The Skin Show (6 page)

Andy
saw the slanted sign for Eagle’s Nest Trailer Park and slowed the car down. He’d
come here to see if Nicole was home. When he’d peeked into his bedroom this
morning, he’d found his bed empty. The blankets were bunched together, but
Nicole was nowhere to be found. Her car was gone, her cigarettes, and the cup
with the drowned cigarette butts had been emptied and left in the sink.

Because
I was on the couch.

Maybe.
He supposed that might have motivated her to leave. Maybe she’d taken offense,
or was embarrassed. He knew as well as her what would’ve happened if he’d
stayed in the bed; nevertheless, there were many times he’d been tempted to go
back in there. He was glad he hadn’t, though. Neither of them needed any extra
guilt. They’d caused each other enough grief because of Danny. It needed to
stop at some point, and that time had come.

Driving
through the tumbledown trailer park, passing rusted trailers on each side of
him, he made his way to Nicole’s on the right, in the curve of the horseshoe
road. From where he was, he could see it atop the small slope. The weed-choked
driveway was empty.

He
turned in regardless, putting the Camaro in park. His car was the only thing
he’d splurged any of his parents’ money on. Raven-black with a wide purple
racing stripe on the hood, roof and trunk, he cherished this car and treated it
better than most men did their wives. He’d even named her Ebony, for no reason
other than her dark color.

There
were no trees in the yard, so the sun blared through his window. It was a muggy
hot day, sticky and thick that made it hard to breathe. The five day forecast
said it would be like this all week. After a brutal winter, he was happy summer
had finally conquered the cold, but days like this were a bit too much. Even in
the A/C-filled car, he felt sweat beading at his hairline. Checking himself in
the rearview mirror, his wavy hair was slightly damp in the front, a line of
perspiration stretching all the way across that glued curly sprigs to his
forehead.

The
urge to smoke a cigarette was hard to ignore. Luckily, he’d thought enough to
bring along some nicotine gum. He took the blister pack from his pocket and
squeezed. A yellowish block popped through the foil. Raising the tray, he
tongued the gum into his mouth and started to chew. He felt nicotine secrete into
his mouth, tingling his tongue. Then, as if it was a wad of dip, he packed it
against his gums. His body trembled slightly as the effects of the gum took
hold.

His
anxiousness began to settle, and his hands stopped trembling with craving. Andy
looked at the trailer. The storm door was missing its screen. He could see the
dents in the tin surface of the front door from multiple kicks. He assumed the
majority of those were caused by Danny’s feet, bashing the door in after Nicole
had locked him out. Three windows on the front had slashed screens. The
aluminum siding was peeling back, curled like fungus-infested toenails. Most of
the bushes were dead or dying, weeds slithering up through the brown bushels as
if trying to pull them into the moldy ground. Hanging in the air was a twinge
of septic odor. He assumed their tank had flooded and badly needed to be
drained.

Why
did they stay here? Surely there were other places to rent for the same price
as this shithole. He guessed the reason they were still here was mostly due to
lack of inspiration. They’d become too comfortable to leave, even if the place
was disintegrating around them.

Should
he wait for Nicole to get back? What if she didn’t come home anytime soon?
Instead of coming here, what if she’d driven back to his house and was there
waiting in his driveway while he was waiting in hers? Maybe she had to work
today. She hadn’t said anything about it last night, but that didn’t mean she
wasn’t on the schedule.

I’ll
go by the grocery store and see if her car’s in the parking lot. If not, I’ll
head home.

With
that decided he dropped the gear in reverse, turned slightly in the seat to see
through the rear windshield, and started to back up.

A
truck whipped into the driveway, blocking him in.

“Shit!”
shouted Andy, stamping the brake. “Who the hell is this?”

He
faced forward, shoving the gear back to park. He killed the engine. Throwing
open his door, he was about to climb out when he spotted activity in his
rearview mirror. In the small box of glass, he saw both doors on the truck
swing open. A man dropped out of each side. They dressed nearly identical: tank
tops that strained to support their wilted guts and sagging chests, pale arms
furry with dark hair. Mullets capped their crowns, spiked up tall and stiff in
the front, wavy and long in the back. Both wore giant mirrored sunglasses with
pride. 

Manchu’s
boys.

