Experiment in Terror 06.5 And With Madness Comes the Light (5 page)

I nodded and gave her a stern look. “Watch
out for her mom. She bites.”

Half an hour later, the tattoo was complete.
I felt lighter already.

***

A few days later I heard back from Rebecca.
She went to Perry’s and things hadn’t exactly gone as planned. I
was torn between wanting as much information from her as possible
and trying to protect my heart. In the end, my stupid,
self-destructive tendencies demanded every single detail from her.
I’d really lost it. That guy who wasn’t about to stalk her? Well I
felt like I was mentally stalking her as I made Rebecca describe
what she looked like. She sounded as beautiful as ever, darkness
and light all wrapped up into one. My heart twisted itself into a
well-worn knot.

“She looked tired though,” she told me over
the phone while I got ready to go to the corner store. I was having
Dean and Seb over for some drinks before we hit up the bars,
something I hadn’t done in an extremely long time.

“What kind of tired?” I asked. Perry had
fair skin that usually rebelled when she didn’t get enough sleep.
Yeah, yeah, I’m a creeper who noticed those things. I didn’t say
she still wasn’t gorgeous when she was tired. It made her look more
vulnerable than ever, and that, combined with her delicious tits
that were just ripe for squeezing were a fucking lethal
combination.

“I don’t know,” she said. “I caught her
coming back from a run, so maybe it was just that. Or perhaps it
was the fact that she wanted to throw my arse to the curb. It was
hard to tell.”

Regardless, I made her tell me everything
all over again, going over every word she said. Perhaps, if Rebecca
repeated it enough, it would be like talking to Perry herself.

It wasn’t, but in some sick way, it was
close. Hearing this gave me a sense of closure that I didn’t have
before, relief that she, as tired as she might have been, was okay.
She was alive and out there in the world, living her life, working
a new job. She’d moved on, and as much as that stung the shit out
of me worse than any wasp could, I was somewhat happy for her.

Of course, being happy for her made me feel
more miserable for me. Call me a selfish dickmonkey, but it’s hard
to be happy for someone when you can’t share their happiness with
them. I wanted to be there with her as she lived her life, watching
for those rare smiles on her face.

I was grumbling about that to myself as I
pulled my coat around me and braved the cold, crossing underneath
the monorail tracks to the store. I tied Fat Rabbit outside and
went inside, searching the aisle for the cheapest bottle of wine. I
was unemployed now and wasn’t about to waste a drop of expensive
shit on Dean and Seb, not when they’d probably be puking it up
later anyway.

It was just a small convenience store, and
while the douchester hipbag guy behind the counter—Paul I think his
name was—dealt with a customer at the jugs of beer-to-go (who knew
it would be so popular?), I waited at the register, watching a lady
with interest.

I’d seen her a few times before…in fact,
lately I think she’d been in the store every time I was there. She
wore all black, with a furry velvet hat that looked vaguely
Russian. I’d never seen her face; she would just walk from the
counter, down the aisle to the end, like she was part zombie. You
know the way really old people walk when they’re too stubborn for
scooters or a cane? That kind of walk. Slow, deliberate, and
shaking slightly. I’d never seen her look at anything on the
shelves or buy anything. She just did that ultra-slow walk of
hers.

“Ready to go?” Douchester Hipbag said to me.
I straightened up off the counter and pushed the bottle of wine
toward him.

“Sure am.”

“Still not smoking?” he asked as he rang it
up.

“Still not,” I told him and turned my
attention back to the woman. I nodded in her direction. “Hey,
what’s the deal with the Walking Dead reject over there?”

He frowned and looked past me. “What do you
mean?”

“I mean,” I said, watching her do her death
dance. “What’s her deal? I always see her here, just…acting like a
zombie.”

Paul gave me a funny look and popped the
wine into a paper bag. “I don’t know who you’re talking about,
Dex.”

I looked at the lady and back at him. “Uh,
you can’t see that lady there?”

He shook his head. “I think quitting smoking
might have done something to your brain.”

It wasn’t quitting smoking that did
something to my brain. Oh fucknuts. There was no lady, was
there?

I quickly handed him the five dollars and
snatched my wine up off the counter. I eyed her form differently
now, the jerky way her limbs moved, the fact that I always saw her
in the same place, doing the same actions. She wasn’t a zombie, but
she was in fact dead.

