Good Day In Hell (6 page)

Stan’s head throbbed with fear and confusion. He was still scared to death. He didn’t know what these people were planning to do with him. But Laurel actually seemed to like him.

He stared, fascinated, at the blanket-covered guns on the floor. He could grab one of them, but he didn’t know whether there were any bullets in them. And Laurel still had the gun in her purse. The one that had killed his stepfather. A tremor went through him at that memory. He had hated and feared the man, but the thought of him lying dead on the floor of his service station made Stan feel sick to his stomach.

He looked up toward the front. Laurel was saying something to Roy in the driver’s seat. She made a small gesture toward the back of the van and Stan realized she was talking about him. He felt sick again. Roy obviously regarded him as a possible liability. And Roy didn’t seem to have any more scruples about killing than Laurel did. Stan closed his eyes and prayed. He had had his doubts about God, especially when his stepfather had beaten him, but now he prayed for all he was worth.

He heard a rustling sound next to him and opened his eyes. Laurel had climbed over the front seat and was sitting next to him. She was holding a joint in one hand. “Are you scared, Stan?” she said softly.

Stan nodded, unable to speak.

She put an arm around him. He felt the heat of her body as she shifted herself closer to him. She put the joint between her lips and lit it with her free hand. She took a long drag and held the smoke in before passing it to him. “‘Ere,” she said, her voice tight with the effort of holding in the smoke.

He took the joint and inhaled deeply. There was an unfamiliar, sharp taste mixed in with the familiar taste of the pot. He grimaced and passed it back to her. She flipped it around and placed the lit end in her mouth, tightening her lips to hold the burning ash away from her tongue. She leaned toward him. He followed suit until their faces were inches apart. She began to exhale, slowly and evenly. He pursed his own lips and took in the steady stream of smoke that she forced out of the loosely twisted end of the joint. He shotgunned the smoke until he thought his lungs would burst, then pulled away. She flipped it out of her mouth and took her own turn. She leaned back over until her face was very close to his. “You don’t have to be afraid of us, Stan,” she whispered. “We’re all in this together now.”

“I…I don’t know what you mean,” Stan said. His head was swimming with the buzz from the smoke.

“Roy and I, we talked it over. He has his doubts, I won’t bullshit you. But we’ve got a little time to decide. To figure out if you want to be part of what we’re going to do.” She slid a hand down to the inside of his thigh. Stan jumped at the contact. He looked up at the front of the van. “Umm…aren’t you and him…”

She glanced up front. Roy was still driving. He didn’t look back. “Oh, sure,” she said nonchalantly. “But he’s not jealous. We don’t live like that, Stan.” She began moving her hand slowly up and down his thigh. “See,” she said, “Roy taught me a secret. Everybody else pretends like there are rules. Don’t cheat on your taxes. Don’t beat up people smaller than you. Don’t…” Her face twisted. “Never mind. But see, Stan, no one ever followed those rules with us. They lie. They cheat. They…they mess around with people they ain’t supposed to. After a while, Roy realized that they weren’t really rules. They was just ways people used to get over on you. After that,” she reached for his belt, “the world made sense. For the first time, the world made sense.” Stan shook his head. The pot was hitting him harder than anything he’d ever smoked before. The edges for everything seemed fuzzy, indistinct. The walls of the van seemed to pulse and shimmer. He shook his head again. Laurel giggled at the look on his face.

“Killer stuff, innit?” she said, her voice slurred with the effects of the drug. “We put a li’l something extra in.” He felt her hands undoing his belt buckle. Through
the haze in his head, it felt like it was happening to someone else. Then as she slid her hand inside his jeans, Stan closed his eyes and it all came slamming back into his head. All the horniness he had felt back at the station, poring over the skin mag, spilled back into him. His own heartbeat was thudding in his ears.

“Come on, Stan,” she said. “Let me show you what life can be like.”

“I’m home,” Marie called out as she closed the door behind her.

“Mommeeeee!” her son Ben cried out as he crashed into her knees.

She picked him up and hugged him, grunting a little with the effort. “Hey, big boy!” she said as she kissed him. “You been good for Grandpa?”