Wayne
and Larry—two idiots, but still dangerous, even though their stupidity was
their greatest feature. Andy took their arrival very seriously.

He
got out of the car to meet them.

“Love
this car, Andy,” said Wayne. His goatee was a thick ring of gray and brown hair
around his mouth, making him look older than his thirty-eight years. “I’ve seen
it around town and gotten a hard on every time it rode by.”

Andy
grimaced. “Wow. Thanks, Wayne, I think. Should I give you a moment alone with
it?”

“Might
not hurt,” said Wayne.

Andy
nodded. “I’ll keep it in mind.” He glanced at Larry. The tubby man’s left hand
hovered at his hip, his fingers behind his back. Andy wondered if he had a
pistol tucked into his pants and his fingers were itching to snatch it free.
“So, what brings you by my brother’s place?”

“We
were about to ask you the same,” said Wayne. “We’ve been watching it all
goddamn day and you’re the first person we seen yet.”

“Nicole
hasn’t come by?”

“Nope.
Not unless it was b’fore nine.” Wayne eyed him suspiciously. “Why? You lookin’
for her?”

“Well…I
was looking for Danny, actually. Nicole came by and said she hasn’t seen him in
a couple days. I was thinking about riding out to Lou’s so I could check if he
was there.”

Wayne
shook his head. “He’s not.”

“Hmm,”
said Andy. “Why do
you
want to talk to Danny?”

Larry’s
lips started to move. Andy could see the indention of his tongue prodding from
the inside. Then he leaned forward, spitting out a brown wad of snuff that
spattered when it hit the ground. “Lou hasn’t seen Rosco in a few days and he’s
a little…concerned.” His tongue went back at it, working to get the loose bits of
tobacco that remained clinging to his browning teeth.

“Becoming
a goddamn psychopath about it is more like it,” said Wayne.

“It’s
his brother, what you expect?” asked Larry.

Wayne
turned to Andy. “Last he seen him was on Friday, when he got in your brother’s
car. Both acting giddy as a couple of bitches. So, you haven’t seen them?”

Andy
shook his head. “I said earlier, I haven’t. Nicole’s worried about Danny.”

“Came
to big brother for help, huh?” said Larry in a mocking tone.

“Something
like that,” said Andy. “Why don’t you tell me what they were doing? Nicole says
Danny was spending a lot of time with Rosco lately. Maybe I should ride by and
ask Lou what’s going on.”

A
scowl distorted Larry’s plump face. “You go see Lou; you might not walk away
from it. He’s still pissed at you.”

“He’ll
get over it. Eventually.” Andy noticed a dark skinned Mexican guy walking a Pit
Bull in the road. Stopping to let the dog do his business in the ditch, he was
now watching the exchange.

Great.
Now we’ve got an audience.

Wayne
shook his head. “Best damn runner he ever had, Lou said. You just turned your
back on friends for a edge-ee-cation?” Wayne shook his head as if an education
was the ultimate betrayal.  

Andy
had seen what was happening to Danny early on and stopped working for Lou,
getting away from drugs altogether. Being old friends, Lou had let him go
without much argument, but what real friendship they’d had was destroyed in the
process. Andy blamed himself for Danny’s problems. Not only had he allowed it,
he’d supported it. Instigated it.

Looking
at the ground, Andy put his hands on his hips. He felt the urge to throw a
punch brewing inside of him like a freshly lit fire needing to be poked.
Wouldn’t take much before the calm spark turned into an inferno. “What’s my
brother been doing spending so much time at Lou’s place?”

“He
ain’t been spending no damn time at Lou’s,” said Larry. “That’s what we’re
trying to make your dumbass understand. The asshole didn’t even get out of the
car, just rides up, honks once, and Rosco went runnin’.”

“Where
do you think they went?” asked Andy, immediately realizing how pointless of a
question it was.

“If
we knew that, do you think we’d be watching Danny’s trailer like we have been?

“I
wouldn’t be surprised.” Andy laughed.

The
other two men stared at him, deadpan.

Larry
looked at Wayne. “Think Lou would be pissed if we kicked the shit out of Andy
right here in his brother’s yard?”

Wayne
shook his head. “Naw. I think he might even give us a reward if we kick his
ass, then smash his car up a little.”

