The Nightmare Girl

by Jonathan Janz

  Without taking his eyes off the three-story house, Joe said, “Darrell?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks again.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Copeland said, keying the engine. “But I’d deal with Gentry, I were you. That’s bullshit, looking at Michelle like that.”

  “I know it’s bullshit.”

  “You firing him? You want, you can tell him what I saw. In fact, I’d sorta like to watch you shitcan the idiot.”

  “I’ll do it later,” Joe said.

  “Why later?”

  “Because I need to see my wife first.”

  Joe went upstairs and gave his wife a good long kiss. She seemed impatient to get back to her eBay selling, so he left her alone and crept past Lily’s room. She’d be napping for another hour or so. He returned to the Baxter house with Copeland’s words banging around in his head.

  Shaun was in the downstairs hallway repairing the wainscoting. They’d been able to restore the original, which had been fashioned with a deep, gorgeous cherry. Shaun was surprisingly good at that sort of work, and rather than disturb him, Joe merely said hello and went upstairs to find Gentry.

  Once on the second floor, Joe crept silently to the door of the bedroom in which Gentry was supposed to be scraping wallpaper. Joe leaned forward, listening, but he didn’t hear any scraping. He turned the knob and opened the door.

  Gentry was on his iPhone.

  “Break time, Kevin?”

  Gentry gasped, bobbled the black iPhone a moment, then stood glowering at Joe. “Jesus, man, you damn near gave me a coronary.”

  “That would’ve been a shame.”

  Joe went in, shutting the door behind him.

  He nodded at the scraper, which lay on the windowsill. The wallpaper around the window frame, Joe noticed, had barely been touched.

  Gentry glanced at the scraper, then at Joe. “Where the hell’ve you been?”

  “I went outside to get a little air.”

  “Been gone damn near an hour.”

  Joe eyed the untouched wallpaper. “I stopped in to see Michelle.”

  Gentry’s voice altered. “Just say hello, did you?”

  Joe turned and looked at him, at the flush of scarlet on his cheeks, at the horny glaze in his eyes. “When’s the last time you did something nice for your wife?”

  Gentry recoiled, his chin half-swallowed by his neck. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “You talk about pussy, about licking whipped cream off of women’s asses… How often you do something nice for your wife? You know, the one you’re married to?”

  Gentry’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Like you never talk like that.”

  “Not all the time I don’t.”

  “Fine. You want me to stop making dirty jokes, I will. Jesus, it’s no reason to get your panties in a bundle.”

  “It’s not just the dirty jokes, Kevin.”

  Something wary seeped into Gentry’s face. “Wait a minute. Who were you talking to just now? Couldn’t have been Michelle. She thinks I’m a great guy.”

  “There you go again.”

  Gentry chuckled and set the iPhone on the sill. Picking up the scraper, he said, “Jealous, Joe? Sounds to me like you’re in the doghouse. You piss off the little woman?”

  “Kevin?”

  “What?”

  “You’re fired.”

  Gentry had turned to scrape wallpaper, but at Joe’s words he froze, the red-handled scraper clutched in fingers that had turned white from the pressure. Gentry shook his head a little and commenced scraping. “Whatever’s wrong, you don’t have to take it out on me.”

  “You leave now, I won’t press charges.”

  Gentry rounded on him, bewilderment and indignation at war on his face. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

  “You were staring at my wife and jacking off in your pants.”

  Whatever color had come into Gentry’s face seemed to drain. “It’s that cop, isn’t it? That’s who you were talking to.”

  “Thanks for admitting it. It’s more than I expected from you.”

  Gentry chucked the scraper across the room. It clattered against the wall and came to rest. “I’m gonna give you more than you expected.”

  Joe reached into his pocket, retrieved his cell phone. He began to dial.

  “Go ahead and call that fatass. Tell him you need protection from your own workers.”

  “You’re not my worker anymore, Kevin.” Joe brought the phone to his ear, waited.

