Money Back Guarantee

by Hunter Shea

  “Ready. Set. Pull!”

  She and Gavin gave a slight tug, afraid of ripping the thing in two. When nothing happened, they pulled harder. The sides of the sub began to bulge outward.

  “Keep going,” Dwight said, eyes wide, licking his lips. “You’re almost there.”

  Rosemary was pulling so hard now, she almost lost her grip.

  “This is harder than I thought,” Gavin said. His tongue poked out of the side of his mouth, the way it always did when he struggled with something.

  “But it’s working,” Rosemary said. Amazingly, it was taking the shape of a submarine. Her shoulder cracked, and then the top of the sub made a loud pop as it unfolded into place.

  “Hold it just like that,” Dwight said.

  He stood over the sub, opened a square hatch at the top, and dipped his head inside. Pretty soon, he was in it up to his chest. She heard the scrape of cardboard being dragged and snapped into position.

  When he emerged from the bowels of his tiny five-dollar submersible, beaming with pride, he announced, “You can let go now. She’s all set.”

  Dwight looked it over from stem to stern. He breathed out a long “Wooooow.”

  Rosemary thanked God Dwight wasn’t in tears. Gavin shook his head, but put on a happy face for their son.

  “Looks like someone’s ready to hunt some Russians,” Gavin said.

  Eyes glued to the flimsy sub, Dwight said, “I can kill a commie for Mommy.”

  “What did you say?” Rosemary said.

  “A couple of kids in school have shirts that say that,” he said.

  Rosemary sighed, but she couldn’t complain. She was the one who wanted him to go to public school where there was no dress code and kids could establish their own identities. Gavin had been a good Catholic schoolboy who’d wanted his son to follow in his footsteps. Except that Rosemary knew Gavin and his buddies when they went to St. Michael’s. Every one of them was a devil in a blazer and clip-on tie. No way was she putting Dwight through that.

  “Hey, someone has to. They don’t call them the Red Menace for nothing,” Gavin joked, doing his best to lighten her mood. He bent down to inspect the sub, reading the paper instructions. “Says it’s supposed to be six feet long. I think they forgot to ship half of it.”

  Dwight crawled into the hatch, oblivious to his father’s slight. “It’s got a panel with all kinds of gauges and monitors,” he said, his voice muffled in the cardboard box.

  Rosemary put her arm around Gavin’s waist. “Don’t complain. If it was any bigger, we wouldn’t have any place to put it without tripping over it ten times a day.” Then she whispered, “And he loves it. God, to be nine again.”

  “Tell me about it. I remember spending entire summers playing with bottle caps I found in the street.”

  “Raise the periscope!” Dwight said.

  Rosemary covered her mouth, laughing, when she saw the tube that looked just like an empty roll of paper towels poke out from the top of the sub.

  “Dive! Dive! Dive!”

  “I think he’s forgotten we’re here,” Gavin said.

  “Well, do you want to finish what you started back in the kitchen? Looks like we’ll have at least fifteen minutes to ourselves.”

  Gavin’s eyes lit up just the way Dwight’s had when they pulled the sub out of the box. He knocked on the side of the sub.

  “You okay in there, bud?”

  Dwight responded with orders given to an imaginary officer.

  Rosemary grabbed his hand and led him up the stairs. Their clothes were off before they crossed the bedroom threshold.

  It wasn’t until almost an hour later that they realized Dwight was still in the sub. They could hear him shouting orders to launch the torpedoes. Rosemary rested her head on Gavin’s sweaty chest, her hand on his hardening cock.

  “You have another in you?”

  “Remind me to buy Dwight anything he asks for in those comic books,” he said, pulling her on top of him so she straddled his face.

  Chapter Three

  Rosemary got the frantic call from Edith Yancy just as she was struggling down the stairs with the old vacuum cleaner she’d inherited from her mother. It weighed more than Dwight and was louder than a pack of lions. She almost dropped it on her foot in her haste to answer the phone.

  “The boys are okay, but I think you should come over,” Edith said. She sounded like she was having a hard time catching her breath.

