The Sick Stuff (8 page)

It was late afternoon when he ordered coffee
and a ham sandwich, and settled in for the long wait. He stared out
the window at the park, at the young people who jogged along its
picturesque walkways and sat beneath the shade of newly budded
trees, studying their books and one another. Spring was supposed to
be a time for feelings of love, not hatred. It had been that way
for Nelson Trulane. He had met his wife, Angela, at the park during
the height of a Southern spring. And, incidentally, so had he met
Tanya Wright.

Hours passed and the bright sunlight faded
into the black cover of night. He checked his watch. The hour was
fast approaching eight. He left his fifth cup ofcoffee unfinished
and walked out into the darkness. Calmly, Nelson crossed the street
and ducked into the leafy shadows of Centennial Park. He kept close
to the trees, avoiding the lighted walkways. It took him only a
minute to reach the immaculate white bandstand. It was a huge,
circular structure typical of the antebellum architecture of that
area. The covered stage stood in a grove of blossoming magnolia
trees, away from the reach of the nearest streetlamp.

Nelson approached the bandstand. He began to
walk around its enclosed base. The note had said to leave the money
beneath the platform, yet he could find no way to do so. The wood
skirting around the sturdy floor gave no access to the crawlspace
underneath. The thrill of creeping panic threatened to seize him,
when he suddenly discovered a small maintenance door at the rear of
the bandstand. Someone had painted a large X on it with a can of
red spray paint. X MARKS THE SPOT the note had said. He tried the
door and found it was unlocked.

He opened it and, reaching into the inner
pocket of his jacket, took the manila envelope and prepared to toss
it into the dusty darkness.

"Don't just stand there," whispered a
familiar voice, full of naked contempt and ridicule. "Come on
inside."

Nelson nearly turned and ran. But he couldn't
afford to act so irrationally. Buddy's wellbeing was at stake. If
he left and took the money with him, Buddy would surely suffer for
his weakness. And that was something Nelson could not endure.

He crouched and squeezed through the narrow
opening. Immediately, he was in the crawlspace, surrounded by the
smell of dank earth and the lacy tickle of old cobwebs against his
skin. "Where are you?" he asked.

"I'm over here, you prickless coward."
Tanya's voice came from directly beneath the center of the
bandstand. "Did you bring the money?"

"Yes. I have it right here." Nelson steeled
his resolve and began to crawl through the cramped space toward the
sound of the woman's voice.

He had gone about ten feet, when Tanya told
him to stop. He did as she said. Nelson waited, heart pounding, as
she approached him. He could not see her. It was pitch dark there
beneath the platform, as dark and moldering as the inside of a
crypt. He drove the thought from his mind and listened as her
breathing grew nearer.

"Toss it to me."

He did, but the envelope hit a support beam
that reared, unseen, in the blackness. Tanya cursed. "Can't you do
anything right, professor?" she hissed. In his mind, Nelson could
see that contemptuous smirk on her full and sensuous lips. He had
once fallen in love with those lips, but they hadn't been smirking
at him then. They had been smiling, full of bogus warmth and
sincerity.

Nelson strained his eyes and just barely made
out the paleness of her hand as it reached out to retrieve the
envelope. He thought of Buddy then; poor little Buddy who had been
taken from his home and subjected to God knew what. Nelson lost his
cool, reaching out and grabbing Tanya by the wrist. "Where is he,
you bitch?" he snarled with more nerve than he thought he
possessed.

Then something flashed from out of the
darkness, something shiny and metallic. With horror he withdrew his
hand, but not in time. The straight razor slashed across his
knuckles. He cried out, feeling white hot pain and the warmth of
blood dripping down his fingers.

"I would have thought you'd had enough of
that," laughed Tanya.

He heard her pick up the envelope and heft
its weight in her hand. "You've got your money," Nelson said. "Now,
where is he?"

"Don't worry. I'll send him back to you."

He thought of the razor. "In one piece?"

That quiet, husky voice again. "Get out of
here."

