The People Next Door Page 16

  He stepped forward, lifted a cardboard box containing twenty-four cans of Budweiser in his right hand, paused, walked a little further, and took a four-pack of Mandalay raspberry wine coolers in his left, and strolled away.

  Someone’s mother (and possibly grandmother) in the bakery section looked up from her cart and adjusted the strap of her purse, staring right at him. Kyle smiled and kept walking toward her. She looked back to her list, registering nothing. His confidence sprouted wings. He turned, crossing the back of the store again.

  ‘The spice aisle,’ Will had said earlier. ‘The spice aisle is the key. No one’s ever in it, and it leads you right out the fucking door.’

  Kyle watched the signs hanging from the ceiling. Toilet paper, pet food, bottled water. Baking goods. Spices. There it was, two rows ahead. He turned right, catching a whiff of nutmeg. He passed tubs of Crisco, not too fast, not too slow, shoulders loose, grip firm. Don’t let go. Defeat the evil suck. The aisle was a mile long. He glanced over his shoulder, peeped Aunt Jemima smiling back at him.

  The aisle shortened. In fifteen paces he would be at the front. Register three. She said she would be at register three.

  Ten paces. Five.

  One.

  He was in full view, the tobacco and customer service desk off to his left. The manager usually hovered here, changing out drawers for the cashiers, processing returns. But no one was on duty. He looked to the right.

  The creamy thigh, her little black sneaker. June standing sideways in an express lane. Reading a tabloid, bag of nuts dangling from her left hand. She wasn’t looking up. What was she doing? She flipped a page. What the hell? Was this the sign? He slowed, ordering her to look up. Shit, shit, shit. She was less than ten feet away and had given no sign. This had to mean bad news.

  He stopped, the bright lights glaring off the linoleum, the suitcase suddenly an elephant. He had to put them back. This was insane. He was never going to make it. He was paralyzed. Going back now would be like recrossing a desert. He would die of a heart attack and they would find him face down next to the canned tomatoes.

  She turned, eyes wide. Surprised? Why would she be surprised! This was the plan! Had he heard her wrong? Jesus! June! I’m dying here!

  She set her magazine back on the rack. The cashier cleared the plastic partition from the rubber conveyer belt and looked up.

  ‘Next?’

  ‘Oh my God!’ June buckled at the knee, sprawling, bag of nuts scattering on the floor. ‘Ow, ow, oh God, it hurts …’

  Kyle actually began lowering the beer on his way to help her. She was wounded, his perfect girl was hurt, he had to help her – he froze.

  This was the sign! Of course, you dumbass. Go, go, go now!

  ‘Oh, honey,’ the cashier was saying. ‘Oh no, are you okay?’

  A tall man with a hand basket of oranges and Vanilla Wafers stepped in, blocking June from view.

  ‘Hold on, kiddo,’ he said. ‘Easy, easy now. Just lie still.’

  ‘It’s my leg,’ June cried. ‘I was in a car accident. I just had surgery – no, don’t touch it! The floor is wet, I slipped … oh, ow, it hurts!’

  She’s fucking brilliant.

  Kyle’s feet danced over squares of checkered linoleum, silent as a ninja. His heart was a synthesizer and the entire front of the store took on a hazy white glow, blurring as if he were in a car speeding through a neon city. This was another new drug, like her smile, the rush of the beer boogie. His pupils spiraled open. His veins throbbed, swishing blood in a hundred tiny tides. The registers were behind him, the photo booth a yellow fuzzy spot, gone. The huge rectangle that was the front door opening before him like a steel mouth. The store’s air conditioning blasted him from ceiling and floor and it felt like threading the needle, motherfuckin’ Luke Skywalker cannon shot out of the Death Star, yahoo, all clear, kid, out into the warm summer night.

  I made it! I made it! He forced himself not to run. Be cool, you’re so cool. This was a cakewalk, and I’m not even going to wait to kiss her, I’ll do it in the car and she’ll let me. We did it!

