The Creeping Dead: A Zombie Novel (23 page)

“Definitely at first. Then, after a while, it was tough to tell. In the end, it really didn’t matter.”

“She must hate your fucking guts.”

“You have no idea. And now she’s sitting in the middle of my living room on my couch with my husband.”

“Jesus, Marie. I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing I can do. I’ve had the upper hand for a while. Now it’s her turn, I guess.”

“Hey, maybe she’ll croak soon, and it’ll be problem solved.”

“Nah. Old Italian bitches like her live on piss and vinegar. Flowers die, weeds fade, you know?”

“What if she were to have an accident?”

“Not with Mario around hovering over her every move, watching her like a hawk.”

Billy paused, his look insistent, as if he wanted his words to hang in the air until Marie understood his implication.

She did. “Oh, come on, Billy. I’m not going to jail over this bitch.”

“I’m not saying you should. I was just thinking out loud.”

“Well, think to yourself from now on.”

“Is she medically healthy?”

“Billy. Enough.”

“Heart condition? Anything like that?”

“She does have a heart condition, and high blood pressure. So what?”

“So, maybe switch her pills or something.”

“Billy, I’m not comfortable with this conversation. As a matter of fact, I think I’ve outstayed my welcome.” Marie stood. “Thanks for the beers. I shouldn’t have come.”

He stood and stuck his arms out, pleading. “Oh, don’t be like that, Marie. I was only kidding. You know that.”

“You know, for a second I thought you were just being nice for once in your life.”

“Jesus, Marie. What’d I do? I’m on
your
side. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

The abrupt change of topic to murder left Marie with a bad taste in her mouth, but the stirring in her nether regions didn’t allow her to stay angry for too long. “Apology accepted. I have to get back so I can start to prepare dinner for the dragon lady.”

“Anytime you want to talk, I’m here for you, Marie. Anytime.”

“Gee thanks, Billy. You’re a true gentleman.”

“Don’t say that too loud. You’ll ruin my reputation.”

“I’m outta here.” Marie walked to the back of the bar. She rounded the side-by-side basketball hoop shooting game and passed a change machine. She walked a small corridor and pushed open a door that read ‘Ladies’ across from the one that read ‘Gentlemen.’

She pushed the stall door open and began to pull long swaths of toilet paper from the dispenser. She placed them neatly on the toilet seat, creating a barrier, pulled down her long beach skirt and panties, and plopped down to take a quick tinkle.

When she finished, she pulled up her skirt and panties, washed her hands, and looked herself over in the dirty mirror. A gnat buzzed about her face, and she shooed it away absent-mindedly with her hand. She wondered if she was indeed capable of murder. She figured most people were under the right circumstances.

One thing was for damn sure—she would protect her family at all costs.

She pulled open the door and bumped straight into Billy. He immediately blocked her path in the short corridor by putting his left hand up on the wall.

“Billy, what are you doing?”

His right hand was all over her. It drifted from her shoulder, down her side, and onto her hip.

“Billy, don’t.”

He grinned and pulled her close so that their pelvises were pressed together. “C’mon, Marie.”

“Billy, no.” She pushed him away.

He pulled her close again, his hot beer breath wafting into her mouth. She tasted the skunk.

“C’mon, baby. I know why you’re in here with me instead of with that shit-show you call a husband at home.”

“No, Billy. You’ve got the wrong idea.”

He pressed her against the wall with his body weight. His body was lean and hard against her soft curves. “Do I?”

He kissed her.

At first, her body went limp. His wet tongue probed her mouth, and she felt his erection through his shorts. She turned her head, and their lips parted with a wet smacking sound.

“You hesitated,” he said in her right ear as his right hand slipped over her skirt and rubbed between her legs. His experienced fingers knew exactly where to go. This wasn’t Billy’s first rodeo.

“Billy, stop it. I mean it.” She prayed someone in the bar heard her, but the music was very loud. She prayed someone else had to use the bathroom.

His hand rubbed faster, pressing harder. She writhed against it as she squirmed to break free. “C’mon, Marie. You know you want it,” he breathed into her ear, reeking of tobacco and sweat.

“Billy, No!”

He pulled her hair to the side and sniffed her neck, inhaling the stench of her sweat, getting off on her fear that radiated off of her in waves.

“Mario’ll kill you.”

“He’s at home with his mama. He don’t care about you, sweetness. Not like I do.”

“I’ll scream.”

“Funny, how you haven’t yet.”

“I will. I’ll do it.”

Billy backed away from her, hands in the air. “As you wish, honey.”

Marie bared her teeth like a cornered animal and slapped him. “Don’t you ever fucking touch me. EVER.”

Billy wiped his hands on the sides of his shorts. “Marie, you’re a drag.”

She raised her hand to slap him again, but this time he caught it. He squeezed her fingers together until it hurt. “First one’s free, sugar. I wouldn’t push your luck.”

This time, Marie got up in his face, seething with hatred. Hatred for Billy and hatred for herself for playing a dangerous game with a low-life predator like Billy Blake. “One of these days you’re going to get yours, Billy.”

“Is that a threat?”

Billy squeezed her fingers so hard she wanted to scream, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

A tear ran down her cheek. “One of these days, Billy, someone’s gonna fuck you up.”

They stared each other down as some hard rock song blared in the background. Finally, a man—a Benny—came walking down the short corridor. He paused when he saw Billy and Marie staring at each other. He saw that Billy was holding her hand. “Excuse me,” he said sheepishly, not wanting to get in the middle of a lover’s quarrel.

Billy released Marie’s hand. “You forgot your tunes.” He shoved Marie’s MP3 and earbuds into her hand, and she stormed off back to the bar. Billy shrugged his shoulders. “Women.”