Andy
felt a chilly claw grip his bowels. They would do it, too. Pissed at Danny for
the extra work he’d caused them, they would take it out on Andy. A calling card
for his brother to see. Plus Andy’s sarcasm had helped push their anger.

Damn
mouth getting me in trouble again.
  

“Listen
guys…” The two beefy men took a step forward. “Let’s not do anything out of
line.”

“Out
of line,” repeated Wayne, then laughed. “That’s exactly what we’re about to
do.”

Andy
glanced past them and caught the Mexican running away, tugging the dog by its
leash behind him, its paws scratching at the gravel road. He didn’t want to
fight these guys, but it was inevitable. Passive feelings aside, he wasn’t
going to just allow them to beat him up. If he was going to stand any chance at
self-defense, he needed to act quick.

Catch
them off guard.

Which
he did, with a quick punch to Wayne’s jaw. The blunt connection sent a numbing
jolt through Andy’s arm. His hand stiffened, fingers gnarling back into a claw,
unable to reform a fist. It’d been a
very
long time since he’d hit
anyone.

Wayne
stumbled back. Momentary shock washed over him. Rage quickly overpowered it. He
had no trouble clenching his hands into fists…

And
neither did Larry.

Andy,
clutching his injured hand to his stomach, backed away from the two approaching
men. He bumped against the Camaro, feeling the door handle jutting through the
back of his pants. He thought about trying to get inside the car.

He
wouldn’t make it in time. And if he did, Wayne and Larry would take great
pleasure in smashing their way inside.

Wayne
raised his arms. “Son of a bitch, this is gonna be fun.”

Distracted
by Wayne, Andy didn’t notice Larry moving in until his fist was about to crash
against his face. He leaned back, just not fast enough. Instead of Andy’s
mouth, Larry’s fist struck his ear. The blow spun Andy around, flinging him
against the fender. His knees knocked the wheel well. Folding over, his chest
slammed on the hood. He pushed against the hood, trying to get himself upright.

Hands
shoved Andy back down, bouncing his head off the hood like a flimsy open-handed
slap of fiber glass. Then he was held there, flush against the car. He felt the
heat of the engine through the hood, burning his cheek. His hands slapped the
hood’s sleek surface, squeaking as his fingers fought to grip.

He
leaned his head up. Fingers gripped his hair, pinning him down on the hood. A
hand swatted his upraised ass.

“Damn,”
sighed Larry from behind, following with a whistle. “If I was a faggot, I’d
take advantage of this sitch-eation right now...”

“What
you mean?” said Wayne.

“Well…there’s
a tight ass in front of me. And, if I was homo, I’d have a little fun with it.
Know what I mean?”

“Go
head,” said Wayne, as if permitting Larry to change the channel on TV. “What’s
the harm?”

Andy
wriggled against the two beefy arms pressing him to no avail. He wasn’t getting
out of this hold. “Larry? Really? Come on, man…”

Ignoring
Andy, Larry said to Wayne, “Shee-it. I’m not a fag.”

“Fucking
an ass doesn’t make you a fag. It’s just a hole to stick your cock in for a
little while.”

“Even
if it’s a man’s?”

“Hell
no. A hole is a hole. Now if you was kissing all over him, sticking your tongue
in his ear, shit like that, then you’d be a fag.”

“Think
so?”

“Hell
yeah. Don’t treat em like a chick or nothing.”

There
was a pregnant pause of Larry considering what Wayne had told him.

“Larry?”
Andy’s voice cracked, rising in pitch on the second syllable. He cleared his
throat and tried again. “Larry, man, come on. You’re not really considering…”

Stepping
over Andy’s pleads, Larry said, “Well, I guess if I don’t play with his balls
or nothing, I’m safe.”

“There
you go,” said Wayne.

“You
gonna hold him down for me?”

“I’d
be delighted.” His grip on Andy tightened.

“You
ain’t gonna tell on us, are ya, Andy?” teased Larry.

Before
Andy could respond, Wayne said, “Shit no. He ain’t gonna tell nobody.” He
laughed. “It’s gonna be a hoot watching Andy Raab get it in the ass.”

Andy
had originally thought they were just saying these things to intimidate him.
And, it had been working. But, when he felt his pants being tugged, and the
mild breeze drifting across his bare buttocks, he understood Larry was going to
carry the threat to fruition.