  ‘HEY YOU, I SAW THAT! STOP RIGHT THERE, YOU LITTLE SHIT!’

  Kyle broke into a run. Footsteps pounded behind him. The parking lot quaking, the world upended, adrenaline splashing his tongue, his bowels turning to water. He ran, fuck it, no going back, he would run all the way back to the party, using the neighborhood and golf course to weave and duck and hide. His breath came in heaving gulps. A car honked as he dashed in front of it.

  ‘I’M A COP! PUT THAT BEER DOWN RIGHT NOW UNLESS YOU WANT TO GET SHOT IN THE FUCKING HEAD!!!’

  Kyle stopped instantly – or tried to. His Vans skidded on loose gravel. He went up and then down, hard on his ass. The suitcase smacked the ground and the cardboard flaps broke loose, spewing cans that spit and hissed and rolled everywhere. The wine coolers shattered and slooshed up in a fountain, wetting his lap like he’d pissed himself. He could hear the belt of tools jingling – keys, cuffs, nightstick, radio, mace, gun. A meaty hand slapped his shoulder.

  Rasping, ‘Guess who’s fucked.’

  Kyle looked up. The ‘cop’ was a three-hundred-pound security guard with a stained white shirt, bushy black goatee, and open fly. He was so out of breath his nose was sweating, and the gun was a Nextel walkie-talkie.

  Kyle saw stars of red and purple, dots of black. He couldn’t see, only imagined her stepping out of the store, witnessing his failure. He waited to be yanked to his feet and hauled off to jail, the humiliation beyond description. He felt trapped in a cell already, the enormity of what he had done wrong thudding into him. He rocked back and forth, moaning, wishing he could disappear …

  A tremendous forced lifted him up and he was screaming, and the security guard was yelling, grunting, and Kyle thought only of escape. He thrashed, blind with panic. He felt something release him and he was free, running disoriented, and then he was lost. He stopped. He was standing by the corner of the building. Behind him was the parking lot, with a few cars but no people. To his left was the front corner of the store, a train of shopping carts. In front of him, on the north side, blanketed in darkness where the store’s front lights could not reach, was June.

  She was looking down at the security guard, the fat man sprawled before her.

  Kyle felt as if he were lifting out of his body as he walked toward her. The man on the ground was rubbing his throat and a white line of spittle leaked from the corner of his puffy lips. His eyes were scrunched tight inside a bloated red face, but he made no sounds. His right leg kicked itself stiff and the toe of his shoe bent toward his knee and stayed that way.

  ‘What happened?’ Kyle looked back, certain more employees were coming for them, but they were alone.

  June did not answer. Her arms hung limp at her sides.

  ‘How did he get all the way over here? June?’

  She looked up at him with eyes as large and dark as eight balls. Her cheeks were greenish white. Her mouth moved but no words came.

  Kyle took her by the shoulders and she flinched. ‘It’s okay,’ he said, releasing her, showing her his palms. ‘I’m not going to hurt you … My God, what did he do?’

  She swallowed, the first tears coming freely. ‘He started to hurt you. You were screaming and he … I tried to stop him and he grabbed me when I tried to run away. He started to shake me and I pushed him away and I, you … didn’t mean to … this wasn’t part of the plan …’

  ‘Didn’t mean what? What did you do?’

  ‘I think I hit him.’ Her eyes were black slicks sunken deep into her pale doll face. ‘I hit him in the throat.’

  Kyle looked down at the man between them. The chest was no longer rising or falling.

  ‘I can’t stay here,’ June said, near tears. ‘My family can’t have this. You can’t be here. No extra attention of any kind, it’s not allowed, I have to leave …’

  She was backing away, shaking her head, and then she was running, and Kyle was running after her.

&n
bsp; 35

  Mick couldn’t sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, he kept imagining himself sinking to the bottom of the lake, some stranger diving down into the murk to haul him out. Amy had been waiting for him when he came home from work, sitting in front of the TV with the volume low, watching a reality show featuring a precocious child chef whose apprentices were divorced parents learning how to make a proper school lunch.

