Bad Things (31 page)

“No.”

“You need to exorcise your brother, Piper. He's still controlling your mind.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He took her hand and kissed it. “I think you believe me more than I believe myself.”

“I think you're right.”

“There're just a couple flies in the theory. Things I didn't tell you,” he confessed.

“Tell me.”

“First, I
hear
them too. In my head. I'm no expert, but I think that makes me schizophrenic.”

“Rick, some psychics see things, others hear or feel them, and some do all three, so why not see
and
hear greenjacks?”

Rick thought she sounded slightly less confident now, but decided he had to go the distance. “I've also seen Big Jack.”

“Big Jack . . . the one they build out of plant life on Halloween, right? The Green Man?”

He nodded and quickly told her his memories of the night he and Robin fought the monster in the tree. “But,” he added, “maybe I never saw it at all. I think maybe I invented all that because I felt like Robin's falling was my fault.”

Silently she studied him. “Who have you told this to?”

“Nobody, really. Carmen knows—she always protected me when I was little—but I don't think she believes it much.” He shook his head. “She's trying to talk me into letting her take Cody away overnight on Halloween. I think she's more worried about what I might do to him than anything else. Frankly, I don't blame her.” He paused, then added, “Of course, she thinks this house is haunted by Robin, so I guess her opinion doesn't mean too much.”

“Who's to say that it isn't?” Audrey pushed her hair from her face. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“Of course not. Do you?”

“I don't
dis
believe any more than I believe. But, Rick, have you been talking to a therapist, or what?”

“No. Only Dakota.”

“Of course,” she added with a nod. “Has he been giving you advice? Like suggesting that your guilt made you invent that story about Robin in the tree?”

“How'd you know?”

“I know Duane. He loves pop psychology. The therapists he sees are the kind that write the books that are supposed to change your life in thirty days. Not that that's bad for Duane—it's done him a lot of good. But don't let him tell you how
you
think—he'll try to sell you on what works for him.”

“I don't know what works for me.”

She studied him. “I don't know either, but I'd guess that giving yourself the benefit of the doubt until you have proof one way or the other might be a good way to start.”

“So do you want to come over Halloween night and see if we can spot Big Jack together?” His hands were trembling. “If I see him and you don't, we'll know I'm nuts, once and for all.”

“And if we both see him, we'll know you're not.” Audrey put her hand on his chest and gently pushed him back against the pillows before leaning down and kissing him lingeringly on the lips. Her nipples hardened as her breasts brushed against his chest. “You're going to have to get a lot crazier than this to get rid of me, Piper.” She kissed his lips again, then his neck.

She meant what she said, he knew that, but he would not,
could
not, let her ruin her life for him. She pulled one of his nipples into her mouth, biting gently, then moved to the other. As she trailed her tongue down his belly, he prayed that she would see Big Jack too. Then, a moment later, he gave up worrying about anything at all.

 

“Man, Rick, there's some disgusting stuff in this pond.” Hector Zapata took off his baseball cap and pushed his fingers through his black hair. “No wonder the pump's been clogging so much, even with that two-inch hose.”

“At least there aren't any mosquitoes.” Rick squinted at the emptying pond. The sludgy water continued to gurgle into the wide, formerly white hosing, making obscene farting and belching sounds. The smell was so bad on this unseasonably warm day that he wished he had a handkerchief to put over his face.

“No mosquitoes. I don't think anything's lived in there since Howard took to pissing in it.” Hector's laugh reeked of disgust. “He dumped other stuff in it too. Antifreeze, that's probably what killed the fish. He bragged about that. Did it to piss off your brother.”

“Robin loved those fish,” Rick said. They were the only living things he could remember his twin having any fondness for. He knew that Howard urinated in the pool, he'd seen it time after time over the years, but he didn't know about the antifreeze. A chill passed through him despite the warm sunlight. “How many years ago did the fish die?”

Hector put his hat back on. “It was the same year that the carnival came through for the last time. You remember?”

“I remember.” A heavy, hard lump suddenly formed in his stomach. That summer was the last time he saw Delia Minuet, the last time he saw Robin.

 

 

It was Fourth of July weekend, and Rick was sixteen years old. He'd spent all his free time at the Masello Brothers Carnival and Sideshow riding the rides, eating corn dogs and cotton candy, talking to Delia whenever she had a break, and avoiding his brother, who loved the carnival as much as he did, but for very different reasons.

Robin loved to show off, to shock and to steal attention, and racing through the fairgrounds on his hands was a good way to do it. His arms were extremely powerful, and he could execute all sorts of stunts, from his all-time favorite handstand running to using his arms like frog's legs to leap three feet up and six across at a time.

John and Vince, the all-powerful Masello brothers, adored the ground Robin walked on and even seemed pleased when he'd break into regular performers' shows, swinging his little body up a rope or leaping into the middle of the clown show's fire engine act. From the first time he did this—the year following their parents' death—Delia told Rick that the performers didn't like it one little bit, but they couldn't do much about it since the Masellos were so taken by him.

