Jack and Mr. Grin (5 page)

Moran stood in the doorway and shouted at him.

“You’ll see! This is your mark, Jack! Your mark! You’ll see!”

The hail had stopped but the rain was still pissing and Jack planned on going straight for his car. He just wanted to be away from here. Halfway across his lawn, he seized up.

A large limb, hell, half the shitty silver maple tree in front of his house, had split and crushed the top of his car.

Standing there in the rain, the lightning dancing in the heavens above, he slapped his soaked thigh and said, “Fuck me.”

Behind him, Mr. Moran slammed his door, opened his door, slammed his door, and opened his door only to slam it again.

Jack was very worried and very scared.

He turned in the direction of the cafe.

Eleven

He had to fight the urge to run to the cafe. Suddenly, it felt like his whole life had been thrust into some kind of terrifying fast forward. But if his body went as fast as his mind wanted it to go, he would be dead by afternoon. He was slothful by nature. If it wasn’t for his current predicament he would probably be sprawled out in the recliner, enjoying a nice little nap. That was what his Sundays were for. Laze. There were some Sundays he and Gina only left the bed to eat and use the bathroom. Those were beautiful, glorious days. If the whole world had more of those days, there would be a lot less hate. A lot less destruction. Forget about war. Stay home and fuck.

He walked quickly, taking measured breaths.

His phone rang, chiming from the left pocket of his jeans. Quickly, he pulled it out, noting the call came from an unknown number, and snapped it open.

“Yeah,” he said.

“Some men are born to shake the walls of temples. Other men are meant to crawl through shit. Some men aren’t men at all.”

He recognized that voice. Imagined those jowls pulled back tight.

“Where are you?”

“I am the one who shakes the walls of the temple. You are a shit crawler. Or maybe you’re not a man at all. Listen to this...”

He heard a scream pierce through his phone. Loud enough to cause him to hold it away from his ear.

“You fucking bastard.”

“Careful, shit crawler,” Mr. Grin said. “I think your little bitch has a lot more screams left. Bye now.”

And then he was gone, leaving Jack with the emptiness Gina’s scream caused. What could he have possibly done to make her scream like that? Visions of burning cigarettes on perfect pale skin screamed through his head. Other things... Fingernails pulled out. Nipples clamped. Arches jabbed.

He tried to shake them away.

Those visions were not helping. Those visions couldn’t help him. They could only cause the hate to rise a little closer to the surface, clouding the mystery, muddling the game.

Grimacing at the brutal day spreading out before him, the brutal morning already buried in the past, shivering in his thin soaked t-shirt and soaked jeans, sagging low around his hips, he trudged onto Corner Street, bringing the cafe into view. The rain continued to pour down, adding to the overall grayness now cloaking the neighborhood. His breath plumed out of his mouth and he found himself craving a cigarette, really
craving
one, for the first time in three years.

Very few cars were on the road. Obviously, no one was out playing in their yard. He felt like the most alone person on the planet. Except he wasn’t. He knew, somewhere, Gina felt much more alone than he did. If he could only find her. That was all he had to do. Every second, his anger toward Mr. Grin doubled and trebled and he thought that, by the time he actually found him, he would probably be able to tear him apart with his bare hands.

He nearly skipped across the parking lot to the cafe, eager for the warmth and its connection to people. People who were not crazy. People who didn’t slam doors.

He pulled open the steamed-over glass door, immediately melting with the comforting scent of strong dark coffee. Maria was behind the counter, making some sort of frothy drink for a middle-aged woman. She noticed Jack. He noticed the curious look that crossed her eyes, probably wondering why he had chosen to walk here now, of all times, before she raised her head in a slight greeting.

He watched her go about her business, standing quietly and rubbing his bare arms for warmth. Maria took art classes at the community college. One of her parents was Filipino, Jack couldn’t remember which one, and her thick black hair hung down to the middle of her back in perfect dreadlocks. This, of course, meant she had gone to great lengths in order to
give
herself dreads. Both ears were more gleaming white metal than flesh and other small hoops adorned her left eyebrow, her right nostril and the left side of her lower lip. Never minding how clichéd it all was, it managed to work on her.

She sat the cup in front of the woman. The woman asked for whipped cream. Maria rolled her eyes, pulled the aerosol can out of the refrigerator and sprayed some on top of the beverage, giving the woman a completely sarcastic grin. Jack noticed the woman’s face as she turned away with her drink and thought she looked scared. Probably hoping her daughter never grew up to look like Maria.

“What’s up?” Maria asked.

“Are you the only one here?” he asked, suddenly aware of how crazy and paranoid that sounded.

“No, Joey’s in back. Why?”

“Do you think you could talk to me for a few minutes?”

“Sure. Are you okay? Is it about Gina? Is
Gina
okay?”

“I just want to talk.”

“Sure. Hang on.” She turned around and took a couple steps until she was in between the back counters, cracking the door leading to the back room and saying, “Hey, Joey, can you watch the counter for a bit?”

Jack heard a distant “Yeah” come from the back room.

Maria motioned for him to come behind the counter with her. He followed her into the back room, passing Joey on his way to the front.

“Hey Joey,” Jack said.

“Hey Jack. Everything okay?”

“I think so.” He sincerely wished he could offer something a little less ambiguous than that.

Maria held up at the last minute. “You want a cup of coffee or something?” she asked. “You look cold.”

“Yeah. That’d be nice. Thanks.”

“Be right back.”