Nelson obeyed. He crawled back through the
darkness on his hands and knees, wondering if she was following
him, weapon poised and ready to slice into the back of his neck.
But, no, he reached the trapdoor without incident and emerged into
the night. He stood there on the new grass and breathed in the
fresh air. He lingered in indecision for a moment, thinking about
hiding in the trees and waiting for Tanya to leave the bandstand,
maybe jump her and force her to tell him where Buddy was. But he
couldn't

chance it. PLAY IT BY THE BOOK the note had
warned and he knew he must do just that, or learn to live with the
loss of Buddy forever.

When he got home that night, Nelson poured
himself a drink and aimlessly roamed the house. Evidence of his
once happy family life mocked him from every nook and cranny; the
living room with its framed pictures on the mantle, the kitchen
with Angela's spice rack and potholder collection, and the master
bedroom, which still smelled faintly of his late wife's
perfume.

He wandered into his son's room and turned on
the light. Toys were strewn in abandonment around the single bed;
G.I. Joes, plastic dinosaurs, and baseball cards. He wanted to run
and leave that room forever, but emotion gripped him. He fell upon
the small bunk with the Spiderman bedspread. For the time being at
least, a wave of numbing grief drowned the pain of his recently
stitched wounds as he landed face down on the child's mattress.

He wept into his son's pillow, smelling the
lingering scent of shampoo on the cloth. "Forgive me, Angela," he
cried. "Forgive me for failing you and Buddy so miserably!"

If Angela heard him from wherever dead wives
congregate, she listened in silence. Accusing silence, he was
certain. He had failed the sacred memory of his wife, letting
another woman into his life and, even worse, into their marriage
bed. And that, in turn, had placed Buddy in a jeopardy that Nelson
could not have conceived in his wildest nightmares.

After Angela had died in that horrible
accident, Nelson had found living alone to be too much for him.
Sure, there was Buddy, but even he could not give Nelson the degree
of love that Angela had. Female companionship, the need to be held
in the arms of a woman, that was what Nelson yearned for. That was
the missing piece to the teacher's shattered jigsaw life.

He had met Tanya Wright on campus. She was
the secretary for one of his fellow English professors at the
university. They had bumped into each other one day in the
cafeteria and had lunch. Nelson had been instantly taken with
Tanya's attentiveness, as well as her natural beauty. She seemed to
dispense with the awkward and annoying sympathies that the other
members of the faculty seemed to constantly barrage him with. She
seemed to genuinely understand the depth of his loss and understand
that the best way to heal the emotional wounds was to put the death
of Angela in perspective and move on with life. Her attitude had
been a breath of fresh air for Nelson. Disregarding the flack he
might receive from dating a member of the staff, he asked her out
and she readily accepted his invitation.

For a while, their relationship had developed
normally. They spent time together when their schedules allowed.
Nelson did his best to gain her love and trust, even though the
pressures of being a widowed father sometimes put a strain on the
process. When he could make arrangements, he and Tanya would spend
a weekend together in the country or a night out on the town,
taking in some of the better jazz clubs. But he never neglected
Buddy for one moment. He always made sure of that.

At first, Nelson was disturbed by Buddy's
indifferent attitude toward Tanya. He simply would not respond to
the attention she gave him. She sincerely seemed to adore the
little guy, but Buddy would have no part of her. He would shrink
away at her very touch, leaving her discouraged and a little angry.
"Give him time," Nelson had told her. "It's too soon after Angela's
death. He'll warm up to you before long." And, with a bit of
patience on her part, Tanya found that Buddy began to do just
that.

It wasn't long before Nelson decided the time
was right and took his new lady to bed. Tanya was more adventurous
in the ways oflovemaking than Angela had been. With Angela, the
normal routine had been confined to hugging, kissing, and the tried
and true missionary position. But Tanya was just the opposite. She
was like some animal in heat, eager to try anything, anywhere.
Nelson, however, was not quite ready for such diversity in his sex
life. And he had Buddy to consider. Just thinking of doing such
things made him feel ashamed and disloyal to the memory of the
family that once was.

One evening, after Buddy had been tucked in
for the night, Tanya had come over with a video tape in her hand.
"Let's watch a movie," she had suggested. Nelson had figured a
quiet night in front of the television would be a pleasant change
of pace compared to the woman's insatiable -- and often bizarre --
sexual appetite. How very wrong he had been. After the opening
moments of the tape, he knew that Tanya was working on him again,
trying to melt his conservative inhibitions and liberate him to her
way of thinking.

