The Damned Summer (The Ruin Trilogy) (5 page)

Jake nodded back and they climbed in the
truck and took off.

Chuck came out with two cold beers just in
time to see the truck leave the parking lot.

"Was that your boy?" He handed
Shane a can.

"Supposedly," Shane said as he cracked
open the beer. "I ain't convinced until the DNA report comes back."

Chuck cackled like a vulture, making Shane
grin and the pang of guilt he felt over his words lessened as he took a long
drink.

Two in the afternoon was the official end of
the rush at the Cup of Joe, and Drew and Jenny made their way out to their
vehicles.

"What are you and your hoodlum friends
up to tonight?" She asked as he lit up. "Can I have one of
those?"

He passed her one. "Make sure your uncle
Joe doesn't see."

"Thanks," she said with a beautiful
smile. "I won't light up until I'm on the road."

He nodded, his tongue still dry and knotted
from her smile.

"So," she said with a shrug.
"Anything fun going on tonight?"

"I hear there's a get together out at
the pond," Drew said, looking out at the horizon, hoping he looked cool.

"I'll check with Sarah, but that sounds
fun, you got any alcohol?"

He gave his best Clint Eastwood impression.
"Always," he whispered menacingly.

She giggled for a moment. "Cool, I'll
see you tonight,"

"Okay," he said with a squeak as
his voice broke. He quickly started coughing, trying to hide it, embarrassed as
hell, even though she completely missed it as she jumped in her car and quickly
drove off in the dangerous manner of the inexperienced driver.

"Shit," Drew said to himself.
"I gotta score some booze."

The old Chevy truck rolled down the road as
the two friends sat in silence since the radio hadn't worked for about a year
now.

"What now?" Jake asked.

"Whatever," Johnny mumbled, still
looking out the window, thoughts of his father gnawing at him for some damn
unknown reason. 

Jake's cell started ringing. Pulling it out
of his pocket, he looked at the screen. "It's Drew," he said as he
raised the phone to his ear. Johnny snatched it from his hand and answered
instead.

"Queers in the closet hotline, how may I
be of assistance?" Johnny said.

Jake could hear Drew rattling off quickly on
the other side of the line.

Johnny chuckled for a moment. "That was
a pretty good comeback, chubby, I'm almost impressed. Now, what the hell does
your fat ass want?"

"Give me my phone back, dick-head,"
Jake said, reaching for the cell.

Johnny pushed his hand away as he listened to
Drew. "Well you better start figuring out how you're going to deliver on
the goods, porky, cause I ain't savin' your ass."

Drew started yelling, which caused Johnny to
giggle, allowing Jake to grab the phone.

"What's up, Drew?"

"Hot chicks' are going to be out at the
pond tonight," he replied. "We need to have plenty of booze for them
so we can score."

He looked at Johnny and shook his head.
"Johnny's just fuckin' with ya, that won't be a problem. Where we hookin'
up?"

It was close to four in the afternoon when
Jenny finally showed up at Sarah's house. They hung out for a couple of hours
in Sarah's room listening to music and browsing on the net before finally going
out for the night.

"Drew and his friends are going to be
out at the pond," she had told Sarah. "He said they'd have more than
enough liquor for us too."

"Cool," Sarah replied, wondering if
Jake would be there. Wondering if liking Jake was a good idea.

She had been coping pretty well with the
memories of last night slowly drifting into the back of her mind, almost as if
it was nothing more than a dream. Then Jake had walked into Joe's Cup, forcing
her curtain of amnesia to quickly unravel.

Anxiety had been chewing at her ever since,
and the last thing she wanted to have to deal with was crossing paths with Jake
during a party.

”Bullshit,"
she thought to herself.
"If it
doesn't mean anything to him, then it doesn't mean anything to me either."

So Sarah steeled herself for whatever was
going to happen tonight, refusing to stay at home, refusing not to be the one
in control of her life. This would be the second decision she would have made
in the last twenty-four hours that would make her life yet more difficult.

Jake and Johnny sat in the bed of his mom's
truck back at his house, smoking weed as they waited for Drew.

"What's taking his big ass so
long?" Johnny asked, cashing out his one hitter and handing it over.

"He had to take a shower," Jake
replied, reloading the pinchee. "You don't want him smelling like bacon
all night do you?"

"Pork is that boy's natural scent."

Jake couldn't help but to laugh. "You
are such a prick."

