Authors: Edward Lee
The House (29 page)
Leonard Nimoy. Elmore Leonard. Sugar Ray Leonard...
He drove a while to regain some composure, then much more carefully dialed Gwyneth's cell. After one ring, he got a recording of her droning, pretentious tone: "This is Gwyneth, I'm busy creating important works of art, so leave a message..."
Melvin's frown was incised and tense. He wanted to suggest that her first gallery opening could appropriately be held in the back of a garbage truck, but...he didn't. Instead, he said, "I couldn't find a fast food place so I'm heading back. There's no fast food out here so it's going to have to be more Chinese or pizza. Call me back and let me know which," and then he hung up in self-contained disgust.
An hour up and then an hour back and now another 45 minutes to the pizza place and another 45 minutes back—just for lunch.
I'm blowing the whole day for my father's nutty wife. How am I ever going to get my article written?
I'm blowing the whole day for my father's nutty wife. How am I ever going to get my article written?
His mood was spoiled already.
He drove all the way back down the county highway. His ass hurt from sitting in the seat for so long. A half mile up the road, he spied a hitchhiker going his way. It was a girl in shorts and a white top, slim, long dark hair.
Pick her up, pick her up!
he yelled at himself. Melvin, being the shy type, did not pick up hitchhikers for the simple reason that he was too unsocialized to know what to say to them. With all too much detail, then, he remembered the coolly cruel things Gwyneth had said to him yesterday:
Your father explained everything to me about your...problems. You never developed the way most normal, healthy people develop. You're sheltered, you're shy, there's no common ground between your psychological makeup and the regular world...
Then:
Pick her up, pick her up!
he yelled at himself. Melvin, being the shy type, did not pick up hitchhikers for the simple reason that he was too unsocialized to know what to say to them. With all too much detail, then, he remembered the coolly cruel things Gwyneth had said to him yesterday:
Your father explained everything to me about your...problems. You never developed the way most normal, healthy people develop. You're sheltered, you're shy, there's no common ground between your psychological makeup and the regular world...
Then:
I'll show her,
he determined.
No common ground with the regular world, huh?
he determined.
No common ground with the regular world, huh?
Melvin decided to pick up the hitchhiker.
From afar, she looked good, and closer up?
Not so good.
It was Squirrelly.
He rolled down the window and pulled up next to her. "Hi, Squirrelly! Remember me?"
"Oh, fuck yeah sure, hi!" She seemed elated that he'd stopped. She hopped in: dirty, corpse-white, and dull-eyed...but perky as ever. "Oh, shit man, man, thanks for the ride. Lemme tell ya, it is a motherfuckin' BITCH trying to get a ride on this bumfuck road."
"So how have you been?" Melvin asked because, well, it seemed appropriate to field an interest in her well-being, and what made him feel terrific was that he didn't feel the least bit nervous picking her up and talking to her. Better still, she was talking back to him!
"Me? Oh, man, yesterday I was stringing so bad I threw up all that great Chinese food you gave me, then Chopper and his boys show up and I wound up OD-ing on
some
fuckin' shit he called an Eight Ball, man, I don't know
what
the fuck it was but it wasn't no Eight Ball, and then Chopper got all pissed off and punched me in the stomach 'cos I passed out when he was cornholing me, and then I had a nightmare that the devil was roasting me in a big-ass brick oven..but, shit, man, I'm doing okay. How about you?"
some
fuckin' shit he called an Eight Ball, man, I don't know
what
the fuck it was but it wasn't no Eight Ball, and then Chopper got all pissed off and punched me in the stomach 'cos I passed out when he was cornholing me, and then I had a nightmare that the devil was roasting me in a big-ass brick oven..but, shit, man, I'm doing okay. How about you?"
"Oh, I'm fine, Squirrelly." Melvin got back on the highway. "Gee, it's really good to see you."
She looked at him cock-eyed. "It...
is?
" She scratched her head, and a few flakes of dandruff fell. "Oh, well, yeah man, it's really good to see you, too. Shit, yeah, okay, yeah I know, you must want another blowjob like yesterday so—oh, shit, well, I didn't really quite give ya one 'cos you came in your pants, but yeah, shit, man, yeah, I'll blow you for, like, twenty bucks?" Her eyes looked dully hopeful. "Or maybe, like, even forty!"
is?
" She scratched her head, and a few flakes of dandruff fell. "Oh, well, yeah man, it's really good to see you, too. Shit, yeah, okay, yeah I know, you must want another blowjob like yesterday so—oh, shit, well, I didn't really quite give ya one 'cos you came in your pants, but yeah, shit, man, yeah, I'll blow you for, like, twenty bucks?" Her eyes looked dully hopeful. "Or maybe, like, even forty!"
