The People Next Door Page 18

  ‘I don’t want your help,’ Mick said.

  ‘You will never have to work again. Money will no longer matter. Your family will be taken care of, for life. That house you despise because you’re too fucking weak to stand up and take it from me, will be your house, in title and deed, and there will never be another mortgage payment. All of your worries, your wife’s worries, her weight, her threatening students, Briela’s tantrums, Kyle’s running afoul of the law to find the proper social niche – all that will be taken care of. Save your restaurant, open a new one, or turn it into an ashram. But no matter what, the past three years? The years you have spent watching your life circle the drain? If you work with me, Mick, they never happened.’

  Mick stared at his neighbor for a long time. He felt lost, more alone than he had ever been, a man dropped off on an alien planet, staring up at the sky, trying to understand how his fellow man could leave him here, how the world could go on without him. And this stranger was threatening what was left of his existence.

  ‘Last warning,’ Mick said, shaking with bottled rage. ‘Stay away from my family or I will kill you.’

  ‘Oh, but that’s what you don’t understand, Mick,’ Render said. ‘I’m already a dead man. My family lives … or dies … with you.’

  Before Mick could respond, his neighbor turned and disappeared into the trees.

  37

  Kyle was zoned out but not sleeping when his Egg hummed against his leg. Lying in his darkened bedroom, he removed the smooth black device from his cargo shorts pocket. It was almost three in the morning. His SMS icon was glowing, sender unknown. He scrolled over the glyph and thumbed the roller. It said,

  Are U OK?

  He’d texted Will earlier and told him to come get his car at King Soopers, the excuse being that a cop had been watching them and he had to walk June home. But Will and the rest of his friends were in his address book and their names would have been displayed. He sent:

  Who this?

  The response arrived a long half-minute later.

  Your partner in crime

  Kyle woke all the way up. Nearly sick with excitement, he typed:

  June?

  that’s me

  howd u get my number?

  i have my ways

  I guess u do. Are u ok?

  Yeah just scared. like really scared.

  Me too but it wasn’t our fault. he had a heart attack. it was an accident.

  wish i could believe that

  it’s true. what else could it have been? he was three times your size. no way you did that.

  i know but i feel so guilty for leaving him there

  When it was clear the fat security guard was not going to wake up, they had run from the Gunbarrel plaza, across 63rd, out behind Celestial Seasonings head-quarters, then walked the two miles toward Kyle’s home, through fields behind the houses on Jay Road. But they hadn’t spoken much. June seemed to be in shock, so eventually he stopped asking questions and just walked behind her, his shyness compounding within him, and when he looked up again she was nowhere to be found. He was sure he would never see her again, that she blamed him for what had happened, but here she was.

  He typed:

  it’s going to be ok. he was an asshole with authority complex. I won’t let you take the blame.

  u r too sweet. i shouldn’t have encouraged you to steal.

  I was gonna do it anyway. glad you were there.

  You were amazing. almost made it! too bad we didn’t get to hang more.

  This struck him with such force that for several minutes his thumbs locked up and he could only stare at the screen in a state of amused idiocy. So, whatever had hurried her away, it wasn’t about him.

  Where did you go after? U disappeared. was worried.

  Sorry. it was better for me to go alone, safer for you.

  He didn’t know what to say to that. She added:

  Did I wake u?

  No, its cool

  why up so late?

  Just can’t sleep

  tonight or always?

  Now that he thought about it, he realized he hadn’t been sleeping well for a long time. He sent:

  guess I am a night owl or insomniac or something.

  are you super stressed? i mean before tonight?

  my parents are fighting. dad losing job, mom hates dad, sister fucking crazy, etc. but other than that fine, lol. why are you still up? did you get in trouble?

  i’m sorry, Kyle. parents suck.

  yours too?

  they’re not my real parents. monsters.

  that bad?

  worse

  like how?

  you know

  no. tell me

  we have same problems as you, but different and worse

  different how?

  do bad things on purpose = evil

  no, seriously

  i am serious. you should get away while you can.

  run away with me?

  i would. seriously. you have no idea what’s coming.

