* * * * *
Loud, obnoxious music could be heard reverberating down the street. This was how the neighborhood usually sounded at this time of day. The neighbors had given up complaining long ago. It was never any use.
The sun was just going down when Addison approached her boyfriend’s house. She didn’t bother knocking on the door, but instead walked around to the side of the garage and pounded her fist against its dusty window. She continued this act until the music abruptly ceased and an intoxicated head poked outside. At one glance of Addison, the head went back into the garage. She heard it saying, “Dude, it’s your chick.”
Another voice: “Hey, man, I thought we agreed no girls at practice. It throws off my mojo, you know that.”
Then Connor: “Oh shut up, we’re done here, anyway.”
One by one, the band marched out of the garage door, hopped on their bikes, and rode home. They were dressed as wizards. Addison waited until they had all left before she entered the garage. Her boyfriend sat behind the drum set, wearing a blue silk robe with golden stars stitched into the fabric. A pointy hat matching the robe laid at a tilt on top of his head. He was lightly tapping a pair of drumsticks against his thighs. “Hey,” he said, looking up. “What’s going on?”
Addison raised her eyebrow. “I could be asking you the same thing.”
Connor smiled. “Like the costumes? Got a deal at the Salvation Army. Pretty sweet, huh?”
“You’re actually going to wear that while performing at shows?”
“Yeah, why not? Assuming we ever get one booked, of course.”
“Very…cool.” Addison had always found her boyfriend’s heavy metal band, Asswarts, a bit strange. Every song shared the same central theme: Harry Potter. She hoped he would have grown out of his J.K. Rowling phase a long time ago, but apparently it was not meant to be.
“Oh, yeah, check it,” Connor said. “Thought of a new song today. You know Severus Snape, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, what about ‘Severus Rape’?” He smiled at her as if he had just revealed the greatest work of art ever conceived.
“Dear God.”
“I know, right?” Connor grinned. “It’s brilliant.”
Addison shook her head. “Yes, it sure is,” she said. The boy was truly lucky she loved him. “Can we go outside and talk for a minute?”
“Yeah, of course.” He stood up and Addison placed her hand on his shoulder.
“Um, do you mind unwizarding yourself first?”
“Oh, sure, sorry.” Connor blushed.
They left the garage and found a seat on the porch swing out front. It was a little chilly, but after covering up with Connor’s large magic robe, it wasn’t too bad.
“So, what’s up?” he asked.
“I think I met my real dad today,.”
“What?”
She told him everything that had happened before leaving the apartment. When she was finished, Connor sat a moment in silence, staring into the sky.
“So, you gonna talk to him again?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. I mean, what if he left again for good? Maybe freaked out because of the cops or something. I don’t even know how to get a hold of him.”
“Maybe he’ll contact you.”
“Maybe.”
“Do you want him to?”
“I think I do, yeah,” Addison said. “Anybody has to be better than Del.”
Connor nodded. “You really stepped on him when you left?”
“Yeah.” Addison smiled. “It felt good.”
“I’m glad. That guy’s an asshole.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, thinking her boyfriend really had no idea what kind of despicable monster the guy actually was. Her hands self-consciously buried themselves in her hoodie pocket, although the scars were already protected by wristbands.
“Hey,” Connor said, “what do you think of ‘Her Heinie’ as a song name? Like, instead of Hermione? It could be an ode to butts or something.”
Addison giggled. “I love you.”
“Love you, too,” Connor said, and kissed the top of her head. They snuggled together on the swing and stayed there, enjoying the moment. Addison was already feeling better. She always did when he was holding her like that. It made her feel like everything would be all right in the world, even though it probably wasn’t true.
She fell asleep in his arms.
Chapter Seven
Demon Vision
Donald was sick.
He didn’t think he was going to live much longer. His condition had been on the decline for a while now, and as the hours ticked by, it only worsened. There wasn’t a lot of time left. Maybe a day or two at the most, then his brain would just give up and his body would fall down wherever it was standing. And that would be the end of good ol’ Donald. The world would be minus one junkie.
There was nothing that could save him either. Except for one thing.
Jericho.
But that was too expensive. Donald slept in a cardboard box. He used newspapers as blankets. Who in his situation could possibly afford what he so desperately craved for?
It was starting to rain. Lying face up in an alley, arms crossed, teeth chattering, body shaking, he wondered how his life had gone so downhill. And how quickly it had progressed. Hell, he had once worked at Wal-Mart. It was a good job; he had worked himself up to assistant manager.
Then that goddamn door greeter got him hooked on the purple and everything started to go wrong. Donald liked to believe his first act of insanity was when he stapled his nametag to his boss’s forehead, but he could have been crazy long before then, too. He couldn’t really remember too much of his past now. Jericho had helped in that department, as in many others.
Around the same time he was fired was when Donald started noticing people. Really noticing them. Not just some sit-in-a-park and observe the joggers type of noticing. No, this was more of a cryptic image noticing, and it was his job to decipher the hidden messages.
