Dana was pulled out of her thoughts by the approach of a couple of teenaged boys. Smiling, she said, “Welcome to Beast House, guys.”
One smiled in a shy way, and the other said, “Thanks.”
“May I see your tickets, please?” The boys handed them over, and she ripped them in half. Giving half a ticket back to each boy, she said, “Be sure to keep your stubs, okay? They’ll get you half-price admission to the Beast House museum over on Front Street.”
“Is it any good?” asked the larger boy. He was tall and gawky, with stringy brown hair that fell past his shoulders. Dark blue sunglasses hid his eyes. He wore a T-shirt that read HOWARD STERN—KING OF ALL MEDIA.
“It’s a must,” Dana told him. “A lot of the actual stuff is over there. Like some of the real clothes the victims were wearing—all shredded and bloody.”
“Oh, cool,” said the Howard fan.
“Way cool,” said his buddy, a short and chubby fellow wearing a Beavis and Butthead T-shirt.
“You guys are gonna love this stuff,” Dana said, then turned away to take down a couple of tape players.
“I love it already,” the Howard fan said.
His friend cackled.
Dana turned around. “Here you go, fellas.” She gave them the players. “Hang these around your necks by the orange straps. It’s a self-guided tour. The tapes are all rewound and ready to go. Just wait till you get to the front porch.”
“Where that stiffs hanging?”
The Beavis and Butthead fan cackled and blurted, “Stiff! He said stiff!”
Dana laughed and shook her head. “Right. That’s Station Number One, where the stiff is hung.”
“Hung, hung, hung!”
“When you get there,” Dana said, “go ahead and press the Play button. That’s this one right here.” With her forefinger extended, she touched the oblong button on top of the Howard fan’s player. “And this is the Stop button.” She pointed it out on his friend’s player. “After the porch, you go on inside and proceed from station to station. The tape will always tell you what to do.”
“I know what I want to do. Heh-heh.”
“Right,” Dana said. “Maybe some other time. Anyway, feel free to take as long as you wish with the tour. When you’re finished, just bring the tape players back to me.”
“Back to you! Back to you!”
“Please excuse my pal,” the Stem fan said. “He’s a retard.”
“Everything’s cool, guys. Just have a good time in there. And don’t let the beast get you.”
Side by side, the boys walked away from Dana, nodding, nudging each other with elbows, glancing back at her and grinning.
“You’re a natural, babe.”
Surprised, Dana turned around and found Tuck smiling at her from the corner of the ticket booth.
“Hey, how’s it going, boss?”
“Better and better. You were great with those guys.”
“Horny teenagers are my specialty.”
Tuck laughed. “How are you feeling?”
“A lot better.”
“You look fine now. Looks like all you needed was some fresh air.”
“I’m really sorry I crapped out on you.”
“No problem. About ready to grab yourself some lunch?”
“Guess so.”
“I’ll take over for you here.”
“Okay. Fine. Sure you can do without me?”
“No problem. The big rush is over. Anyway, this place can almost run itself—except for the ticket booth.” She glanced around. Then, leaning close to Dana, she said in a hushed voice, “Clyde’ll be going to lunch as soon as Sharon gets here. You might want to take off now and get a head start.”
Dana laughed softly. “Okay. Where does he usually eat lunch?”
“Up the street. Usually at Sarah’s.” .
“So if I go to the snack stand...?”
“Comes highly recommended.”
“See ya,” Dana said, and hurried off. But she slowed down when she found herself closing in on her two teenaged friends.
They stood at Station One near the dangling feet of Gus Goucher, their heads tipped back.
Just my luck, Dana thought, they’ll want to join me for lunch.
Nah. They’re here for the tour, not to bit on me.
Yeah, sure.
Instead of staying on the walkway, which would lead her straight to the boys, she cut across the lawn. This was a more direct route, anyway.
The grass silenced her footfalls. Earlier, it had been wet with dew. Now, it was dry. It felt thick and soft under her shoes. She took a deep breath, savoring the warm smell. A smell of summer.
The scent reminded her of when she was a kid and school was out and she had the whole endless sweet summer ahead of her. For a moment, she felt that way again. But then it slipped away. Like the ghost of the girl Dana, long gone, sweeping through her and giving her an instant of childhood again, then rushing off, snatching it away and leaving an ache for what had been lost.
She sighed.
That’s life, she thought.
Someone yelled, “Hey, Dana!”
She looked over her shoulder.
Both the boys, still at the feet of Gus Goucher, were now turned toward her, smiling and waving.
She waved back and yelled, “Have fun, guys. See you later.”
One of them said something to the other, who nodded eagerly.
Then they started walking toward her.
“Go on back,” she called and waved them away. “Enjoy the tour.”
“Can we come with you?”
“Sorry. Not where I’m going.”
They stopped and looked at each other.
One called, “Going to the John?”
“We’ll, like, supervise.”
“We’ll guard the door.”
“I don’t think so, guys. Thanks, anyway. Bye-bye, now.”
They waved, then turned around and started back. By the time Dana reached the walkway at the corner of the house, they were again staring up at Gus.
