Bad Things (24 page)

For an instant he focused on her. But then his hands closed on Jade's shoulders—not her neck, Audrey saw with relief. His fingers made white marks on the skin below her collarbone, and he forced her to turn around.

Audrey ran forward, reliving her own old fears. “Don't hit her!” she cried. “Rick! Don't—”

He turned the woman around and slowly forced her up against the wall. “I won't hit her,” he said without taking his eyes from Jade's face. He kept her shoulders trapped against the wall. “She used to hit me all the time, Audrey. I didn't tell you about that. She used to take a belt to me. Once, she whipped me until my pants were shredded. I had to stay out of school for a week. She thought it was funny. Didn't you, Jade? You thought it was funny.”

“Richard, don't be so mean.” Jade's voice quavered. “You're hurting my shoulders.”

“Rick,” Audrey began, then stopped. There was nothing she could say.

“Richard, please!”

“Daddy?”

Audrey looked up, saw Cody rubbing his eyes at the top of the stairs.

“Go back to bed, Cody,” Rick called, his voice only slightly strained. “Everything's okay.”

“Okay.”

Audrey was amazed that the boy obediently did as Rick asked.

Rick drew a deep breath and released it with a shudder, then let go of Jade. He bent and picked up the red robe and threw it at her. “Cover yourself up and never leave your room dressed like this again. My children and my friends do not need to see you like this. Neither do I.”

“You'll never measure up to your brother, you little prick!” Jade spat at him as she flounced past, pulling the door closed behind her.

“My brother's dead,” he said quietly as Jade's lock clicked home.

“Rick?”

He turned and looked at her, his face open again, boyish, but heartbreakingly sad. “Audrey? I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I'll understand if you don't . . . I lost control.”

She went to him and took his hand. “You didn't lose control.”

“Yes, I did.”

“No. I lived with a man who had no control, and because of that, I thought for a second that you were going to hit her. I'm sorry. If I hadn't been hit, I wouldn't have thought it.”

“I wanted to hit her. I wanted to kill her.”

Slowly she pulled him forward and put her arms around his waist. “I wanted to kill her, too, Rick.” She smiled up at him. “Anyone in their right mind would want to kill her.”

“Does this mean you'll see me again?” She felt his body relax against her slightly. His voice trembled with caged emotions. She wished he would cry, but knew he wouldn't.

“Yes, I want to see you again. I mean, it can't get crazier than this, can it?”

He studied her a long time before answering. “Yes, it can.”

Something in his voice, a finality, a surety, troubled her, but she looked into his eyes and said, “We'll just take it one day at a time, okay?”

“Okay.”

They kissed chastely, and he saw her to the door. She thought it was odd that he didn't accompany her down the walk to her car, but then, he'd been through so much.

On the drive home, she wondered about him, thinking that there was more under the surface than she'd realized. At first she thought he was a sweet, sincere guy, sort of shy, very intelligent, and stamped with her brother's seal of approval, which was damn hard to come by. There was a darkness lying just below the surface, though, and she didn't know if it was something that could be exorcised or not. She also thought the cousin in Scotland didn't exist.

“Quint?” Rick called as he locked his bedroom door behind him. “Quint? Where are you, cat?” He waited a moment. “Here, kitty, kitty. Time to eat.”

The cat wasn't answering.
Christ,
he thought,
on top of everything else, this is all I need.
“Quint?” He walked into the dressing room, automatically looking at the cabinet, relieved to see the hanger holding it shut. He scanned the floor and the shelves above the clothes racks. “Quint?”

The cat wasn't in the bathroom either. “Here, kitty, kitty.”

Then he heard a hiss behind him and returned to the bedroom. “Quint?”

A low growl emanated from behind the headboard. Grabbing his flashlight from the nightstand, he got down on his hands and knees. “Quint?”

The cat was crouched at the halfway point in the eight-inch-wide space between the bed and the wall. Its ears were back and its eyes reflected green in the flashlight's beam. It growled menacingly.

“What's wrong, cat?”

Quint's only answer was another hiss.

“Okay, have it your way.” Rick rose and went into the bathroom, poured fresh Iams in the dish and replaced the stale water. Usually Quint would come running when he heard the crunchies tumbling, but not tonight.
Why?

A scrabbling sound in the wall gave him the answer. Rats. Quint wouldn't know a rodent if it bit him on the ass. Maybe he'd seen one, smelled one, something. After all, Rick hadn't checked for entries into the room other than the passage. He squatted down in front of the bathroom vanity and opened the door, inspecting the openings the plumbing traveled through, and saw a small opening between the pipe and the cabinet. He reached up and retrieved his flashlight from the counter, shined it on the cabinet floor, behind the rolls of toilet tissue.

A mouse turd, just one, lay in the back of the cabinet. “Uh-huh, I see,” Rick said, rising. “Ouch!” he cried, banging the back of his head on the counter. “Shit!” He rubbed the sore spot as he returned to the bedroom, got a bait trap, and placed it in the cabinet. “Here you go, you little son of a bitch!” He rose, successfully this time, and brushed his teeth, then stripped to his shorts. He'd had enough showers for one day.

After he climbed into bed, the cat joined him almost instantly, plastering his body against Rick's side, draping his head and arms over his shoulder. “You're a big baby, you know that? Big cat like you, afraid of a little bitty mouse.”

The cat stared at him, unperturbed.

Usually Rick read himself to sleep, but tonight he snapped off the lamp and lay in the dark, absently stroking Quint's fur. “It wasn't a good day for me either, fur-ball.”

The cat purred.

He didn't know what to do about Jade. She'd frightened Shelly, called Audrey names, and caused him to stop thinking and almost do violence. My god, he thought, if he hadn't been brought to his senses when he heard Audrey's anguished “Don't hit her!” he actually might have done it.

What if she parades around like that in front of Cody?
The thought filled him with dread. Maybe he could rent her an apartment. She didn't really need a retirement home. She wasn't so old and feeble that she needed one. Or crazy enough to be locked away. And unless he buckled under and took the TV job, he couldn't afford it, so his threats were somewhat empty.
Rent her an apartment,
he advised himself,
and get her out of the house.
But even if he was only putting out another thousand or so a month for her upkeep, he'd still have to take the TV job, that or give up good restaurants, the theater, the symphony, and the occasional rock concert. There were other expenses to consider. Now that he had the room, he wanted to buy a real piano so that the kids—and he himself—could learn to play. His primary computer was getting old and crotchety, and he wanted a laptop so that he could work in bed, too. The kids needed things, the house, too, all items that he could eventually afford without going into debt if he just left Jade where she was.

Put her out on Sunset Boulevard and let her hook her room and board.
He smiled devilishly.
You don't owe her a place to live.

That was the ultimate truth. The Ewebeans had been their guardians, if you could use that word without laughing, after their parents died, but from the first, they did it only for themselves. The Ewebeans were just like the innkeeper and his wife in
Les Misérables.
He remembered clearly the day they showed up, a few weeks after their parents' death.

 

 

The arrival of Jade and Howard Ewebean from Larkin Hill, a little nest of inbreeding located in the northernmost reaches of California, did not fill Ricky with joy. These, his only living relatives, were people who rightfully belonged only in small, backward towns in the middle of nowhere. Here in Santo Verde, they qualified as the cream of the crap, as his father used to say. As they pulled up the drive, Ricky, watching with Carmen, had the sinking feeling that the Beverly Hillbillies were moving in.

He'd heard his parents talk about the Ewebeans, but he'd never seen them before. They were the only relatives left. His dad had sometimes joked that gypsies must have left his sister, Jade, on his parents' stoop one night, because she didn't look or act like any of the other Pipers. Grandfather had studiously pretended she didn't exist.

Seeing her for the first time, Ricky thought that, except for the way her breasts were trying to pop the buttons of her faded plaid dress, she looked a lot like the woman in the painting called
American Gothic.
And Howard looked just like the man, skinny and bald and sour. All he needed was a pitchfork. Ricky stifled a giggle.

“Come on, Ricky,” Carmen said, touching his elbow. “We better be polite.”

Heart sinking, he watched them climb out of a dirty, smoke-belching pink and gray Rambler. Aunt Jade turned briskly toward the open car door. “Come here, Buffems,” she called in a cloying, nasal voice. “Come here, Buffem-wuffems.”

He heard yipping, and a second later, he saw a dog leap from the car. It was a poodle, small and white, with a poofy, goofy haircut and a green plaid collar studded with rhinestones. Its high-pitched frantic whining turned briefly into a growl as it saw him, then Jade called it again, and it threw itself into her arms. It was the most loathsome creature he'd ever seen.

Then a girl slithered out of the car, and he forgot about the dog. Ricky knew she had to be his cousin, Evangeline. She was about three years older than him, and the look in her pale muddy eyes, combined with the smile she bestowed on him when she noticed him staring at her, said she'd instantly pegged him as kibble for the horrible poodle. His blood ran cold.

“Oooh, wittle Buffems,” Aunt Jade cooed into a fuzzy pink ear. “Is you my wittle baby? Is you?”

Buffems licked her face, waggling its tail like a golfball on a stick. Suddenly he saw its weenie stick out and rub against Jade Ewebean. He slapped his hand over his mouth a second too late to keep the giggle inside, and the sound of it hung in the air like a big red arrow, pointing directly at him.

Aunt Jade looked at him. Uncle Howard looked at him. Evangeline looked at him. Even the poodle looked at him.

“You,” Howard Ewebean grunted. “Which one are you?”

Ricky stared dumbly at him.

“You deaf, boy?” Aunt Jade asked. “Answer your uncle.”

The poodle growled, its gums obscenely pink.

“I, I—”

“This is Ricky,” Carmen said, putting her hands protectively on his shoulders. He leaned gratefully against her.

“What's the matter with him?” Howard demanded. “He a mute?”

“No,” Carmen said. Ricky could tell she was angry and trying to hide it. “He can talk, but he's just lost his parents, so he doesn't feel much like it, you know?”

Jade drew herself up to her full, considerable, height and threw her shoulders back. “You're the maid?”