  ‘How was your day at the office, honey?’ she’d said dreamily, not looking up at him. The wine bottle was on the coffee table, nearly empty.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ he said.

  She scoffed with ugly laughter.

  ‘Look, I can’t sit around here doing nothing,’ he said. ‘And in case you still care, I think I figured something out about why our revenues have been so low these past few years. I need to decide out how to handle it, but things are going to turn around in a matter of days.’

  ‘That’s good. I’m happy for you.’ She wasn’t even listening.

  ‘Where are the kids?’ he said.

  ‘B’s in bed. Kyle’s out with his friends.’

  ‘Just out? Do you know whose house? Are there parents involved?’

  ‘Who can say? He’s like his father that way. You can ask, but how do you know he’s telling the truth?’

  ‘All right, Amy. I get the message. Jesus.’

  She clicked off the TV and dropped the remote on the floor. ‘Don’t “Jesus” me. You’re the one who’s running around scaring your family half to death, Mick. But then, that’s nothing new. I just want you to know, next time you do something stupid and drown, I’m not going to fall apart trying to save you.’

  He stared out the patio windows, noting the lights on in the new house. ‘Listen,’ he said. Man on the terrace, man in the water. ‘I know things have been a little strange since I fell in. I don’t know how to say this … I think someone’s been following me.’

  Amy stood and took her wine glass to the kitchen. She dumped the remains into the sink and took the bottle of Advil from the cupboard. She paused, pills in hand, staring at him.

  ‘Following you,’ she said.

  Mick nodded at the back window. ‘Have you met them yet?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The new neighbors. They’ve moved in, haven’t they?’

  Amy cleared her throat. ‘I met the wife. Cassandra.’

  ‘You what? Why? Why would you do that?’

  ‘They’re our neighbors, Mick. What am I supposed to do?’

  ‘Fucking hell. When was this? What’s she like?’

  ‘She’s shy, quiet. I don’t know when they got here. It was a few nights ago. Why are you looking at me like that?’

  ‘What else do you know about them? What do they do? Where did they come from?’

  ‘I don’t know, Mick. I haven’t had time to run a credit report and background check. What’s this got to do with someone following you?’

  ‘I think we should stay away from them,’ he said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘For a little while. I don’t want you near them.’

  She came at him a few steps. ‘What are you talking about? What’s wrong?’

  ‘I don’t think they’re normal,’ he said.

  ‘Normal? Who’s normal?’

  ‘I don’t think they’re … like us.’

  Amy scowled. ‘What do you think they’re like?’

  ‘They want something from us.’

  ‘And what would that be?’

  ‘Think about it,’ he said. ‘They just appeared the night we got back from the lake. That house was empty for months. I remember looking at it that morning, when I was dealing with the boat cover. There was no one there. Then we got home and you went inside and there was a guy on the terrace, spying on me.’

  ‘Spying,’ she said. ‘I see. And now you think our new neighbors are following you, is that right?’

  ‘No, yes, there’s more, though,’ he said. ‘I talked to Coach today and he said, he was sure he did not save me. He said someone else, this blond guy, saved me and I crawled out on my own. Did you see anyone else with me on the dam?’

  Amy was staring at him as if he were speaking in tongues.

  ‘Why did you say Coach saved me?’

  Amy did not answer.

  ‘You don’t know what happened,’ Mick said. ‘You don’t remember what you saw from the boat ramp or anything else that happened before you got to me, do you?’

  Amy opened her mouth and closed it. She looked frightened, but was quick to dismiss whatever crossed her mind. ‘I’m not talking about this with you,’ she said. ‘You’re being paranoid and I am not going to indulge whatever this is. I can’t get into this. I can’t handle it.’

  ‘We may not have a choice.’

  ‘Fine,’ she said. ‘What do you think is going to happen? What am I supposed to do?’

  ‘I don’t know yet. But I don’t want anybody in our business or privy to our home life until all this stuff with Roger and Bonnie is sorted out. Someone’s been snooping around the restaurant, listening in on my meeting with Gene, and shit is going down that you don’t want to be a part of.’

