“Come on, let’s watch the tube. There’s this one show I want you to see.”
“It better not be lesbian stuff again, man. Really.”
“Hey, fact versus fiction. You have to admit it’s impressive. I just wanted to know if Dara and Maribel could get that same rhythm—”
“Enough.”
Johnny opened the door to the house. “It’s a fuckin’ sitcom, by the way, you douche.”
“Sounds good.”
“A lesbian sitcom.”
“What?”
“Just kidding.”
“Johnny, you are a depraved man.”
“Deprived, not depraved.”
Johnny decided everything would work out. Luke was going through his own shit at work and it didn’t seem to bother him much. You just had to have some kind of resolve was all. It was settled. Johnny wouldn’t apologize for these fuckers trying to railroad him, but if they let him come back to work, he’d shut up and do his job. Of course, he wouldn’t teach Grover how to do anything. The kid didn’t deserve the bump in pay. The title. None of it.
And if everybody’s tit was in a ringer about what had happened tonight, if Johnny did lose his job of ten years over a momentary lapse of judgment, he would sue the city for psychological harm or some shit. That might take time and money, though…Hell with that. Johnny knew a guy that bought stolen copper fittings. Perhaps he’d take a tour of the city and steal every bit of copper from every city backflow device. He’d use the money to open his custom motorcycle shop. See how those dick-smears liked that.
Yeah. Good. That wasn’t a bad idea at all. They’d see. They thought he was like Mouse? Some no-good, union-hugging slob? A grimy little flea or tick? Or what were those other things called? Louses? Mouse the louse. Sounded about right.
Well fine. Let the city think of Johnny Cruz whatever they wanted. He’d laugh all the way to the bank. They’d seen. Soon.
They’d feel the full potential of this louse.
Chorus:
He thought about what the dreams meant.
In the playground structure, They have built many shapes, shown many colors. Harnessing fire-engine red, sunshine yellow, baby blue, sweet-pea green, this three level fixture of metal composites and plastic would likely call attention to itself in an unaffected world. Here, the eyes beg to look away.
The smaller slide that once spiraled to the ground, collecting static and giggles along the way, now spirals up into the sky through the black clouds that drip with long, icy incisors. Looking close, They would see something indistinguishable riding the slide down (or up?), and this something, this indistinct enigma, is the red kind, the one They squint to focus on and exclaim silently within their loud, loud hearts, it’s bloody, whatever it is, it’s bloody. They look away. Sure They do.
Except for one. The man on the bench across from the playground. He’s listening. He’s waiting. He’s watching. His attention is on the leering clown-face tunnel beneath the play-set. The man cannot recall a time when the tunnel merely led to open air beneath the second floor. It hasn’t been long, and yet, this tunnel before him has always stretched to the farthest darkness his eyes can discern. In his ringing ears, beyond the eternal song that rests upon the sky, earth and brain, come the taps of a xylophone, and children are screaming and laughing and living, or screaming and cackling and killing. In his mind, he longs for answers and hatches questions like an overstressed hen. In his eyes, he beholds the mixing of shadows and flashes of light and slashes of blood at the far end of the tunnel. He bites a sob on his lip. Of course, he does. He’s one of Them.
“Can you hear me in there?” he asks. “Don’t let it find me. Please…I want to live. Did you hear me? Say something. Just make a sound. Anything. Tell me you’ll keep it away. I can’t see it again. My mind…won’t take it. Please.”
Verse 2: The Interview
Chapter 5
Days like these, Luke played goalie.
It wasn’t enough that the Los Angeles contract and his job were in question. Hell, due to the tight-knit network of environmental agencies, the shit-splash went fairly far, so Luke’s ability to find anything new might be in question. That particular raincloud followed him to work every day now, but it didn’t stop at that—there was also this little matter of a man married to two women.
People’s opinion about his relationship with Dara and Maribel varied on many levels of disapproval, and he deflected endless attempts, subtle and not-so-subtle, to score points against his wives. It had been several months now since their secret became public domain, but the barrage continued with renewed vigor every day. He could feel the eyes of people he didn’t know, but they were easy to ignore—some people here at GeoGreen had been familiar faces for almost a decade. Friends. Some almost like family.
Mildred Betters from accounting had once treated him like a son, and although she didn’t abandon their half-hour long talks about her granddaughter’s water polo team, she stopped asking him about Dara completely and never mentioned Maribel. Luke wanted to believe she did it to spare him any awkward moments, but then again, Mildred had several Christian fishes on the bumper of her car, which told him her silence might be for more sanctimonious reasons. It bothered him to judge her like that, but when in Rome....
At least she didn’t confuse Dara with Maribel.
At least he didn’t feel like a walking hard-on around her.
At least, at the very least, he’d never overheard the word “mistress” or “Mormon?” whispered from her cubicle.
