The Damned Summer (The Ruin Trilogy)

by Weaver, Scott

  Drew looked away. "It's Jenny and some of her friends."

  "Jenny!" Johnny said with a laugh, standing up. "She can drink the yellow vodka that comes out of the end of my peter!" He grabbed his crotch to emphasize the last word.

  Drew stood up also, pointing at Johnny's face. "You give her any trouble tonight and I will fuck your shit up, you got it?"

  Johnny looked at Jake, putting his hand over his mouth. "Oh, my goodness, Nancy Drew is in love!"

  Drew sat back down. "It's not like that, we're just friends."

  Johnny started laughing so hard he had to hold his stomach. "I don't even have to say anything," he gasped. "You just burned yourself with those three little words."

  "Who is she bringing?" Jake asked, trying not to smile and hoping to change the subject before Drew dug an even bigger hole for himself.

  "She was talking to Sarah earlier at the diner, so I'm guessing her, not sure who else."

  "Sarah?" Johnny said, in complete seriousness. "Now that is virgin territory, and she's a hot little thing too." He looked at Jake, wiggling his eyebrows.

  Jake nodded lightly, pulling out a cigarette.

  "So there is nobody that can get us booze?"

  "Only one option left," Jake replied, lighting up.

  "Who?" Drew asked, looking at the other two.

  Jake looked away, refusing to make eye contact. Johnny on the other hand, looked him dead in the eye, exhaling smoke through his nose. "Whacky Jacky."

  "Are you fucking kidding me?"

  "The original perv," Johnny whispered. "And since this is so important to you, lover-boy," he walked over to Drew, wrapping his arm around the shorter guy's shoulders. "That means we're taking your car and you're the one that's knocking on his door."

  Drew looked to Jake. "You'll go up there with me, right?"

  "Fuuuck that," Jake replied. "This is your circus, bro, not mine."

  "With friends like these..." Drew said, throwing his hands in the air.

  "Suck it up, chubby," Johnny said, jumping out of the bed of the truck. "Everybody knows you gotta pay the piper before you can jam to his music."

  Drew and Jake looked at one another.

  "Every once in a while," Jake explained. "He says some seriously heavy shit that is way beyond his tiny brain."

  Chapter 6 Dark Deals

  He had several different names for all kinds of reasons, but Whacky Jacky seemed to be the one that stood the test of time. No one was still alive that remembered what they called him in 'Nam when he used to crawl in the tunnels and kill Charlie at his own game.

  "Jack-Rat," he whispered, sitting on the metal step of the small trailer he lived in out in the middle of a field that his family owned. They hid his crazy ass out here from the general public and that was just fine with him. His nephew would come out once a week and take him into town to cash his veteran disability check or so he could buy himself whatever he needed to survive, paying the lazy kid for his trouble as well of course, which was the only reason the skinny little shit came around to begin with.

  "Jack of no trades," he said a little louder. That was what his father had called him. Good old dad didn't know that Jack had found his trade in those dark, cramped, dirty tunnels in the war. Unfortunately, murder, whether for the right or wrong reasons, has a tendency to warp the individual that does the deed. Jack was no exception in this case.

  "Jack of Spades," his voice was loud and clear when he said it, pushing the button of the switchblade so it clicked open. That was his favorite nickname, the one no one else knew but him.

  The people of Storm Illinois had forgotten Jack Young, and that was fine with him. He wished he could forget himself, and just slip away into the black abyss of time, but he couldn't seem to will that to happen. So he would just sit here and smoke his cheap cigarettes and drink his watery booze and wait for the inevitable.

  "What would they think, if they knew?" he asked the grass and trees as he looked at the edge of his knife "Just how good you and I were in a throw-down?"

  He thought about all of his dead war buddies. They all thought he was nuts to take the switchblade down into the dark instead of a standard army knife.

  "You're gonna press the button," the soldier from Houston had said. "And the damn thing is either not going to open or Charlie is going to hear the click and kill you first."

  "This knife will never fail me," Jack said out loud, repeating the words from the past. "And if I'm close enough to push the button, the only thing the Gook is going to have time to do is die."

  He heard the engine coming down the road and closed up the knife, still keeping it in his hand.