  Gentry stepped nearer, rolling his shoulders. “You tell Copeland I’ll take him on too when he’s off-duty, see if he’s man enough—”

  “Hey, Shaun,” Joe said into the phone. “I need you to come up here right away. Thanks.”

  As Joe hung up, Gentry’s face twisted into a smirk. “I can’t believe you brought Shaun into this. You really think that moron’s gonna do you any good? You know I could whip both of you in my sleep.”

  Joe eyed Gentry a moment, then laughed softly. “I remember back when I was in junior high. We used to talk about which girls had the biggest jugs, which ones we’d like to see naked. I was a horny little bastard. In fact, I thought of little else.”

  “That supposed to make us friends?”

  “No, Kevin, it isn’t. It’s to tell you I know how your mind works. Because I once thought the same way. I thought with my pecker instead of my brain. But what happened was I grew out of it. I realized that there was more to a girl than a vagina and a pair of breasts. Most guys come to the same realization.”

  Gentry’s jaw was flexing, his upper lip twitching into a sneer. There were footsteps in the hallway.

  “But you,” Joe continued. “You still treat women like slabs of meat. You’ve been eyeballing my wife for a good while now, and I’ve dropped more than enough hints for you to know you need to knock it off.”

  “Listen, I don’t give a shit—”

  “I know you don’t,” Joe said, “and that’s why we’re here now.”

  The door opened behind Joe. “You needed me?” Shaun asked.

  “I need a witness,” Joe said.

  He could sense Shaun hesitate. “A witness for what?”

  Under his breath, Joe said to Gentry, “Bet your wife and kids’d be proud if they knew their daddy was a peeping tom.”

  Gentry swung at him.

  Prepared as he was, the blow still nearly caught Joe on the jaw. But he was fast enough, and Gentry, thrown off balance by the force of his own punch, stumbled forward. Joe pumped a knee into his gut, sidestepped Gentry’s blundering body, and shoved the man hard toward the doorway. He landed prostrate at Shaun’s feet, as though he’d decided to worship his blond co-worker, then scrambled to his hands and knees.

  Gentry came up swinging, a wild right whooshing an inch from Joe’s nose. Again Gentry stumbled—the guy fought like a Tasmanian devil—and this time Joe helped him complete his spin with a left-handed shove to the hip. The moment Gentry came around to face him again, Joe let loose with a bone-crunching fist straight from the shoulder.

  Gentry flew back like he’d been shot out of a cannon.

  He landed in a tangled heap, holding his left cheek and muttering curses. Joe couldn’t make out most of what Gentry was saying, but he did hear both “Michelle” and “bitch” in there somewhere, and that was enough. Joe stepped over and kicked him in the ribs. As his work boot connected with Gentry’s side, he heard a dull crack. Gentry collapsed on the ground, arching his back as though he’d been shot with a rifle. Shaun was asking what the hell was going on and Gentry was groaning out a stream of expletives. Joe watched him scrabble around on the floor like a deranged crab for a few moments, then crouched beside him.

  “I gave you the chance to leave and you didn’t. Instead, you took a swing at me.�
�� He nodded toward the tall blond kid, who was still gaping at Gentry’s squirming body. “Shaun here’s a witness. You attacked me, I defended myself, and now you’ve got the choice again. Get your sorry ass off this property, or get up and fight.”

  Lying on his side, Gentry glowered up at him. Seeing the look on his face, Joe was sure the guy would come at him again. But instead, Gentry said, “You deserve it, you know.”

  Joe stared back at him, thought, Play along. This’ll be over soon.

  “What do I deserve, Kevin?”

  “They told me it was fate, all this stuff happening.”

  “Who told you?” Joe asked, his voice tight. He realized his heart was thudding, and it wasn’t from the exertion of kicking Gentry’s ass.

  And Joe realized something else: Gentry was grinning. And not just the salacious kind of grin or the cruel, teasing one to which Joe was accustomed. No, the look on Gentry’s face now was almost triumphant, like he possessed some secret tactic for which Joe would have no defense. “I didn’t believe it at first,” Gentry went on. “But lately I’ve started to wonder…everything coming together so fast…you going right along with it.”