The tape was pornographic, and while Nelson
was no virgin to such films -- he and his fraternity brothers had
watched their share of stag movies during their beer bash days -- he
was not at all comfortable watching them in his own home. Also, it
wasn't the usual X-rated video either. The players in this film
wore chains and black leather, sported whips and other devices
Nelson wasn't familiar with, and relished the art of pleasure
through pain.

He began to get up, but Tanya pushed him
playfully back down on the game room couch. "Just relax, lover,"
she said. She glanced at the abuse taking place on the screen and
licked her lips wickedly. Then her long fingers moved up his leg,
along his thigh, and crept toward the fly of his trousers.

"Don't!" he snapped, recoiling from her. "You
might wake up Buddy."

Tanya's eyes flashed with an emotion that
made Nelson's skin crawl. "I don't mind an audience," she told him
flatly.

Nelson had gotten up and turned off the
television. He had ejected the tape and tossed it angrily to Tanya.
"I just wanted us to have a little fun for a change," the woman had
said with the first sampling of the smirk Nelson had come to loathe
so much. Then she had left, sarcastically promising to behave
herself next time.

After that, their relationship had continued,
albeit on a rocky and uncertain course. Gradually, Nelson began to
see Tanya's true nature. The compassionate woman he had grown so
fond of turned out to be a selfish and cunning female of the most
dangerous variety. Nelson began to feel more and more like some
foolish fly that had become snagged in the web of a bloodsucking
spider. Soon, he came to the uneasy realization that Tanya had been
attracted to him only because of his vulnerability. She needed a
lonely, desperate man, recently weakened by grief and misfortune,
to use as her sexual pawn and seduce toward the dark passions she
relished so.

Nelson noticed something else that disturbed
him about Tanya; her occasional jealousy of Buddy. Once she had
used the house key he had given her and walked into the house
unannounced. She found Nelson playing with Buddy in the game room.
Her eyes suddenly flared with seething emotion. "You care more
about him than you do me!" she

had said. Nelson couldn't deny it. What did
she expect? Buddy was a part of him; his own flesh and blood.
Certainly he cared more for the little one than he did for this
woman who had become a threat with her unstable appetite for
perversity.

A few nights later, Tanya insisted on staying
the night, despite Nelson's lame objections. He had been surprised
when she emerged from the bathroom dressed, not in the Tennessee
Titans football jersey she normally slept in, but in a shocking
outfit of tight, black leather, fishnet stockings, and pumps with
spiked heels so sharp that he was sure they could have drawn blood...
and most likely had.

Bewildered, he had watched as she walked to
the bed and set her overnight bag next to him. With a grin that
Nelson could only describe as predatory, she reached into the bag
and withdrew a frightening apparatus. It appeared to be a harness
of some sort, black in color and adorned with silver buckles and
tiny, barbed hooks.

"What is that for?" he had asked warily.

Her jet black lipstick glistened as she
smiled. "It's for Buddy," she replied.

A wave of sick horror had washed across
Nelson Trulane. So that was her game. He hadn't been her objective.
It had been Buddy all along. He stared at her as if she were some
foul beast of demonic origin, some sinister siren of pain and
torture who had been cast from Hell for being a tad
overzealous.

Before Nelson could stop himself, he was off
the bed and upon her. He struck her savagely, not with an open
hand, but with a clenched fist. He knocked Tanya across the room,
so forceful was his blow. But she merely laughed and licked away
the trickle of

blood that seeped from her lower lip.

She did not cower, did not even refrain from
his rage. Instead, she started toward him. "Hit me again, Nelson. I
love it when you hit me like that."

He almost did it. He almost gave into her
request and beat the living crap out of her. But he caught himself
in time. To react to her violently would be giving her exactly what
she craved;perverse pleasure derived from physical pain. Nelson
wouldn't be drawn into her sordid and sadistic world, however. He
demanded that she leave the house and never set foot there again.
And he assured her, in no uncertain terms, that their brief
relationship had come to an end.