  "Who the hell is this?"

  The old Ford crawled up the dirt road that led to Jacky's trailer.

  "There's the old nut now," Johnny said from the back seat. Both he and Jake were already sitting in the back, leaving shot gun open and waiting for Jacky.

  Drew and Jake made eye contact in the rearview mirror. "You're going out there with me right?"

  "How many times are we going to have to go over this?" Johnny asked, forcing his face into the rearview. "This is your trial by fire, porky, now go show us what you are made of."

  Drew turned around, looking Johnny dead in the eye. "What trial by fire has your lame ass ever done?"

  "None, Confucius," Johnny lied in a lame Chinese accent. "Cause that's not my line to hoe, chubby. I'm the nasty boy the girls cream over and never has to explain himself for whatever he does." He tapped on the rearview mirror at Drew's image. "While you are the one that has to jump through all kinds of hoops to get the girls' attention for a hand full of seconds," he looked at Drew, nose to nose. "Until I show up and then they forget all about your dumpy ass."

  "Bullshit," Drew growled through clenched teeth.

  Johnny kissed his nose. "Prove me wrong, Lover-Boy."

  "Damn right, I will," Drew replied, pushing Johnny away as he got out of the car.

  "You're such a troublemaker," Jake said, lighting a cigarette as they watched Drew walking towards the crazy old man.

  "It's the only way his chubby ass would have gone out there," Johnny replied, pulling a smoke out of Jake's pack.

  "Maybe," Jake said with a shrug, giving his lighter to Johnny.

  Drew walked up to the old man, who was sitting on the step of his trailer, watching him like a wolf.

  "What the fuck you want, doughboy? " Jacky asked, his hand behind his back, kneading the switchblade.

  The chubby kid stopped dead in his tracks, looking like he was going to puke.

  The fat kid's fear got Jacky worked up like a coyote hearing the scream of a wounded rabbit. "Move your fat-ass on before I send you to your maker, junior."

  The fat kid looked like he was about to bolt when he seemed to get control of himself. Slowly, he pulled out a cigarette, lit it, and exhaled smoke out of his nostrils. "I'm here to offer you some cash to pick us up some alcohol."

  Jack smiled, letting the switchblade slip into his back pocket as he got up. "Sure, so long as you pay me for my trouble and buy me some of my own refreshments, as well as a pack of smokes."

  "Sure, so long as it's the cheap stuff," Drew replied.

  Jack covered the distance between them much faster than Drew would have anticipated, getting in the slightly taller males face. "It will be whatever I pick out, fat boy."

  Drew let out a tired sigh. "Whatever."

  "Holy shit!" Jake exclaimed as they walked back towards the car. "He sealed that deal in seconds flat!"

  "Hold on to your hat," Johnny blew smoke out slowly through his mouth. "He's probably going to have to give him a hand job as soon as they get in the car."

  Jake looked at his old friend. "Why do you always have to be an asshole when Drew-man delivers?"

  Johnny looked him back in the eye for a moment, saying nothing. "Who is your best bud?"

  Jake blew smoke in his face. "Do you mean who do I trust? Who will back my ass up when shit gets thick?"

  J
ohnny pointed at Jake's chest. "You know fuckin-A well, I've got your back in a throw down any day of the week!"

  "It's not just about the fights, you dumb-shit."

  "Let me word it another way: who do you have more fun with?"

  Jake looked out the window. "The important shit is completely lost on you."

  "Oh, so you would rather sit around and read comic books with porky, or go get seriously fucked up with me and then score some sweet puss?"

  Jake didn't reply as smoke slowly seeped out of his nose.

  "That's what I thought," Johnny said, ruffling Jake's hair.

  Jake knocked his hand away. "Knock that shit off, asshole."

  The doors opened as Drew and Jacky climbed into the ancient Ford.

  "How's it going Jack-O?" Johnny asked loudly.

  Jacky slowly turned back and looked at Johnny. "You're Shane's boy?"

  "Supposedly." Johnny's eyes were filled with malice. He was just looking to start shit with the old man, and everyone in the car could immediately tell his intent.

  "Jack has been kind enough to help us out with our beverage dilemma," Drew also turned back to face the back seat. "So let's all give him a big thank you."

