Authors: Kristopher Rufty
“Larry,
don’t do this!” said Andy, pointlessly.
Another
stinging slap on his ass, and this time Andy let out a little squeal. The
laughter he heard behind him humiliated him more than his partial nudity. He
squirmed harder, rubbing himself across the hood. Thankfully his shirt didn’t
have buttons, or he’d be leaving rents in the paint of his car. He felt his
penis brush against the fender. It felt warm and smooth, burning slightly like
a carpet welt.
He
heard even harder laughter behind him at his meager attempts to free himself.
Larry
groaned. “Does it make me a fag if I’m getting off on watching him wiggle like
that?”
“Not
at all,” assured Wayne. “You’re just really into the power play.”
Andy
wriggled his shoulders violently. He was not going to allow Larry to—he
wouldn’t even allow the thought to take form. It would not happen. He wrenched
an arm free.
“Dammit!”
shouted Wayne.
“Hold
him still!” Larry shouted back.
“I’m
trying!”
Andy
waved his arm back and forth, avoiding Wayne’s grasping hands. “Help! Help!”
“Shut
him up!” ordered Larry.
Wayne
released Andy’s shoulders, lunging for his mouth. Shoving Wayne, Andy stood up,
then turned around. He spotted Larry trying to latch the belt on his pants.
Andy
yanked his own pants up, and holding them there with one hand, he charged. He
planted his left foot, throwing his right foot up on the run. It bashed the
open V of Larry’s legs, crushing his testicles. A yell died in Larry’s throat.
His eyes froze wide, his mouth locked open as his hands cupped his crotch.
Knees folding, Larry dropped.
Wayne
slapped his hands down on Andy’s shoulders, hurling him against the car again.
He felt a section of the fiber glass body cave in and wanted to cry.
“Dirty
fucker!” growled Wayne. “You kicked him in the balls?!”
Gasping,
Andy spit. Then he held out his hands to each side. “The bastard was trying
to…you know what he was doing!”
Wayne
waved his hand, as if someone had tried to convince him Bigfoot was real. “I’m
gonna kick your nuts into your ears!” He charged.
Andy
sprung off the car, throwing a wild punch. He missed Wayne’s face, as expected,
but caught him somewhere on the neck. There was a sharp smacking sound, like
punching a raw turkey. Andy’s feet slid in the dirt, shooting out in front of
him as he fell. He landed on his side. The point of a rock jabbed his hip.
Wayne
staggered back, clutching his throat and making sounds as if he were trying to
hock up a thick bubble of phlegm. Another hand groped madly at the empty space
around him.
Hoping
he hadn’t crushed Wayne’s gullet, and not bothering to check, Andy scrambled to
his feet. He started for his car. As he neared the door, he remembered their
truck had trapped him in. A quick look around, and he decided he’d drive
straight through the damn yard. His hand fumbled for the door handle. Fingers
slipped underneath, and he yanked the door open. About to get in the car, the
quick double chirp of a siren stopped him.
He
looked down the driveway as a police cruiser parked at an angle behind the
truck, lights twirling.
Andy
let his arms drop, dangling limply by his sides. He muttered, “Shit,” then
looked around. Larry, still on the ground, groaned as he rocked side to side
with his hands clutching his genitals. Wayne wandered this way and that,
walking short paths, making gargling sounds.
Sighing,
Andy plopped down in his seat to wait for the cop.
Andy
was lying on the cot in the cell when he heard the metallic clamber of a door
being rolled open. He turned his head and saw the guard entering the holding
area. His name was Titus, a burly black man near sixty that looked thirty and
was built like a machine—he’d told Andy to call him Pinky. Everyone called him
Pinky
due to his missing not just one, but both pinkies. They’d been clipped off
with wire cutters ten years ago when a mental patient they’d been holding,
until the whites showed up in the patty wagon to take him away, had escaped his
cage.
Andy
had asked him: “Doesn’t it bother you when people call you that?”