She smiled and rounded the corner. It was flattering that they’d been so interested in her, but she certainly didn’t want to spend her lunch break with a couple of horny, awestruck teenagers.
Dana made her way to the rear of the house. Though the eating area was fairly crowded, she spotted a few vacant tables. There were short lines of waiting customers in front of the snack stand’s two windows.
If I hit the john first, I might not get a table...
She needed to pee, but that could wait till after she’d eaten.
She started toward one of the lines.
If I don’t go to the john, it’ll make me a liar.
Besides, she really bad to wash her hands before settling down for lunch.
God-only-knows what I’ve been touching.
So she turned away from the line and made a detour to the restroom. It was well-lighted, clean, and the air had a lemony scent. A few people were washing up at the sinks. Two of the four stalls were vacant, so she picked one and stepped in.
When she was done at the toilet, she went to the row of sinks and washed her hands with hot water and soap. She dried them with a paper towel, then kept the towel in her hand so she wouldn’t have to touch the door handle.
Outside, she tossed the paper towel into a nearby trash basket.
As she walked toward the snack stand, she checked out the table situation. There seemed to be more vacant tables than a few minutes ago. And only three people were waiting at the snack shop windows.
Standing back a few feet, she studied the displays listing menu items.
There was the Original Beastburger, the Cheese Beastburger, Bacon Beastburger, Chili Beastburger, and the Double-Decker Monsterburger Deluxe. If you weren’t in the mood for ground beef patties, you could get the Red-Hot Beastie Weenie.
Dana grinned when she read that one.
She spent a couple more minutes enjoying the menu and trying to make up her mind. B
y the time she was ready to order, nobody was waiting at the window on her left. She stepped over to it.
Ducking down slightly to see inside, she smiled at the guy behind the window and said, “Hi.”
“Oh, hello,” he said. “You’re Dana, right?”
“Yep.”
“I’m Warren.”
“Hi, Warren.”
Whoa! she thought. Who’s this? And how come Tuck didn’t mention him?
“How’s your first day on the job?” he asked.
“Well...iffy. I almost upchucked upstairs...”
He smiled and shook his head and Dana couldn’t believe she’d said that to him. She blushed fiercely.
“Other than that,” she added, “it’s been great.”
He laughed and said, “Well, don’t worry about it. Everyone feels squeamish their first day. You’ll probably be fine.”
“Thanks. I hope so.”
“So, what can I get you?”
“I guess the hot dog.”
His smile grew. “I’m afraid we don’t serve hot dogs here.”
“Oh. Okay. So then, I guess I’ll have one of those...uh...Red-Hot Beastie Weenies.”
“Excellent choice.”
“You make everyone say that?”
“Maybe not everyone.”
“Just the new kids?”
“Just the ladies.”
“That’s cruel.”
He laughed softly. “Maybe a little. Most people seem to have fun with it. Especially me.”
“They’re pretty cute names. Who came up with them?”
“Ohhh...I don’t know. Me, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Pretty sure. Anyway, so far you’ll be wanting one Red-Hot Beastie Weenie? Anything else?”
“I’ll have some of those chili...” She checked the menu again. “An order of Beastly Chili Fries with cheese. And a medium Creature Cola.”
“Got it.” He hit a few keys on the register.
When the price came up, Dana reached deep into a front pocket of her shorts, pulled out a handful of bills, and gave Warren a ten.
He counted the change into her hand, then said, “I’ll bring it over to you when it’s ready.”
“Where’ll I be?” she asked.
“Don’t worry, I’ll find you. You can’t go far.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Smiling, she turned away from the window and went in search of a table.
She found a small round table that was meant for two, but somebody had taken away one of its chairs.
Nearby, a larger table had a group of five seated around it. A man, a woman, and three kids.
That’s where my extra chair went.
Doesn’t matter, she told herself. It’s only me.
Still, she felt a little irked about it.
She thought about finding a chair to replace it. But Warren might notice, might think she was getting a chair for him. That’d be pretty embarrassing.
So she went ahead and sat down and frowned at the empty place across the table where the second chair was supposed to be.
Then she looked at the family.
She suddenly remembered them from inside the house.
And smiled about how the little girl, a cute blonde maybe five or six years old, had kept asking for her freedom. Let go my band, let go my band. Pleeeease. The mother, fairly patient, had explained, We don’t want to lose you in bere, honey. There’re so many people. And the kid had insisted, I’// be fine. I won’t go way. Please, let go my hand. Not whiny, but sounding quite calm about the situation. I bet you’re scared I’ll break something, but I won’t. Kimmy does not break things.
Nifty kid, Dana thought.
Right now, the girl was frowning as if deep in thought as she nibbled on the tip of a French fry.
It seemed like a pretty nice family—even if the father had swiped Dana’s chair. The kids hadn’t been acting up very much in the house, and they were behaving fine, now. They appeared to be confident and happy, too.
It’s because their parents treat them like humans, she thought.
She’d seen so many parents who didn’t.
Everywhere she went, she saw horrible parents. At grocery stores, at malls, at public parks, this morning during her first hours in Beast House—but most especially at the swimming pool where she’d worked so many summers as a life guard. So many awful parents.