  Tell me.

  later

  why not now?

  You’ll probably h8 me.

  No way.

  very very disturbed gurl.

  Kyle swallowed, pulling another confidence rabbit out of this new hat.

  I think u r perfect.

  A stupid yellow smiley icon, a dumb sign, and yet it scorched the retinas. For a long time he sat against his pillows, breathing through his mouth. He wanted to know everything about this girl. He typed:

  Where do you live anyway?

  OMG you don’t know yet?

  ?

  your mom didn’t say anything?

  About what? you lost me

  we’re neighbors, silly.

  Whuuuuuut? u r messing with my head.

  so not

  You moved to our hood? On Jay?

  NEXT DOOR

  Why u wanna tease me like that?

  come out and see for yourself. keep me company. house behind yours. my room = corner window 1st floor.

  He sat up violently and lost the Egg in his tangled sheets. Found it, clutched it to his stomach. She was practically waiting for him in his backyard. He could climb out his bedroom window and … and it seemed like she wanted him to. This was insane. No, his dad was still awake. Kyle had just heard him banging around a few minutes ago and he hadn’t come back down the hall yet. If he tried to sneak out again his parents would kill him. But June … oh, this girl. He sat on the edge of his bed. It was too much, overwhelming how much he wanted her. It scared him, the power she had already. She broke the paralysis.

  where did you go?

  Sorry, was just trippin. seems unbelievable.

  but true.

  2 good to B, but ok.

  oh, one sec.

  She wrote nothing more for a very long time, or five minutes. He began to feel acute loss, the comedown of not being attached to her in the ether. He became certain she had fallen asleep or forgotten about him. He stared at the tiny red screen, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting. Finally she came back.

  sorry. have 2 go out.

  now?

  i’ll explain later. my dad’s on a mission.

  Aw, well.

  but I’ll see u at the bbq, right?

  What bbq?

  a week from Saturday. my mom invited your family over. 2 o’clock.

  i’ll be there. but wish i didn’t have to wait so long.

  it’s going to be … uncomfortable. maybe you shouldn’t come.

  no way am I missing chance to see u

  i’m serious, kyle. we’re dangerous. i wish I could stop it. my fam is bad news. you should get away while you can.

  no … really?

  they’re coming for me now. please be caref

  But the rest of that text never arrived. Somebody caught her texting him? Her dad came in the room? He didn’t know, but after two hours of waiting for the Egg to wiggle in his palm, the sun began to rise and he couldn’t help but fade i
nto what passed for sleep these days. He dozed with his eyes half open and dreamed of her, moving into it seamlessly.

  They were in an empty, unfurnished house far away from here, near a sea, a party house with no guests, stranded together as on an island. The rooms tropically hot and gray with light from thick clouds. She was on a wooden chair, dressed in a sheer white blouse tight around her stomach, lacy at the shoulders, and a long skirt, billowing white. Her face was as smooth and pure as a mask of cold cream, her eyes dark wet spots. Her tiny nostrils flexing with breath, the air from her lungs warm on his neck. Extending from beneath the skirt was her white flesh, too soft to touch, as if she might turn to wisps and slide through his hands, the sheer lace holding her entire body together as a vase holds a bouquet, as a room holds smoke, and his hands were delicately pushing the skirt up, each inch higher a day he died and was reborn. Her fingers in his hair, pulling him, her soft belly warm against his lips, the curl of brown hairs around her navel, and the herbal-sweat taste of her skin …

  And then it all released from him with agonizing force and he was relieved, falling into a dreamless sleep-state that spanned most of a day.

  38

  Late the following Tuesday night, Eric Pritchard’s white Honda Civic left the pavement and began to crawl and swerve over crenelated ruts gouged into the trailhead like a Matchbox car under the thumb of a not bright playground bully. The balding tires slipped against tree roots, and rocks the size of Thanksgiving turkeys stabbed the undercarriage. Eric fought the wheel jerking and spinning in his palms while keeping one eye on Jason, who was clutching the dash as a twenty-four-ounce Red Bull sloshed onto his Dickies work pants. This final stretch of ‘road’ into the unnamed and unofficial campground (their friends called it Flintstone Park for the vitamin-shaped boulders that marked the site), located seven or eight miles up Sunshine Canyon, had been washed out a thousand times and was known for stalling Jeep Wranglers, but they were too lazy to walk the last half-mile.