Robin systematically charmed people who mattered, and wasted no time on those who had no power. Watching people fall for his act was frustrating. The sole thing that gave Rick pleasure where his twin was concerned was his lack of success with any of the animals. They hated him, one and all. Where the Ewebean poodles, who also hated him, just whined and pranced nervously around Jade's legs, the circus animals' response to his presence spoke abundantly of their feelings toward him. The elephant trumpeted, and the big cats put their ears back and growled when he approached. The organ grinder's monkey had strangled itself in its attempt to get away from him.

The animals sensed the truth about Robin Piper.

So did many of the performers, most notably the denizens of the ten-in-one show. These people had certain things in common: physical abnormalities, a strong dislike for the bleeding heart liberals who were trying to take away their livelihood, a camaraderie deeper than most people ever experienced, and the ability to see through the veneer of false personality. They listened to their instincts, and if one didn't sense something himself, he invariably trusted the word of those who did.

That's why Rick was so at home among them; they accepted him from the first time Delia introduced him to her extended family, just as they uniformly shunned his brother. As far as they were concerned, the Masello brothers were the handicapped ones because they were blinded by their own greed, but they accepted this fact as part of life.

Though he only saw her a few days a year, Delia had remained Rick's best friend since that very first summer. He could talk to Carmen, though he rarely did, but Delia was the only person his own age with whom he could share his secrets. He could tell her anything, and she never made fun of him. She had always accepted his stories at face value.

This year he'd looked forward to seeing Delia as much as ever, and when the carnival had arrived three days ago and they met again, things were slightly different between them. She'd looked him up and down and whistled. “You turned into a man this year. Look how tall you are.”

“Five seven.” He didn't tell her he felt like a shrimp.

The next day she made an observation in her fast-talking, no-bullshit way. “There's a cut on your cheek. Do you have to shave now?”

Finally, today, she'd asked, “Do you have a girlfriend?”

He'd never told her about the cheerleader two years before or about the minor flirtations he'd experienced since. “No girlfriends.”

“Come on, Ricky, you must have at least one. You're too cute not to.”

He blushed. “My brother has enough for both of us.”

Delia made a face. “Stupid girls. They don't see anything but that fake charm. So I bet he screws everything that moves, right? Probably those poodles even have to watch out.”

He grinned. Delia knew all about Jade's sexual proclivities, as well as her dogs. “Probably. So do you want to take a walk?”

“You're way too tall,” she told him. “We can't talk and walk anymore.”

She didn't know she'd hurt his feelings, and he wasn't about to tell her.

Tonight was the last night the carnival was in town, and he wanted to spend all the time he could with her. They needed to find a place where they could sit and talk for hours, and suddenly inspiration hit. “Jade and Howard will be at the carnival tonight, then they'll go to the Dew Drop Inn and not get home before two-thirty in the morning. Want to come over and watch TV?”

Her eyes lit up: Television was a rare luxury for Delia. “Yes! What time?”

“Six?”

“I'll be there. Will
he?”

She meant Robin. “I hope not. He's hardly ever home on the weekends.”

That night Rick and Delia sprawled on the couch and feasted on Swanson TV dinners, Dr. Peppers, and Oreos as they talked and watched TV. By nine
P.M
. they were holding hands. Delia, despite her abnormal bone structure, was very attractive with thick brown hair that waved halfway down her back and eyes the same color, as deep and rich as liquid chocolate.

At nine-thirty, he kissed her. She climbed into his lap and returned the kiss, putting her arms around his neck, holding him close. And at that moment Rick fell in love for the first time in his life.

They didn't hear Robin come in a few minutes later, didn't know he sat in the shadows and watched them as they whispered and caressed and kissed. They didn't know he was there until he spoke.

“Well, icky Ricky, here you are getting ready to fuck the dwarf. And all this time I thought you were queer.”

“Eat shit, Robin,” Delia said, boredom in her voice.

“I'm more your size, Delia,” Robin said, leering as he slap-slapped his way across the room. Balancing on one hand, he helped himself to an Oreo and pulled it apart. He licked the frosting out, never taking his eyes off Delia. “I bet you'd like me to lick you like I'm licking this cookie, huh, dwarf?”

Rage built in Rick like pressure in a volcano. “Robin—”

“You don't want to fuck him,” Robin continued smoothly. “What I lack in legs, I make up for here.” He grabbed himself and squeezed, grinning obscenely.

Rick's ears rang as he stood up, dizzy in the fury he felt. “Shut up or I'll—”

“You'll what?” his twin interrupted. “Go whining to Carmen? Lock yourself in your room and cry? What? Huh, icky Ricky? Tell me, I
really
want to know.”