"Yeah, that's what the bitches say too,
right before they drop their panties."

Jake lit up the small pipe and inhaled the
marijuana smoke deeply. "Shiiiit," he exhaled.

Johnny looked up at the top window of the old
farm house. "I think your mom is watching us."

"Good for her," Jake replied,
passing back the one hitter.

Johnny took it and started reloading.
"Damn spooky having some half dead lady watch us get stoned."

"What do you care what she does as she
slowly dies?"

"I don't," Johnny said with a
shrug. "It's just spooky, is all." He lit up.

A faded, blue, 1997 Ford Crown Victoria
pulled into the drive. Drew had inherited the large sedan a few months back,
after his grandma had gone to live in a retirement home due to a diagnoses of
Alzheimer's.

"'Bout time, chubby," Johnny said
as Drew climbed into the bed of the truck. "You have to have a seven
course meal or something?"

"Shut the hell up and load me some of
that skunk," Drew said, sitting down next to Jake.

Johnny raised his eyebrows "Am I your
bitch?"

"You're about to be."

"Fuck you, porky. I don't take orders
fro..."

Drew cut him off. "Cause if you don't do
exactly as I say, I'm going to tell Jake what Sue whispered in your ear,"
the smile on Drew's face would have made a crocodile proud.

The passing of time seemed to slow as Drew
and Johnny looked at one another, the pipe still half loaded in Johnny's hands.

"Bullshit," Johnny whispered.

Drew's smile disappeared. "Try me."

Johnny loaded the pipe and handed it to Drew
without a word.

"Good boy," Drew said as he lit up
and quickly cashed out the load. "Now, I want an apology for all the shit
you've ever said to me."

"Fuuuuck you!" Johnny replied.

"Is that your final answer?"

"This is such bullshit," Johnny
said. "I'll do what you want and then you'll just tell him anyway."

"You have my word that I won't."

"That don't mean shit."

"You're the one whose word doesn't mean
shit, not me," Drew replied. He looked at Jake. "Is my word
good?"

"Definitely," Jake replied without
hesitation.

Drew looked at Johnny. "Is my word
good?"

Johnny let out a long ragged sigh. "Yeah."

"So, what's it going to be?" Drew
said with raised hands.

Johnny ran his hand through his hair.

"I think this is the best conversation
you two have ever had," Jake replied with a chuckle.

Johnny stuck his finger in Jake's face.
"Shut the fuck up!"

"What's it gonna be?" Drew yelled
back.

"I'm sorry," Johnny mumbled.

"What?"

"I'm sorry!"

"For?"

"For all the shit I say, I don't really
mean it, you're actually a pretty cool guy."

Jake and Drew looked at one another.

"Bonus," Drew replied.

"More than I expected," Jake
agreed.

"You stickin' to your word?" Johnny
asked Drew.

"Absolutely," Drew replied. "I
have no idea what she said anyway."

"Motherfucker!"

Jake and Drew gave each other a high five as
they laughed.

"That was beautiful, Drew-man,"
Jake said, wiping away the tears of laughter.

"Pricks," Johnny said, lighting up
a cigarette.  

"So what's the plan for scoring some
booze?" Drew asked.

"We've been trying to work that
out," Johnny replied, flipping ashes over the side of the truck bed.
"We haven't had any luck getting a hold of our normal suppliers."

"So what were we going to do
tonight?" Drew asked. "Stay home and watch the Discovery
Channel?"

"They play some pretty cool shit,
sometimes," Jake said with a smile.

Drew glared at him. "I'm not amused at
your lame attempt at satire."

"Satire?" Johnny said with a smirk.

"Yeah," Jake agreed. "I don't
think that is the right word for what you're trying to say."

"Like you dumb-shits could pass a second
grade vocabulary test, and you're going to tell me what words to use?" He
shook his head as the other two chuckled. "So, we don't have
anything?"

"No, it's not that bad," Jake
explained. "I've got at least half a bottle of vodka and Johnny's got
plenty of weed, but we guessed the girls might want something a little
more..."

"Girlie," Johnny finished.
"Spiked lemon-aid and shit, right?"

"They're pretty cool, so beer would
probably be okay."

"Who are these cool bitches
anyways?" Johnny asked, looking closely into Drew's eyes. "Do they
really exist?"

Drew looked away. "It's Jenny and some
of her friends."