  Also, if they left the Honda at the turnoff, a ranger would know some kids were up here in the gully fucking around again, starting fires and throwing beer cans into the woods. Eric figured if he could just clear the last couple hairy dips without blowing a tire, they’d be able to get their fucking boom on without any hassles.

  ‘Jesus Christ, dude, slow down.’ Jason’s face had turned green and looked vaguely plant-like. ‘Gonna chuck my pizza.’

  ‘I got this.’ Eric’s stomach roiled at the reminder of all that cheese tumbling around inside them like a load of wet socks, which made him think of loads, which made him think of Justin Timberlake suckin’ off five guys, which made Eric want to puke. Not to mention the little morsels they’d sprinkled on the hot mess of Xtra-Large Blackjack pie before devouring it at Chautauqua Park, which were now shooting darts of poison into his organ lining. ‘You feeling anything yet?’

  ‘Maybe,’ Jason said. ‘But I don’t think so. You sure Billy didn’t rip us off? That shit was mostly dust.’

  ‘Some of that dust was fucking purple, bro. It’s only been twenty minutes. Trust me, in half an hour we’re gonna be out of our tits.’

  Eric saw a smooth slope and steered high and right, the fucking rice burner canting until Jason was sitting above him like a ventriloquist dummy on his shoulder, holding the handle above the window and slopping Red Bull down the side of his face. Bitch just about went up on two before the Honda came down too fast and a smashed-beer-can-sound exploded beneath the trunk.

  Jason groaned as they leveled out. ‘Fuuuuck, man, wazzat a tire?’

  Eric laughed, and it was the laugh of a hungry crow. ‘No, but I think the muffler just got ass-raped.’

  A few minutes later they coasted into the clearing, the deep pines sloping around them in four directions. A couple of small plateaus for camping, though no one really camped here any more, just loitered. The old rock circle around the fire pit had been kicked apart, but that was okay. It was warm tonight. They wouldn’t need a fire.

  ‘You really want to sleep here?’ Jason said as Eric shut the motor off. ‘We don’t even have a tent.’

  ‘I’m not driving once this shit kicks in.’ Eric shoved his door open. He plugged his iPod into the Blaupunkt’s jack, dished up some club mix that made his heart run like it was playing its own video game. ‘Grab the sleeping bags.’

  They unloaded their supplies from the trunk. Two thin bags leaking poly-fil, two pillows, a tarp with no straps or stakes, a flashlight, a bag of Glo-Sticks for twirling, a six pack of Mickey’s Big Mouths, the bottle of Wild Turkey they never drank but pretended to sip at, and the stale remains of a five-pound bag of animal crackers.

  ‘Do you still have my lighter?’ Eric said.

  ‘Yep.’

  They hiked the gear another thirty paces to the spot, dropping it around a long log. Jason straddled the timber, lit a cigarette, and sucked like it was an oxygen tank.

  ‘Did you bring the little ax?’ Jason said. ‘We need firewood.’

  ‘Should be in the trunk, but maybe say fuck the fire tonight.’

  Jason rubbed his arms. They were thin and nearly bald, though he had a dome of black hair. ‘Is this Tuesday? I don’t think the rangers care on weekdays.’

  ‘Yeah but why risk it?’

  They opened the beers and slouched around in a tired circle, kicking pine cones, smoking. Eric had left the headlights on and the beams cut over the blackened ground before hitting the steep slope where dirt became grass became forest. The pine trees behind them went way the hell up, like narrow jagged ladders to the sky, and the mountainside was a black-thorned maze of them. The car speakers went uhn-tiss-uhn-tiss-uhn-tiss with a monotony that should have been soothing but for some reason tonight only made Eric angry. He looked at the plastic bag of Glo-Sticks, the nylon cords to string them, and didn’t have the energy to break them out.