“What?
Pinky?”
Andy
nodded. “I mean…to me it almost sounds like you’re being made fun of.”
Pinky
smirked. “No one makes fun of me.”
Andy
figured if anyone was dumb enough to make fun of Pinky, he quickly made them
smarter. He’d gotten to know Pinky pretty well in the few hours he’d been holed
up in here, waiting for his bank to clear the thousand dollar bail fee.
After
a brief interrogation from the cops, Andy, along with Wayne and Larry, were
cuffed in Danny’s front yard and hauled in. The man walking his dog had called
them. Since Wayne’s truck was searched and a pot baggy located under the seat,
it had been towed in. But, Andy had to leave his Camaro behind because all they
found inside was nicotine gum. He’d been tormented by awful visions of the citizens
of Eagle’s Nest picking it clean: taking the rims, the stereo, all his CDs.
Wayne
and Larry were in the cell across from him. They hadn’t said much since Andy
told the cops what they’d tried to do. He supposed it was mostly the shame of
knowing how close they had actually come to crossing that line. Maybe Larry was
battling his conflicting emotions of whether or not he truly was gay. Wayne was
in a lot more trouble than Larry due to the pot being in his truck, but he
doubted he’d be here for very long since he was one of Lou Manchu’s boys.
“Mr.
Raab,” called Pinky’s deep voice that boomed off the steel.
“Money
finally go through?” asked Andy, sitting up. He spotted Wayne and Larry watching
the exchange. They stood against the bars, neither of them taking advantage of
the single cot in their cell. Both men had spent the majority of their stay
pacing.
“Nope.
Someone wants to talk to you for a moment.
All
of you.”
“Oh?”
said Andy.
“Who
the hell is it?” asked Wayne, confused. “A lawyer?”
Pinky
ignored the question. “I expect you boys will be on your best behavior.”
Andy
figured it was Nicole. She’d probably gone home and discovered his car. Surely
one of the neighbors had come by to tell her about the
incident
on her
property, hoping for some gossip in exchange.
The
door to the holding area opened with a metallic squall. The sound of heels
clacking on the hollow floor reverberated around them. He smelled perfume,
sweet and a little fruity. Not Nicole, but in the dim lighting he could see her
slender frame, small shoulders, long hair slightly waving as she walked into
the light. The shadows parted down the middle, exposing her under the single bulb
above her.
Andy’s
breath caught in his throat.
Behind
Pinky appeared a slender woman with long sinuous hair the color of honey. Eyes
so blue they could have been sapphires. Not very tall (no one could be next to
Pinky), her sleek thighs tapered from underneath the skirt of her short, black
business suit. She had on matching leather boots that grazed her knees, leaving
only two staves of dusky skin on each leg.
Vaguely
familiar, Andy had seen her before but couldn’t place where.
“Andrew
Raab?” she said.
“Yes.
I’m Andrew—Andy.”
“Thought
that was you. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.” The mystery woman
turned sideways to look at the other cell. Andy admired the jut of her tight
buttocks behind the snug skirt. “And you two must be Wayne Zernor and Larry
Heggs?”
“How
the hell do
you
know who we are?” asked Larry.
Bluntly
rude tone aside, Andy wanted to know as well.
“I’m
Karen Holbrook.”
The
name brought it all back to Andy. “I know who you are now.”
“Tell
us
then,” said Wayne.
“My
brother’s probation officer.”
“Bullshit,”
said Larry. “I ain’t never seen no parole officer that looked like her.”
“Thank
you,” she said. “I’ll take that as the highest of compliments.”
Andy
could see Larry’s pleased grin even in the dim light. He obviously hadn’t detected
the same heavy degree of sarcasm Andy had.
“And
I’m also Rosco Ambrose’s parole officer.”
“Damn,”
said Larry. “No wonder Rosco looked forward to your appointments.”
“Make
a girl blush, why don’t you?”
