When that time came, she planned to wash them down with alcohol. Every last one of them.
And there would be no heroics; she’d be well beyond any rescue effort that might keep her in the never-never land of a vegetative state.
But today she wasn’t miserable, far from it. She was floating around somewhere up near the ceiling, looking down on herself. And what did she see? She saw a happy, expectant Megan Ann.
When her makeup was finished and she was ready to leave, she started to close the locker door, but at the last minute grabbed for the nylon bag. She yanked out one of the miniatures and downed the vodka without a second thought. When the liquor crashed into her empty stomach, a welcomed heat blossomed through her body. She closed the locker door and hurried from the dressing room.
* * *
Megan Ann hoisted one hip onto a bar stool, then the other. It annoyed her that most bar seats were about an inch or so higher than she could slip onto comfortably. The Hideaway stools were no exception.
She studied the lineup of liquor bottles on the back bar. So neat, so orderly.
Wasn’t that the way life was supposed to be?
The liquors’ many shades of color fascinated her, seemed to call to her; the small buzz from the miniature she’d swallowed earlier was long gone. Her mouth filled with a pool of saliva as she studied the offerings on the back bar.
She pushed up her sleeve and glanced at her watch. Eddie should have been here by now. He was more than a minute late.
Maybe he won’t come.
Her attention shot back to liquor bottles. She wanted, no, she needed a drink. Now!
But she didn’t dare. Not if she wanted to stay sober, to be with Eddie.
She looked around at the crowd. Bars had never been her thing; they were for people who wanted to hook up with someone, or to socialize their habit. When she drank, she wanted no interruptions from people who really didn’t give a damn about her. Alcohol was about peace, oblivion – a night of not having to think about Aaron and her baby boy.
The Hideaway was rapidly filling and several men were trying to hit on her, vying for the seat she was saving for Eddie.
Two bartenders worked the crowd; the younger one gave her a big smile.
“What’llitbe, beautiful?” He waited patiently even though everyone around her was trying to capture his attention.
Before she could think about it, the order flew from her mouth: “Vodka gimlet, please.”
“Coming right up!”
As he walked away and began putting her drink together, she studied his trim body, his taut buns. A flash of yearning rolled into an ache that started at the base of her spine and curled around into her groin.
“Is this seat taken?” asked a guy, about fifty. He slid onto the stool without waiting for a reply. “You don’t mind if I sit next to you, do you?”
“No. Yes! That seat is taken.”
The stranger ignored Megan Ann and held out a twenty-dollar bill for the bartender as the vodka gimlet was placed in front of her. Megan Ann immediately gulped down half the drink, ignoring the transaction.
The bartender reached for the twenty, but before he could snatch it up, the payer’s hand was roughly pinned to the bar. The man grimaced in pain.
“What part of ‘no’ is it you don’t understand?” Eddie St. George said.
Megan Ann watched, but her mind was on the drink in her hand.
The stranger pulled away and vacated the stool. “For chrissakes,” he snapped, “you don’t have to get violent over it.”
Megan Ann stared into Eddie’s eyes. They had turned a stony green, his handsome face a tight mask of fury.
The stool-stealer lingered behind them, slowly folded the twenty and intertwined it through his fingers, while continuing to stare at Megan Ann.
“Get your ass out of here,” Eddie ordered.
The man finally moved, merged back into the after-work crowd without another word.
Eddie turned his attention to Megan Ann. “Way too beautiful. Can’t leave you alone or you get into trouble.” He was all smiles now, not a sign of anger lingered on his face.
She downed the rest of the gimlet; radiating self-assurance swam through her body, making her tingly and warm.
* * *
Pietro’s, where Eddie had driven them for dinner, had an understated atmosphere of elegance. Megan Ann was aware of the upscale restaurant, but had never dined there. Eating out, like bar hopping, was not something she indulged in very often. When she left work she always went directly to the grocery, then to her apartment, ate dinner, and spent the rest of the evening trying to stay away from booze. And men.