  Rosemary went on instant high alert. “What happened?”

  “They were in the pool…and”—Edith gasped—“well, I think it’s just better if you were here.”

  “Is Dwight all right?”

  “Yes.”

  Oh, thank you, Jesus, Rosemary thought, swallowing her heart back down her throat.

  “And Jimmy?”

  “Both boys are fine. Wet and a little shook up, but fine.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Rosemary dashed out of the house, forgetting to close the back door. She ran across the street to Edith’s. The front door opened before she could even knock. Edith stood there in her soaking wet clothes.

  A single thought blazed across Rosemary’s brain.

  She had to dive into the pool to save them!

  Edith’s normally feathered bottle-blond hair was plastered to her skull, revealing dark roots.

  “They’re in the kitchen,” Edith said.

  “Are you all right?”

  She gave a slow nod. “I really need to change. I’ll be back down in a few.”

  Rosemary had to compose herself. She didn’t want to barge in on the boys, buzzing with frantic energy. That would just upset them. She bit her lip, took a breath, and pushed through the swinging saloon doors.

  Dwight and Jimmy sat at the kitchen table, towels over their shoulders, drinking from boxes of fruit punch. When Dwight saw her, his eyes were glassy with tears.

  “It’s ruined,” he said.

  She crouched down and smoothed the wet hair from his forehead. He really needed a haircut, but he kept insisting he wanted to grow it long, just like Jimmy, who looked like Shaun Cassidy’s love child.

  “Tell me what happened,” she said, swallowing back the torrent of questions bubbling at the back of her tongue.

  Just keep calm. He’s okay, and that’s all that matters.

  “We really thought it would work,” Jimmy said. He didn’t look upset, or if he was, he hid it well.

  Then it hit her.

  “Dwight, did you put your submarine in the pool?”

  He avoided eye contact. “Yes.”

  “You know it was made out of cardboard. Why would you do that?”

  Now he looked up at her, twin streams of tears snaking down his tan cheeks.

  “It seemed so strong, not like a box or anything. We wanted to try the periscope and see how the torpedoes would launch underwater.” He finished with a sniffle. She noticed the puddle of water by his feet.

  The torpedoes were black plastic cylinders that resembled lawn darts, only without a pointy end. Dwight had to shove them through an opening in the front of the sub. How did he not know that, at the very least, all of the water would run through that opening?

  She had to remind herself that he was just a kid and kids did stupid things. She recalled her ill-fated attempt to be Mary Poppins in her aunt’s backyard. She broke the umbrella and her ankle when she’d jumped off the shed.

  “The whole thing collapsed around them,” Edith said. She had a towel wrapped around her head and wore fresh tennis shorts and a flowered shirt. “I just happened to go out back to water my plants when I saw it sinking. I jumped in and pulled them out. Luckily, it broke apart real easy.”

  “I punched one of the walls right out,” Jimmy said with a hint of pride.

  Dwight leaned clos
e to her and whispered, “I was scared.”

  She hugged him hard.

  “You’re all right now. Mrs. Yancy was right there, thank God.”

  He broke away from her embrace, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, eyeing Jimmy, obviously ashamed for crying in front of his friend.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “The submarine got totally destroyed.”

  “It’s still in the pool,” Edith said. She handed Rosemary a cup of instant coffee. “That stuff is heavy as H-E-double hockey sticks. Fred can fish it out when he gets home.”

  “I’m so sorry, Edith. Dwight should have known better. And now your pool is ruined.”

  Her neighbor waved her off. “The pool is fine. It just has some litter in it for the moment. And they both should have known better.”

  Jimmy piped up. “I told Dwight it would sink.”

  Edith rolled her eyes. “That sure didn’t stop you from hopping right in and going down with the ship…so to speak.”

  “You’re a true lifesaver,” Rosemary said. She’d always held Jimmy’s mother at a distance because of the way Gavin, and any other red-blooded male on the block, glanced at her whenever she walked by. She couldn’t blame them. Edith was a suburban Lynda Carter, only with blond hair. Gavin would never do more than window shop, but the threat Edith posed made it difficult for all of the women in the neighborhood to warm up to her.