Andy
restrained a laugh.
“Well,”
began Karen, “to make a long story short. Danny was supposed to show up for one
of those appointments you mentioned on Monday. And it being Wednesday night,
he’s obviously a little late. I saw on the blotter that Wayne and Larry, two
men who are known to associate with Rosco—who associates with Danny—had been
brought into custody for assault. I figured, what the hell. Might as well swing
by and see if they know anything.”
“We
don’t,” said Wayne.
Karen’s
eyes narrowed, her full lips pressed together. “Hmm. But, see…the plot
thickens. On that same blotter, I saw that Andrew Raab, Danny’s brother had
been involved in that altercation. Since Danny missed his appointment, and
Rosco has one coming up at the end of next week, I thought I might just come by
and find out what the hell is going on.”
“Ain’t
nobody got a clue,” said Larry, almost whining.
Andy
cleared his throat. “Um, that’s sort of what…led to the…”
“Attempted
rape?” finished Karen.
Andy
took a deep breath and noticed he was trembling. Had the ordeal gotten to him that
bad? “Well…I was at Danny’s…”
“I
saw it in the report. You don’t need to repeat anything for my sake.” She
approached Andy’s cell. “I was making my way around to asking you some
questions, but I guess I’ll skip my little act and get down to business.”
Hearing
her say that in such a serious tone made Andy’s muscles feel like putty.
“Okay.”
“When
I saw you’d been brought in as well, I knew something was up. I assumed Danny
was involved, but apparently he’s not?”
“Not
exactly.”
“Explain.”
Andy
groaned. He had to tell her what she needed to know. There was no way around
it. She was, after all, entitled to know. If he withheld information now, it might
make matters worse. So, he shared all he knew, starting with Nicole’s late
night visit. He skipped the specifics of his encounter with Larry and Wayne,
only allotting enough information for her to understand. Finally, he said, “We
think Danny’s with Rosco, wherever he is. Nicole asked me to look around for
Danny.”
“Any
luck?”
“Well…I
haven’t really had a chance to get started.”
“We
were looking for Rosco,” said Wayne, “and bumped into Andy at the trailer.”
“So,
you decided to gang rape him instead?”
Wayne
fumed. “We were just messing with him, trying to scare him…”
“Gang
rape is a great source of intimidation.”
Andy
wished she’d stop using the ‘gang rape’ moniker when referencing the quarrel.
It made him truly feel like a victim.
Karen
faced Andy again. “Where were you planning on checking for Danny?”
“Honestly?”
She nodded. “I have no clue where to begin now. After talking to them over
there, I found out he left with Rosco a couple days ago. No one’s seen them
since.”
“We
should file a missing persons’ report. Why hasn’t the wife done this yet?”
“Last
time he ran off, she filed one, but I found him in an abandoned house myself.
He was strung out, and the police were pissed for wasting their time hunting
down a junky.”
Frowning,
Karen crossed her arms. “So, she didn’t bother this time?”
“No.”
“Did
you check that abandoned house again?”
“It’s
not there anymore to check. Torn down. Now it’s a seafood place.”
“Well,
once you’re released, I suggest you check all his old haunts. As much as I hate
it, I’m probably going to have to throw his butt back behind bars. I’ve always
been lenient with Danny, but I doubt even
I
can save him this time.” She
glanced at the two assaulters over her shoulder. “And your pal Rosco? He might
just have to share that luxury if he doesn’t turn up on his own.”
“Don’t
bother me none,” said Larry.
“Maybe
you’ll be bunkmates!” Karen looked back to Andy as Larry mumbled some kind of
response. “Even if Danny shows up and I can somehow scratch him missing his
appointment off the record, I’m afraid he won’t pass his drug test.”
“Me
too.”
“And,
there’s nothing I can do about that. He’s screwed.”