He discovered a different layer of humanity. There wasn’t just skin and bones. There was so much more. He couldn’t explain it at first, not until he encountered the UPS driver.
See, the man’s employment at the United Postal Services had all been just a clever ruse. His real work was with the Devil.
Donald saw through the man’s disguise right away. He buried the demon’s head in his backyard, ditched the rest of the body down Lake Michigan. This was before the bank repossessed his home, obviously. Now the severed head was some other Joe’s problem.
Besides opening up his eyes, Jericho had also amplified his other senses. He could smell the scum of the world as they traveled from point A to point B, pretending like everything was normal. Pretending like they were human. Sure, they might have been able to fool the average pedestrian, but in reality they were horrible actors. Donald could smell their real intentions. Their real evil.
He found his hearing was stronger than ever, too. Traffic became one of his most loathed enemies. Always honking, always yelling—it was too much. Colors became too bright, gave him agonizing migraines that resulted more often than not with him passing out cold from the pain.
His sex drive was at its limits as well. It was a lucky day if he could last longer than an hour without acquiring an erection. Between Jericho and hookers, Donald had run out of cash rather quickly.
Now he spent his days sleeping in a cardboard box, caught in a binge of masturbation. When he was finished he used the rest of his spare time shaking and crying, wondering how he could score some money for his drug fund. He also feared the demons that inhabited every third human being that passed his alley. But before he could come up with an actual solution, he was rock hard again. It was a never-ending cycle of humility.
None of it mattered really. If he didn’t get a fix soon he would die. It was as simple as that. Once the purple entered your system, it didn’t leave until it sucked you dry. The only way to prevent death was to
constantly refill. And he hadn’t refilled in almost two weeks. It was either shit or get off the pot now.
Donald slowly climbed to his feet, letting the rain wash away his sweat. The rain was more solid than normal rain, like tiny droplets of piercing ice, but it didn’t seem to faze him. He was burning up—yet freezing at the same time. He shook the snow from his hair and stumbled out of the alley.
The night was calm. He kept his head down, letting the demons go on about their false business without bothering them. He had other agendas to attend to tonight. If Donald planned on living, he would need to come up with some cash. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do yet, but he knew he had to do something. And fast.
Chapter Eight
A Big Juicy Burger
The Cadillac swerved into the gas station’s wide icy parking lot. Metallica blared from the car’s speakers. Just like old times.
Maddox and Benny got out and entered, passing through the convenience store area and finding the restaurant built further inside. They sat down in a leather orange booth, a brother on each side, picking up the menus laying there on the matching Formica table.
As they scanned the various meals available, Benny muttered, “Anyone ever tell you, you drive like a goddamn lunatic?”
Maddox smiled. “I missed speeding.”
“Yeah, I think every car within a three mile radius could back that up.”
His smile widened, trying to focus on the menu in his hands. He had felt terrific after taking that shower, and his good mood only seemed to be increasing. Driving the Cadillac again had been quite therapeutic.
Maddox had tried the radio shortly after departing from the trailer park, but was disappointed when all he came across was pop and rap shit. Fortunately, he was able to locate one of his old Metallica cassettes in the glove compartment. He sighed, thankful that his brother, who favored Tupac and Ice Cube, hadn’t thrown it away. He cranked up the volume and followed Benny’s directions to the gas station, every couple minutes pushing his foot harder on the pedal, grinning like a fool, until he was going nearly seventy-five and banging his head back and forth to “Battery.”
The waitress, a cute little number wearing a green uniform and a ponytail, approached the booth notepad in hand. “Hi, my name’s Amanda,” she said, displaying a shiny beam, “and I’ll be serving you fine gentlemen tonight. Can I start ya’ll off with somethin’ to drink?”
Maddox gave up with the menu. His brother hadn’t been lying when he said they had everything. He laid it back down on the table. “I want a Pepsi, and the biggest, juiciest burger your cook can make. And fries, too. Big fat ones.”
“And as for me,” Benny said, “I’d like some coffee and the bottomless spaghetti and meatballs. That come with garlic bread?”
“Just the first helping,” Amanda said.
“Well, that hardly seems fair,” Benny frowned, and paused, as if to debate over the menu one last time. “I guess I’ll take it.”
“’Kay,” the waitress said, jotting their orders down. “I’ll have it up for you in no time.”
“I bet,” Benny mumbled, as she backed away and headed into the kitchen. He lit a cigarette and leaned back in the booth with his arms resting on top. “She’s pretty fine, huh?”
“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Maddox said.
“Shut up.”
“Relax.”
“I’m relaxed.”
“Good.”
Shortly thereafter their food arrived.
“You had the spaghetti and meatballs, bottomless,” said the waitress, setting down the pasta. “And you had the big juicy burger, extra big and juicy.” Followed by a wink. “Enjoy your meal.”
“I wonder if she’s on the menu…” Benny trailed off, watching her walk away. “Will you check out the—”
“Eat, Benny,” Maddox said. He already had a quarter of his burger gone. He created a puddle of ketchup on his plate and drowned a couple French fries in it.