"Jenny!" Johnny said with a laugh,
standing up. "She can drink the yellow vodka that comes out of the end of
my peter!" He grabbed his crotch to emphasize the last word.

Drew stood up also, pointing at Johnny's
face. "You give her any trouble tonight and I will fuck your shit up, you
got it?"

Johnny looked at Jake, putting his hand over
his mouth. "Oh, my goodness, Nancy Drew is in love!"

Drew sat back down. "It's not like that,
we're just friends."

Johnny started laughing so hard he had to
hold his stomach. "I don't even have to say anything," he gasped.
"You just burned yourself with those three little words."

"Who is she bringing?" Jake asked,
trying not to smile and hoping to change the subject before Drew dug an even
bigger hole for himself.

"She was talking to Sarah earlier at the
diner, so I'm guessing her, not sure who else."

"Sarah?" Johnny said, in complete
seriousness. "Now that is virgin territory, and she's a hot little thing
too." He looked at Jake, wiggling his eyebrows.

Jake nodded lightly, pulling out a cigarette.

"So there is nobody that can get us
booze?"

"Only one option left," Jake
replied, lighting up.

"Who?" Drew asked, looking at the
other two.

Jake looked away, refusing to make eye
contact. Johnny on the other hand, looked him dead in the eye, exhaling smoke
through his nose. "Whacky Jacky."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"The original perv," Johnny
whispered. "And since this is so important to you, lover-boy," he
walked over to Drew, wrapping his arm around the shorter guy's shoulders.
"That means we're taking your car and you're the one that's knocking on
his door."

Drew looked to Jake. "You'll go up there
with me, right?"

"Fuuuck that," Jake replied.
"This is your circus, bro, not mine."

"With friends like these..." Drew
said, throwing his hands in the air.

"Suck it up, chubby," Johnny said,
jumping out of the bed of the truck. "Everybody knows you gotta pay the
piper before you can jam to his music."

Drew and Jake looked at one another.

"Every once in a while," Jake
explained. "He says some seriously heavy shit that is way beyond his tiny
brain."

He had several different names for all kinds
of reasons, but Whacky Jacky seemed to be the one that stood the test of time.
No one was still alive that remembered what they called him in 'Nam when he
used to crawl in the tunnels and kill Charlie at his own game.

"Jack-Rat," he whispered, sitting on
the metal step of the small trailer he lived in out in the middle of a field
that his family owned. They hid his crazy ass out here from the general public
and that was just fine with him. His nephew would come out once a week and take
him into town to cash his veteran disability check or so he could buy himself
whatever he needed to survive, paying the lazy kid for his trouble as well of
course, which was the only reason the skinny little shit came around to begin
with.

"Jack of no trades," he said a
little louder. That was what his father had called him. Good old dad didn't
know that Jack had found his trade in those dark, cramped, dirty tunnels in the
war. Unfortunately, murder, whether for the right or wrong reasons, has a
tendency to warp the individual that does the deed. Jack was no exception in
this case.

"Jack of Spades," his voice was
loud and clear when he said it, pushing the button of the switchblade so it
clicked open. That was his favorite nickname, the one no one else knew but him.

The people of Storm Illinois had forgotten
Jack Young, and that was fine with him. He wished he could forget himself, and
just slip away into the black abyss of time, but he couldn't seem to will that
to happen. So he would just sit here and smoke his cheap cigarettes and drink
his watery booze and wait for the inevitable.

"What would they think, if they
knew?" he asked the grass and trees as he looked at the edge of his knife
"Just how good you and I were in a throw-down?"

He thought about all of his dead war buddies.
They all thought he was nuts to take the switchblade down into the dark instead
of a standard army knife.

"You're gonna press the button,"
the soldier from Houston had said. "And the damn thing is either not going
to open or Charlie is going to hear the click and kill you first."

"This knife will never fail me,"
Jack said out loud, repeating the words from the past. "And if I'm close
enough to push the button, the only thing the Gook is going to have time to do
is die."

He heard the engine coming down the road and
closed up the knife, still keeping it in his hand.

"Who the hell is this?" 

The old Ford crawled up the dirt road that
led to Jacky's trailer.

"There's the old nut now," Johnny
said from the back seat. Both he and Jake were already sitting in the back,
leaving shot gun open and waiting for Jacky.

Drew and Jake made eye contact in the
rearview mirror. "You're going out there with me right?"