The list of known offenders went on. For some reason, Jane Wiles in plan check and the CEO’s secretary Maria Rosa, who had always flirted with him, had now become aggressive with their advances; Blake Jackson, a fellow engineer, while still polite and professional, no longer asked Luke to Cowboy Burger for lunch; and Denise O’Shea, who ran the storm water contracts, rumpled her nose whenever he came walking down the hall. She may have always been a bitter woman—he couldn’t recall if she’d ever been cordial, even before the rumors started swirling—yet it didn’t matter, because Luke still had to deflect it. Captain Courageous had to absorb every attack, even those he conjured himself, and he had to remind his black-and-blue heart, they just don’t know.
Some days he did this without any extra effort. Others were more difficult.
Today was shaping up to be one of the difficult ones.
He took three aspirin and drank them down with black coffee. The beers last night with Johnny wouldn’t have had an effect on him back in the day, but at thirty-two he got banging headaches if he went over three drinks. It was difficult to focus on his emails. The song had crept into his mind again. Tapping. Wind. Crying. Laughing. A xylophone. Static. Life and death sounds. He had the idea that while he slept the song was just as elusive. It was like the soundtrack to his unconscious mind, and the song wanted to be free again; his mind had to mold it and bring out the tenor and bass and vocal progression. The tone, too. The song would need to have some dimension before he could completely recall it.
He wondered about the red rubber duck. He wondered about Petunia Stedding. Was she really okay, like that cop had said? He hoped so.
Luke highlighted a couple important emails. He found one from Maria, the CEO’s secretary. The subject line: Don’t you wish you had a mouthful of those?
He sighed. Once he deleted an email from her with a provocative subject but Maria had actually included some business items in the body of the email. He’d never seen it and failed to call the west coast project manager, who patently had an ego that required people call him back the same day.
Luke opened the email to a photo of a woman with enormous breasts. She wore a translucent bikini that left nothing to the imagination. Below the photo it said: “BIGGIES, BUT YOU & THE WIFE HAVE SARA, SO YOUR PROBABLY USED TO THIS. STUD! LOL! :)”
Sara?
He twisted the flesh between his eyes, hoping to kill the lingering ache there.
Sending something like this was pret
ty ballsy after the recent security upgrades and internet monitoring the company had invested in.
After he deleted the email, Luke sent Maria a request to keep all correspondence business related. He might have corrected her about Dara’s name and the fact that she was his legal wife, but knew it would do little good. Luke had sent similar emails to her before to no avail. He’d even thought about going to HR to file harassment charges, but Maria had been with the company since its inception and was like a daughter to Kris Thacker, the president. Filing for harassment was a pile of shit Luke didn’t want to step into, for sure.
“Have you finished with those P sheets?”
Luke glanced up from his monitor.
Derek Stobecker.
This was the gray little man who would make or break Dara at her interview. He, like Mildred, had proclamations of his faith stickered on his mini-van, but unlike Mildred, he brought up the Lord any chance he got and usually at Luke’s expense. In fact, by the pinched look on his face, he seemed to be thumbing through the bible in his mind, for ease of use.
“Didn’t you ask Blake for those?”
“No.” Derek sighed. “I asked you.”
“I’m kidding. It shouldn’t be a problem. I have the isometrics done for the third site already and the fact sheet on the dissolved air flotation system is in your inbox—”
“How long will the P-sheets take? LA county is being…insistent.”
“By the end of the day.”
Derek dropped into the chair across from the desk. He looked weary, but then Derek always looked weary. “I want to talk a little with you. It’s personal, so I hope you don’t mind. It seems I’m doing an interview with your girlfriend—”
“Wife. Yeah, yeah, she’s excited.”
He blinked for several moments. “This is the one you’re married to?”
“Derek…I don’t really want to talk about that again, if it’s all the same to you.”
His face went long. “I still have a responsibility to see that things don’t get too complicated around here if we are going to hire your, um, wife. It’s this Los Angeles deal—”
“Are you refusing Dara an interview?”
With a snort, Derek shook his head and looked away. “Try not to be personal about this. Think about how you’ve turned this department upside down on two fronts, only in a matter of months.”
“Completely my fault. Yeah, I get it.”
“You know I don’t believe that.”
“Belief won’t help me with the LA contract,” said Luke grimly, “But if it does…Dara and I will be in completely different departments, so it’s within company guidelines. I work at home three days a week. Shouldn’t make for many complications I don’t think.”
Derek licked his lips and, with a sour expression, stood up. “Yes….”
“So I’m going to get to work on those plumbing specs right now.”
“Just so I know. Who was it I saw with you at the grocery store last Sunday?”
Luke stretched out his mind, waiting to fend off the incoming puck. “That was Maribel.”
“And I hate to press, but this is a unique situation. Who holds her health and life insurance, can I ask?” The man dissected him with his bright blue eyes.
“She has her own. Maribel’s a teacher, and Dara is currently on my insurance. We aren’t legally… married… to Maribel, so she’s separate financially.”
You happy now? Asshole?
Something made Derek turn abruptly, as though prodded with electricity. “Can I offer some advice?”
Luke swallowed. “Absolutely.”
“This is a bit risky way to go about things. You should come down sometime, you and Maribel, to discuss Dara. We know how perilous the world can be sometimes.”
“Pardon?”
