Home Free (25 page)

Mikey extended his hand. Brian just stared.
“I’m really impressed with your stand on the issues, Brian. You
definitely have my vote, and if you need any help with the
campaign, I hope you’ll let me know.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to stifle a
laugh. Brian looked like he might spontaneously combust. He took my
arm and jerked me aside. “It is completely inappropriate for you to
be here with him. Are you trying to ruin me?” He was whispering,
but in that loud hoarse whisper that can be heard fifty yards away.
His grip on my arm was viselike, and I twisted to try and free it.
He didn’t budge. I heard a shattering sound and realized he’d
crushed his scotch glass, alcohol and shards of glass settling at
his feet, blood seeping from his hand. People were staring, but he
didn’t appear to notice. “You need to leave. Now.”

I slid my arm around Mikey’s waist, inside
the back of his jacket. “Fine by me,” I purred. Mikey nodded to
Brian. We left, making our way through the crowd of confused
supporters, and when we got outside, I practically ran to the car.
I felt a fit of hysterical laughter coming on, and I didn’t want to
blow our cover.

Safe inside the Cadillac, I convulsed in a
heap. “Did you see his face,” I howled. “I’d say we got him
excited, all right.” I couldn’t help it. I’m one of those who
laughs at funerals. Mikey sat and stared at me, unblinking, like I
was a talking fungus.

“Are you insane? You think this is funny?”
His face was grim, and he was ruining my laughing fit.

“Well,” I began, still giggling.

He started the engine and cut me off. “I’m
coming over. You’re not staying alone tonight.”

I protested, “I told you, he won’t hurt me.
I’m his sister, for crying out loud. Besides, Danny’s coming over
later.”

“For crissake, Alex, we pushed him right over
the edge tonight. He’s completely lost it. He shredded his hand,
and he didn’t even feel it. He’s liable to fuck up now, which is
what we wanted. But in his state, he’s capable of anything,
including killing you. I’ll stay till my brother shows up.”

“You think he’d do that?”

“I’ve seen crazy, babe. Your brother is the
poster boy.”

Shit. Mikey was right. It wasn’t funny. Not
even a little bit.

I sighed, my laughter effectively squashed. I
was starving. I remembered I hadn’t eaten lunch. Then I remembered
what I’d been doing instead of eating lunch, which didn’t make me
less hungry but did make me a little more cheerful.

“I need pizza.”

Mikey pulled into the parking lot in front of
Main Street Pizza. “You get the pizza, I’ll get the beer,” he said,
walking towards the liquor store next door.

Angela was at the order counter when I made
it to the front of the line. She shook her head. “Pizza again? You
can’t keep eating like this at your age. Might as well just slap it
right on your ass, that’s where it’s gonna end up.”

“Kids should have more respect for their
elders,” I told her. She was right about my ass, but that was
beside the point.

My outfit registered in her brain, and she
raised an eyebrow. “Your fireman?”

“Don’t even ask. Can I get a large,
everything, extra cheese, to go, please?” The door opened behind me
and Mikey sauntered in, minus his coat and tie, carrying a bag from
the liquor store.

“No bell peppers,” he added, sitting at a
table with a view of both the TV and me. Angela looked at me, and I
okayed the deletion, then slid a twenty across the counter and told
her to keep the change.

“Thanks. Is it safe for me to come over
tomorrow?” she asked, dumping the change into the tip jar.

I pictured Brian’s nearly purple, pulsating
noggin. I thought we weren’t even in the ballpark with safe and
told her to give it another day or two.

“Who’s he?” she nodded at Mikey. “Looks kinda
like the fireman, only different. More something. Not as nice.”
Pretty observant for a smart-alecky fifteen-year-old, I
thought.

“He’s the fireman’s brother.”

Her eyebrows shot up.

“It’s not like that, we’re just friends.”

“Does he know that? ’Cause I sure don’t look
at my friends the way he’s looking at you.”

I had my back to him and couldn’t see how he
was looking at me. “He’s just doing the bodyguard thing.” Then,
curious, I asked, “What do you look at that way?” I hoped the kiss
and the danger-dress hadn’t given him the wrong idea. All evidence
to the contrary notwithstanding, I’m not that kind of girl.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Kyle Martin.
Prime rib.”

“Kyle Martin?”

“He’s in my trig class. Plays football.”

“Ah.” I was never into football players, but
I’m a big fan of prime rib.

