The anchor was saying how a late night breakin resulted in many valuables being stolen from a local house. The owner of the house, Melissa Pierce, said that most of the items taken were valuables from her grandmother. “I can’t believe someone would steal this stuff,” she said into the camera. Framed in the left center of the screen, she said, “These items mean nothing to them but a great deal to my family.” She began to cry and then the camera cut back to the anchor in the studio.
Approaching the pair of Dolls with a carafe in one hand, the waitress, her lips curled to hold in a smile, cheeks with half dimples, poured the hot drink into Jeffrey’s cup. A trembling hand, the coffee an unsteady stream, the server nearly overfilled the mug.
“Are you going to eat?” she said to Jeffrey. Her voice high and melodic, she was holding in a laugh. Her customer waving her off, the server moved on. Hitting her thigh against the table, she excused herself, slowly receding into the kitchen. A din of faint laughter erupted in the distance.
“Did you hear that?” Jeffrey said.
“Hear what?”
Above them, coming from the television, the anchor was saying that if you have any information on the burglary to contact your local police department.
Surprised at the calmness of William, Jeffrey threw up his hands, palms out in the air.
“What? That?”
Jeffrey nodded his head up and down in a rapid pace. He drank his coffee, his eyes still staring into William’s with anxiousness.
William, cupping his glass with his hand, he said, “I don’t think the police will find the burglars.” Calm in his demeanor, he shrugged languidly.
Slightly worried about the newscast, but relieved that William was not exhibiting any worry whatsoever, Jeffrey drank his coffee. Holding the glass up to his mouth, his eyes panning left to right, he said, “I haven’t slept.”
Watching the door to the kitchen swing, William said, “I can tell.”
William was blurry in this state. Rubbing his eyes, Jeffrey said, “Do I have bags?”
Shaking his head slowly, the cup of coffee in hand, William said, “No.”
The long night before hit Jeffrey’s aging body like a train. It could have possibly been the marijuana and alcohol, but staying up all night without sleep had to contribute as well. The previous nights, he had seen a few hours of rest, but gradually, the sleep had become scarce. Jeffrey’s eyes were tired. His eyelids were drooping by the second.
Sniffing, William said, “You smell like pot, dude.”
Smelling his armpits, first the right and then the left, Jeffrey shrugged. “Not sure why.” Inhaling his pit again, right arm straight up to the ceiling, the sleep deprived Jeffrey said, “I don’t smell anything.”
The voice, irritated and crabby, it said, “Everybody’s on to you.”
William, his mouth curled downward, frustrated with his friend, said, “Smell again.” Provoking Jeffrey, William said, “Seriously. You smell like pot.”
Crinkling his nose, Jeffrey sniffed from his right shoulder, down his arm, around the front part of his waist, up his chest, and then down his entire left side. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes to relish in his entire stink of a frame. Holding in his body’s aroma, Jeffrey eventually exhaled through his nose until his body deflated. Opening his eyes, he said, “Nope. Don’t smell anything.”
William rolled his eyes and then looked out into the diner.
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Aside from Lena, William was Jeffrey’s only real friend. After She had passed, his free time had increased dramatically. All the extra hours translated into reverting back to old habits. Days of sleeping became days of drinking became days of online surfing. He scoured porno sites. All sorts. A month long trial period led to downloading photos and videos on his hard drive. There were pop-up windows for other sites that whet his appetite. Other services. Jeffrey, he searched for adult toys the shape of film star vaginas.
William, conversely, was part of a virtual club. A fetish site. Dressing up in women’s clothing and chatting online via webcam. Free trial just for signing up.
Discovering the fetish site through random searches, Jeffrey had set up an account, logging him in to a whole new life. Since he was dealing with the pain of his past existence, a brand spanking new reality was appealing.
Before the night could turn to day, Jeffrey found himself ordering outfits from websites specializing in women’s attire. He purchased from sites that William shared. The sites, they appeared on Jeffrey’s screen as he clicked the hyperlinks. On the web storefronts were outfits ranging from office workers to nurses to cheerleaders to nuns.
Soon, Jeffrey’s credit card statement was showing hundreds of dollars in women’s clothing. Momentarily, his credit card statement was showing hundreds of dollars in adult videos and sex toys. Concealed, unmarked boxes appearing on his front door step each week, Jeffrey’s life without Her was beginning.
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“This just in,” the anchor said on the television. “The breakin has been solved.” Jeffrey’s head jerked up to the program. “Police officials say the burglars were local kids in the area looking for presents for their parents.” Footage of the neighborhood was shown on the screen. Random shots of street signs nearby, houses in the area, and police officers circled in a group. When the videotape ran its course, the anchor returned on camera. “The owner said she feels sorry for the kids and hopes they learn their lesson that robbing from a person to help out another is not right.”
The camera zoomed out to include the weatherman, who was now sitting next to the anchor. “Looks like we have a Robin Hood situation,” the anchor said.
Laughing, the weatherman said, “Yeah, let’s hope those kids learn a valuable lesson.” Turning to the camera, the angle shot zooming in on his face, the meteorologist said, “Now, going from Robin Hood to your neighborhood, but what can I say but the weather for the foreseeable future will be absolutely fabulous.”
Jeffrey’s shoulders sank. He stared at the broadcast until it went into commercials.
William, reeling Jeffrey back into reality, said in a haughty tone, “Are you sure you don’t smell anything?” He raised his cup to his mouth.
And Jeffrey, losing interest in the television altogether, said, “I also haven’t had a chance to shower yet.”
The mug’s rim covering his face, William did his best to avoid eye contact. There was a spoon nearby hitting a plate. A baby crying in the distance. The restroom door closing and then latching. Whatever they were, William noticed the distractions. Every distraction.
Each waitress who emerged from the kitchen, William could tell what the order was on her tray. A stack of pancakes with blueberry syrup caught his eyes. A bowl of fruit on the side of a Denver omelet. Anything held his attention.
The heavyset customer in the tan suit with his tie loosened, William counted a third orange juice. A second helping of pancakes, empty butter containers on the edge of the table, the Drama Doll took note.
Glancing over the entire restaurant, his attention coming to, William said, “You really need to get some sleep.”
Before Jeffrey could answer, William turned his head and watched a mother care for her infant child. She picked him up from his booster seat in order to wipe his face. The little boy squirmed, his head moving left to right to avoid the washcloth. Fighting with her son, the mother held his chin with her free hand, scrubbing with the other. The boy winced, his eyes closed. “Stay still,” the mother said.
“Not after this coffee,” Jeffrey said, holding up the glass. Sipping the drink, the warmth tickled his throat. The stares around the diner were harsh. Heaviness upon him. The two of them, so much to say when dressed up as Drama Dolls, the regular old men could not hold a conversation.
The voice of sarcastic reason, it was paranoid. It said, “Everybody’s looking at us.”
Finally, William, he said, “What time is, uh, Lena coming?” He swallowed.
Jeffrey opened his mouth to
speak. But then, Lena entered the establishment. Sliding in next to Jeffrey, her tiny waist touching his, Lena said, “Lipstick looks great.”
Jeffrey and Lena flashed their teeth to each other. Wide smiles. “Thanks,” Jeffrey said. He said, “William didn’t notice.”
Lena cut William a disdainful look.
Mimicking her, Jeffrey sneered at him too.
William, his eyes bouncing from Jeffrey to Lena’s and then back, said, “Staying in character?”
Without a second thought, Jeffrey said, “Just getting ready for tonight.”
A family of six entered. They waited at the front of the diner to be seated. Lined up in a row from tallest to shortest, the father asked for a menu. The waitress assigned to the Drama Dolls’ table, she was dishing out a menu to both mother and father.
“We just need to clean off a table,” she said. Then she swung around the half wall dividing the main room and pay station and collected a five dollar bill that was slid under a plate at a table covered in dirty dishes.
Assisting the busboy, who was collecting plates into a bin, the server wiped down the tablecloth and pushed in the table’s chairs.
After a condescending glare toward Lena, William said, “Oh, we’re doing that?”