  It occurred to him for the first time that there was something pathetic about this. Two guys sitting in the woods pretending to set off their own little rave. He wasn’t sure why it had seemed so important to come here tonight, only that he was fucking sick of Boulder, sick of the fucking losers they usually hung out with, fucking Sarah and Hannah and Ally, Tyler and Brad, with his fucking skanky Mexican hoodie and ragweed, all six of them sitting around Ally’s shithole apartment off of Baseline, the carpets wet, the bedroom with Ally’s stupid fucking unicorn tapestries and that black light, the whole place reeking of gerbil piss. It occurred to Eric, not for the first time, maybe he hated all his friends.

  ‘Fuck.’ Jason was sitting on the log, clutching his belly. ‘This stuff always makes me have to shit.’

  ‘Go in the woods.’

  ‘Did you bring any toilet paper?’

  Eric laughed. Jason squirmed. He stood up suddenly, alarmed.

  Eric smoked, the nicotine calming his stomach. ‘What?’

  ‘If today’s Tuesday, we have Workplace Econ in like eight hours.’

  ‘Dude, who gives a fuck?’

  ‘Just sayin’.’

  Eric dropped half his Mickey’s down his throat. ‘Do you think anyone gives two shits if you go to that bitch’s class?’

  ‘If I don’t graduate my moms will kill me.’

  ‘Your moms is too busy trying to please Mark. Your new fuckin’ dad, Mark. Mark the fucking lawn shark.’

  Jason actually looked hurt by this. ‘Mrs Nash said I might still be able to take some classes at Front Range. I can’t deliver pizzas for the rest of my life.’

  Something flew sideways in the woods, a glint of white streaking past the corner of Eric’s eye.

  ‘What?’ Jason said. ‘You see somethin’?’

  Eric shook his head. ‘Probably an owl.’

  Jason glanced around. ‘All we have to do is show up.’

  ‘You’re seventeen. You have years to figure it out.’ Eric had to nip this shit in the bud, right now. If Jason didn’t stop whining about his future before the fungus kicked in, Eric’d spend half the night trying to ta
lk him out of a tree, like, fuckin’ literally. ‘You don’t need a fucking degree to make big dollars. Do you know how many of these shitheads are going to go off to college like good little fascists and build up a fuckload of debt only to realize there are no jobs? My uncle Burt didn’t go to college, started his business with ten grand from a grass buy. He owns three car washes now, plus a Taco John’s. He’s fucking loaded.’

  ‘Yeah, but—’

  ‘But shut up, is what. You’re fucking up my shit. Jesus. You wanna go to school tomorrow, no one’s stopping you. But fucking can it for tonight. I’m trying to relax.’

  Jason looked away. He’s still a kid, Eric thought. Look at him there in his fucking baggy shirt and droopy fucking pants, skate shoes two sizes too big. His moms bought them that way so they’d last a whole year, except the joke was J’s feet stopped growing in tenth grade. He looked like a scarecrow who’d slid down the pole, his head too big for his scrawny neck. I could break that neck, Eric thought. Be like snapping a Glo-Stick. You just take it with both hands and push with your thumbs and there’d be a little click. But instead of turning bright green or blue and lighting up from end to end, J’d just turn no color at all and lay there.

  ‘Jesus,’ Eric said. ‘I think it’s kicking in. I’m thinking some sick fucking shit.’

  ‘I don’t feel anything.’ Jason sipped his beer and looked down at his shoes. ‘I think Billy fucked us.’

  ‘Billy wouldn’t do that.’ Cause if he did, he knows I’d beat his ass.’

  Jason stood and walked a little ways into the dark, out of the headlights.

  ‘Where you goin’?’ Eric said.

  ‘Take a piss.’

  ‘Aw, don’t say that. Every time I’m trippin’ all I have to do is think about pissing and then I have to go, and once I start going, it’s every twenty minutes for the rest of the night. Where does all this piss come from? You ever wonder that?’