  That would have to change. She’d saved her son’s life, for goodness sake.

  “I’m just glad I walked outside when it happened.”

  Before she could stop herself, Rosemary had her arms around Edith. “I can’t thank you enough. I can have Gavin fish the cardboard out of the pool.”

  Edith was stiff at first, but settled into the appreciative hug. “No need. Fred could stand to help out a little more around here.”

  After several more thank-yous, Rosemary took Dwight home, Jimmy asking if he could come over later to watch TV.

  “Why don’t you put on some dry clothes,” she said as they walked inside. “I’ll fix you up a snack.”

  Dwight didn’t say a word. Fresh tears brimmed along his lower lids.

  She knew her son. He wasn’t upset that he’d nearly drowned. He was young. In his mind, he was invincible.

  No, he was crestfallen that his amazing nuclear submarine was now fifty pounds of wet gunk. She could hear him sobbing upstairs. At first, she wanted to cry, not just with him, but for him.

  The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. What kind of company would sell impressionable children a water toy made out of cardboard? Dwight couldn’t be the only kid who thought to take his sub into a pool.

  She cut up an apple and poured some potato chips into a bowl, her jaw aching as she ground her wisdom teeth.

  Didn’t the ad say there was a money back guarantee?

  Oh, she wanted her five dollars back.

  Dwight came down, eyes red and puffy, biting his lower lip as he took the apple and chips into the yard.

  AdventureCo was going to refund her money, after she gave them a good piece of her mind. She was about to ruin someone’s day.

  Chapter Four

  Gavin came home to a stressed-out wife and no dinner.

  “Bad day?” he said, setting his briefcase on the counter. Rosemary had spent the better part of her day in the hot kitchen. Her sweaty hair was pulled back in a tight pony, a sleeveless shirt clinging to her. She’d wiped her makeup off hours ago and was chewing on the end of a pencil.

  “We’re going to have to have pizza night early this week,” she said, running down the list of phone numbers she’d written on the pad and crossed off one by one. “I’ve been a little preoccupied.”

  He grabbed a cold beer from the refrigerator and leaned over her, rubbing her shoulder. “I can see. What have you been up to?”

  She tilted her head up so he could kiss her. “Well, for starters, your son almost drowned today.”

  “What?” He nearly choked on Pabst foam.

  Rosemary explained what had happened in Jimmy’s pool, assuring him that Dwight was perfectly fine—at least physically.

  “Where is he now?”

  “Upstairs with Jimmy. I set the TV up from our room in his room. They’re watching one of the Planet of the Apes movies, I think. I gave them enough soda and junk food to last them a week.”

  Gavin plopped into the seat opposite her, finishing off the beer and tossing the can in the garbage.

  “Poor little bud. So what’s all this?”

  “I’m trying to find AdventureCo.”

  “Come again?”

  “It’s the company that makes the submarine. They’re located in some little town I never heard of in South Carolina. At least that’s what it says in the ad.” She showed him the open copy of Spider-Man. “At first, I wanted to call them to ream them out. I figured since they offered your money back, they’d have a hotline to handle complaints.”

  Gavin got another beer, along with one for her, popping the tops and keeping the rings on his finger. “I’ll bet there’s no such number for the simple fact that everyone and their Aunt Ida would call to get their money back.”

  Rosemary tapped the side of her nose. “I’ve called information, the Better Business Bureau, the chamber of commerce in Tegan’s Mill. I even called Marvel Comics to see if I could speak with someone in the advertising department.”

  “Wait, what’s Tegan’s Mill?”

  “That little nothing town in South Carolina. I went to the library and got a map.” She unfolded the map and jabbed a finger in the center of South Carolina. “At least the town is real. Now, if AdventureCo is actually there is another story. So far, it’s not looking so good.” She took a deep sip from the can. The cold beer was a welcome relief. Her guts had been burning all day, getting madder and madder as she struggled to find the shill company.