“My church has family counseling. You and your wife—oh did I say Maribel again? She’s the other one.”
Luke felt his fingernails digging into his palms. “We aren’t religious and don’t need any therapy. Thanks though. I mean it. I appreciate your concern. We’re good. No problems at all.”
“Oh, it’s not therapy—sorry, I didn’t mean to be pushy.”
“We’ve been together for over three years now. We’re very happy.”
“So you don’t go to church then? Ever?”
“Dara used to be Catholic, but no—”
“You’re atheists?” The surprise in the man turned him a shade of green that almost made Luke bust out laughing.
“We have nothing against it. Maribel actually finds studying books on religion to be a fascinating pastime.”
Derek frowned. “I’m very sorry for bringing all of this up, Luke. I had the impression you were Christian, since you’re such good friends with Mildred. I hope I haven’t made you feel uncomfortable.”
“No, no. It’s okay. My parents were Christian.”
“I’ll pray for you guys.” He got up from the chair, resolute.
“May I offer a suggestion, Derek?” asked Luke.
He raised his eyebrows, but nodded curiously.
“Those children at the Rec center who lost their parents sure could use your prayers more than us. I was there. It was very scary. They and their families would probably appreciate your thoughts.”
Derek snorted. “Hardly… we all know that’s what frogmen do. No prayers are necessary.”
Luke stared at him for a moment, until what he said sank in. “Oh yeah,” he replied. “Sure.”
“Well then, back at it.” Derek gave an awkward thumbs-up that scarcely cleared his pointer finger. “I’m sure Dara will have a fine interview tomorrow. Tell her not to worry. We’re all nice people here.”
“Yes, we are.”
After a tight-lipped smile, Derek left the room.
Putting that conversation behind him, the song began seeping into cracks in the foundation of his mind again, Luke tried to get some work done for a change. He’d been daydreaming for the past couple of months about quitting this job and opening his own small environmental engineering firm. It’d be better if they moved out of Southern California, somewhere with less hellish weather, perhaps to a mountain town or something. Maribel wouldn’t like the idea of living like a hermit, so it would have to be somewhere within reach of a big city, and she would need to keep teaching children. Dara would go with the flow.
Wait, though. What if she got the job here?
Unlikely now.
Luke put his mind back to reviewing the plumbing diagrams for the latest bio-digester he’d designed for the water reclamation plant, or as Johnny called it, “the shit farm.”
Thinking about Johnny, he took another aspirin (now at the max dose) and swallowed his last sip of cold coffee. He decided that a fresh cup was in order and headed for the break room. Halfway there, he felt someone pacing him.
Maria had too much rouge on her cheeks, and one of her silver hair clips appeared to have lost its grip on her long, wavy, night-black ponytail. She wasn’t a hard woman to look at most days, but when she was busy or flustered, all of her attractiveness diminished to the stress wrinkles around her eyes.
“You didn’t have to be so serious with me in that email,” she told him, breathlessly trying to keep up. “I thought we were friends. Can’t you take a joke? You know I’m the only one here who defends you? Do you even know that?
Luke faced her. “Wait up a minute—“
“Do you know how you made me feel?” Maria asked.
“Wait, wait. Take it easy. It’s all good. I’m not mad. Just trying to be professional is all. Let’s get you a cup of coffee.”
“No, I’ve got to get back to my desk. You aren’t going to say anything about that picture, right? It was a joke. A damn joke.” Her voice shrank, the words sitting in her mouth. She looked away from him. “Thought guys liked that kind of thing.”
“Let’s just forget about it. Better head back, okay?”
“I just can’t believe…you would be offended.”
&nb
sp; “I’m not.”
“It’s not fair.” A smile started to form on Maria’s full lips, but she apparently willed it away. “You led me on.”
“No, he didn’t,” said a voice behind them.
Cup of herbal tea delicately held in his large hand, Blake Jackson stood there, his frame almost filling the doorway. His heroic face had African features but there was an exotic, almost Asian appearance to the set of his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Blake, but this is actually a private matter,” said Maria.
“Like heck it is. Maria, just go back to your desk and play Angry Birds. You aren’t doing any good here.”
She glanced at Luke and started away, her heels snapping on the tile floor. When she was gone, Blake cocked his head and rolled his eyes. “Such is your life.”
“Such is my life,” answered Luke. “Thank you.”
Blake shrugged and made a face, don’t mention it. Luke wondered for a moment what it would be like to have Blake as his best friend, rather than Johnny. Life would be easier, no doubt. Johnny probably would have egged Maria on.
“Well, I’m gonna get some Joe.”
“Go for it, man,” said Blake, stepping aside.
Luke went in and grabbed a cup from the stack. “Hey, isn’t your barbecue bash this month. Gotta get me some of those jalapeno cheddar hot links.”
Blake’s shoulders sagged. “It was last weekend…sorry.”
Luke reached for the powdered creamer. Words stuck in his throat. “So…uh…scaling the event down huh?”
“Shawna and I thought you’d be busy with your swim class.”
Nightmare Ballad Page 5