  ‘Well, now I think you have to tell me. You’re not being fair.’

  Mick stared at her. ‘I don’t want to upset you any more than I have to.’

  ‘It’s about the restaurant,’ she said. ‘We’re going to lose it, aren’t we?’

  ‘No. No. I know who the embezzler is and I can get it all back.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Sapphire.’

  Amy began to simmer.

  ‘I’m working on it,’ he said.

  ‘What are you waiting for? Go get him!’

  ‘I have to be sure, Amy. And this isn’t about Sapphire. Someone else is watching us. I’m just telling you, whoever those people are, do not go getting all involved with them until we know we can trust them.’

  Amy laughed. ‘Get involved? Trust them? They’re our neighbors. You think they’re going to ask us to join a cult?’

  ‘I have a bad feeling. Something’s not right back there, I can feel it.’

  ‘You have a feeling? What feeling? Where are all these feelings coming from?’

  ‘Jesus, why do you have to bust my ass every time I ask for one little favor? Why can’t you for once just say, “Okay, honey, sure, if it will make you feel better, I’ll avoid that for a few days because I realize it upsets you?” Why is that so goddamned hard?’

  Amy crossed her arms and mocked him with her calm. ‘Okay, honey. If it makes you feel better, etcetera. But you’re being really shitty right now and I’m entitled to make new friends. You have no idea how lonely I am.’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  Amy threw up her hands. ‘And yet, as I keep telling you, nothing changes.’

  They fumed at each other a moment. He sensed that if he pushed back any more tonight, nothing good would come of it. He nodded. ‘I’m just asking for a little space here, so please, don’t encourage them. Not right now.’

  ‘What are you going to do about the accountant?’

  ‘I’ll handle it,’ he said.

  ‘You better,’ Amy said, as if there would be consequences if he did not act soon. ‘I’m going to bed. You should do the same.’

  And so he had, but now he couldn’t sleep. Maybe he was being paranoid, but maybe there was a good reason for that. He sat up, mashing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. The bedside lamp was off and the large picture window was black with clear flecks of rain catching on the glass too gently to be heard.

  Footsteps shuffled quietly in the hallway. Mick recognized the cautious gait.

  ‘Kyle?’

  His son cleared his throat, did not enter the bedroom. ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Everything all right?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘Yeah, Dad. Are you doing okay?’

  ‘Go to bed.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘And sto
p running around town like a goddamned hustler.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘You’re scaring your mother.’

  ‘Okay, sorry.’

  He waited for Amy to pop out of her room and berate the kid, but Kyle shut his bedroom door before she was roused. Mick pulled on a pair of jeans and made his way to the bathroom in the master suite and urinated against the side porcelain, careful to avoid thundering the lagoon.

  In the kitchen he thought about making himself a sandwich, but wasn’t hungry. He had no appetite any more, nothing tasted good. He drank half a bottle of acai berry juice Amy had seen advertised on the Home Shopping Network. It was supposed to help you crap with A-list regularity and it tasted like it would succeed in fulfilling its advertised promise. The bitter fluid tumbled inside him and his mouth watered and he just made it to the sink in time. He vomited in silence and felt better immediately. He wiped his mouth and splashed warm water over his face. He felt cold again, chilled inside and out. Felt like he was catching something. Probably just anxiety. There was only one thing that would allow him to get back to sleep and he figured he might as well get on with it.

  The rain was warm and delicate on his face and bare feet. He kept close to the house to avoid triggering the spotlight as he dropped over the deck railing, onto the grass. A long white car slid down Jay Road, its single red taillight fading like a wetted flame.

  He walked the other way, hewing to the tree line, up the cracked asphalt of the old Jenkins driveway until the palazzo was in full view. He stopped outside the front gates, mindful of the cameras. They weren’t moving, but he didn’t trust them. There weren’t any cars in the turnaround. Every window was dark. Even from outside, the house felt empty. And yet he knew it wasn’t.