  “Maybe you should let it go. The boys are okay. That’s all that really matters.”

  “Yes, but it’s just—”

  “The principle. I’m very much aware of my wife’s compulsion to set the record straight,” Gavin interjected. “Look, you and I both know these companies are nothing but scam artists. They know it too, which is why they make it so hard to find them. Odds are if you do locate anything even remotely associated with this AdventureCo, it’ll just be a little PO box with nary a human to yell at in sight.”

  Rosemary sighed, the tension that had kept her rigid as a steel pole all day easing just a bit. “I know you’re right. But I can’t let this go. You, Edith,, Fred and I could all be planning funerals tonight. We came that close.”

  Gavin got up, kissed the top of her head, and took the pencil from her hand. “All the more reason to be thankful and appreciate the fact that Dwight and Jimmy are at this moment gorging on sugar and salt and reveling in ape madness.”

  She stole a glance at the phone on the wall. There were a couple of other numbers she wanted to call. Gavin shifted and blocked her view. “So, instead of calling some rednecks in Bumbfuck County, order us up a couple of pies and let’s eat and drink a bad day away. Work wasn’t much of a picnic either. Come on, let’s blow off some steam and get buzzed on a school night.”

  He nudged her with his elbow, eyebrows jumping up and down with that goofy smile that got her every time.

  “Fine. For now. I still want my money back.”

  Chuckling, Gavin said, “I know you do. You’re a dog with a bone. That’s one of the things I love most about you. Well, that and your smoking-hot body, of course.”

  Naturally, Jimmy stayed for pizza—extra cheese with pepperoni—and before they knew it, all of the Pabst was gone and Rosemary was relaxed for the first time all day. Just in time to slip into bed.

  Gavin came out of the bathroom, toothpaste in the corners of his mouth. “I think that Irish coffee was a bridge too far
.” He collapsed on his side of the bed, making Rosemary bounce and nearly pitch over the side. She giggled, hitting him with a pillow.

  “You should call in sick tomorrow.”

  “Can’t. I have a meeting with Bob and Dennis first thing in the morning. Should be stellar.”

  “I wish I could be a fly on the wall. Well, good night, honey. Thank you for taking the stick out of my butt.”

  He gave her a lingering kiss, his breath tasting of beer and toothpaste.

  “It wasn’t me. All the credit goes to the Pabst Brewing Company. And I’ll bet you can call them any time you want.”

  Rosemary rolled onto her side, Gavin onto his, resting cheek to cheek. Sleep came hard and fast.

  She dreamed she was back in school—fifth grade in St. Augustus Elementary School, to be exact. She was about to be called on by Mrs. Doyle to solve a fraction equation on the board when the fire alarm started ringing. She breathed a sigh of relief. She had no idea what the question even meant, much less how to get the answer. Fractions were a completely alien language to her. Mrs. Doyle had a habit of throwing chalk-encrusted erasers at students when they scribbled wrong answers. It didn’t hurt, but it was humiliating.

  “Nobody moves until Rosemary solves the equation,” Mrs. Doyle said with a smug look on her spinster face.

  “But the fire drill,” William Fogerty said. He was a hall monitor and all around rules stickler. Everyone hated him, although at this moment, Rosemary was in love with the guy.

  “What about it?”

  “Don’t we have to leave? There could be a fire.”

  “Anyone who gets up gets a month of Saturday detention.” No one dared move a muscle, all eyes on Rosemary. “Well, princess, we’re waiting. You wouldn’t want us all to burn to death just because you’re afraid of a little fraction, would you?”

  Rosemary swallowed hard, knees knocking as she pushed her chair back from her desk with a loud scriiiiich!

  The fire bell rang incessantly. The shrill clanging pierced her eardrums as smoothly as a scalpel. She clamped her hands over her ears, drowning out the clamoring of the bell and, most of all, Mrs. Doyle’s harsh invectives. She saw the old woman’s wrinkled mouth move but couldn’t hear a thing.