Melvin was waylaid. It didn't matter that she was a raddled, drug-addicted prostitute. He was talking to her, he was
interacting.
And it was easy!
interacting.
And it was easy!
The shitty day was getting better again.
She's offering oral sex for money and, given the benefit of her obvious experience, she probably does it with some considerable proficiency.
And there was no way he'd come too soon this time. He'd had four or five orgasms in the last 24 hours! "That would be great, Squirrelly, but...can I ask you something first?"
She's offering oral sex for money and, given the benefit of her obvious experience, she probably does it with some considerable proficiency.
And there was no way he'd come too soon this time. He'd had four or five orgasms in the last 24 hours! "That would be great, Squirrelly, but...can I ask you something first?"
"Fuck, yeah, man." She scratched her crotch through the dirty cutoff jeans. "What?"
It had all clicked in Melvin's mind just that second. "Remember yesterday when you were telling me about your sister?"
"Oh, yeah, man, Spooky. Man, they cut her fuckin' arms off, man, Vinchetti's people, and used her for kinks and scats. Fucked up shit, man. They were a bunch'a SICK motherfuckers, and then they probably snuffed her out."
"Yes, yes, and that's all very tragic, but didn't you say something like your sister stayed in the house I'm renting? And she heard something on the radio?"
"Yeah, sure. They took her up there for a flick like over five fuckin' years ago before she disappeared. A couple of Vinchetti's jobbers. Man, these were hardcore motherfuckers Vinch had doing this shit but Spooky said they were all
scared shitless
after one night in that fuckin' house. They kept hearing this weird music from a long time ago, some radio station from the '70s but this was in the fuckin' '90s, man. And there wasn't a radio in the house anyfuckingwhere."
scared shitless
after one night in that fuckin' house. They kept hearing this weird music from a long time ago, some radio station from the '70s but this was in the fuckin' '90s, man. And there wasn't a radio in the house anyfuckingwhere."
Melvin's sense of curiosity played with that one.
Hmmm.
Hmmm.
"'Cos it was in the '70s when that kid went nuts up there and killed everybody with an ax. Killed two junkie flick chicks and two of Vinchetti's most balls-to-the-wall hit men. Chopped 'em up like they were a pile of sticks. And then the guy disappeared."
More cogitation. "And your sister said she saw a ghost?"
"They all did, shit. And not a ghost, ghosts, man. They'd see 'em walking around and hear them talking, the chicks that got chopped up."
How could he not remember his nightmare last night? "How many women—er, chicks? Was it two?"
"Yeah, man, I think it was. And, shit, they wrote shit on the walls or windows or some shit," Spooky said.
And were they now writing "shit" on Melvin's laptop?
Squirrelly lurched forward intently, placed a warm, dirty hand on Melvin's thigh. Now some mode of excitement was trying to glimmer through the pallid glaze in her eyes. "Shit, man, why you askin' me this shit? Have you seen 'em, too?"
Melvin had difficulty calculating an answer.
I do not believe in ghosts,
he affirmed to himself.
Ghosts are creations of human fancy and the primordial instinct to tell stories and make one appear more interesting by making the story sound more interesting. Ghosts are a contradiction of logic and all legitimate scientific theory.
"Well," he said, "some weird things are happening, that's all. Things that seem strangely coincidental. I don't for a minute believe that there are ghosts in the house. I don't believe in ghosts, period."
I do not believe in ghosts,
he affirmed to himself.
Ghosts are creations of human fancy and the primordial instinct to tell stories and make one appear more interesting by making the story sound more interesting. Ghosts are a contradiction of logic and all legitimate scientific theory.
"Well," he said, "some weird things are happening, that's all. Things that seem strangely coincidental. I don't for a minute believe that there are ghosts in the house. I don't believe in ghosts, period."
Squirrelly's brow rose.
"Does the name Leonard D'arava mean anything to you?" he asked after the long pause.
"Leonard who? Aw, fuck no, man. I don't know no Leonard and shit, if he's some john who told you I ripped him off, he's full'a fuckin'
shit,
man. I mean, I've ripped off johns a few times, sure, but only if they deserve it. Shit, man, you wouldn't believe some of the shit these sick creeps try to pull on a girl, like this one guy who wanted to fuck me with his little girl's Ken doll and then there was this fuckin' chump from Jersey—he wanted me to put gerbils up his ass and give him head while I'm wearing a Santa suit! So—"
shit,
man. I mean, I've ripped off johns a few times, sure, but only if they deserve it. Shit, man, you wouldn't believe some of the shit these sick creeps try to pull on a girl, like this one guy who wanted to fuck me with his little girl's Ken doll and then there was this fuckin' chump from Jersey—he wanted me to put gerbils up his ass and give him head while I'm wearing a Santa suit! So—"
"No, no, Squirrelly, it's nothing like that. Nobody's told me anything about you. I just wondered if you'd heard the name."