Lena sat with a muted expression. Her eyes went wide. She smiled with her teeth, her actual face a replica of her mask face.
Cup in hand, moist lips stained along the rim, slurping the coffee into his mouth, Jeffrey said, “Totally.”
Waving the family members to their seats, the waitress said, “I’ll be right with you to take your orders.”
As the family passed the cheerleaders’ table, the siblings displayed a montage of stares, giggling, and an “Oh my God!” The mother, catching wind of the sight, pulled her youngest in close to her and said, “Shhh!” When the boy continued to laugh, his mother cupped his mouth with her palm.
The server, she swung around Lena, took her order, and then disappeared into the kitchen.
Echoing what Jeffrey replied, Lena said, “Totally.”
Checking the time, Jeffrey, he said, “After breakfast we’ve got an appointment.”
----------
Walking through the house, the assistant was always one or two rooms ahead. Picking up clothes or kicking shoes under the bed, she scrambled last minute in order to show the room’s full beauty. Straightening curtains, wiping off dust with her finger, the assistant put in place anything that jumped out at her.
A vacation photo was in the guest bedroom. A smiling couple in the center. The assistant grabbed the photo and shoved it into a dresser drawer. Scanning the bedroom one last time, she fluffed the pillows on the bed. Nodding her head, the assistant smiled in approval. Before leaving, the assistant, she closed the room’s door. This was her signal that the room was ready for viewing.
The house had been on the market through spring and summer. Price declines indicated by the REDUCED PRICE sign in the front yard. Overgrown grass being cut sporadically. Neighborhood kids’ candy wrappers lost in the lawn. A few cigarette butts were scattered on the sidewalk. There were fast food cups filled with rain water. A cellophane burger wrapper crumpled into a ball. Any piece of litter from drivers passing by called the yard home.
Royal Wedding Hostas ran up the staircase of the front steps. Weeds in between waiting to be pulled. Tulips were in the flower bed in front of the banister. Peppered in the flower arrangement were Hosta White Feathers. More weeds.
The realtor gave the nickel and dime tour, allowing William, Jeffrey, and Lena to self-guide and familiarize themselves with the nuances of the Queen Anne. There were high ceilings, ornate woodwork, and a brick fireplace that stood out upon entering.
“Any kids?” Jane said. The realtor asked because of all the space the house offered. She could determine how serious a buyer was by discovery questions.
Lena, her arm through Jeffrey’s, shook her head. Smiling, she said, “Nope. Just me and my husband.”
Continuing with her line of questioning, the realtor, she said, “This is a lot of room for just the two of you.” A serious tone, she said, “Do you plan on having children?” Observing their reactions was something Jane did with all her showings.
Admiring the decorative staircase from afar, each spindle carved with the same design, Lena just shook her head. Smiling, leading Jeffrey through the old house, she was pulling him closer as she turned each corner.
“This is sooo pretty,” she said. Turning to address her proposed husband, Lena said, “Don’t you think?” The accidental bride rubbed her hand up and down Jeffrey’s arm. Playing the part, she said, “Honey?”
Jeffrey, he nodded, surveying the place with each glance.
The library off the living room was a quaint sitting and reading area. Bookshelves up and down the walls, they covered the mass of the wall space, giving new owners plenty of room for Dickens, Poe, and Twain classics. Built-in shelves in the walls were adjacent to the dining room. There were custom designed bookstands around the perimeter.
One large bay window covered the wall that joined the home’s interior and exterior. A vintage desk with curved wood, detailed to impress admirers, was in front of the window. Facing outdoors, the drawer hardware was shiny brass. Every knob was exactly the same.
Lena, her mouth dropping open, pulled out a drawer. A dusting of wood fell to the hardwood. “How gorgeous,” she said, turning to Jeffrey. “This would make a great office desk.”
Outside the window was an empty field of grass. Opposite the field was another small neighborhood of old homes. Houses from a different era. Just above the roofs of the antique dwellings was a tree line.
Nudging the groom in the elbow, getting his attention, Lena said, “Sitting in front of the window as you get your work done.”