It was a simple life, but the only way she could stay relatively clean and sober. Sometimes one of the AA people she’d met would drag her out to a meeting, but she avoided friendships because she knew that sooner or later she would disappoint anyone who cared about her.
She watched Eddie smile at the passing meal servers as though he knew them. Their table was near a bubbling fountain, where full-blossomed white, yellow, and pink orchids were tucked in stony niches; the air was sweet and fresh.
He selected a light appetizer of eggplant, tomatoes, and olive oil, then suggested for her a main course of salmon with crusted pistachios in white wine. His entrée choice was an order of breaded sardines, with sun-dried tomatoes, over a bed of arugola.
They started on the second bottle of Dry Creek fume blanc with dessert: a torte di cioccolata for her, but nothing for him.
“I haven’t been this happy since my husband died.”
“You were married?”
She took a long sip of wine. A moment of sadness filled her, but she looked into Eddie’s eyes and felt a sudden peacefulness. It had been so long since she’d enjoyed that kind of moment.
“Yes. And I was so in love with Aaron.” She reached for his hand. “You look so much like him. I can’t begin to express how happy I am right now.”
She was finally in that special zone where life and the surrender to mindlessness were woven into one blissful union.
Eddie had eaten less than half of his entrée, so she assumed he would probably share the dessert. But he kept his hands folded at the edge of the table while she ate every bite of the flaky pastry and its rich filling.
He watched her eat; she enjoyed the attention, feeling not a bit self-conscious. When he smiled, she looked at his lips and wanted to kiss them, kiss his green Aaron-like eyes that made her body throb with anticipation.
* * *
Eddie was fascinated by the twin rings of perspiration under Megan Ann’s arms. The more wine she consumed, the larger the stains spread. He had to force his eyes away from the damp spots, just as he had to will himself to not look directly into her eyes. Her happiness made him feel unexpectedly strange.
He’d limited himself to only two half-glasses of the Russian River Valley white, while she’d consumed the rest. Part of him didn’t want her to get tipsy, or drunk; he wanted to pretend this was just a date. A date with a beautiful woman he found extremely attractive. But he couldn’t forget why he was here, couldn’t forget Father.
The waiter brought the check and Eddie paid in cash. As they wended their way between the tables toward the front door, he held her elbow lightly, ready to grab her if she faltered. He was amazed that after all that wine she could even stand, much less walk with a steady, even gait.
When they were settled in the Jaguar, he worried that the motion of driving might make her car sick, causing her to lose not only her dinner but the roofie he’d dropped into her last glass of wine. But all she did was hum along to the latest Clifford Alden jazz CD playing on the cars audio system.
By the time he’d driven into the parking lot at the rear of St. George Fine Meats, she was asleep, snoring softly. Swallowed up in the peaceful silence, he wanted desperately to turn around and drive her home.
Why did she have to make herself so available? All he knew about this redheaded nurse was that she work
ed at Ridgewood, and unexplainably, he was very much attracted to her, to her beauty, to her tenderness.
His head hurt with all the things he didn’t know or understand.
One thing was certain, one thing that couldn’t be changed: there was no going back. What was done was done.
Sliding out of the car, he opened the passenger door and reached in to haul Megan Ann up and onto his shoulder. As her dead weight settled in place, she let out an animal grunt.
He could barely breathe as he moved with heavy steps through the shop and finally into the big cold room. When he placed her on the cutting table, her arms and legs splayed out in every direction; a glob of drool ran down her chin.
Back and forth, back and forth, he paced around the table. He had to get out of here. Had to leave right now. Her red hair was so soft, her skin like fine porcelain – clean and white.
”About time,” Father shouted as he came into the room. “Put your ass on that stool, you miserable piece of shit.”
Eddie’s legs turned to water; he meekly sat on the stainless steel stool.