I got myself out of the store, feeling the
heebie jeebies crawling up and down my skin, and Fat Rabbit and I
practically ran across the road to my apartment. Even though the
lady wasn’t a threat (not yet anyway), I was scared shitless. I
wasn’t used to seeing them alone, and I suddenly needed Perry’s
embrace and comfort more than anything in the world.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long for Dean
and Seb to show up. Unfortunately, I’d drunk the bottle of wine
already. They never even had a chance.

“You’re getting a nice head start, aren’t
you?” Dean said as he placed a six-pack of beer in the fridge. I
guess he figured he’d need to bring his own.

“Well, I just saw a ghost, so I’m feeling a
bit…uh, on edge.”

Seb and Dean exchanged a look. Dean frowned,
his eyes cautious underneath his glasses. Seb just laughed and
tucked his long hair behind his ears.

“Awesome,” he said, cracking open a beer.
“You saw a ghost, that’s rad.”

Seb was always kind of a stoner. Swap kind
of for totally. I had a feeling he was a cast member on
That
‘70s Show
at one point but he got fired or something and now
just lived his life stuck in that world. I mean, it’s an off the
wall theory, but I see ghosts, so what the fuck do I know?

“Yeah, Seb. A ghost. And it’s not awesome.
It’s scary as shit.”

“Right on.”

I shook my head and wished I had more wine.
“Beer me,” I said, holding out my hand. Dean sighed and tore a beer
off the rings, handing it to me.

They pulled up the barstools and we tried to
talk about a chick, Clarissa, that Seb was attempting to bang, but
the conversation kept coming back to ghosts. As if ghosts were more
interesting than sex.
Nothing
was more interesting than
sex.

“So, like, I totally thought Perry was like
ghost whisperer,” Seb said, rocking back and forth on the stool,
“and you were just the camera guy. I didn’t know you saw ghosts
too, dude.”

I twisted the metal ring around and round
until it snapped off the can.

“Normally I don’t. I’m…” I shot them both a
quick glance. They were watching me intently. “I’m off my
medication. I was put away in a mental institute back in college
because I saw ghosts. They thought I was crazy. They put me on
meds—robbing me of my real life while they were at it—and I stopped
seeing them. I haven’t taken any pills since December.”

Both of them grew silent. Seb looked
confused and Dean’s face hadn’t changed. He still watched me
carefully, judging my sanity, or if perhaps I was a big fat liar. I
didn’t blame him. I hoped he’d still be my running buddy, but if he
wanted to hang out with saner people, I definitely wasn’t the right
fit for him.

“But you’re not crazy,” Seb offered slowly,
as if reading my mind. “Just because you see ghosts doesn’t mean
you’re crazy.”

I shot him a smile. “Doesn’t it? That’s
never what the doctors said.”

He took a long yet thoughtful sip of his
beer. “I think doctors don’t know shit. I bet if you see ghosts,
it’s not because you’re mental. You’re just different, Dex. And
that’s okay.”

This was getting borderline heartwarming.
Must put a stop to it.

“Anyway, that’s neither here nor there,” I
said, raising my beer in the air. “Forget ghosts, let’s say thanks
for sex and get Seb here laid tonight.”

We rammed our beer cans together, foam
spilling over the sides.

“Just Seb?” Dean asked, wiping beer off his
can.

“I thought you and your new lady friend were
exclusive,” I told him.

“Naw, we are. I meant you. You’re not
getting any tail?”

I snorted at his choice of words. “Tail. No,
I’m not.”

Seb slammed his drink down and wiped his
mouth. “Why not? Dude, you’re single. Maybe Clarissa has a hot
sister or something. Or maybe one of the bartenders she works with
will dig you.”

“I really hope you’re talking about female
bartenders, Sea Bass,” I warned him. “I know I’ve been spending a
lot of time sweating with Dean here, but…”

“So that’s it?” Dean asked. “You’re just
going to spend your life pining after her?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Dean, if I’m not
mistaken, you’re the one who said I should build a temple for her
or something.”

“That was then. I thought maybe you’d have
gone after her. Isn’t this why you’re…what was it again…becoming a
better man?”