He took a step toward his brother. “Oh, my, aren't you a brave dicky Ricky when you've got a dwarf cunt to impress.”

Rick said nothing. He extended his arms, intent on his brother's throat, knowing he was going to strangle him with his bare hands.

“Rick, no!” he heard Delia call from behind him.

Robin stayed where he was, moving up and down almost imperceptibly, doing the spider. “Don't worry, dwarfie, he doesn't have the balls!”

His cackle abruptly ceased as Rick's hands encircled his neck and lifted him off the ground. He squeezed harder and harder, feeling a smile spread across his face as a sound like the ocean's echo in a seashell filled his head. In the distance, he heard Delia's high-pitched screams.

“Fuck you,” he whispered as he watched Robin's face turn the color of pickled beets. “Fuck you.”

Robin's huge arms flailed wildly, ineffectually.

Suddenly Rick realized that he was only supposed to scare his brother, to teach him to leave him and Delia alone. He shouldn't be trying to kill him.

But he wanted to. He
really
wanted to.

He loosened his grip on Robin's neck the tiniest fraction, heard his brother take a strangled, gasping breath. “Don't you ever fuck with Delia again,” Rick whispered.

“What about you?” Robin's voice was a hoarse cracking sound. “Can I fuck with you?”

“Rick! Watch out!”

The sudden pain in his groin made him scream and lose his hold on his twin.

Robin continued to squeeze Rick's testicles even after he'd fallen to the ground. Rick, screaming, kicked and flailed at him, but he wouldn't let go. Instead, he twisted them, and even Rick's heavy Levi's provided little protection from Robin's grip. He kicked and punched, but it did no good. Robin laughed and began hopping on one hand, trying to pull him across the room. Rick was jerked a few feet, his brother's marionette, and was ready to give up consciousness to give up and die.

“No!” Delia's scream cut through his agony and suddenly she was there, pushing between them, trying to pry Robin's fingers loose.

Rick moaned. She was making it worse.

“No!” she screamed again, then opened her strong-jawed mouth as wide as she could and sunk her teeth into Robin's forearm.

He let go. Rick doubled up, holding himself, groaning and sobbing, wanting to die. He knew he was vomiting only because he could see it; the sensation was lost entirely to the pain in his groin.

Vaguely, he saw Robin flailing at Delia with his free arm, trying to hit her. Doggedly she kept her teeth sunk into his other arm.

Rick reached toward Delia, wanting to help her, then blackness came and took away the pain.

 

 

“Ricky! Ricky!” Slowly he awoke, and the pain began again, less sharp, a horrible aching agony beneath freezing cold. Carmen sat in a chair beside the couch where he lay. She was patting his face with a cold, damp cloth.

“God,” he moaned, reaching for his groin, shocked to find his pants were gone. An ice pack sat on his jockey shorts. The cold, he thought, staring at Carmen in shock.

“Hector checked you,” she said bluntly. “There was blood. We thought maybe you had to go to the hospital. If the swelling's not down, we'll take you tomorrow. She handed him two aspirin and a glass of water and waited silently while he took the pills.

His hand shook as he handed the glass back to her. “Where's Delia?” he managed.

She looked surprised. “Hector and I got home at ten-thirty. We came in to make sure everything was okay and found you on the floor. No one else was here. What happened, Ricky?”

He tried to sit up so he could see the clock, but he was too sore. “What time is it?”

“Just past eleven. Ricky, tell me what happened.”

“Delia was here. We were watching television. Robin came in and . . .”

“And what?” she prompted.

“He said things. About Delia.”

“Dirty things?”

Rick nodded. “I got mad. I tried to kill him.”

“I was choking him, I was going to do it, then all of a sudden I realized what I was doing. I started to let go, and that's when he got me.”

“I think he did a lot more damage to you than you did to him.”

Carefully Rick pulled himself upright. God, it hurt. He set the ice bag on the coffee table. “We have to find Delia.”

“Hector already checked the house, but no one was here except you. He's out checking the grounds. We thought maybe you had a run-in with your brother, but Hector thought he should look around and make sure we didn't have any prowlers. Let me help you.”

She took his arm as he stood. He felt trembly and light-headed, and oh Lord, did his balls hurt.

“Ricky?”

“I'm okay. Delia was fighting with him when I passed out, Carmen. I'm worried about her.”

“Okay. You sit and I'll look again.”

“No. I'm going with you.”

She looked at him skeptically. “If you insist. You want me to go up and get you a pair of sweatpants?”

He smiled thinly. “Please.”

He leaned against the wall until she came ‘back. As he gingerly pulled on the pants, he avoided looking at the bloodstains on his shorts.

“I found this, too,” Carmen said, handing him a sealed envelope with his name on it. He didn't recognize the handwriting.

He opened it and saw that the note was written on school paper. He scanned the letter quickly, then reread it, not wanting to believe what he saw.