Jimmy (18 page)

     “Ah man, just leave him alone,” Matt said. 

     “What?”

     “Leave them alone.”

     “Like hell I will.  I told you what he did to me yesterday.”

     “Yeah, after we took his bike.”

     The two were sitting on the bench in front of the old rundown video store; one which Matt had worked in for two years before it finally closed its doors and sold off its inventory.  They had been there for twenty minutes watching the grocery store a few doors down, hoping someone would help them buy beer.

     “Since when did you become such a pussy,” Brett demanded.

     Matt shrugged.  “I’m just not in the mood.”  Truthfully he hadn’t been in the mood since a year earlier when Jimmy had shoved him up against a gym locker between classes back in the corner of the Men’s Locker Room where the gym teacher couldn’t see from the office, pissed that Matt had told everyone what he had rented from the video store.  Matt couldn’t remember what the movie title was, just that it had been a kinky soft core porn flick, nor did he really care.  Instead all he remembered was the look in Jimmy’s eyes, a look that said
if you ever fuck with me again I will kill you.
 

     Since then he had slowly started to lose heart in the torment of Jimmy, yet for some reason couldn’t bring himself to completely separate himself from Brett and Ron, not after spending so much of his childhood by their sides. 

     He was also a little scared of Jimmy, though he would never allow such a thing to become known.  Something was seriously wrong with the guy, something which he couldn’t put his finger on but knew to be true nonetheless.

     “Oh,
not in the mood,
” Brett said, voice rising.  “I’m so sorry; I didn’t know you had such a delicate schedule.”

     “Can we just get the beer and go?”

     “Yeah, as soon as someone takes the stick out of their ass and helps us buy some,” Brett snapped.

     “Why don’t we just call your brother?”

     “I’m not fucking calling my brother.  I told you want happened.”

     Yeah, Brett had told him.  He had told him a dozen times, his mind completely obsessed.  Matt, however, hadn’t really cared and like so many other moments when he had been around Brett, started to realize just how immature the guy was and wondered why he still put up with it.  It was stupid.  Even worse, he knew that ten years from now Brett would still be like this and it brought to mind something one of his teachers had said a few years earlier about her high school reunion and how the ‘cool kids’ had become the ‘lame adults’ yet didn’t realize it and still expected everyone to think they were all that.  It was a position he didn’t want to find himself in ten years from now.

     “Come on, let’s - ” Brett started but stopped as a sheriff deputy cruiser pulled up, the deputy inside giving them the look that told them to move it. 

     Matt stood up to head to Brett’s car, but Brett stood his ground.

     The passenger window slid down.

     “You can’t arrest us for just sitting here, Paulie,” Brett said before the deputy even got a word out.

     “You want to test that theory out, Mr. Murphy?” Deputy Paul Widgeon asked.  “Now move along and do something productive for a change.” 

     “Come on Brett, let’s go,” Matt said.  He reached an arm out to tug Brett away, but Brett shrugged it off.

     “You should listen to your little friend, Brett.”

     “Why’s that Paulie?” Brett asked. 

     “Because even if he was missing half his brain he’d still be smarter than you,” Deputy Widgeon said.  “And that’s on the conservative side of things.”

     “You know, you think you’re tough shit now that you’ve got a gun and a badge, but I know how you used to run home crying because my brother and his friend’s shoved rocks and leaves down your pants on the way home from school and made you eat dog shit.”

     Matt had heard about the first part, but never the dog shit part and had a feeling Brett was embellishing the story.

     “Yeah, well a lot has happened since then, Brett, now move along before I run you in for failure to comply with a police officer.”

     “More like failure to comply with a wannabe police officer who sadly lost his package in Iraq,” Brett said, though he did start heading toward the car.

     Matt hesitated before following, his eyes watching Deputy Widgeon for a moment to see if he was going to do something.  Thankfully the deputy kept his cool and a moment later Matt followed Brett to the car.    

*  *  *

     It wasn’t a conscious decision to start counting the message beeps from her phone.  Instead it just started to happen because there was nothing else to do.  Sometimes Megan would even try to count down the time till the beep occurred, her mind saying something like
it will be in ten, nine, eight, seven
. . . until she reached
zero
, her mind never able to actually match the countdown with the beep.  Sometimes the beep would just happen, her mind not really focusing on anything when suddenly the beep would echo.  Other times she waited for it, her mind wanting and needing the beep.  No matter the situation, however, her mind always registered the number, even if she was simply staring at the wall, drifting.  The phone would beep and her mind would say FIVE or SIX.  It didn’t make a big deal out of this, nor did it attach any significance to it, until the twelfth beep.   

     TWELVE, her mind noted.  This happened at one of her staring at the wall moments, her mind wondering how thick the concrete was and whether or not it had been built to withstand some sort of blast, or just a place to hide for a little while.

     After the beep she thought to herself:
Twelve beeps means it’s been two hours since she called,
and then went back to thinking about the wall thickness.

     Another beep echoed.

    
Two hours and ten minutes,
her mind said.

     It was then that she realized she was able to keep track of the time, something which momentarily seemed monumental despite its simplicity.  Of course, being able to pinpoint that time passage on a clock would be even better, but she would take what she could get.  Other discoveries would follow, ones that seemed even more significant, but at the moment she relished this one.