It was. But just because I wasn’t going to
her now, didn’t mean it was off the table.

“When was the last time you got laid?” Seb
asked.

I didn’t have to think. I’d been jerking off
to it ever since. “With Perry. After the Christmas party.”

His jaw dropped. “Oh man, you so need to get
some action tonight. Hell, you can have Clarissa if you want.”

“Oh, like you’re doing me a favor by passing
up the chick you haven’t even fucked yet.”

“Fine. Offer is off the table now. Your
loss.”

“I don’t need anyone’s help getting laid. I
never have.” I didn’t mean to brag but…okay, yes, I totally meant
to brag. I pulled back the sleeve of my t-shirt. “And look at these
guns.” I eyed Dean. “Don’t you dare show off yours, cuz that’s not
fair. But seriously, with these guns and my face and my dick, women
are completely powerless.”

Dean sat back and crossed his arms. “Maybe
not all women.”

“Perry hasn’t been invited to the brand new
gun show yet,” I told him, as if there was a chance in hell that
she’d see me now. “When she does, all will be forgiven.”

“I see,” Dean mused. “So, before that
happens, whenever that happens, are you going to get busy with some
fine ladies tonight or keep sitting here talking about your
guns?”

I pushed back my stool and stood up. “That
sounds like a challenge.”

“As your running coach, it’s my job to
challenge you.”

“Hey now, we’re
running
partners.”

“You guys sound really gay,” Seb spoke
up.

We both glared at him in unison. He threw up
his hands. “What, I’m not judging. I’d be happy if you were gay—I’d
get more action that way.”

I rolled my eyes and pointed my beer at
Dean. “You want me to get some tonight? Challenge accepted.”

He grinned in response before chugging the
rest of his beer.

Seb looked between us with a dumb smile on
his face. “So are you getting some men or women tonight, Dex?”

This was going to be a long night.

***

A few hours later, we ended up drunk as
skunks at this really divey metal bar called The Funhouse. The band
playing was loud as fuck, pure metal, and the bartender was
Clarissa, the fairly hot chick that Seb was pining over. I say
fairly hot since black lipstick and bleached hair wasn’t really my
thing, but he seemed to be head over heels for her. Clarissa, on
the other hand, had a range of suitors to deal with, all hanging
around the bar.

We ended up doing the same for a bit, hiding
from the noise of the venue’s shitty PA system. While Clarissa
didn’t have a sister or a bartending buddy, she did have some
friends who were there to see the terrible band. Seb was doing his
best to get in good with them so he could then score in good with
her. Men were so fucking predictable. The women ate it up though,
as Seb played his harmless stoner card. I suppose all you had to do
was wear a puppy dog face and women would do anything to help
you.

Well, it didn’t work that way with me. I
never had to work very hard for women, which was both a blessing
and a curse. Mainly a blessing, since I never complained about
having too many chicks to fuck. Still, I did feel a bit off balance
as I watched Seb do his thing. I had been with Jenn for so long
that I’d forgotten what it was like to be single again. With Perry,
everything was easy and effortless. It wasn’t a matter of a girl
wanting to suck my dick, but a matter of me wanting to suck hers. I
mean, her proverbial one. Man, Seb had done a number on me.

There hadn’t been anyone in the bar who
remotely caught my eye until I went to the ATM to get more money
out. The damn machine was taking forever and had the nerve to
charge me a four dollar transaction fee. I was ready to throttle
the thing until I turned around and saw an interesting face looking
back at me.

She was tall, maybe my height (damn my
height!), with long, wavy red hair and matching lipstick. Her eyes
were glazed like she’d just been fucked and fucked good, and her
lips were held in a half snarl, as if she was about to blow
cigarette smoke in my face.

“Sorry,” I apologized. I didn’t know why I
apologized since I hadn’t run into her or anything, but then I
found my eyes focusing on her amazing rack that pulled her thin
white tank top tight across her chest. Her nipples had made
themselves known, speaking to me, whispering “bite me.”

I rarely got caught with my eyes where they
shouldn’t be so I quickly averted my eyes back to hers. It was hard
to tell in the bar, but they could have been a dark blue. They were
nasty looking, like she was going to eat me alive and enjoy every
crunch. I liked that.