  "Thanks Jack," Jake said, patting him on the shoulder as Jack and Johnny still looked at one another.

  "You're the man," Johnny pointed at him with both hands. "The Jack-man!"

  Jack's face was stone. "Give me a cigarette."

  Johnny stabbed a thumb at Jake. "He's the man with the stogies, I bum all my smokes."

  Jack showed his yellow teeth. "That supposed to mean something?"

  Johnny tilted his head in confusion. "Take it however you want, Jack-man."

  "Call me that one more time," Jack growled.

  "Jack-"

  "Don't you fucking do it!" Drew and Jake said in near concert.

  Johnny started to chuckle and Jack actually joined in.

  "What a couple of twinkies," Jonny said with the shake of his head, which just made Jack laugh harder.

  Jake looked at Drew, who shrugged, started up the car and began backing out.

  The old Ford pulled up to the liquor store and parked.

  "So what all you boys need?"

  Drew pulled out a piece of paper, "It's all right here, along with the cash. There should be enough there to cover it, along with extra for you to pick up a pack of smokes and a fifth of your favorite beverage."

  Jack looked at the list and then counted the money. "There is enough here for me to get your shit, a pack of cheap cigs and some seriously watered down whiskey. I need twenty more dollars."

  "What the hell for?" Drew asked as the two in the back let out sighs of annoyance.

  "Cause I'm going to buy a better bottle of whiskey and two packs of cheap cigs, now give me the fucking money!"

  "I got a couple more bucks," Jake said, digging in his pockets.

  "No," Drew replied, looking at Jack as he pulled out his wallet and brought out a twenty. Jack grabbed it but Drew didn't let go.

  "Is this the end of negotiations, or are you going to come back out here and tell me you need another six bucks to buy some shitty six pack or some jerk off mags?"

  Jack flashed a yellow smile. "Now you're using your head, chubby. Why don't you go ahead and give me that six spot now, so we don't have to waste any more time?"

  "Jake?" Drew said, still looking at Jack.

  Jake pulled out a pile of ones and handed six of them to Jack.

  "How much more you got back there?" Jack asked.

  "Get your skinny, diseased ass out of my car and buy our shit," Drew whispered. "Or we will drag you into that alley and kick the shit out of you."

  "Won't score any booze if you do that," Jack whispered back.

  "We'll have to settle for going back to your place and just take whatever we can find while we trash all your shit."

  "You've got a bigger pair than I thought," Jack replied as he stuffed the money in his front pocket.

  "One thing porky is good at," Johnny said, patting Drew on the shoulder. "Is surpassing the low expectations that people have of him."

  Drew looked at Jake in the mirror. "That's another one of those moments of enlightenment?"

  "Twice in one day," Jake nodded his head, looking at Johnny. "That might be a record for him."

  "Fuck you guys," Johnny replied as Jack got out of the car and went into the liquor store.

  "Nice play, Drew-man," Jake said. "You shut the fucker down."

  "Bullshit," Johnny replied. "He still got your money, didn't he?"

  Jake looked at Johnny. "Quit being such a prick, at least he didn't get him all pissed off for nothing, like you almost did."

  "Johnny's right, for once," Drew said. "He played us just like he intended to."

  "So long as we get what we want," Johnny said with a shrug. "Who gives a shit?"

  "Everybody uses everybody," Jake added.

  "Damn skippy," Johnny agreed.

  Drew didn't agree, but he kept his opinion to himself.

  Jack strutted into the liquor store, feeling like a big shot cause the money in his pocket came from somewhere other than a government check.

  Marty the clerk, stuffed cheese puffs into his large mouth, watching the alcoholic meander towards him. "Get your check early this month, Jacky?" Cheese dust floated down onto his ragged beard and his black Harley shirt, acting like mini orange snowflakes.

  "Nope," Jack replied with a big smile, pulling the wad of cash out, waving it like it was a couple thousand instead of a little over one hundred dollars. "Got this from another means entirely."

  Marty watched one of the bills fall to the floor, unnoticed by Jack. As soon as it hit the floor he could tell it was a single, so he decided to be honest. "Just lost one," he pointed an orange finger at the bill.