“He’s been a handful, that’s for damn sure,” her father said.

Ben put a hand over his mouth and gave her an exaggerated look of shock. He took his hand away from his mouth long enough to whisper, “Grandpa said a bad word.”

Marie put Ben down. A sheepish look crossed her father’s round, lined face. “Sorry, kid,” he muttered.

“Ben,” Marie said, “grandpas and mommies can say things that little boys can’t.”

Ben set his lip defiantly. “That’s not fair,” he said.

“Maybe, but that’s the way it is. Now go play, I need to talk to Grandpa.”

“No fair,” Ben insisted, but he scurried off to his room. Marie hugged her father and kissed him on the cheek. He hugged her back, hard. Retirement had given him a considerable paunch, but his arms were still strong.

“How was he really, Dad?” she said.

He grinned. “No worse than usual, kid. How was work?”

Marie unbuckled her gun belt and hung it up in the closet. “We caught a bad one today, Dad. Murder, maybe child abduction.”

Her father walked back into the kitchen. “Tell me about it while I start these chops.” She followed him as he grabbed a pair of beers from the fridge. He handed her one and opened the other.

She told him about it as he tended to the pork chops. Her father was a former cop himself, so he picked up the doubts and questions Marie had before she had even gotten to them.

“You think the kid might’ve done his stepfather?” he asked bluntly.

Marie grimaced. “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s possible.”

He grunted. “Tell me about this Shelby.”

“He seems like a good guy. Pretty religious. Asked me not to take the name of the Lord in vain.”

He rolled his eyes. “Ah, shit. I rode with one of those one time. Damn near bored my ass off. Hey, get the rice started, willya?”

They worked together to prepare dinner, and gradually Marie started feeling normal again. She liked having her dad around. He had come down after her partner had been killed and kept delaying going back. Finally, he had offered to stay and take care of Ben while Marie was working.

“Oh, damn, I forgot,” he said suddenly. “Your friend Keller called.”

Marie stopped stirring. “What’d he say?”

“Just wanted to talk about the weekend.”

She began stirring again. She felt slightly embarrassed. “Ah,” was all she said. “Well, Shelby invited me over to dinner tomorrow night,” she said. “He said Jack could come, too.” She felt suddenly awkward. If Keller came up for dinner, they’d have the choice of driving back to Wilmington afterwards or having him stay with her. If they did that, it would be the first time for that since her father had moved in.

“Seems like you and this guy Keller are gettin’ pretty serious,” her father said.

She felt herself reddening. “Yeah,” she replied. She looked up. His face was serious.

“Look, kiddo,” he said. “I know you’re a big girl now.” He smiled sadly. “I may not like it, but it’s not like I can do anything about it. But is this guy…” He shook his head.

She tried not to sound defensive. She hated this feeling, the mix of defiance and defensiveness that made her feel sixteen years old again. “I’m fine, Dad,” she said.

“Maybe,” he said, “but there’s more than just you to worry about. You ever thought what kind of a stepfather this guy would make for Ben?”

“Ben likes him,” she said.

“I know he does,” her father said. “He asks me ‘When’s Tough Guy coming to see me?’” Marie had to smile, remembering the nickname Ben had hung on Keller the first time they met. The smile vanished as her father went on. “And you know what I have to tell him? ’I don’t know.’ Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Know when he’s coming to see your son. Do you know when he’s going to be around? Or if he’s going to be around?”

Marie was getting angry. “Do we have to settle my entire life before dinner, Dad?” she snapped. “We’re working through a lot of things. And Ben’s part of that. He’s part of me and part of my life. And if you think I don’t realize that—”

“Okay, okay … ,” her father said, raising his hands. “Sorry. I’m sticking my nose in.” His face softened. “I should tmst you. You never gave me cause to do anything else. I just don’t want you or Ben to get hurt. And I worry that this guy will do it.”

“He’s a good man, Dad,” Marie said. But he’s definitely not staying here tomorrow night, she thought. All she needed was for her father to start grilling Keller like he was grilling her.

