There's Blood on the Moon Tonight (67 page)

“We went by your house to lend a hand but your dad had already put up his own shutters.” Frank put his arm around Rusty’s shoulders. “I did manage to have that little chat with him, though.”

Rusty perked up. “About the projectionist’s job?”

Frank smiled and nodded. It looked like the boy could use some good news. “Ham told me it sounded like a fine idea. Said it sounded like the perfect job for a young man who wants to become a filmmaker someday.”

Rusty couldn’t have been more astonished than if Ham had said he was the baddest motherfucker this side of Harlem. “My dad said
that
? Did you tell him what we talked about, Mr. Tolson?”

“No, sir,” Frank assured him. “I assumed he got that message from you.”

“I don’t get it! He’s always said he wants me to be a shrimper! Just like him and my granddaddy Jessie.”

Frank nodded sagely. “My guess is he didn’t want to see you leave the island someday. For someone like your dad, Rusty, the mainland is another world away. Just let him know you won’t let that world keep you away from him when you
do
have to leave. Believe me, he’ll understand,” he said, thinking of his own son. How Ralph for years had been hinting at a career other than the theater business. “We all have a path that’s all our own. No one can choose it for you, son.”

             
Rusty looked down, hiding the tears spilling out of his eyes. He wiped his face and sniffed. “I’ve got to get home, Mr. T. Thank you…about the job, I mean. I won’t let you down, sir.”

“Glad to have you aboard, son!” Frank yelled to the boy’s back. Rusty was already halfway down the exit road by then, hurrying home to hug his daddy.

                            *******

Tubby was grateful that his mother and Josie weren’t actually checking out his baby pictures. He found the two them in the living room; wrapping framed family photos in newspaper, and putting them away in cardboard boxes. Frank would cart them to the
Betty Anne
in the morning.

             
His mother saw him come in and handed him one of the huge empty boxes,
Cretor’s
Jumbo Popcorn Bags: 1,000 Gross,
printed on all four sides
.
“You’ve got that one box to pack up your most prized things, son. Make wise choices, you hear?” She was heading back to her task, when suddenly she remembered. “Good gravy! I almost forgot! I’ve got to get you down to the Doctor’s office—”

“No worries, Mom,” he said, glancing over at Josie. “Rusty and I went together after school,”

“Really? Lands sake! How did you know? He only called me after you’d already gone to school this morning. I was planning on taking you myself.”

“His nurse called the Academy,” Tubby lied. He thought it a deception his mother wasn’t apt to check up on. “He gave Rusty and me a clean bill of health. Said you could call him tomorrow if you have any questions.”

“I’ll do just that,” Emma said, heaving out a huge sigh of relief nonetheless.

Tubby was halfway down the hall when Josie hailed him. “Wait up, Ralphie!” Tubby looked back and almost laughed at the comical look on his mother’s face, watching the pretty redhead flounce after her precious baby boy.

Josie strolled around his bedroom, checking out the monster models on his dresser, the familiar novels lined up in his bookcase, the faded horror stills on his walls. The stack of books by his bed.
My bed! Josie O’Hara by
my
bed!
She read the titles aloud and turned to Tubby, clearly dumbfounded. “Och! Except for
A Fine Dark Line
and
Watchers
, I have the same books on my bedside table!”

“I know. Weird, isn’t it? By the way, I’d really like to borrow that
Memoirs of an Invisible Man.
”

Josie was still frowning down at the stack of paperbacks, wondering,
how can this be?
This constant continuity that runs through us all.
They were as dog-eared as her own tottering pile of favored novels. Books that were well read and loved. Over and over again. Otherwise, Josie would’ve been suspicious.

             
“Joe?”

“Huh? Oh, sure. Long as I can borrow your copy of
Watchers.
I hear it’s Koontz best work.” Josie wandered back over to Tubby’s models; the puzzled look on her face remained, though. She shook her head, as if dismissing some niggling insight.
“By the way, Bud told me what you got for him the other day at Moon Man’s. The Aurora model. That was thoughtful of you, Ralphie. I know it meant a lot to me boyo.”

Tubby shrugged. He was nervous with Josie checking out the bits and pieces of his life. His heart skipped a beat when she picked up the thick spiralbound notebook containing his short stories. One of many.

She opened it and read aloud the first page of a story entitled
The Scariest Thing...

             
Josie sat on his bed. “Wow! This is really good, Ralphie! You never told me you were a writer.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was trying to impress you. You know, after you’d already told me the same thing?” Josie nodded and put the notebook aside. “You can read them, if you like.”

“Really?” she said, taken aback. “You don’t mind?”

“Why should I mind? I mean, if you want to be a writer, then people are going to have to read your stuff someday, right? And if it stinks, I’d rather a friend tell me than somebody I don’t even know. My dad says he likes them, but with parents you can never tell. They have to support their kids’ dreams and aspirations. Even if they’re talentless. I think it’s like a law or something.”

Josie looked at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. “I wish I was half as brave as you.”

Tubby thought he’d never heard anything so silly. He laughed, but the expression on Josie’s face remained. “What…you’re
serious
?”

“I wouldn’t let you read my stuff the other night.”

Tubby sat beside her. “Make you a deal, Joe. You read mine, and afterwards, you let me read yours. How’s that sound?”

Josie’s eyebrows arched suggestively. “You mean, you’ll show me yours…if I show you mine?”

Tubby tittered like an idiot, trying to be cool, but failing miserably. “Heh! Heh! Yeah, something like that.”