She scratched at a scab just under the lip of her top. "Naw, don't know no Leonard. Well, shit, one of Chopper's friends who rode with the D's was named Leonard, I think, but he got chainsawed by Mexicans for selling brown skag on some other dealer's turf. Couldn't be who you mean 'cos that happened a couple of years ago and it was down in fuckin' Florida, man. Chopper and the D's run dope on their Harleys from there to here all the time. But anyway, like you were saying, you don't believe in ghosts and that's cool, but maybe you will real soon 'cos, shit, the shit that went on in that house you're renting is some of the worst shit in the fuckin' world, man. Ask me, you're out'a your fuckin' mind to stay there. You there by yourself?"
"No, I'm with, well," he hesitated. "A girl, but she's my fath—"
"Fuck, man!" she laughed. "You got your girlfriend up in
that
horror house! It's like a fuckin' garbage can at a butcher shop! You got balls, man! That place is a fuckin'
graveyard,
man!"
that
horror house! It's like a fuckin' garbage can at a butcher shop! You got balls, man! That place is a fuckin'
graveyard,
man!"
"What do you mean?"
"It was a body-dump for the mob!" Squirrelly found the whole scene nervously hilarious. "Since way, way back. Vinch'd plant stoolies and snuff bodies there all the time. And those two scat chicks and hitters who got chopped up? They're buried there too, the pieces, I mean, plus a lot of the animals."
Melvin gripped the wheel harder, enthused. "Animals?"
"Oh, fuck, yeah. I told you yesterday, that place was a snuff-house, but they also made scats and wet-flicks, nek-flicks, and a whole motherfuckin'
shitload
of fuckin' animal movies, man. Dogs, goats, horses." She scratched her armpit. "Pigs."
shitload
of fuckin' animal movies, man. Dogs, goats, horses." She scratched her armpit. "Pigs."
Pigs...
That animal skull,
he recalled.
Gwyneth said it might be from a pig.
he recalled.
Gwyneth said it might be from a pig.
Squirrelly's bare, white, and very bony shoulders hunched up; she hugged herself as if chilled. "All this fuckin' creepy spook-talk is fuckin' creepin' me out, man. Let's not talk about that gore-house any more..." An errant hand came to her fat-less midriff. "Hey, you got any food? I'm fuckin' seein' things I'm so hungry."
"I'm sorry, I don't have anything in the truck, but I'll buy you a pizza. I'm going to that shopping center I picked you up at yesterday."
"Oh, that fuckin' rocks, man, 'cos that's where I'm heading too!" She put her hand back on his thigh, inched it right to the crotch, and squeezed. "You want that blowjob now, for, like forty? I'll do your balls and everything, floss my teeth with your dick hair if you want, and you can come in my mouth and I'll even swallow. Some guys like me to play with it in my mouth or half-swallow and snort it out my nose. I can do that, too, no shit. Come in my face, come in my hair, come on my tits, come on my feet, whatever you want. Shit, man, there was this one guy used to pick me up in Utica who'd come in my ear! No shit!"
Though these variations on a theme didn't interest Melvin, the distractions collapsed on his focus. An offer for oral sex, something he'd never experienced in his life, he'd only dreamed about. And for only forty dollars! That would definitely refurbish some of his spoiled mood. But then a question itched, a technical ponder so to speak. Melvin wanted to lose his male virginity like about as bad as the Japanese wanted to lose the U.S. Marines on Iwo Jima, but...would oral sex facilitate that? Would that
count?
Or could he only truly be deprived of the humiliating tag of male virginity by intercourse?
count?
Or could he only truly be deprived of the humiliating tag of male virginity by intercourse?
"What about coitus?" he asked perkily.
"Huh?"
"Intercourse—you know?"
Her eyebrows shot up. "Oh, you mean you wanna
fuck?
Fuck yeah, man, you can fuck the shit out of me for...fifty dollars? Or maybe even...sixty!"
fuck?
Fuck yeah, man, you can fuck the shit out of me for...fifty dollars? Or maybe even...sixty!"
"Oh, let's do that!" Melvin said. He gave her a $100 bill.
She skimmed off her top in a flash, giddy. "You rock, man! Shit, I'll fuck your balls out your dick-hole! And you can take all the time you want. And since you gave me so much extra you can even ass-fuck me!"
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