  Jacky looked down and quickly swooped it up. "You got orange shit all over your goat," he waved his finger at Marty's face as he made his way back to the alcohol.

  Marty combed his fingers absently through his bushy, out of control go-tee. "Today is your lucky day," he brushed the excess cheese dust onto the black shirt that covered his portly belly, making the Harley eagle look like some strange version of the Koko puffs bird from the kids' cereal. "Your whiskey is on sale: fifth for fifteen bucks and some change."

  "Ain't buyin' that shit today," he said with a wave at the sale sign on the section of the whiskey called Charlie's Sippin' Bourbon. "Cheap-ass shit."

  He moved up to the more expensive booze. "Here we go," he grabbed a bottle of Dead Ace Whiskey. The label had the ace of spades with a skull in the middle, winking at him. "Drinkin' the good shit tonight!"

  Marty shook his head. Why anybody in their right mind drank whiskey of any kind was beyond him. He preferred the sweeter stuff, such as the apple or raspberry schnapps, or even the sweet wines, he was quite the man's man.

  "Gonna need a cart," Jacky put his bottle in one and started loading up the rest of the alcohol from the list. "Probably wondering why I'm buying all this booze," he asked Marty with a big smile.

  "The mystery of it all is killing me," Marty replied, stuffing more cheese puffs in his mouth.

  "Got a party going on back at my place tonight," Jacky wiggled his eyebrows at Marty.

  "Oh yeah?" Marty's interest went up a notch. "I get off at midnight, maybe I'll swing by."

  "Sorry, private party," Jacky's yellow teeth smiled big. "You understand, don't ya?"

  "Sure," Marty replied with a shrug. Most likely he wouldn't have come by either way. His plans for the night consisted of a jumbo bottle of table wine and a vintage porno from the 70's followed up with a Tarintino video he would watch until he passed out in his parents' basement, which was where he lived.

  "Definitely looks like you got some females coming over," Marty said as he scanned a twelve pack of Smiley's Spiked Lemon-Aid.

  "Hell ya, I wouldn't drink that girly shit."

  "I hear that," Marty lied, looking at the label and thinking he m
ight pick up some of Smiley's water-melon hurricane coolers instead of the wine he was going to buy.

  "Gimme two packs a Back Llama unfiltered," Jacky pointed at the cigarettes behind Marty.

  Marty rang up the smokes along with the twelve pack of Spiked lemon-aid, two cases of beer and the bottle of Dead Ace Whiskey.

  Jacky pointed at a six pack of cheap beer cans on sale behind Marty. "Gimme one of those sixers, too." He had almost forgot about the six pack the fat kid in the car had mentioned. ”Would hate to actually have some change left when I walked outta here." He thought to himself.

  "You are ready to party for the price of one hundred and two dollars and three cents."

  "Highway robbery," Jacky handed over his cash.

  "The man is stickin' it to all of us," Marty bagged up the liquor and handed it over along with the change.

  "You got no idea kid," Jacky replied as he walked out, pocketing the money. "Anything less than five bucks don't count as change."

  They watched Jacky come out of the store with a cart full of goodies.

  "Looks like the bullshit has come to an end," Jake said.

  "Maybe," Drew and Johnny said at the exact same time.

  There was a moment of silence and then Jake said: "Fucking Twinkies," which made them all chuckle.

  Jacky put his bag of whiskey, cigs and his six pack in the front seat, along with one of the cases of beer. He handed the rest of the booze to Jake through the back window. "Let's go boys, I'm thirsty," he said, jumping back into the car.

  Drew backed out as Jacky tore into one of the teenagers' cases of beers and started passing out brews, keeping one for himself of course. The others let it go.

  They pulled up to Jacky's trailer about fifteen minutes later.

  "You boys wanna hang out for a while?" Jacky asked as he opened up the door.

  "Why, so you can drink even more of our beer?" Johnny asked.

  Jacky spun around. "Fuck you, asshole!"

  Drew held out his hand. "Be cool, Jacky. Johnny is just a prick by nature and doesn't know how to keep his mouth shut. We appreciate the offer, but we got to get going, we got to hook up with some chicks."