“You always think you’ll walk out of here before it happens, don’t you?” Father said. “Are you going to be that stupid forever? When’s it going to sink into that infantile brain that whether you’re here or not, you’re just as guilty?”
Eddie was silent, a numbness creeping across his head like the delicate legs of a spider closing in on its prey.
“You always were a pussy, a scaredy-cat kid. Afraid of your own shadow.”
Eddie wanted to hide, but there was no place to go. The usual inventory of hanging beef carcasses were gone, processed, and out of sight. Even the pitted plank floor, usually covered with a layer of blood-soaked sawdust, was swept clean.
He turned to Megan Ann - her face was expressionless; she was as limp as Raggedy Ann.
He didn’t want to do this. He hadn’t ever wanted to do any of it. Father made him bring them. Made him a murderer. Made him a monster.
“I’m sorry, Megan Ann,” Eddie whispered in her ear.
“Stop blathering over her. Everyone dies. Everyone! Think about it, you idiot! No, don’t turn your head away or try to wrack that pea brain of yours until it comes up with something pleasant to hide the truth.
“THINK!” Jacob yelled.
“From the tiniest mite, which you don’t give a rat’s ass about, to the farthest star, which doesn’t even exist for you except in books, everything dies. It’s the moments before that should concern you, you miserable slug.”
He leveled a large, bony finger at Eddie. “You! You, too, will die!”
Eddie tried to think, needed to act. But all he saw was Father – a black cloud of ugly reality circling the table.
“Get her clothes off!”
Eddie’s fingers refused to move. Father grabbed the cutting shears and snipped away Megan Ann’s clothes with one continuous movement. Goose bumps grew on her, an insult to the perfection of her pale, silky skin.
Father stared long and hard at her body. His hand shook as he traced a finger up her thigh and suddenly jabbed it between her legs. Megan Ann undulated to the in-out motion of his hand, began to moan.
“Aaron! I’ve missed you so much.”
Eddie stared at her, his stomach cramped. Tears gushed down his cheeks.
“You chicken-shit cry baby. Cut the waterworks. Hiller will pay a bundle for a beauty like this when she’s all cut up and packaged for those insatiable research labs he deals with.”
Father used his tongue to lap at Megan Ann’s skin, from thigh to breast. He bit down hard on a nipple but instead of crying out, Megan Ann sucked in her lower lip and smiled.
“Do it to me, baby. Do it to me.”
Eddie stared at her in horror.
“You see, little Eddie? The tramp likes it. Wants it.”
Father climbed onto Meagan Ann, pulled his pant zipper down, and plunged himself into her. She panted and thrust against him.
“Aaron! Aaron!” she cried out as she rotated her hips.
“Little Eddie finally gets it right.” Father laughed, then let loose an animal roar as he climaxed.
* * *
Megan Ann was floating in a purple haze of happiness. Aaron had finally come back to her.
The room was a blur, the moment expanding. Soon she would explode. She moved faster, faster, tried to cry out but her voice was gone. She opened her eyes, saw only a blur of light that faded in and out.
She was undulating, rolling in waves of joy. Then she saw the shadowy figure over her. Aaron was there, where he was supposed to be. She radiated with happiness as she began to float.
“Aaron!”
Everything became a dazzling glitter. She reached out to take his hand.
₪ CHAPTER 29
“No!” Eddie screamed. He grabbed up a wooden meat tenderizer, swung it at Father’s drooping head, hit a shoulder instead; the arm of the shirt blossomed with blood.
“Fu-u-uck!” Jacob roared. He pushed himself up with one arm and slapped his free hand against his shoulder. “I’ll kill you.”
Eddie swung the mallet again. Father countered the blow by grabbing Eddie’s wrist, but the effort through him off balance; he rolled backward off Megan Ann and fell heavily to the floor.
Eddie dashed around the table, kicked Father hard in the gut, snatched Megan Ann up in his arms, and ran from the butcher shop.