The Benny chuckled and pushed his way into the men’s room. Billy sniffed the fingers of his right hand and smiled.

Marie left the Jolly Roger with a light buzz, more from the adrenaline coursing through her veins than the alcohol. She popped her earbuds back in and stalked back to her little bungalow to make the pasta and gravy.

As she approached the house, the buzz was killed by a new sense of dread that grew inside her as she walked up the path to the front door. She didn’t know which was worse—Billy Blake’s unwelcome advances or Mama Sophia taking over her family like a damned virus.

She saw Mama Sophia on the couch peek at her through the bay window. Marie opened the front door and passed by the living room, walking straight into the kitchen.

“That was some walk,” said Mario. He came over to her and kissed her on the mouth. He grimaced at the taste. “Is that beer?”

“I grabbed one on the way back.”

Mario was perplexed by this. “Jesus, hon, in the middle of the day?”

“It’s been a busy day, and I just needed a beer. Is that okay with you? I didn’t think I needed your permission.”

Mario was flummoxed by her irritation. “No, Marie. It’s fine.”

“You go be with Mama Sophia. I’m going to start dinner.”

“Sure…okay.”

As Marie washed her hands in the kitchen sink, she looked over into the living room. Mama Sophia was wagging her finger in a
tsk tsk
gesture. Marie scrubbed her hands furiously, like she was prepping for surgery. She was washing Billy off of her, but no matter how hard she scrubbed, there was the residue of guilt.

Mama Sophia shook her head in disapproval, as if she knew what had just transpired.

Marie was ready for war. She fought off one asshole, and now she was ready to fight off another.

Marie looked Mama Sophia in the eye and nodded.

Game on, bitch. Game on.

* * *

“Are you going to take your son to see the clowns tomorrow?” asked Lenny. He took a bite of his pizza. This time it wasn’t Marco’s. It was Taste of Italy.

“Yeah, I think so,” said Tara. “I hear there’s a whole parade and everything.”

“It’s a big celebration. I go every year.”

“With your mother?”

Lenny winced at the word. He shook his head, but Tara knew it wasn’t in answer to her question. It was her usage of the title.

“She is your mother, Lenny.”

“No, she’s not.”

“Well, as far as I know, you weren’t hatched from an egg.”

Lenny looked confused at the expression.

“Lenny, you can be an adult, and she still be your mother.”

“She doesn’t treat me like an adult. She always tells me what to do.”

“She just cares about you.”

“She needs to stop.”

“Lenny, all parents care about their children.”

Lenny winced again.

“Lenny, I care about my son.”

“Does he like the circus?” asked Lenny, happily changing the subject.

“We took him to one once, and he loved it. His favorite was the lion tamer.”

Lenny grimaced. “I don’t like lions. They make me nervous.”

“Well, they’re in cages, and they’re well trained.”

“I like clowns better. They don’t eat people.”

Tara took a bite of her salad (if she kept eating boardwalk pizza she was going to look like a beached whale), and washed it down with diet cola. “No, they don’t.”

Lenny looked over Tara’s shoulder and saw Officer Joann Campbell walking down the boardwalk. She was walking with another female officer, younger than herself. A smile crept across his face, and his eyes lit up. Tara thought it was relief over the harmlessness of clowns.

“Look, it’s Officer Joann,” he said pointing. “She’s my very special friend.”

‘Very’ special friend.
Tara noticed the additional modifier. In fact, it was the first time she ever heard Lenny refer to anyone this way. She figured he must’ve really liked Officer Joann.

When Tara turned in her seat to get a good look, she saw why. “Ah, I see. She’s pretty,”

“Yes, she is,” Lenny agreed, blushing.

As they watched, Officer Joann’s attention suddenly shifted to something or someone in front of the Frog Bog. Lenny and Tara looked to the right to see what it was.

Tara shook her head. “Holy smokes, Lenny. Never a dull moment around here.”

Standing in front of the Frog Bog was a twenty-something, well-muscled Townie in his boxer briefs, swatting at something in the air. His hair was drenched, and his well-inked body glistened with sweat. The guy was stoned out of his mind and hallucinating. Passersby did their best to avoid him, giving him a wide berth.

“What’s he doing?” asked Lenny.

“He’s probably drunk as a skunk,” explained Tara, “or high as a kite.”

“Drugs?”

“Probably. How do you know about drugs?”

Lenny’s expression became serious. “Drugs are bad, Dr. Tara. They’re no good for you.”

Tara smiled. “You’re absolutely right, Lenny.”

Officer Joann and her partner approached, hands on their batons. The underwear man saw them coming and dashed into a clothing store. Officer Joann and her partner followed, picking up the pace but not breaking into a run, her partner speaking into her shoulder mounted radio.

“That’s Billy’s shop!” cried Lenny. “They need my help!”

Before Tara could say a thing, Lenny had dashed out of the pizzeria and across the boardwalk to Billy Blake’s store, his Magma Man cape flowing behind him.

Tara almost choked on her salad. “Lenny, no! Wait!”

She jumped up out of her seat and followed after Lenny. Christ, he was her responsibility. How would it look if her first private practice patient was hurt during one of her sessions?

Officer Joann held her hand out as underwear man backed deeper into the clothing shop. “Sir, I’d like to have a word with you.”

“No! No! I’m okay! Leave me alone!” shouted underwear man.

There was a teenage clerk behind the register gawking at the sight of underwear man and the two cops in the store. “Oh, my God.”

A couple of customers backed away, circumventing underwear man and the cops, giving them a wide berth (as much as the store would allow).

“I just want to talk to you,” said Joann, as Officer Anne Breslin meandered through the racks to the right, flanking him.