We drove to my house in silence. I looked at
Mikey sideways a couple times when he wasn’t paying attention, and
he didn’t seem to be thinking of me in terms of steak. Or if he
was, steak caused him to scowl.

He parked the Cadillac in the driveway, and
we brought our dinner inside. I spotted my t-shirt in the middle of
the living room floor. I scooped it up, but it was too much to hope
that he hadn’t noticed.

“Laundry.”

“Thought so.”

I pointed him towards the kitchen, then
locked myself in my room to change. In case he did think of me as
the deli case, I wanted to look like something less appealing than
prime rib. Maybe chicken. Or liver. I peeled the dress off and
tossed it on the bed with a frown, thinking of Danny. If trying to
provoke a possible homicidal maniac and going out with his brother
didn’t annoy him, the fact that I’d been kissing Mikey would
probably do the trick. I sighed and kicked the sandals into the
closet. It had accomplished the objective, though, and I was
feeling pretty proud of myself. I pulled on a pair of blue and
white striped Capri-length pajama bottoms, double-knotting the
drawstring, then removed my bra and shrugged into a long shapeless
t-shirt that said
just do it
. No, no, I thought, mixed
messages. I switched to a solid pink tee instead. I scrubbed the
slutty makeup off in the bathroom and dried my face and pulled my
sex hair back into a ponytail. Not only did I not look like I’d had
sex this afternoon, but the casual observer would probably conclude
that I hadn’t had sex this millennium, and had very little chance
of ever reversing the trend.

I padded into the kitchen and found Mikey
seated at the counter, starting on his second slice. There was a
plate for me next to his, and the six-pack minus one was sitting
between them.

“Feeling a little safer now?” he asked.

For crissake, he’d been in prison for fifteen
years, anything had to be safer than the danger-dress. I shrugged,
embarrassed, and I could feel my cheeks flush. His eyes glinted, a
small smile starting just at the edges of his mouth.

“I was in prison for fifteen years, Alex. The
fact that you’re not wearing a bra is as much of a turn-on as the
slinky pink number.”

I took an involuntary step back, crossing my
arms in front of my chest. He laughed and patted the empty
barstool. “Come on. Sit down and eat your pizza. I’m not going to
pounce on my brother’s...” he hesitated, looking for a word,
“whatever you are.”

My stomach was making loud gurgling noises,
and the pizza was all oozy with the extra cheese, and I caved. I
sat down, pulled a slice off and took a bite.

“Want a beer?”he offered.

I took one and popped it open, deciding in
advance to draw the line at three. I didn’t need to add substance
abuse to my list of rumored problems. My mom would lock me in
Minter Villa so fast my tastelessly unpermed head would spin.

The phone rang and I glanced at the screen.
Mom
. Not a chance in hell, I thought.

“Brian?” Mikey asked as I thunked the phone
down on the counter.

“My mother. She was there tonight. Either she
saw us, or Brian tattled on me. Either way, she’s calling to
reprimand me for my inappropriate behavior.”

He smirked. “Which inappropriate behavior
would that be? Maybe you should refresh my memory.”

I rolled my eyes. Cocky jackass, I
thought.

He laughed a deep laugh. “I’ve been called
worse.”

After dinner, Mikey helped me move aside some
things in the garage to make room for his car. It had occurred to
me that leaving it parked in the driveway all evening was not smart
in terms of Brian’s mental health. We’d pushed him all I cared to
for one day. If he drove by and saw an ex-felon’s car parked out
front, reflecting badly on me and the rest of my family, there’s no
telling what he’d do.

“You should install some shelves in here.
Then you’d have room for a couple of cars,” Mikey said after he’d
parked the Cadillac inside and closed the rollup door.

I made a mental note to ask Jack for some
shelves, and we went inside to watch TV. We watched without talking
for a long time, occupied by our own thoughts. Mine were about
murder and arson and family, with the occasional naked image of
Danny floating by. I didn’t know what Mikey was thinking, but with
the ESP and all, I figured he knew I was scared, not just for
myself, but for all of us. I yawned and stood.

“I’m going to bed. You want some sweats or
something? I think I have some stuff of Max’s that’ll fit you
okay.”

“Sure.”

I went to my room and Mikey followed. I gave
him a
behave yourself
look and he rolled his eyes.

“There’s t-shirts in the second drawer,” I
pointed to the dresser and went into the closet to look for a pair
of sweatpants. It took awhile because my closet organizational
skills rank right up there with my acting-like-an-adult skills. I
eventually emerged with a pair of heather gray Cal State Long Beach
sweats. Mikey was holding an Oakland A’s t-shirt in one hand,
twirling a pair of handcuffs with the other.

“Hey! Those were in my underwear drawer. I
told you the second drawer.”

“Yeah. Nice underwear, by the way. I like the
thongs.”

Must run in the family, I thought.

“You want to tell me about these?”

“What’s the big deal? You have
handcuffs.”

“Uh-hunh. And I know what
I
do with
them,” big, perverted grin. “Now let’s hear your story.”

“Eew, on your desk? At least mine are in my
bedroom. Remind me not to sit on any of your furniture next time I
go to the yard.”

He laughed but made no move to give me my
cuffs or leave the bedroom. He seemed determined to make me talk
about them. “I didn’t know Max was gay. I thought he was just bored
with me.” When he finally came out of the closet, it was actually a
huge relief. I’d begun to think I was the antidote for sex, and my
ego was more than a little bruised. The realization that I was
simply improperly equipped, not hideously unattractive, had helped
considerably.

“And?”

“And what? He’s gay. Probably handcuffing
Raoul gets him hot, but the sight of his naked wife cuffed to the
bed seemed to give him more of a nervous twitch than a woody.”

“Maybe you did it wrong.” He was mocking me,
trying to embarrass me again, and I wasn’t about to blush and let
him win.

“Well, let’s see. There was dim light from a
few candles, and something sexy was on the stereo. Dave Matthews, I
think it was. I was lying on the bed, naked except for my nipple
ring and the tattoo on the inside of my thigh that says
please
. I had one arm above my head, cuffed to the brass
headboard.” I was watching Mikey, his eyes getting glazed and his
breathing getting shallow, and I couldn’t believe he was falling
for this. He
was
in prison a long time. “And my other hand
was - ”

“Never mind! You win!”

I stomped past him, leaving him standing
there glaring at me. Served him right, I thought. He started
it.

I got a pillow and a blanket from the linen
closet and took it to the living room. Mikey appeared in the
t-shirt and sweats just as I was finishing making up the couch for
him. He set his folded dress clothes on the chair.

“Why don’t you have a bed in there?” he asked
about the empty bedroom.

“Why don’t you have matching dining room
chairs?”

“Good point.”

The flirting and bantering was fun, but the
reason for his being here hadn’t left my mind. I thanked him for
staying. He shrugged.

“Leave your bedroom door open.”

I rolled my eyes. “Sure.”

“Seriously, I can’t hear if something happens
in there if the door’s closed. Leave it open.”

I walked towards my room and the floor
squeaked in the usual place. I swore and tossed the cuffs in my
underwear drawer and climbed into bed, leaving the door open and
turning off the light. My room didn’t seem so scary with Mikey
nearby, and I fell asleep in about fourteen seconds.

I woke up and tried to shove the cat off my
face so I could breathe. Then I remembered Lucifer lives outside,
and I panicked. My eyes focused on a tall man in a ski mask
standing next to my bed, pressing his gloved hand over my nose and
mouth. I struggled for breath. He passed a hunting knife back and
forth in front of my face, the six-inch blade glinting in the light
that shone through the window.

“I don’t want to use this yet, but I will,”
he whispered, pressing the knife against my throat. “I’m going to
uncover your mouth. If you scream, I
will
kill you.”

My mind was racing and my stomach was doing
cartwheels. I had no weapons, and even if I did, I’d never be able
to get to them without getting sliced to ribbons. I wondered if
Brian was crazy enough to have me killed, or if this was just a
scare tactic. It was certainly working.

Ski Mask took his hand away from my mouth and
shoved the covers back, keeping the knife near my throat.
“Tonight’s your lucky night, bitch.” He yanked the drawstring on my
pajama bottoms. The double-knot held. Shit, I thought, not a
fucking scare tactic. I closed my eyes and tried to brace myself. I
heard a squeak in the hallway and my eyes popped open. Ski Mask
heard it too. He hesitated for a moment, then spun off me and
started for the French doors. Mikey stepped into the room, leveling
the Glock at the intruder. I launched myself out of the bed,
tangled in covers, and flew into Mikey’s arm just as he fired. Ski
Mask ran, crashing through the glass door, and disappeared into the
night.