Sweat drenched his shirt, circled down his legs until his feet were like fleshless stubs sliding in his shoes and socks.
Megan Ann was rolling out of his arms; the exertion of holding onto her nude body was tearing his arm muscles, tearing at his insides.
Stop! Have to stop.
He almost fell as he hoisted her dead weight over his shoulder. She was small, but her body seemed boneless; she shifted back and forth like a half empty sack of grain.
He stretched his neck, eyes strained as he listened for the expected rush of footsteps. But there was nothing. All he saw was the creepy corridor behind him; the same winding blackness he saw in all his nightmares.
Then he was running again, out the door.
His shoes pounded on the concrete, his breathing hard and painful as he gasped at air that wouldn’t fill his lungs. His wheezing grew louder, the ragged sounds filling the space around him.
Black dots swam through his vision. He teetered on the edge of nothingness.
Move faster!
He struggled to stay upright as his legs grew weaker and weaker. At the Jaguar, he flung open the passenger door and dropped Megan Ann inside. She moved limply into the seat, her bare body slapping against the soft leather. He spread his palms across the top of the car to keep from passing out. Between gasps for air, he listened: Still nothing.
Nothing!
Everything was silent except for Megan Ann’s soft moaning, in syncopation to the noises in his chest, his booming heart, and the eerie whistling wind that crashed into the overhead sign: St. George Fine Meats.
When his head stopped spinning, he hand-walked his way along the side of the car until he reached the trunk; he opened it, pulled out a blanket, and tossed it over the naked nurse. When he was safely seated behind the wheel, he fired up the engine and with a sharp screech of tires, left the parking lot. Stuffing his mouth with his inhaler, he took four rapid puffs.
He had escaped Father! He pounded the steering wheel with excitement.
Then it hit him: where would he hide this woman?
Megan Ann was now coming around, talking to herself in a singsong murmur.
Think! Have to think.
He slowed, pulled up against the curb. He felt the neighborhood’s watchful eyes. Eyes that studied, looked to steal, hurt, cannibalize his car. He kept the engine running, locked the doors.
Dump her. Dump her here. Take off. She’ll never remember what happened.
He pounded the wheel in frustration. No. She’d remember him, remember their date.
Can I forget?
“It’s all your
fault, Father,” he yelled. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d never be in this terrible mess. Why couldn’t you leave me alone?”
As he drove away from the curb and back out onto the street, his thoughts took him back to the beginning of the horror. The quagmire started pulling him in the day he told Father about the scholarship his high school counselor had helped arrange so he could attend San Francisco State University.
* * *
“What’s this crap? University? I don’t have time to read some fancy shit from those dummies at your school.”
“It’s an invitation, Father.”
“Invitation to what?”
“To the Honors Assembly.”
“What fucking honors?”
“For outstanding students, Father.”
“Outstanding? Hah! They should see you around here. Useless.”
“Will you come to the assembly, Father?”
“Tell me, Eddie, what is it you’re so goddam outstanding at?”
“I told you about being on the Dean’s list all four years. The school sent you a letter about my four-point-zero grade average.”
“Didn’t put a nickel in my pocket.”
“I applied to the College of Business at San Francisco State.”
“What could you possibly know about business? This place would go belly up if I had to rely on you. “
“My counselor helped me get a scholarship.”
“Scholarship, huh? Shit! Like I’ve always said – the more schooling, the dumber the man.”
“I want to go to the college, Father. I really do.”
“What school again?”
“San Francisco State, Father”
“Here in the city?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What about work in the shop?”
“I … I don’t understand?”
“No free ride around here, damn it! Can you afford to hire someone to take your place, do your work?”
“No, Father.”
“Will your stupid scholarship pay for your transportation, pay for your meals?”
Sin & Bone: A Medical Thriller (The Gina Mazzio Series Book 2) Page 16