Josie’s hands twisted in her lap. Tubby could tell his proposal had just struck terror in her heart. “What if…what if you hate my stuff?”

“I sincerely doubt that. What I was able to read, I really liked…that is, before you snatched it out of my hand.” He smiled reassuringly. “No fooling, Joe. That opening paragraph blew me away. But even if I didn’t like it, so what? You could fill a small country with the people who hate Stephen King!” Josie gave him a look. “Well,
Rhode Island
, anyway. What I’m trying to say is one opinion doesn’t make or break a book.”

             
Josie smiled and held the notebook to her chest. “Thanks, Ralphie darlin’. You’re sweet to say that.”

             
He blushed. “We writers have to stick together. By the way, I really dig your shirt.”

             
“Girls don’t poop? We don’t, you know.”

             
“Uh-huh. My mom must have
loved
that. Know where I can get her one?”

While they selected certain cherished items to be packed up—Tubby’s 1 sheet collection, rolled up carefully in cardboard tubes, his
Famous Monsters of Filmland
mags, certain valuable comics, and of course his beloved models—Josie told Tubby of her very special day on the mainland (minus certain stops, of course. So as not to spoil his big surprise later that night).

“How was Joel when you guys walked him home today?” And before Tubby could answer her. “Oh, I almost forgot! What happened at your check-up?” 

              Tubby told her that Joel was in better spirits when they dropped him off. Josie was relieved to hear it. At the last second, she’d decided to leave her mother and brother alone together that afternoon. All they needed was to get to know each other once again. A necessary but perhaps awkward experience, without Josie there to run interference. Tubby then related what he and Rusty had deduced about the “Bloodshot” question posed by Bidwell.

             
Josie agreed with their conclusion. She was thrilled that Rusty had passed the period of incubation in good heath. Ralph, too, of course. “So he checked your eyes, made you spit, took some blood, urine, and a hair sample from the back of your neck—was there anything else?”

             
Tubby blushed. “Well…um, we did have to strip so he could check for scratches and bites. I guess he doesn’t trust us enough to take us at our word.” He wondered if Josie was envisioning him standing there in all his doughy wonder. “Oh, one other thing! He told us to tell you that he had to change your appointment to tomorrow morning. You’ll also need to bring your mother along with you.”

             
“Why’s that?” she asked him, just to be polite.

             
“Because you need an adult chaperone with you. His nurse won’t be there.”

             
“I guess Bud’s going tomorrow, too, huh?” she said, even though she had no intention of going herself. It was easier than making up a lie as to why she couldn’t go.

             
She held the flaps of the box closed while Tubby tore off a strip of Duct Tape.

             
“Right before you, I guess.” Tubby was taping up the cardboard box when he remembered the Rabies Report in Bidwell’s private office. Because he was reluctant to get further involved, he almost let it drop from his mind. No telling what his friends would make of the news; what trouble they’d get into.
Then again, if telling it would keep Josie in
my
room even one second longer...

             
In an instant, Ralph spilled the beans, omitting not one single detail.

             
Josie listened to Tubby’s tale with an impassive look on her face. Her mind, however, was reeling from the news. Racing, plotting. Afterwards, she went over to his bookshelves and ran her fingers over the spines of the same novels she’d read, time and time again. Looking right through them.
I wonder…
she thought to herself with a sly smile…
yeah…maybe I
do
need that check up after all…

             
Tubby waited for Josie to come out of her trance. Obviously deep in thought over something he’d said. Finally, she nodded, as if coming to an important decision. “Ralphie love, after our meeting tonight, can you come over to my house to help me pack a few things?”

             
Tubby tried not to look too eager as he vigorously nodded his head.

             
                            *******

Rusty heard the pounding echo of a hammer as he rounded Huggins Way. Brand new sheets of plywood precisely covered the O’Haras’ front windows. Probably his old man’s handiwork, but he couldn’t be certain. He sure didn’t want to run into Mrs. O’Hara with a hammer in her hand! Shayna hated him almost as much as she hated Ham. Rusty thought it probably had something to do with his daddy naming him after her husband.

              Sure enough, his father was putting up the last of the boards on the O’Haras’ screened-in back porch. “What’s up, Daddy?”             

Ham wiped his face with his flannel shirtsleeve and looked over his shoulder. His seamed face broke into a big smile at the sight of his only child. His love shining on Rusty like a thousand rising suns. The reality of his dad’s adoration hit Rusty for the first time in his life and stopped him cold. Until then, he’d never known there was a difference between a child’s and a parent’s love. Love was love, right?
Shiiitt
! It was like comparing Lizard Lake to the Atlantic Ocean. And knowing that humbled Rusty right down to his very soul.

             
“Hey there, son!” Ham said, sliding the hammer into his tool belt. “You got the best timing in the world! Here I am finishing up with this mess and up you stroll!”

             
“Sorry, Daddy. Is there anything I can do?”

             
“Nah, that’s all right, Rusty. I’m only teasing you. You ain’t a boy for very much longer. Enjoy it while you can. I hear Frank done hired you to be a projection man.”

             
“Projectionist, Dad. And yes sir…thanks to you.”

             
Ham nodded and smiled. “You gotta go where your heart leads you, son.”

             
Rusty followed his dad over to their backyard, where the two of them took a seat on top of their
Talkin’ Table
. As they referred to Jessie’s old picnic table. Betty Anne had left a bucket of ice on top of the weathered planks, chilling two bottles of Miller High Life.