“Okay, then,” her father said. “You said it, that’s good enough for me.” They went back to preparing dinner. “You sure you don’t mind keeping Ben?” she said.

“If I go to Wilmington for the rest of the weekend?” “Naah. We’ll make a bachelor weekend of it. I, ahh …” He hesitated.

“What?”

“I thought I might take Ben to Wal-Mart and get him an air rifle. It’s time he started learning some basic safety.”

Marie felt her shoulders tighten. “Yeah,” she said. “Okay.”

“Bullshit,” he said flatly. “It’s not okay. You get that look on your face every time I mention it. And I’m not going to do it if it’s going to upset you.”

“He’s awfully young,” Marie said softly.

“You were his age when I started teaching you to shoot,” he said.

She laughed. “Yeah, well, my Dad was kinda weird.”

He didn’t laugh back. He walked over to her and grasped her shoulders. “Kid,” he said softly, “it’s not that big a deal whether or not Ben gets an air rifle. But every time I bring it up, it shakes you up. Bad. Worse than it ought to. And I want to know why.”

She looked away from his eyes. “I can’t talk about it, Dad,” she said.

“That bad, huh?” he said. “Worse than what happened to Eddie? Because you can talk about that.” All she could do was nod.

He took her chin in his hand and drew her around to look back at him. “Marie,” he said. “Sometimes a cop crosses the line. Sometimes he does things that only another cop can understand. And it’s important to know that someone understands. You know what I’m saying?”

In her mind’s eye she saw a man standing, framed in the scope of her deer rifle, a cigarette lighter raised above his head. Had he lit it, he would have incinerated himself and everyone around him. She took the slack up on the trigger just like her dad had taught her, felt herself breathe out slow, squeezed, heard the report of the rifle…

She jumped slightly. Her father, startled by the movement, let go of her shoulders. “I’m not ready, Dad,” she said. “I’m just not ready.” She wrapped her arms around him and buried her head in his broad chest. “I’m sorry.”

Her father hugged her tightly. “Okay,” he said. “When you’re ready, then.” He pulled away. “Those chops are gonna burn,” he said.

“Thanks, Dad,” Marie said softly. “Thanks for everything.”

He waved it off. “Least I can do,” he said. “Go get Ben washed up.”

Roy smiled to himself when he heard Stan’s muffled cry of release. The kid was shook up, out of his element. But he was also a homy sixteen-year-old. What Laurel was doing would bind the kid to them. Or at least, it would bind him to Laurel, and Roy could handle her.

He drove the van back down U.S. 74, through the flatlands of Robeson and Columbus Counties, headed for the coast. Laurel stayed in the back with Stan.

Roy thought about what was about to go down. He was about to claim what had been denied him for so long, what other people’s cowardice and deception had taken from him. He thought back to the days when everything had been opening up for him, when everything had seemed in his grasp. He had worked with the stars, and soon, he had known, he’d be one himself. Until the day when it all came crashing down. Because someone else couldn’t admit their own fuckup. Because it was easy to blame Roy. His knuckles turned white on the wheel. Soon, he thought to himself. Soon.

Just before reaching the Cape Fear River bridge, he took one of the exits in the snarl of ramps that sorts traffic to the various coast roads. A narrow two-lane blacktop paralleled the river, headed down toward the town of Southport. A few miles down, he turned down a dirt road toward the river. Laurel rejoined him, clambering over the front seat.

“He all right?” Roy said in a voice too low for their passenger to hear.

She nodded. “It’ll be okay, Roy, I promise,” she said.

“We ain’t pickin’ up every stray that comes along,” he said.

She grinned. “Look who’s talkin’.” He didn’t reply. He turned down a dirt road in the direction of the river. A weathered sign announced COMING SOON, RIVERWOODE. LUXURY HOMESITES FROM. The bottom of the sign where the price range was written had rotted and fallen off.

They bumped and jounced over the deeply rutted road until they came to a thick steel cable strung between two trees. Laurel grabbed a key ring from the glove box and hopped out. As she was undoing the padlock holding the cable, Stan appeared behind the passenger seat, peering out the front window.