It was his first real meal he’d had since released, and it tasted like heaven. Sure, you got used to prison food after a while, but it’s nothing compared to actual human food. There was nothing like praising in glory as he re-experienced the bliss of a double bacon cheeseburger.
“Jesus, man, you’re eating like you just got out of the pen or something,” Benny said.
Maddox only looked up.
“Oh…right. My bad.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So, what are your plans?”
“Plans for what?”
“I dunno.” Benny shrugged. “About anything, I guess. I mean, you just got out. You must have some kinda plans, right? You gonna go working for King again?”
“No,” Maddox said, and he meant it. He never wanted to see Vincent King’s face again. It was because of him that Maddox went to prison in the first place. He was through with the crime shit—this he was absolutely positive of.
“You gonna stay with me, then, are ya?”
“Just ‘til I get back on my feet, if that’s all right with you,” Maddox said. He stuffed the rest of his burger down his throat and washed the meaty entrails away with a swig of soda. “Still jobless?”
Benny looked up from his plate of pasta, a saucy noodle dangling down his chin. “Nope, got me a job at Starbucks now.”
“The coffee place?”
Benny nodded, and Maddox had to laugh. Surrounded by an endless supply of caffeine was not such a good idea for his brother. “So, you went from dealing crank to dealing frappaccinos?”
“Yeah, but I think the crank paid better, though.” He grinned. “As a matter of fact, right now I’m on temporary suspension.”
“What’d you do?”
“Oh, just my stupid boss. He got tired of the customers complaining every time I took a sip from their drinks. Hello, it’s called ‘sample tasting’. I’m just looking out for the safety of my fellow Americans.”
“Should have known.” Maddox tossed a fry in his mouth and leaned back in the booth, sighing in content. The plate had been scrapped clean, really hitting the spot. He felt alive, rejuvenated. Like a free man should feel. Sitting in this truck stop, Maddox was satisfied for the first time in what he reckoned to be a long time. Now if only he could speak to his daughter…
“Hey, waitress!” Benny called out, signaling Amanda over, who’d just finished taking the order of a large graying male with a beer belly.
She came over to them and nonchalantly muttered, “Server.”
“What?”
“We’re not supposed to answer to waitress anymore. It’s server now.”
Benny cocked his brow. “What? Why?”
“I dunno.” She shrugged. “Guess it’s sexist or something. What did you want?”
“Oh, yeah. You think you can get me a box?”
“Full already?”
“Yeah…good stuff.”
“Shame, you didn’t even ask for seconds. That bottomless order must feel like a waste now, huh?”
“Yeah, well…”
“Tell ya what,” Amanda said. “I haven’t even had a chance to ring you guys up yet, the place’s been so gosh darn busy. How ‘bout we just say you wanted the single plate instead?”
Benny smiled. “Now that’s a fine idea.”
“Thought so,” said the waitress.
Benny watched her as she walked away, turning back to his brother. “She is one piece of work, huh?”
“She’s all right,” Maddox said, finishing his Pepsi.
“All right? Man, you’ve been away way too long. Speaking of which…” His eyes traveled toward the convenience store area. “I’ll be right back. Sit tight.”
And just like that, Benny was up and out of his seat and leaving the restaurant. It crossed Maddox’s mind that he might’ve been ditching him with the bill, but then he remembered he was the one with the car keys, and relaxed. A few minutes later Benny returned, shivering.
“Shit,” he said, “since when did it start to rain?”
�
��Where’d you go?” Maddox didn’t like the look in his brother’s eyes.
“Never you mind. You ready to jet?”
“Sure.”
“Good,” Benny said, laying down some money on the table, “’cause I gotta surprise for you.”
“I don’t even want to know,” Maddox said, as he was led out of the truck stop, thoughts drifting to his daughter again.
It wasn’t like Sheryl was just going to hand Addy over to him. Therefore, he’d have to hire a lawyer—a helluva good one, too, considering his ex-con status and all. The dreadful reoccurring question bounced back and forth in his head: would it even be possible to obtain custody? Maddox didn’t like the probable answer, so he created his own.
He wouldn’t rest until it was a reality.
* * * * *
She had the scariest face Maddox had ever seen.
At first glance he mistook her for a man. It just wasn’t every day you came across a woman with a shaved head.
The next thing he noticed was the dragging fishhook scar lined from one ear to the other, hopping over the mouth like some sort of sinister clown’s grin. Her jagged lips held a white discolor to them that made Maddox cringe, bubbling sores ringing her mouth.
But perhaps the most horrifying feature of this wretched woman was the milky glass ball inserted in her left eye socket. It stared at him from the backseat of the Cadillac like some kind of neglected statuette with intent to kill.
He gulped in horror, sincerely fearing for his life.
Using the rearview mirror as a translator, Maddox’s eyes and the girl’s eye connected, locked together. She winked her good eye, the one dressed up with long black lashes, while the opposite held not even a brow.
Toxicity Page 6