"How many times are we going to have to
go over this?" Johnny asked, forcing his face into the rearview. "This
is your trial by fire, porky, now go show us what you are made of."

Drew turned around, looking Johnny dead in
the eye. "What trial by fire has your lame ass ever done?"

"None, Confucius," Johnny lied in a
lame Chinese accent. "Cause that's not my line to hoe, chubby. I'm the
nasty boy the girls cream over and never has to explain himself for whatever he
does." He tapped on the rearview mirror at Drew's image. "While you
are the one that has to jump through all kinds of hoops to get the girls'
attention for a hand full of seconds," he looked at Drew, nose to nose.
"Until I show up and then they forget all about your dumpy ass."

"Bullshit," Drew growled through
clenched teeth.

Johnny kissed his nose. "Prove me wrong,
Lover-Boy."

"Damn right, I will," Drew replied,
pushing Johnny away as he got out of the car.

"You're such a troublemaker," Jake
said, lighting a cigarette as they watched Drew walking towards the crazy old
man.

"It's the only way his chubby ass would
have gone out there," Johnny replied, pulling a smoke out of Jake's pack.

"Maybe," Jake said with a shrug,
giving his lighter to Johnny.

Drew walked up to the old man, who was
sitting on the step of his trailer, watching him like a wolf.

"What the fuck you want, doughboy?
" Jacky asked, his hand behind his back, kneading the switchblade.

The chubby kid stopped dead in his tracks,
looking like he was going to puke.

The fat kid's fear got Jacky worked up like a
coyote hearing the scream of a wounded rabbit. "Move your fat-ass on
before I send you to your maker, junior."

The fat kid looked like he was about to bolt
when he seemed to get control of himself. Slowly, he pulled out a cigarette,
lit it, and exhaled smoke out of his nostrils. "I'm here to offer you some
cash to pick us up some alcohol."

Jack smiled, letting the switchblade slip
into his back pocket as he got up. "Sure, so long as you pay me for my
trouble and buy me some of my own refreshments, as well as a pack of
smokes."

"Sure, so long as it's the cheap
stuff," Drew replied.

Jack covered the distance between them much
faster than Drew would have anticipated, getting in the slightly taller males
face. "It will be whatever I pick out, fat boy."

Drew let out a tired sigh.
"Whatever."

"Holy shit!" Jake exclaimed as they
walked back towards the car. "He sealed that deal in seconds flat!"

"Hold on to your hat," Johnny blew
smoke out slowly through his mouth. "He's probably going to have to give
him a hand job as soon as they get in the car."

Jake looked at his old friend. "Why do
you always have to be an asshole when Drew-man delivers?"

Johnny looked him back in the eye for a
moment, saying nothing. "Who is your best bud?"

Jake blew smoke in his face. "Do you
mean who do I trust? Who will back my ass up when shit gets thick?"

Johnny pointed at Jake's chest. "You
know fuckin-A well, I've got your back in a throw down any day of the
week!"

"It's not just about the fights, you
dumb-shit."

"Let me word it another way: who do you
have more fun with?"

Jake looked out the window. "The
important shit is completely lost on you."

"Oh, so you would rather sit around and
read comic books with porky, or go get seriously fucked up with me and then
score some sweet puss?"

Jake didn't reply as smoke slowly seeped out
of his nose.

"That's what I thought," Johnny
said, ruffling Jake's hair.

Jake knocked his hand away. "Knock that
shit off, asshole."

The doors opened as Drew and Jacky climbed
into the ancient Ford.

"How's it going Jack-O?" Johnny
asked loudly.

Jacky slowly turned back and looked at
Johnny. "You're Shane's boy?"

"Supposedly." Johnny's eyes were
filled with malice. He was just looking to start shit with the old man, and
everyone in the car could immediately tell his intent.

"Jack has been kind enough to help us
out with our beverage dilemma," Drew also turned back to face the back
seat. "So let's all give him a big thank you."

"Thanks Jack," Jake said, patting
him on the shoulder as Jack and Johnny still looked at one another.

"You're the man," Johnny pointed at
him with both hands. "The Jack-man!"

Jack's face was stone. "Give me a
cigarette."

Johnny stabbed a thumb at Jake. "He's
the man with the stogies, I bum all my smokes."

Jack showed his yellow teeth. "That
supposed to mean something?"

Johnny tilted his head in confusion.
"Take it however you want, Jack-man."