The back room consisted of a small burnt orange couch and an old Formica and chrome kitchen table with four black vinyl seats surrounding it. The tabletop was covered with magazines—
Rolling Stone
,
Mental Floss
,
The Modern Drunkard
,
Rue Morgue
,
Bust Down the Door and Eat All the Chickens
and
Reader’s Digest
. He thought that last one seemed a little out of character but who was he to judge? He pulled one of the chairs out and then decided he probably shouldn’t sit down in it. He was still dripping. The heat of the cafe was nice. It made his skin sting and itch.

Maria came back with an ivory ceramic mug. “Black?” she asked.

“Yeah. Black is good.”

“Sit down.”

“I’m soaked.”

“I don’t think anyone’s going to care. That chair probably cost less than a cup of coffee.”

“Thanks.”

He sat down at the table and took a sip of the coffee. It was hot and good.

“So what’s up? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you not in the same room as Gina. Is she okay?”

“Yeah. I think so. I just wanted to ask you if you’ve noticed anything odd about her lately.”

“Odd?” Maria’s silver eyebrow hoop rose slightly. “Gina’s always been a little odd. Is she sick or something?”

“No. Well, I guess what I wanted to know was... do you think she could be having an affair?”

“An affair? Gina?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

He noticed she asked why instead of flatly stating that it was impossible. “I just... I don’t know. I’ve been getting these strange phone calls and...” He realized he didn’t have much to suggest Gina having an affair that wouldn’t also let Maria know what was happening. And, of course, she couldn’t know what was happening because that would go against the rules and if she decided to go to the police as any sane and rational person would then it was likely Gina would end up dead. He was not a good liar. He never lied. But he had to now. “Well, she said she was going out with some friends last night and she didn’t come home.”

Maria’s jaw dropped.

“And I didn’t know if you were with her or not. I know you guys go out sometimes. I was just wondering if she, you know, ever went home with any guys or, hell, I don’t even really know what I’m trying to prove...”

“Usually, when we go out, she’s the
driver
. I mean, I’ve been pretty wasted a few of those times and I guess anything would have been possible, I wouldn’t have even noticed but, Jack, I think she’s crazy about
you
.”

“So, you never noticed anything?”

“I can say in good faith that I haven’t. Do you know who she went out with?”

“Oh, it was her sister and some of her sister’s friends. I don’t know any of their numbers or anything like that or I’d try bothering
them
.”

“Have you tried calling Gina’s phone?”

“Yeah, but she won’t pick up. I think she thinks I’d be mad at her.”

“You want me to try?”

He hadn’t even thought of that.

“Yeah. She wouldn’t have any reason not to answer a call from you.”

She walked to the back of the small room, to a coat rack, and reached into her dangling olive drab backpack, pulling out her phone. She opened it and pressed a button.

“It’s ringing,” she said, looking at him. Then a disappointed look crossed her face and she mouthed, “Voice mail,” before saying into the phone, “Hey, Gina baby, it’s Maria. I’m at work but call me when you get this, okay? Leave a message if I don’t answer. Later.”

“No luck, huh?” He knocked back another heavenly warm slug of the coffee.

“Nope.”

“Damn.”

“Are you sure there isn’t something else going on? You guys get in a fight or something?”

“No. We never fight.”

“I know. Believe me, I’ve heard all about the perfect relationship of Gina and Jack.”

“Sorry,” he shrugged.

“No. It’s nothing to be sorry about. I’d take it if I could get it.”

Maria reached a heavily ringed hand out and put it over his. “You should let me know if things don’t work out between you.”

His heart skipped a beat. My God, was she
hitting
on him. It put into perspective how not-serious his predicament seemed to anyone who didn’t have all the information.

He took another shaky sip of his coffee and said, “Thanks for the help, Maria.”

“Any time,” she smiled.

He stood and paused at the door leading out into the cafe, turned and said, “When you guys went out... was it normally just you and her or did anyone else ever go along?”

“No. It was normally just us. Sometimes we would run into people she went to high school with and hang around with them but never outside of the bar or anything.”

“Like who?”

“Oh, just people...”

“Like ex-boyfriends and things?”

“Oh, you mean like Tim Fox?”

“Exactly.”

“Yeah, we ran into him a couple of times but she never went anywhere with him. I mean, there was nothing there. Besides, he’s married and has a kid and everything. You shouldn’t worry about him.”

Yeah, he thought. And Gina probably thought she didn’t have to worry about you, either.

“No. Okay. Thanks, Maria.”

He walked through the cafe and out into the cold noon drizzle.

Twelve

Once outside, he stopped, turned, and went immediately back into the cafe.

“Hey Joey,” he said. “You guys have a phone book here?”

“White or yellow pages?”

“White, I guess.”

Joey reached under the counter and brought the book up, plopping it onto the counter, the smell of cheap newsprint wafting up from it. The front of it had an overhead picture of Alton on it. The picture was from far away—the further you got from Alton, the better it looked. Opening it, he flipped to the “F” section. If he was going to try and find Tim Fox, he supposed he should know where he was looking. A Timothy L. Fox was listed at 118 Ettinger Lane. He would just have to assume this was his man.

Or Gina’s man...

He closed up the book and said thanks before a sound came from the back of the cafe, startling him. It was a very succinct scream. Almost more of a bark. Probably Maria, he figured. Joey’s eyes grew wide and he started for the back. Jack held up a hand.

“Stay out here,” he said. “I’ll check and see if she’s okay.”

In the few seconds it took him to cross around the counter and get into the back room he had already hoped her scream came from something simple like pinching a finger or slipping or any other mundane household accident but, in the back of his brain, he already had thoughts that it was something more sinister. He couldn’t help but think everything happening to him had something to do with Gina’s disappearance— from the storm to Moran’s behavior to his bizarre actions and now to something as minor as Maria’s brief yelp.