it’s over?” I interrupt, watching the body fade in the distance. “How can you put your friend in a ditch and drive away like nothing happened? Aren’t you upset at all? Don’t you have a heart? Or a conscience?”
Dylan shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve seen plenty of guys stabbed in prison. Besides, Trent lived longer than I thought he would.”
Jack laughs, his eyes slits from being stoned. “That’s a good one. I like that.” He turns to me and says, “What did you expect? I can go back if you wanna say a prayer, or if you wanna piss next to him, too.”
I shake my head and look up at the brightly starlit sky, then back to the gloomy, empty road...
Earth to earth.
Dylan relights the joint...
Ashes to ashes.
And the car picks up dust...
Dust to dust.
“I... I thought maybe you might... you know, like, sit and think about it, about him, or what happened. Bow your head and say goodbye.”
“Trent doesn’t care that he’s dead.”
“What?” I pause, dumbstruck by Dylan’s callous words. “That’s the coldest...”
“Addie, stop. Just stop talking to them,” Quinn says.
“... and most repulsive thing I’ve ever heard anyone say. Ever. Ever. Ever. You’ll regret this someday. Trust me.”
Jack laughs again. “Trust you? Meaning what? Been there, done that? Are you trying to tell us about your mom again? If you need to talk to someone about how you killed her, go for it. I’m all ears... or I guess I’m half-ears.” He tugs on a partial lobe, making fun of himself.
“Some asshole was looking for cash and she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s all. It wasn’t me. I didn’t kill my mom!” I scream.
“There’s more to it than that. I read the articles online. The path your mom was jogging on that morning was overgrown and no longer in use. It’s strange that a woman would choose to veer off the main trail, especially since she was alone. Right, Addie?” He looks at me in the mirror. “So, were you with her that morning? Did she drag you out of bed and force you to go along for some reason?”
“No.”
“Was she bitching you out for some reason?”
“I’m not listening to you.” I lean into Quinn’s chest for comfort. He moves closer and rests his chin on my head.
“You told the cops she’d never been down that way before. The article said it wasn’t her normal trail. So why? Seems like that information should’ve been their biggest clue. But, then again, I never met an ignorant cop I didn’t like.” He smiles, acting smug. “I’m sure you’re hiding the truth as to why she was there. Enlighten me.”
I rub my nose along Quinn’s chest, wishing we were anywhere other than in this car with Jack. “Your fantasies about my mom’s death aren’t going to creep inside my head.”
“I doubt that.”
“Hey man, what happened to your ears? Your dad got a short fuse like ours?” Dylan asks, giving me a break from the harassment.
“Yeah, he cut me with his switchblade when I got out of line. I bring it up to him every chance I get, running the guilt-trip hard, but it’s all in good fun. Jesus though, at the time my ears hurt like a son of a bitch.” He massages the deformed flesh between his thumb and forefinger for a couple of seconds. “He said to take pride in having scars, especially the ones
from him. And I do, as long as no one touches them, everything’s cool.”
“Hear that, bro? This guy’s smart. Don’t feel so bad about those scars on your leg.”
“Whatever,” Quinn responds, completely annoyed.
“No, mine aren’t like Quinn’s. They’re marks of love, not hatred. And the first time was about an initiation into the family. I was cut, then put on cleanup duty to learn the proper way to dispose of a body.”
“Holy shit, your family’s badass. You’ve got the best life, man.”
Jack grips Dylan’s shoulder, relishing in being worshipped. It’s an all-out love fest in the front seat.
“Your dad’s right, you talk too much,” I say.
He slows the car, surveying the street we’re on. “Not true,” he says in a dead tone. “Not true at all. I don’t open my mouth to just anyone. As far as I’m concerned, the three of you are already dead, so I can say whatever the fuck. You and Quinn are down to your last hours, and Dylan’s my property.”
“Wait, what?” Dylan says.
“What are we doing?” Quinn stares out his window then turns in a flash to look out mine. “Why the fuck are we here?”
“Is that a philosophical question? You want me to pull over so we can have a deep conversation about the meaning of life?”
“How did you know where our dad lives? Dylan, did you tell him? I’m not dealing with his bullshit again. No way. We’re not stopping here.”
“You hate him that much?” Jack asks.
“I hope I never see the prick again.”
Dylan shifts in his seat and says, “Our dad cut him the other day in front of his girl. It wasn’t a good scene.”
Jack squints, trying to see the house numbers. Ten feet, twenty feet, coming to a stop in front of their dad’s home.
“If this is part of that fucking intervention thing... I won’t do it... I’m not confronting him. Just keep driving.”
“Nope,” Jack says.
Quinn tries with all his might to get free, redistributing his weight, rubbing the rope against the seatbelt buckle, forcing his wrists wide, trying to stretch the rope. Nothing works. “Are you going to dump me here with my hands confined so my dad can do whatever the fuck he wants to me? You think my life is a big joke? Is this supposed to be funny?”