*  *  *

     Waiting for Rebecca to come home from work was nerve-racking and for the hour or so after finding the prom ticket Tina did nothing but pace the house, her body unable to relax, her mind envisioning the horrible confrontation that would take place.  Rebecca would be pissed, there was no doubt about it, and once things got started there would be no stopping the verbal abuse that would follow.  Tina also had the feeling things would turn physical, especially if Rebecca tried to forcefully take the ticket away from her.  Tina would not tolerate it, and if Rebecca laid one finger on her Tina was going to hit back and she wouldn’t hold herself back. 

    
She’ll call the school.

     This thought was a constant companion to the vision of the fight, one which chilled Tina, yet also made her question how effective the call would actually be.  Parents and guardians always had the ultimate say when it came to things like prom, but her situation was so different, and Rebecca was so weird that the school might let things slide. 

     It was a risky bet; one that Tina hoped to God would pay out in the end.  If not, well, there wasn’t much she could do about it.  All her cards would be on the table.

     Occasionally during this hour of pacing another thought would enter her mind, one which had nothing to do with her own prom and instead focused on her father and Rebecca’s prom. 

    
Was I conceived that night?

     It was a question she had never really given any thought too, mostly because the possibility had never occurred to her.  She always knew her father and Rebecca had married young and that her father had been forced to cut back on the amount of classes he was taking due to the financial responsibilities, but the true reason for this never really clicked.  It was the year changes that did it.  Her father had graduated high school in 1991, prom and their marriage had been in 1992, and her birth had been in 1993.  Because of this she had always assumed things had been planned out - not well, yet still planned out - and that she had been conceived after the marriage, the two feeling that they could bear the responsibility despite the burden it would place upon them.  In reality Rebecca must have gotten pregnant around the time of prom and her father did the honorable thing and married her, which of course explained why everything was so ill fated and eventually broke apart.    

    
Stupid teenagers,
she said to herself. 
Probably didn’t have any condoms.

     At the same time she knew she wouldn’t have been born if they had been wiser, which meant she couldn’t condemn them too much.  It was crazy.

    
Did Rebecca plant the ticket there so I would find it?

     This was another question that was bothering her, one which she couldn’t seem to figure a reason for.  When first starting the search Tina had had a strong feeling that it was a fruitless endeavor because Rebecca would never leave the ticket where she could find it.  A part of her had even tried to convince her against the search all together because it would be a waste of time.  The other part had needed to try it, though, just in case it wasn’t.  Now it seemed incredibly doubtful that Rebecca would have left the prom ticket lying around because she would have known Tina would search for it.  Sure, the two still didn’t know each other all that well, but the experiences learned from living together gave them enough insight to predict the others actions with a high degree of accuracy. 

    
Why leave it?

     Whatever the reason Tina knew it wasn’t going to be so she could simply stumble upon the photographs and come to the realization that she had been conceived out of wedlock.  No.  As horrible as such a situation might have been for Rebecca and her family, she was sure Rebecca understood that it wouldn’t faze Tina.  Another reason was behind it, and whatever it was, it wasn’t going to be pleasant.  To the outside world Rebecca could portray herself as a poor tragic woman who was being abused by her newfound daughter, one who she just wanted to be loved by, but with Tina she knew she couldn’t pull this off and for the most part didn’t even try.  Tina knew the truth and knew the goal of anything that seemed calculated was supposed to hurt her. 

    
It won’t work.

     Nothing Rebecca could say or do would get to her.  Tina just didn’t care. 

     Downstairs the garage door suddenly opened.

     Tina put the prom ticket in her pocket, which would be its permanent place until the actual dance, and went to her room to wait.  The calm before the storm would be broken soon and Tina was ready for it.      

*  *  *

     Megan was waiting for the eighteenth beep to echo, marking the third hour since her mom had first called, when she heard a sudden gasp from Samantha and turned.

     Her friend was moving around, only this time her actions seemed calculated rather than the simple shifts her body had been making earlier.

     “Samantha?” she asked.

     Samantha twisted her head and looked up at Megan, her eyes growing wide as she recognized her friend.

     “Megan?” she asked, her lips unable to muster much sound.

     “Yes,” Megan said.  “It’s me.”

     Samantha’s closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head.  A second later she started gagging and twisted her body away from Megan.  The vomit came in small harsh sounding clumps, and instantly filled the room with its stink.

     Tears began falling from Samantha’s eyes as she spit out some leftover residue.  Small bits clung to her lips and chin.  Snot dangled from her nose.

     Megan felt terrible for her friend but didn’t know what she could do.  Above her head she could feel her hands automatically straining against the ropes without much success.  There was no way to get free.

     A few more gags followed but nothing else came up.  Hearing it, however, and smelling the fresh stench as it flooded the room, made Megan feel nauseous once again.  Fortunately there was nothing within her stomach to come up.    

     Samantha moaned on the floor and straightened herself into a sitting position, one which would allow some slack in the rope if she was able to lift her hands.  At the moment such action did not seem possible, however.

     Watching Samantha move about like this intensified Megan’s discomfort and for a moment she yearned to be on the ground as well. 

    
But at what cost?
her mind warned.

     Jimmy hadn’t allowed Samantha to lie on the ground like that because he was kind; he had done it because she was broken.  The question was what had the bastard done to her to make her this way?

    
Rape.
  That was obvious.  But what else? 

     The phone beeped.

     “Eighteen,” Megan said without much thought.