"Call me that one more time," Jack
growled.

"Jack-"

"Don't you fucking do it!" Drew and
Jake said in near concert.

Johnny started to chuckle and Jack actually
joined in.

"What a couple of twinkies," Jonny
said with the shake of his head, which just made Jack laugh harder.

Jake looked at Drew, who shrugged, started up
the car and began backing out.

The old Ford pulled up to the liquor store
and parked.

"So what all you boys need?"

Drew pulled out a piece of paper, "It's
all right here, along with the cash. There should be enough there to cover it,
along with extra for you to pick up a pack of smokes and a fifth of your
favorite beverage."

Jack looked at the list and then counted the
money. "There is enough here for me to get your shit, a pack of cheap cigs
and some seriously watered down whiskey. I need twenty more dollars."

"What the hell for?" Drew asked as
the two in the back let out sighs of annoyance.

"Cause I'm going to buy a better bottle
of whiskey and two packs of cheap cigs, now give me the fucking money!"

"I got a couple more bucks," Jake
said, digging in his pockets.

"No," Drew replied, looking at Jack
as he pulled out his wallet and brought out a twenty. Jack grabbed it but Drew
didn't let go.

"Is this the end of negotiations, or are
you going to come back out here and tell me you need another six bucks to buy
some shitty six pack or some jerk off mags?"

Jack flashed a yellow smile. "Now you're
using your head, chubby. Why don't you go ahead and give me that six spot now,
so we don't have to waste any more time?"

"Jake?" Drew said, still looking at
Jack.

Jake pulled out a pile of ones and handed six
of them to Jack.

"How much more you got back there?"
Jack asked.

"Get your skinny, diseased ass out of my
car and buy our shit," Drew whispered. "Or we will drag you into that
alley and kick the shit out of you."

"Won't score any booze if you do
that," Jack whispered back.

"We'll have to settle for going back to
your place and just take whatever we can find while we trash all your
shit."

"You've got a bigger pair than I
thought," Jack replied as he stuffed the money in his front pocket.

"One thing porky is good at,"
Johnny said, patting Drew on the shoulder. "Is surpassing the low
expectations that people have of him."

Drew looked at Jake in the mirror.
"That's another one of those moments of enlightenment?"

"Twice in one day," Jake nodded his
head, looking at Johnny. "That might be a record for him."

"Fuck you guys," Johnny replied as
Jack got out of the car and went into the liquor store.

"Nice play, Drew-man," Jake said.
"You shut the fucker down."

"Bullshit," Johnny replied.
"He still got your money, didn't he?"

Jake looked at Johnny. "Quit being such
a prick, at least he didn't get him all pissed off for nothing, like you almost
did."

"Johnny's right, for once," Drew
said. "He played us just like he intended to."

"So long as we get what we want,"
Johnny said with a shrug. "Who gives a shit?"

"Everybody uses everybody," Jake
added.

"Damn skippy," Johnny agreed.

Drew didn't agree, but he kept his opinion to
himself.

Jack strutted into the liquor store, feeling
like a big shot cause the money in his pocket came from somewhere other than a
government check.

Marty the clerk, stuffed cheese puffs into
his large mouth,  watching the alcoholic meander towards him. "Get your
check early this month, Jacky?"  Cheese dust floated down onto his ragged
beard and his black Harley shirt, acting like mini orange snowflakes.

"Nope," Jack replied with a big
smile, pulling the wad of cash out, waving it like it was a couple thousand
instead of a little over one hundred dollars. "Got this from another means
entirely."

Marty watched one of the bills fall to the
floor, unnoticed by Jack. As soon as it hit the floor he could tell it was a
single, so he decided to be honest. "Just lost one," he pointed an
orange finger at the bill.

Jacky looked down and quickly swooped it up. "You
got orange shit all over your goat," he waved his finger at Marty's face
as he made his way back to the alcohol.

Marty combed his fingers absently through his
bushy, out of control go-tee. "Today is your lucky day," he brushed
the excess cheese dust onto the black shirt that covered his portly belly,
making the Harley eagle look like some strange version of the Koko puffs bird
from the kids' cereal. "Your whiskey is on sale: fifth for fifteen bucks
and some change."

"Ain't buyin' that shit today," he
said with a wave at the sale sign on the section of the whiskey called
Charlie's Sippin' Bourbon. "Cheap-ass shit."