Some seemed to make it a point of honor to let their kids run wild. As if discipline might taint the self-esteem of the little charmers.
When Dana saw that, she wanted to kick their asses. The parents and the kids.
Other parents acted as if their children were criminals—snapping orders at them, berating them, jerking their arms, pinching them, swatting their little butts, smacking the backs of their heads. As if they thought life’s greatest reward was a river of tears running down a child’s face.
Dana always felt like crying when she saw that sort of thing.
She also felt like kicking the shit out of such parents, and hugging their kids.
It made her feel wonderful to see a family like this one.
I wouldn’t mind having kids like those, she thought.
You get the kids you deserve.
Or maybe none at all, if you don’t play your cards right or if you have bad luck.
“Found you,” Warren announced.
She turned and smiled at him.
He set a green plastic tray down on the table and slid it toward her. The Red-Hot Beastie Weenie and Beastly Chili Fries with cheese were in red plastic baskets lined with paper. There were two Creature Colas.
“Is one of those for you?” Dana asked.
“Yeah. Thought I’d take a little break. Windy’s holding down the fort.”
“If you can find a chair...”
“No sweat.” He hurried to a nearby table where a heavy, bearded man was sitting with a husky woman. They both wore black T-shirts, black leather trousers, and grim tattoos. They looked like outlaw bikers.
The table was big enough for four people, but nobody else sat there. One of the extra chairs had already been taken.
“Mind if I borrow this?” Warren asked the man.
“It’s a free country, Spike,” the fellow said, grinning and friendly. “Help yerself.”
“Thank you,” Warren said. He lifted the chair and hurried back to Dana’s table.
She grinned at him. “Sit down and make yourself comfortable, Spike.”
Laughing softly, he sat down. “I don’t even know the guy.”
“Maybe you remind him of someone.”
“An old pal from the cell block?”
They both laughed.
“That’s mean,” Dana told him. “He seemed like a perfectly nice guy.”
“Yeah, he did. He probably is a nice guy.” Warren reached out and took his soda off the tray. He set it in front of him.
As he tore the wrapper off his straw, he said, “That’s one thing about working here—you meet all kinds. Most of them turn out to be pretty friendly. Even the ones who look like Manson Family wannabes.”
“You’re pretty friendly,” Dana said.
He stabbed the straw through the crossed slots in the plastic lid. “No good reason not to be,” he said. He slid the straw down deeper. It rubbed the edges of the cross and made squawking noises. “So, you’re from Los Angels?”
“Afraid so.”
“Why do you say that?” Keeping his eyes on Dana, he sucked some soda up his straw.
“You know,” she said. “Los Angeles. Disaster City, U.S.A. Riots, earthquakes, shootouts, mudslides, fires. It’s embarrassing to be from a place like that.”
Nodding, Warren gazed at her and sipped more cola.
She used both hands to pick up her Red-Hot Beastie Weenie. It was darkly grilled, at least two inches longer than its bun, and looked delicious. The aromas of the spicy hot dog, onion and tangy yellow mustard made her mouth fill with saliva.
Though she wanted to take a
big bite out of it, she went on talking. “Whenever I’m on a trip and tell people I’m from L.A., I get these weird looks. Like there must be something wrong with me, living in a place like that.”
Warren took his mouth away from the straw. “You won’t get any weird looks from me.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it.” She smiled at him and bit a crusty end off her wiener.
As she began to chew, Warren said, “I’m from the People’s Republic of Santa Monica.”
Her jaw dropped. But she shut it quickly, chewed and grinned. After swallowing some of the food, she blurted, “That’s even worse!” and was delighted that no bits of semi-masticated frankfurter flew from her mouth.
Warren laughed and shook his head. “You’re telling me. It’s a real embarrassment.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
“Thanks,” he said. “So where-abouts do you live?”
“Over near Rancho Park. How about you?”
“Well, I grew up in a house on Euclid.”
Dana grinned at him and said, “I like to call it Thirteenth Street.”
He laughed. “That’s so stupid!” he blurted.
“Me?”
“Them. It used to drive me nuts. Changing a street’s name so it won’t be Thirteenth? I mean, it’s smack dab between Twelfth and Fourteenth, what the hell do people think it is? Everybody knows it’s Thirteenth Street!”
“Right! Isn’t it nuts? Like skipping the thirteenth floor in a high-rise!”
“Exactly.”
“Not that I’m superstitious or anything,” Dana said.
“Yeah, me neither.”
“But let’s get real.” What’s the matter with me? I’m running off at the mouth like a nincompoop! “It’s not the fourteenth floor, it’s the thirteenth floor. So, you’re, what, avoiding all the bad-luck baggage of thirteen by not calling it that?”
“It’s bull,” Warren said.
“Total bull. Thirteen, shmirteen.”
“People gotta get a life.”
Nodding briskly, Dana took another bite of her Red-Hot Beastie Weenie. Then she shrugged and tried to smile.
“Anyway,” Warren continued. “Let’s see.” He sucked some soda up his straw and swallowed. Then he raised his head, nodded slightly, and said, “I got a little carried away.”
The Midnight Tour bhc-3 Page 15
