Blue Bottle Tree

by Beaird Glover

  He held the bag between the two toes of his cloven hoof and untied the knot with his right hand, pouring the contents into his palm. The capacity of his hoof to function, to pinch and manipulate the bag was unnerving. I tried to stay cool, but I was captivated by his every move. Most guys cannot pull off the goth look, the quasi-sinister. Black fingernails filed to points is just pushing the envelope too far. It either comes across as effeminate or corny, usually both. But Victor Radcliffe had done it. He was alluring and dangerous, and beneath that, dominant. In any group of people, he would be the alpha. Other men and boys would instinctually defer to him and not even know why. I caught myself in a giggle. I could see him picking me up and how easy that would be, even with his only hand, and how he would like it if I wrapped my legs around him. I could hold onto him so he wouldn’t have to support me at all.

  I shook off that thought while he studied the contents of the bag—two horseshoe nails, the lavender petals, and a tiny sapphire stone. “I’ll keep this,” he said, “for my trouble.” He dropped the sapphire into his pocket. The other things he returned to the bag and pulled the cord tight again. “Come with me.” He turned and strode around the dump and we all followed. As we did, someone was throwing more garbage onto the pile from above, causing a small avalanche.

  Victor led us to a trail on the other side. We walked in silence to the Bellin River. “Turn around, your back to the river,” he said. I did. “Throw it over your left shoulder. Be sure to throw it as far as you can, so the current will carry it away. And with it, goes its power over you.”

  I did and it floated downstream until the red flannel sunk under and disappeared. “That wasn’t just a protection conjure,” he said. “The blue sapphire is a protector, yes. But a red mojo hand—that’s for love.”

  “I don’t know why she would do that. It was about the spirit from the bottle tree. That’s what she said.” He knew that I knew. He knew that I had already decided it had brought me to him.

  “Did you buy a love conjure? Is there someone you want—someone who doesn’t want you?” He snickered and reveled in it like I had come begging, like so many others before me. His eyes danced. He loomed over me and talked down. His grin was too smug, taking it too far. I was embarrassed. It was so obvious. But wait. …Who the hell did he think he was? I had not come here because I was in love with him.

  I drilled my eyes into his so he could feel it. “No, of course not.”

  “You’re with Velvet West, now, aren’t you?” Seven asked him. It sounded accusatory. Jealousy, no doubt.

  “Velvet? Yes, we see each other.” His blue eyes sparkled with thoughts of a private pleasure.

  Velvet West had always been overrated, in my opinion. She was not that smart. The only thing she had going for her was big boobs. She was top-heavy. She looked like a cartoon. And she did not deserve to be first clarinet.

  “You didn’t leave your clarinet there as payment?” Victor asked, back from his reverie about whatever nasty things Velvet West had let him do to her.

  I was exasperated that everyone kept thinking that. “No, Victor. I forgot it. Two totally unconnected events. Can you just get it back? That’s all. You know Marie LaVey, right?”

  “Seven does.” He scoffed, like this was all so stupid. “Why doesn’t he get it for you?”

  “She wants you to do it,” Seven said. He seemed ashamed, unfairly beaten and he didn’t want to play anymore. I was losing patience with him.

  “Marie and I walk in similar circles,” Victor said. “Or around them. I’ll get your clarinet back.” He stepped close to me, close enough that I could feel his breath and smell his animal sweat. He leaned down, teasing. “But I can’t promise that I’ll ever love you.”

  He enjoyed my surprise and was amused by my embarrassment.

  Seven cleared his throat. “Okay, then,” he said. “I guess we better go.” He tugged at Mad Dog’s sleeve and they slunk away. I looked back at Victor Radcliffe, who was looking back at me. He pulled the sapphire out of his pocket and held it closely to his eye, watching me through it. The two blues compounded into a wave of color that reached out to where I was. I wanted to touch it. I wanted to be inside it with him.

  8 Seven Desires Penny, And Oddly, Her Mother

  Hoof was afraid of Marie LaVey. He was not going to steal that clarinet back any more than he was going to join the church choir.