“Housekeeper,” Carmen replied with dignity.

“Well, you ain't going to be the maid long if you mouth off to me again.”

“Miz Ewebean.” Carmen spoke calmly. “Did you and Mr. Ewebean read all the legal papers?”

“Course we did,” Howard grunted.

“Then you know you can't fire me. It's in the papers. My husband and I take good care of the boys and the house. We see nothing bad happens to any of them. The Pipers, they knew that and they put it in their papers. If you did read them, you know that too.”

Howard grunted and blew his nose into a wrinkled handkerchief.

“We'll see,” sniffed Jade. “We'll just see how much you'll care about those boys when you don't get your paycheck.”

“The lawyer's office sends my money, and since you say you read the papers, you know that, too, so don't pretend to be stupid, Miz Ewebean. And don't pretend I am either. That way we'll get along a lot better.”

“Look, Mama.” Evangeline's voice was high and whiny, and she never took her eyes off him as she spoke. “Look at the boy. He's staring at Buffems like he never seen a dog before.”

“You never seen a dog, boy?” Aunt Jade asked.

“Madre de Dios,”
Carmen said quietly to Ricky. One of her hands left his shoulder, and Ricky knew she was crossing herself.

“Speak up, boy,” Howard grumbled.

“I—I've never seen such a fu—funny-looking one.” A small hysterical giggle escaped, and he felt his face flush.

“It's a sin against God,” Carmen hissed.

“I thought they had money,” Jade said to Howard.

“They do,” Howard said. “ 'cause we got it too, long as we take care of their brats.”

Jade nodded knowingly. “Pity. I guess having money don't mean having fashion sense. You're a stutterer, boy?” she asked.

Ricky shook his head no.

“Where's the freak?” Evangeline Ewebean asked loudly.

“You got him locked up somewhere?” Howard chimed in.

Carmen's hand tightened on Ricky's shoulder. “We don't call him words like that. His name is Robin.”

As if in answer, Robin's joyful cry pierced the air. Ricky and the others turned toward the house, and Ricky watched the leaves in the oak tree move as Robin, invisible, climbed down from the bedroom window. Suddenly he dropped from the lowest branch to the ground. He landed on his hands, elbows flexing, and then he ran forward, hands hidden in the overgrown grass.

“Oooh, look at it!” squealed Evangeline.

The poodle let loose a hysterical volley of yaps and strained to get free of Jade's arms.

“Stop it, Buffems,” she ordered. “Will you look at that thing move?” she asked.

“Hauls ass,” Howard allowed.

Robin arrived at the walkway leading to the driveway, and the slap-slap of his hands hitting the bricks seemed very loud to Ricky. The Ewebeans just stood there and stared, Jade clutching Buffems against her breasts, until Robin arrived next to his brother. Ricky moved closer to Carmen.

“Hello, Aunt Jade. Hello, Uncle Howard.” He paused, looking Evangeline up and down. “Hello, Evangeline.”

She giggled.

“I'll be goddamned, if that ain't the goddamnedest thing I ever saw.” Howard slowly shook his head. “Belongs in a circus. What'd you say his name was?” he said to Carmen.

“Robin,” she said.

“Robin? Hell!” cried Howard. “He don't look like a robin. He looks like a lump to me. He oughta be called Lumpkin, 'cause robins got wings.”

“He's gonna grow up and be third base,” Evangeline supplied.

The poodle, still yipping, suddenly squirmed free of Jade's grasp. Instantly it turned to face Robin, its legs stiff, its lip curled.
Eat him,
Ricky wished, then closed off the thought.

“Lumpkin,” said Robin merrily. “Lumpkin, Lumpkin, Lumpkin!” With that, he flipped into a handstand and ran, head down, across the yard, climbing the oak tree like a monkey.

“Don't that beat all?” Howard said, chuckling and sending his boozy breath in Ricky's direction. “That thing's gonna be a hoot.”

“Give Ricky a nickname too,” Robin yelled from the tree.

Howard snorted, but before he could open his mouth, Robin screamed, “He's icky Ricky! Icky Ricky! Call him Icky Ricky!”

The Ewebeans looked at Ricky and laughed.

 

 

Things deteriorated after that. Rick stared at the ceiling. Howard was a mean drunk, Jade was his match, and their daughter didn't fall far from the tree. Evangeline, at thirteen, was well into puberty and intent on torturing every male she came into contact with.

Rick yawned. The first few years were bad, but he still had his locking bedroom and Carmen. When he wasn't in school, he lived by spending countless hours at Carmen and Hector's or, if he couldn't, remaining locked alone in his room, reading, writing, thinking. The Ewebeans didn't miss him, the Ewebeans didn't care. At night, when he'd wake up screaming because he'd dreamed again about finding his dead parents, they ignored him or hollered at him to shut the fuck up.

Two years later, when he and Robin entered early adolescence, things became far, far worse.

A silent tear ran from his eye. Quint moved one paw up and touched it, just as he had when he was a kitten.

Rick stared at the ceiling.
I don't owe Jade Ewebean a thing,
Rick thought drowsily.
Not a damn thing. She owes me.