Agreeing without ever taking a look, Jeffrey said, “Yes, dear.” His eyes were past the point of burning. Glossy and empty, Jeffrey blinked repeatedly. Getting his tenth wind was his saving grace for looking interested.
“Oh?” the realtor said. “What type of work are you in?” The real estate agent followed Jeffrey with her eyes as he paced around the room.
“My husband acquires valuables. Mainly jewelry,” Lena said.
Engaged, wanting to keep the communication moving, the realtor said, “Oh. Well, the owners were big fans of antiques. This desk actually came from Europe.”
“Oooh. Europe. Did you hear that, honey?”
Appraising the desk, the baroque corners caught Jeffrey’s attention. Falling in and out of a fog, he said, “Were fans?”
Dishing out a disconcerted look to Lena, the realtor said, “There’s only one owner now.”
Twirling toward the dining area, Lena stopped short. “Oh my God!” Her voice, becoming higher with each syllable, ended in a squeal. Staring her in the face was a wooden table the size of a compact car. “Jeffrey, look at the dining room table.” Her stomach sucking in, her chest out, a stationary smile with her mouth open, Lena was beside herself.
The realtor grinned. “Everyone who has looked at the house has had the same reaction.”
Curious, Lena said, “How many people have come through?”
Jane placed her finger on her squeezed lips. Eyes closed together, eyebrows furrowing, she said, “There’s been a good amount. Four, maybe?”
Jeffrey acknowledged the realtor and then continued to scope out the house.
The table’s fringe was handcrafted. Rounded slits along the edges. There was elaborate detail running along the border in between the slits. The sturdy tree trunks for legs looked like upside down bowling pins with smooth, flat bottoms. Thin ankles expanding into massive thighs that were screwed in forcefully into the bottom of the table’s top. Each chair matching the table’s hand-cut pattern, the seating could accommodate a fielded baseball team with designated hitter.
Enthralled with the owner’s taste, Jeffrey said, “Impressive.”
Lena, repeating the information to Jeffrey, said, “Did you h
ear that? Four people have already looked at the house.” She searched for a response but got nothing.
“This is a beautiful home,” the realtor said. “It won’t be on the market too long.”
Along the wall was a buffet. A similar design to the table, all the dining room furniture looked like it came in a set. Complementing the hardwood floor, the cheerful deep red walls ran the course of the dining area. This was the only room on the main floor that was not painted a creamy yellow.
“Nice color,” Jeffrey said.
His inner voice, salivating at the furniture, it had an emotional erection.
Noise above them, footsteps moving across the ceiling, caused Jeffrey to look up. The thumping triggered the crystal chandelier to shake. Made from a variety of different crystals, the light fixture was a nice addition to the room. Manufactured from glass and crystal prisms, any light that struck the chandelier was both reflected and refracted. “Imagine the dinner parties we could have,” Lena said. She was very convincing, almost forgetting the reason for their desire to view.
Open houses equaled open doors. Scoping out upcoming targets to burgle became easy. This time of year made selling homes favorable. From the length of the lawn, Jeffrey knew the owner wasn’t around much. The owner wasn’t invested anymore.
A built-in china cabinet was directly across the buffet. Inside, the cabinet was filled with Cambridge Rose Point crystal and glassware. Unique pieces such as vases, relish dishes, French dressing bottles, they were all etched with the Rose Point design. There were cruet sets, candy boxes, and comports, enough crystal to astound any guest.
Lena stood in awe of the collection of antique dinnerware. “I can’t believe how beautiful this stuff is,” she said. “I couldn’t even imagine serving food with these pieces.”
“As I said, the owners were very much into collecting,” Jane said. Gaining Jeffrey’s attention, she said, “Are you a collector as well?”
“I guess you could say that,” Jeffrey said.
Rejoining Jeffrey, grabbing his hand, Lena said, “Jeffrey knows a lot about antiques. Don’t you honey?”
Footsteps up above moved across the ceiling. The swinging chandelier starting up again.
Drama Dolls: A Novel: [Dark, Suspenseful, Fast-paced, Exhilarating] Page 7