  I looked forward to the moment of showing Penny how I succeeded where Victor had failed. When I got home, the first thing my grandmother said was, “Your girlfriend left her clarinet.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  “It won’t be long…”

  “She told us. Then Mad Dog took her to meet Hoof. He thought your gris-gris was for him. I could have thrown up.”

  “Victor Radcliffe?” She fingered the beads of her rosary and mumbled through a confession for the unintended consequences of her actions. “That’s not how it was supposed to be.”

  “It’s no big deal, Grandma. Thanks for doing it, but you didn’t have to. If she likes me it should be because she wants to, not because you fixed her.”

  “She came to me, you know.”

  “She got lost…” Marie picked up the clarinet from her altar. “Wait a minute,” I said. “What’s it doing there?”

  “I put it by the picture of you. She wants to get to know you better.”

  I sighed. “Well, I don’t think she really wants to know. …But it probably won’t hurt to keep it by my picture, just one night.”

  I planned to take it to Penny the next afternoon. I was hoping her hot mother would answer the door. I would call her by her first name. “Why, hello Sylvia. Is Penelope here?” I had always thought formalities were overrated. I would say, “You see, I’ve found her clarinet—the one that she lost. Did you know Penny lost her clarinet?”

  And she would be like, “First of all, young man, my name is Mrs. Langston. And no, I did not know Penny had lost her clarinet.” I would hand it over real nonchalantly—like I was the sweetest Boy Scout in the world, doing my good deed daily. She would be so thankful that she would probably invite me in for cookies and milk. Then she would call Penny, who would come downstairs and be all surprised to see me. She would be excited that I had recovered the clarinet and Hoof had failed, because he’s basically a jackass anyway. Ha! Jackass. He is a jackass though, the fucked-up hoof thing aside.

  Penny would then realize that she and I were meant to be together, for a lot of reasons—we’re both in band, and she comes to that tree, the tree which is so close to my cave. She did not have to choose that tree. Coincidences don’t just happen.

  Next, hot Sylvia would swish out of the room, leaving us alone eating cookies and sipping milk. Penny would be like, “How’d you do it, Seven? How’d you get into Marie LaVey’s house? She’s scary, isn’t she!”

  And I’d be like, “Pshaw, my grandmother is just a sweet old lady. I’m sorry I thought you paid for that gris-gris with it. I should have known better than that.” Then we would be back on the same page and I’d say, “Anyway, I’m the kind of guy that gets things done. Hoof’s scared of her. We should have never gone to him in the first place.”

  “You’re a lot cooler than he is, Seven.”

  “And I got it back, didn’t I. There’s no arguing with results.” Then I’d tell about how I saw Hoof and Mad Dog on the way over, reaffirm how Hoof had failed, and I had gotten the job done.

  In fact, the next day Mad Dog and Hoof were at a corner in front of me as I was walking toward her house, while I was thinking about how Penny and I were probably about to spend the whole summer together.

  I eyed them, slowed down, and spun the clarinet in my hand. I kept thinking about Penny and me at her kitchen table and how I would finish off my cookie. Then I would say I had to leave, and she would want me to stay. She would invite me up to her room and say she wanted to get to know me better. Then I would be like, “No. I’ve really got to go.” You have to play it cool—if
you seem too eager it frightens them.

  Then I’ll give in and she’ll probably throw me down on her bed and attack. She’ll smother me in kisses and straddle me. Then she’ll unleash all that wild red hair and say, “It’s getting hot in here, let’s get more comfortable.” She’ll strip out of her little white tank top, pull my shirt up over my head, and toss it over her shoulder. Then she’ll bite my neck like a fiend and whip that long red hair all over me. I’ll wrap my hands around her tiny little waist and slowly, so slowly, she’ll go crazy. I’ll slide my fingers over her ribs and up her long quivery sides. Then she’ll pop her bra open and slide it off. I’ll tickle and pinch and tease her just so. She’ll be on me in a frenzy, panting and grinding. With her breath hungry with lust, she’ll say, “Get those pants off right now, Seven!”

  Next, she’ll shimmy out of her stockings. But then Sylvia will bust in and be like, “Hey! What’s going on in here?” Then she’d get it, like she knew exactly what was happening all along. She’ll say, “Momma wants to play, too.”

  And Penny would be like, “No, get out!”

  But Sylvia would have already slid out of her hot pink sweater and she’d be all, “Uh-uh, baby girl. Momma’s gonna show you how it’s done!”

  No, wait. Then Penny might feel left out. Sylvia is going to be in the backyard pushing Penny’s little sister in the swing so they can’t hear a thing. Penny will be moaning and twitching. Tidal waves roaring through her like little explosions of joy. She won’t have to hold back because nobody else can hear us. She’ll cut loose like she had saved up her whole life for this moment. She will finally have her way with me, and will totally, totally do me.

  Then we’ll lay back and she’ll be all spent and exhausted, wanting to cuddle. She’ll start asking about my cave, do I really live in it, and the bones. She’s going to want to figure out about the bones in that calm aftermath, when we’re relaxed and finally getting honest with each other. That’s when we’ll become a team. Yeah, we’ll be a couple. I’ll probably be the most popular guy in school next year since I’ll be dating an older woman. Because she had no idea I would be the one to actually bring her back the clarinet…”

  “Whatcha got there, LaVey?” Hoof asked. He squared off in front of me and Mad Dog was at his side like a trained hound. He was scowling—they were both scowling. They had evidently been planning to stop me from coming through. I knew, incidentally, that earlier today Hoof had been to my house and offered my grandmother a thousand dollars for the clarinet. She had snarled and run him off like the scared little chicken he was.

  “I’ll take that,” he said, holding out his good hand.

  “No way. I’m taking it to her.”

  “She doesn’t like you,” Hoof said. “She likes a guy with animal magnetism.”

  “I don’t think your deformity counts as that,” I said.

  Mad Dog shuffled on his feet, surprised I would oppose the great Victor Radcliffe. He said, “Whoa, that’s not cool, Seven.”

  “Mad Dog, what are you doing with this guy? I thought we were going to Cat Shit City later, just us.”

  “Well, yeah, we were. But I don’t think I can go now.”

  “He’s going with me,” Hoof said. Mad Dog nodded and whimpered like a puppy.

  “Whatever you say. Listen, it was nice seeing you boys, but I gotta run.”

  Then Hoof stepped up and got in my face. He was a few inches taller than me, bigger than me, and pushed my shoulder. I moved the clarinet to the other hand and held it away from him. “I told her I was going to get it,” he said.

  “Well, obviously you didn’t.” I smirked, rubbing it in. There wasn’t any need to, except to make him mad, to provoke him and see just how far he wanted to take it. I was willing to fight.

  But he and Mad Dog had it all worked out in advance. Mad Dog slipped around behind me while Hoof made his move in front. Then Hoof’s actual hoof came out of nowhere and clocked me on the side of the head. It was like getting hit with a brick. And there’s Mad Dog, positioned to take the clarinet out of my hand as I go down. They had it and ran off. I was left on the ground dizzy, stumbling to get up.

  As soon as I was back to my senses I chased after them, and caught up just as they got to Penny’s house. There they were, talking to Sylvia, just as I was supposed to do. Sylvia was leaning on the door with a hand on her hip, wearing a low-cut sweater, and probably offering them cookies. They went inside and Sylvia closed the door. She didn’t even see me. I was too late.

  9 Penny Fries A Bigger Fish

  My mom called me down from my room and there he was. Victor Radcliffe smiled the confident smile of a man and he held my clarinet out to me like a toothpick. He needed a shave. He had done it. I had probably made too much ado about nothing, about getting my clarinet back from Marie LaVey. But it was over now, and I was glad Seven had not been involved. I did not want to be beholden to either of the LaVeys. I had had time to think about it and it was definitely not about that stupid little red bag, which I was glad Victor had so deftly eliminated. That was nothing. That was a crazy old lady’s trinket, and I don’t know why I took it seriously for a second. It was time to move on. And Seven—he was connected to all that. I put him out of my mind. In front of me was a much bigger fish to fry.

  But then there was Mad Dog, poking his way in the house behind Victor. That took some of the fun out of it. I mean, even if it was okay for me to invite Victor up to my room, nothing would happen because the other guy would be there. Maybe I can get Mad Dog to go home so Victor and I can be alone. Or, we’ll leave Mad Dog at the table, go outside to talk, and he’ll probably try…

  “Honey, Victor brought back your clarinet. Did you leave it somewhere when you were practicing?”

  “Oh, yes Mom, I forgot it. I guess I left it at the tree.”

  “Well, aren’t you lucky that this nice boy brought it back to you? You said if I got you a Selmer you were going to take care of it.”

  “Yes, sorry. I’m very lucky. Thanks, Mom.”

  “I bet you guys are thirsty,” she said. She was doing everything in her power to avoid looking at Victor’s hoof. She had probably never been this close to him either, and everybody wanted to touch it.

  “Yes, ma’am, anything you have will be fine,” Victor said. He was quite the gentleman.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Langston,” Mad Dog said. He was trying to be like Victor.

  Mom flitted into the kitchen and the three of us sat down at our dining table. Cookies and sodas arrived. We were all quiet while she served us. It seemed to occur that we were all capable teenagers who could serve ourselves, and probably should. She vanished into another room.

  “Thank you so much, Victor! How did you do it?” I checked the moving parts of my clarinet, made sure it was all intact, undamaged, and un-cursed—if there was any way I could tell that. But it seemed exactly the same as before. I twisted it apart at the middle and studied the insides. I probably looked very professional the way I was doing it.

  “It was not easy,” Victor said.

  “No, it wasn’t,” Mad Dog chimed.

  “Is she crazy? Was I right?”

  “If I say I barely got out of there with my life, it would be an understatement,” Victor said. Mad Dog nodded gravely.

  “I mean, how did you do it? Did you have to break in and literally steal it? Her house is so creepy!” I shuddered.

  “Creepy is not even the word.” Like he had seen demons, and worse.

  “It’s like, bad energy,” Mad Dog offered. Lamely.

  “You weren’t even there, Richard.”

  Mad Dog slumped over the table, bowing out of the conversation. Victor and I shared a snicker, both knowing how much Mad Dog hated to be called Rickey, and Richard! Wow, that was taking condescension to another level. Mad Dog deserved it, of course. And even if there was the slightest edge of cruelty, I admired Victor for shutting Rickey down like that. I caught myself primping my hair and folded my hands together on the table. I admitted to my
self that I was attracted to Victor. A lot. And I was imagining way out into the future. If we had a kid, would it have a hoof? How cute!

  I had read that girls primp unconsciously when they like a guy. So I sat on my hands to be sure they wouldn’t betray me again. How can you be so self-conscious and do something unconsciously at the same time? Victor was watching, closely. Once more to be sure, I gathered all my hair together and twisted it to fall in a weave across my shoulder. I turned my eyes up and looked away. Then, boom! Back at him and his eyes popped right back up to mine. Of course he was checking out my boobs, all guys do it.

  “Her house is spooky,” Victor said. “And I think she tortures cats. Her house was full of black cats. They were everywhere.”

  “Oh, really? I didn’t see any. I think I might have heard one though.”

  “She’s a freak. And I think that LaVey boy is tied up with her somehow.”

  “Seven is Marie’s grandson. Isn’t that right, Richard?”

  “Hey!” Mad Dog bristled, but Victor Radcliffe did not think the LaVey boy was tied up with her. He knew perfectly well, and he was seeing if I knew. I hate it when guys think I’m stupid. But I liked how he had called Seven a boy. Mad Dog and Seven were children compared to Victor Radcliffe. Did he think I was a child too? My hands wanted something to do and I bit a cookie, covering my mouth so he couldn’t see me chewing.

  “We saw him on the way over here.”

  Victor looked to Mad Dog for confirmation. Mad Dog nodded seriously and said, “We did. He…”

  “He begged me to give him your clarinet. Like he was going to come over here and say that he had taken it. From his grandmother!” Victor snorted. “I had to tap him.” He indicated with his hoof what had happened. “Not a very tough guy, I have to say. But I am.” He winked.

  He looked back over his shoulder to see my mom wasn’t around and he whispered, “Marie LaVey drinks the blood of those cats, you know.”