  Joe reached down, grasped Gentry by the collar, and dragged him toward the door. “I told you to get the hell out of this house, and I meant it.”

  Shaun backpedaled into the hallway. “Seriously, Joe, what the heck’s going on?”

  Gentry said, “I thought they’d leave the kid out of it, but they said it was necessary.”

  That stopped him. Joe let Gentry drop and stood glaring down at him, his breath coming in great, molten heaves. “What kid?”

  “I ain’t telling you shit,” Gentry said, climbing to his feet. He dusted himself off, smiling. “And I’m glad you fired me. Makes what’s about to happen even better.”

  And with a grin of depthless malice, Gentry turned and strode away.

  Joe watched after him, his heart whamming in his chest.

  Shaun moved up next to him. In a small voice, he asked, “You really fire him, Joe?”

  Joe didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Because the only thought in his mind, for reasons he didn’t care to ponder, was of Little Stevie.

  I thought they’d leave the kid out of it, but they said it was necessary.

  Joe swallowed and winced at the dusty feel of his throat. He’d need to call the Morrisons later, make sure Stevie was okay.

  Shaun stood watching him. “I think you should rethink it, Joe. You shouldn’t have fired Kevin.”

  Wordlessly, Joe moved down the hallway, down the stairs, and let himself into the burnished gold sunlight. It was a pretty May afternoon and the air was rife with pollen and the fragrance of lilacs in bloom. Yet beneath it Joe sensed something acrid, something bitter.

  Something like ashes.

  Part Three

  Serpents

  Chapter Twelve

  The rest of May passed in a blur of eleven-hour workdays, gloomy weather, and time indoors with Michelle and Lily. Had the renovation of the Baxter house involved more exterior work, their progress would have been sluggish. But since Mitch and Bridget were adamant that the interior should be completely finished before the façade was touched, Joe and his workers were able to make rapid progress in transforming the old Queen Anne from something out of a Gothic horror movie to a place that looked as if it might someday be inhabitable.

  Partially out of necessity and partially due to Michelle’s constant harping, Joe hired three new workers to replace Kevin Gentry. It wasn’t that Gentry had been so valuable—in fact, as the tasks got knocked out at a fairly astonishing pace it became increasingly obvious that Gentry had been as much of a hindrance as a help. Granted, the guy had possessed skills that the new workers hadn’t yet developed, but his utilization of said skills had been fitful to say the least. And besides, Joe reasoned, each of the new workers was still in his twenties, which meant there would be ample time to learn the trade if they became permanent fixtures on his crew.

  Joe suspected they would.

  After quitting time one afternoon, Joe was pushing Lily’s stroller through the neighborhood when Michelle looked at him and said, “How’re the new guys working out?”

  Joe told her.

  She nodded. “You should’ve hired more men a long time ago.”

  “Honey, it’s not like we do all the sub-work. The heating, the electrical, concrete…they all bring in their own guys. We’re mostly there for the carpentry.”

  “You still used to take on too much.”

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

  “You know, you could admit I was right for once.”

  He gave her a lopsided grin. “You’re always right, Dear.”

  “You’re full of sh—” She glanced over at Lily, who was eating goldfish crackers out of the stroller tray. “You’re full of ka-ka, Joe Crawford.”

  “Part of my charm.”

  Lily started screaming.

  Joe glanced down at her, saw she was arched over her tray, groping for something that had tumbled to the asphalt. Joe engaged the wheel brakes, rounded the stroller, and spotted what had fallen. Her green pacifier. He plucked it off the road and examined it. There was a scrim of dirt on one side of the translucent nipple and a tiny black ant crawling along the perimeter of the handle. Joe flicked the ant off.

  Lily shrieked louder.

  Michelle wrinkled her nose in distaste. “It’s okay, honey,” she said to Joe. “I’ll wash it when we get home.”

  Joe rubbed the pacifier on his sleeve, saw he’d gotten most of the dirt off. Then, he popped it into his mouth, removed it, and spat on the asphalt.

  Michelle watched, appalled, as he returned it to Lily’s mouth. “Honey.”

  “What? She stopped crying, right?”

  “There were bugs on it.”

  “Just an ant. I got rid of it.”

  “But the germs—”

  “Aren’t going to hurt her. I’m the one with dirt in my mouth.”

  “Are all men as disgusting as you?”

  He disengaged the brakes, recommenced pushing the stroller. “Worse.”

  “I can’t imagine. Leaving the seat up, peeing on the floor…”

  “You’d miss too sometimes if you were trying to wield such a big, powerful instrument.”

  “It’s not that big and powerful.”

  “Hey now, you don’t wanna go hurting my confidence. That could lead to psychological issues, insecurity. Maybe even erectile dysfunction.”

  “I think that’s the least of your worries. You get more hard-ons than a stud horse at breeding time.”

  Joe grinned. “That’s more like it.”

  “I didn’t say you were hung like one.”

  “Ouch.”

  They were quiet a few moments, taking in the beauty of the neighborhood. Not all the houses were big, but there were trees everywhere, lots of rises and dales. Several of the houses had windowboxes, and nearly all of them had flowerbeds somewhere. Joe inhaled the sweet purple fragrance of the lilac bushes, the undercurrents of honeysuckle and mowed grass. Dogwoods and cherry trees bloomed in several of the yards they passed, and though most of the magnolia blossoms had fallen by now, there were still enough of the lovely pink petals to add contrast to the greening trees.

  “Kiss break!” Lily said, though the way she pronounced it, the words sounded more like kif bwake.

  “Kiss break,” Joe agreed and moved around the stroller to kiss his daughter several times on the forehead and cheeks.

  “Take it easy, Joe,” his wife said, though she and Lily were both laughing.

  Joe buried his nose in his daughter’s hair and pretended to gobble her neck. Lily squealed with delight.

  Straightening, he looked at his wife and said, “What about you? I’m on a roll.”

  “Your kisses
are too wet. It’s like being slobbered on by a German shepherd.”

  “Know a lot about that, do you?”

  “Shut up.”

  They moved on, the gray skies beginning to break up overhead. About time, Joe thought. It’s damn near June, but it still looks like February.

  “Should we have another child?” Michelle said.

  Joe stopped and stared at her. “You mean get pregnant the old-fashioned way or do it in vitro?”

  “In vitro’s too expensive.”

  “Agreed. Plus, I’m a whole lot better than a turkey baster.”

  Michelle made a face. “Gross.”

  “So does this mean we can ditch the condoms for a while?”

  “Honey.” Michelle nodded toward Lily. “Don’t say that in front of her.”

  “She doesn’t know what a condom is. She ever finds one, I’ll blow it up and make a wiener dog out of it.”

  “Are you ever serious?”

  “When I’m making love.”

  She smiled ruefully, took hold of the stroller, and pushed it ahead.

  He hustled up next to her, laughing. “Okay, I’m sorry. Of course I’d like to start trying again.”

  “I didn’t say I wanted to.”

  “I thought—”

  “I asked you if we should have another child, not if we should get pregnant.”

  “Hey, I always wondered that. Why do they say ‘we’ when it’s the woman gets pregnant?”

  “Because you share the experience.”

  “The insemination, sure. But I’m not the one gets morning sickness, has to lug around a thirty-pound sack of flour in my belly.”

  “What if we adopted?”

  Joe stopped. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Your pregnancy with Lily went pretty well.”

  “But it took us years, Joe.”

  “That’s the fun of it. The trying.”

  “Wasn’t fun for me.”

  Joe saw tears in her eyes and felt his smile fade. “Hey, honey, I’m sorry. I was just…” He sighed, bent down to caress one of Lily’s hands. The one that wasn’t tossing goldfish crackers into the road. “I shouldn’t have joked about it. I didn’t mean to make you sad.”