She
seemed legitimately upset about it. Andy wondered what it was about Danny that
made every woman he came in contact with immediately fall under his spell. He
could tell that even the strict and steeled Karen Holbrook was a sucker for
him.
“Anyway,”
she said, “we need to get you out of here.”
“I’m
waiting on my bank to clear the transfer. I left my wallet in my car.”
“Where’s
your car?”
“At
Danny’s.”
Nodding,
Karen started to leave. “I’ll go get it.”
“Don’t
worry about it. I’m sure it’ll clear soon.”
“Banks
take their sweet-ass time in matters like this, pardon my French. I’ve seen it
a thousand times.”
Pinky
nodded. “Might not be until sometime tomorrow, Andy. If she’s willing to go get
it, I say let her. We take debit cards.” He laughed.
It
wouldn’t hurt to let her fetch the wallet. Just knowing he might be able to get
his car away from Eagle’s Nest tonight put him a little at ease. “Okay. It’s
unlocked. Hopefully it’s still there.”
“Good
to know I won’t have to use a rock to bash the window in.”
Andy
cringed inside. “Please don’t.”
Karen
laughed. “Relax.”
“Yeah
right,” he muttered.
“I’ll
be back shortly,” she said, walking out of the holding area. Reaching for the
door, it opened before her hand touched the latch. She jumped back, startled,
as another officer entered. He was younger than Andy, probably right out of
school. He seemed embarrassed for giving Karen a scare.
“Suh-sorry,”
the officer mumbled.
“It’s
okay,” she said.
Pinky’s
face scrunched in aggravation. He released a closemouthed sigh. “May I help you,
Officer Dunbar?”
“Um…sorry
to interrupt,” he said. “But, Mr. Raab’s bail was paid.”
Andy
sighed with relief. “Thank God. Did the bank finally send the money over?”
“Um…no.
I actually canceled the request for you.”
“Then
who paid his bail?” asked Karen.
Couldn’t
have been Nicole. No way she could afford the fee.
“Louis
Ambrose,” said Officer Dunbar.
Andy
frowned. Lou Manchu? What the hell made him do that?
“Shit
yeah,” said Larry. “We leaving too?”
“Um,
no. He declined to pay yours and Mr. Zerner’s.”
“You’re
fucking with us,” said Wayne.
“No
sir.”
Wayne
and Larry looked at each other, sharing the same expression: a combination of
hurt and confusion.
Shaking
his head, Larry pressed the side of his face against the bars to see the
officer better. “That doesn’t make any damn sense. I called him! He said he’d
take care of it!”
Dunbar
shrugged a shoulder. “Sorry. He only paid for Mr. Raab, said something about a
misunderstanding…”
“This
is bullshit,” mumbled Larry. He pushed himself off the bars, turned around, and
walked to the other side of the cell. It was harder to see him that far back.
Shadows concealed most of him.
Wayne
lowered his head, but offered no dispute.
Pinky
stepped over to Andy’s cell. “Well, Andy, looks like you’re getting out of here
after all.” He removed a giant ring of keys from his belt. All of them were
nearly the length of cigars and different tarnished shades. He began flipping
through them.
Karen
looked back at Andy. “Why would Lou Manchu pay your bail?”
Andy
shrugged. “No idea.”
She
folded her arms over the humps of her breasts. “I don’t like this. Either
you’re not telling me the whole truth, or something is very wrong here.”
Pinky
inserted the correct key into the door and twisted. The lock shot back with a hollow
bang. The door rolled back, rattling as it moved over the track. He waved his
hand for Andy to exit.
Stepping
out next to Pinky, he tried to pretend Karen’s condemning stare didn’t bother
him. “I wish I could say I was keeping secrets, but sadly I’m not. And, I wish
I wasn’t so damn confused by everything. The last several hours have been a
little…hectic.”
Karen’s
stern demeanor softened. “I’ll come see you later. Probably tomorrow. Hopefully
you can fill me in on everything.”
“I
hope so, too. If I have anything to share…”