The Very Last Days of Mr Grey (16 page)

A knock came at the door. “What’s taking so long!”

The creature looked toward the door, its gesture twisting obscenely.

Holy God was that a smile? “No Mauve! Back. Lay in the tub! Get behind the—”

“Maser?” a voice slurred.

“Just a minute.”

The door opened.

Goddammit, Mason thought. He waved his hand through the air at Mauve. He could have been swatting at killer bees. He wasn’t, but he could have been.

It was Emily. “Hey.” She looked around. “What are you doing?”

“Me?” Mason asked.

“No, the monster in the corner.”

Mason’s head snapped to the corner Mauve had been in.

A laugh came from in front of him.

Mason’s head snapped back. She was laughing. That was good.

“Why are you naked?”

“I took a shower.”

“Uh-huh,” she said. “I hope you didn’t leave a mess.”

Mason looked at the shower, blood still staining the sides. Quickly looked back when he saw the huge furry form, and stepped in Emily’s line of sight of it. “I might have left some blood.”

“Kinky. Come on.” She walked up to him, grabbed his hand.

“Let me get dressed.”

“Your towel looks great.”

“I’m serious.”

“All right you prude. But hurry up, your drink’s getting cold.”

“Cold? What’d you make me?”

“Oh. I mean, it’s getting warm. Well, the ice is. I guess the drink is still getting colder.”

“I’ll be right down. Don’t start without me. Or continue. You need to slow down.”

“Okay Mom.” Emily spun, again needlessly, and left, leaving the door open.

Mason shut it. Then he looked at the beast squeezed flat into the shower, its feet protruding far past the protection of the curtain. He shook his head at it. “You’re not any less conspicuous like that.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think she saw you.”

“No one notices me.”

He walked back to pick up his clothes. “Can you not watch?”

“Sorry.” Mauve turned to face the corner.

Now
I
feel bad
, Mason thought.

He put the towel on the sink and shook out his clothes, keeping an eye on the monster. He still wasn’t sure it wasn’t about to attack him. That it wasn’t just tricking him into lowering his guard.

The door opened.

Mason turned and covered himself at the same time.

“Oh,” the woman said. Mason didn’t recognize her.

“Hello,” Mauve said.

“Hi.”

Mason looked between Mauve and the woman. “What are you doing?” he hissed at Mauve.

“I heard you talking,” the woman responded. “Wanted to see what was going on.”

“Nothing. Nothing’s going on.” Mason looked at the woman and then Mauve again.

“You thinking of jumping out that window?”

“What?”

She looked him up and down. “At least give me a chance to convince you not to.”

“You don’t, by chance”—and here, Mason made a wheezing chuckle as if to say, oh hey, I’m not crazy—“see like, a huge monster-like thing standing next to me? Do you?”

“Haven’t heard that one before. So big it’s beside you, eh? Gotta say, my view is obscured.”

“I mean that!” Mason pointed.

Her gaze did not follow.

Mason covered himself again.

“You mean that seven… inch tall purple thing? No, I don’t see that.”

Mason looked at Mauve. “He’s way bigger than seven inches. Unless my perspective is messed up,” Mason mused.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re so funny.” She looked at her drink. “I want to throw this at you, but it’s good, I’m not nearly drunk enough, and I want to drink it.” She looked back up at him. “You’re lucky I’m not the kind of girl that thinks she can have her cake and eat it too.” She downed her drink then threw the empty cup at him. The plastic drink vessel bounced harmlessly off his chest as though he were superman deflecting bullets and clattered to the floor. “I’ll let you get back to your business.”

“I was showering!”

She left.

Mason went to the door and shut and this time had the presence of mind to lock it. Then he dressed very quickly. He was still damp, and the combination with less than clean clothes felt less than pleasant.

At least he had socks.

He stared at the beast.

The beast stared back at him, chewing on its fingers in an awesome display of power. Look how sharp my teeth are, and yet, my fingers are unharmed!

“I’m sorry,” it said, before quickly shoving its fingers back in its mouth.

“Gah! You’re like a— puppy. A begging puppy.”

“Sorry.”

Mason threw up his hands. “So, you have been watching me.”

“Sor—”

“No.” Mason held up a finger. “Don’t say it.”

“Okay. Sor—” It stopped itself. “Hard to not say.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Good lord. Why were you watching me?”

“Apology.”

Mason rubbed his face. “Okay. Accepted. Can we move on now?”

“Sorry.”

Maybe Mason should slap the thing’s nose. There were a few problems with this idea, however. One, and least important, it didn’t appear to have a nose. Two, and far more relevant, it would have made him feel worse. Three, and by far the most important, it had very sharp teeth. