The Conch Shell of Doom (12 page)

Chuck pointed to his daughter. “Let us know if you’re staying out late. Tell the ninja the same if you see him.”

“I will.”

“Kiss your father goodbye?” Chuck puckered up and stuck his head through Bailey’s window.

“Seriously?” Alexis moved as far away as she could. “I fake hate you so much right now.”

“That’s okay.” Chuck kissed Bailey on the forehead. “Have fun.”

“Whoa!” Bailey yelled.

Chuck ran up to the patio before another word could be said. Alexis rubbed her forehead and sighed.

“Go. Please.”

Bailey drove off, mildly freaked out about Mr. Carrington’s kiss. He’d always pulled pranks, but the kiss was something new. Bailey was sort of flattered, he guessed, but not even his dad kissed him. Like at a certain age, it just became an unspoken agreement between father and son. It was weird, but on the whole nothing new. Bailey figured Mr. Carrington’s job as a lawyer stressed him out so much the jokes were just his way of coping.

There was an awkwardness lingering in the car. It made Bailey uncomfortable. He decided to focus on other things, like the stakeout.

“Do you think we should wear disguises?” Bailey asked. “I feel like we should get some fake mustaches or something.”

“Normally, I’d say yes. But it’s nighttime. Shouldn’t be too hard to stay out of sight.”

“Right. Duh.” Bailey felt stupid for even bringing it up, but at least it got Alexis talking instead of fretting.
 

The traffic light at the next intersection turned red. Bailey’s phone vibrated with another text from Marshall.
 

Where you at? Don’t say jerking off, you jerkoff.

Bailey typed.
Out and about with Alexis. What’s up?
 

The response came almost immediately.

Stop trying to hold her hand. Need to meet. Super important
.
She can come. Tim’s with me.

“Marshall wants to meet up,” Bailey said. “It’s
super important
.”

Alexis laughed under her breath. “The only super important thing to Marshall is Marshall.”

Truer words had rarely been spoken. Whatever Marshall wanted, it could wait. Bailey and Alexis had a stakeout to run. The museum closed at nine. They needed to be ready.
 

The light turned green. Bailey tapped the accelerator. His phone vibrated again. He groaned and handed it to Alexis.

“Can you ask turd blossom what he wants?” Bailey asked. “I have a hard enough time driving without texting.”

“Only if I can call him a turd blossom.”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Alexis typed a message to Marshall. “I told him you hoped he was wearing a netted shirt so you could see his rippling muscles underneath.”

“You did not.” Bailey reached for the phone, but she kept it out of reach, laughing the entire time. “Tell him it was you. I’m serious.”

“You asked me to text for you.” She smacked his hand away. “Focus on driving.”

“I didn’t ask you to say
that
.”

“And I didn’t. I was just messing with you.” Alexis held her mouth open in mock surprise.

“Seriously?”

“Of course! If anything, he should be asking to see you in a netted shirt.”

“I swear.” Bailey shook his head, pretending he was disgusted. “If it’s not you, it’s your dad. I can’t get no love.”

Alexis
awed
and patted his arm. “Is that better?”

“A little, yeah.” A lot, actually.

The phone vibrated.

“That didn’t take long,” Alexis said with a laugh.

“What?”

“Marshall knows it’s me. And I didn’t even say anything bad.” She leaned closer to the phone, giving her face a ghostly white glow. “He also says this has to do with last night, and that you may not be crazy.”

“That was big of him.” It wasn’t like Marshall to own up to something like that. The phone lit up. Another text.

“Wait. He forgot to preface that. You’re still crazy, just not–
gross, Marshall
–flinging
poo
at people crazy.” The phone’s display light turned off. “Only he didn’t say poo.”

“I figured.”

Another text arrived.

“What should I say?”
 

“Ask him if they want some ice cream.”

Bailey and Alexis made it to Nice Dreams ten minutes before closing time. They walked in, the only two customers there. Bailey loved the place. The checkered floor, framed pictures of ice cream and candy hanging on the walls, the smell of milk and sugar; it was like traveling back to a simpler, happier time.

“Are you two together?” The manager wore a white apron and, upsetting the old school vibe, an Atlanta Braves cap.

Bailey hadn’t thought of that. They were there, together, ordering food, but did that mean they were on a date? If so, should he pay? He didn’t have that much money. Shouldn’t he have dressed up? Been charming? Bailey didn’t feel like being charming. He didn’t even think he
could
be charming. He just wanted to enjoy some chocolate chip ice cream with his friend and not worry about anything until Marshall and Tim showed up. Bailey pulled out his wallet, ready to pay for both of them.

Paying for both of them definitely made it a date, even though technically they were on a stakeout. Killing time before a stakeout. Whatever! If he got both of them, it counted.
 

“We’re separate,” Alexis said.

Bailey glanced at her, unsure if he should be thankful or disappointed. “I can get it if you want.”

“No, that’s okay. It’s not like this is a date or anything.”

Disappointment it was. Despite the sort of denial, there were worse things in the world. Like having parents that might or might not be in cahoots with a monster. Yes, a goodnight kiss would’ve been great, but lifting the pressure of a date from his chest was a godsend. There was enough pressure surrounding the stakeout. Throwing a date together at the last second was too much for one guy to handle.

“Buck up,” she said. “If you took me here for a date, it would be the last time you ever took me out on a date.”

“Hey,” the manager said, not happy.

Alexis apologized. “Maybe for a dessert, but we’re not twelve, you know?”

Bailey wasn’t sure how to respond. On the one hand, he’d never take Alexis there for a date. Maybe if they were walking the boardwalk and happened to stop in, but Bailey liked to think he had more class than that. He also didn’t want to be defensive and tell her everything was fine, but she picked up on his disappointment.
Crap.
 

Alexis solved Bailey’s problem by moving past him and ordering. The manager scooped up some birthday cake ice cream into a cup for her. Bailey watched the manager pack the ice cream down with the scoop, wondering how talking to someone Bailey had known for years got so complicated.
Oh! That’s right.
Women
.

The manager handed Alexis the ice cream and then moved over to the register. She struggled to get money out of her purse while holding the ice cream.
 

Bailey reached out. “I can—”

“I’ve got it, thanks.” She set the cup down on the counter, and handed the manager her debit card. “I’ll be outside.”

Bailey got two scoops of chocolate ice cream and then sat down opposite Alexis at a table outside. Neither said a word as they dug in, until Alexis grunted and rubbed her forehead.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Brain freeze.” Her face was scrunched, trying to fight off the pain. It let up after a short while.
 

“You need to walk it off?”

She smiled. “I’ll live. That’ll teach me not to eat like a lady.”

“It’s a hard lesson to learn.”

Bailey saw Marshall and Tim walking toward them. Bailey checked his phone for the time. Two minutes past nine.
 

“They’re not going to let you in.”

“Watch us,” Marshall said. He pulled on the door. Locked. “Come on.”

Bailey didn’t remember seeing the manager lock up. He must’ve done it when Alexis had brain freeze.

“Hello, paying customer here.” Marshall banged on the door. “Let us in. I need some of that cookies and cream in my belly.”

The manager walked up to the other side of the door and then shook his head as he pointed at the closed sign. “Sorry.”

“We’re barely late,” Tim said. “Have a heart.”

“Or at least an eye for business,” Marshall said. “I’m willing to exchange legal tender for ice cream. Isn’t that the point of your establishment?”

“It is during normal business hours.” The manager pointed at Marshall. “And don’t think I forgot about banning you.”

“Ball sacks,” Marshall said. “What if we were a couple of starving kids in the Sudan? Would you say you’re closed then?”

Bailey and Alexis exchanged disgusted glances.
Did he really say that?

Marshall got banned a few weeks ago when the manager saw him throw ice cream against the door in a fit of rage after the Red Sox lost to the Yankees in extra innings.

“You two have a wonderful evening.” The manager turned and disappeared into the back of the store.
 

“Walk away, you dirty ice-cream-hoarding bastard.” Marshall gave him the bird. “Your stuff gives me the runs anyway.”

Tim sat down in a huff next to Alexis, eyeing her ice cream like a steak simmering on a grill. “Please?”

She slid the cup over to him. “Go on.”

Marshall didn’t bother to huff. Instead, he grabbed Bailey’s ice cream.

“Hey,” Bailey protested. “I was eating—”

Marshall threw the ice cream against the door. The ice cream splattered on impact and then slowly oozed down, leaving a trail of white mixed with bits of chocolate chip in its wake.

“Dude.” Bailey was pissed. That ice cream tasted good. “You owe me three bucks.”

“Talk to the asshole in charge.” Marshall held up his hands. “I only did what had to be done.”

Bailey wanted to rip into Marshall but noticed the manager storming back. He unlocked the door and stuck his head out. “You freakin’ brat. Clean that up.”

Marshall, ever the gentleman, gestured for the manager to jerk off. “Make me, you old fart.”

The manager stormed outside, pulling off his apron. Even though it was dark, Bailey could see the man’s angry red face. “I’ll beat up a minor. I don’t care.”
 

Bailey, Alexis, and Tim glanced around at each other, their faces all saying the same thing. Time to go. Tim and Bailey took Marshall by the arms.

“Come on, slugger,” Tim said.

Both of them had to use a little effort to get Marshall to back off. He wanted to fight, the crazy meathead. After some prodding, he gave in and followed the rest of them.

“You got lucky, old timer,” Marshall sneered.

“Banned for life,” the manager shouted. “You hear me? Life!”

The group left Nice Dreams behind them and marched toward the museum. Alexis got Tim and Marshall up to speed on everything. Bailey kept quiet, trying to keep his anger bottled up inside. The pressure rose until it exploded.
 

“Why do you have to be such an ass?” he shouted at Marshall. “It’s embarrassing. I don’t know about Tim, but I’m getting sick of having to apologize for you. On top of that, you stole my ice cream!”

“That guy was being a dick.” Marshall puffed out his chest and threw out his arms. Classic macho stance. “And you know it.”

“He was,” Tim said. “We’re reasonable people. He could’ve opened up for us.”
 

Marshall smacked Tim’s arm. “Damn straight. We’re regulars. He should’ve made an exception.”

“Maybe he would have if you didn’t throw crap all over the place like it was your bedroom.” Bailey made a fist. The anger was getting out of control. He knew it, yet he didn’t care.
 

“Oh, get over it.” Marshall stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Come on, man, don’t take his side.”

Bailey rested his hands on the pier’s wooden railing, staring out at the ocean. He knew that was the closest Marshall’s pride would come to letting him apologize. Best to take it and move on. Bailey took a deep breath, letting his anger simmer.
 

“So, what’s the big thing you wanted to talk about?”

Marshall relaxed his posture. “That guy you told us about last night. Mr. Lovell?”

“Yeah?” Bailey didn’t remember, but according to Alexis, he told all of them about Mr. Lovell, so he went with it.

“So I was in my room this afternoon, looking at some sports site, when I hear my parents talking a little louder than usual in their room. Normally, I’d tune that shit out, because parents in the bedroom equals some afternoon delight.”
 

“You would go there,” Alexis said.

Marshall ignored her. “But then I heard them mention Mr. Lovell. Then they mentioned you.”

“Me?” Things would’ve been so much easier if Bailey could remember the previous night.
 

“They talked about you crashing your parents’ party.”

“Great.” Bailey leaned back against the railing. “So everybody knows what I did last night except for me.”

“Ah, but there’s a
reason
for that, kemosabe.”

“That’s my word,” Tim said.

“It’s a Native American word,” Alexis said. “Not ninja.”

“Oh.”

Marshall glared at the twins. “Way to step all over the punch line, guys.”
 

Ruined punch line or not, Bailey needed to know what happened. “Well?”

“Your parents gave you something that erased, like, six hours of memory from last night.”

“Hm.” Bailey didn’t know how to react. He was mad, but what good would a tirade do? “I’m not sure I’m okay with that.”
 

“It does explain part of today.” Alexis tried to sound positive, but how could she?

Knowing why he couldn’t remember didn’t make Bailey feel better. He wished the realization would give him total recall, but everything remained a blur. Did erasing memory count as some cruel and unusual form of child abuse? He wasn’t sure. At least Marshall hadn’t taken advantage of the situation and ripped into Bailey.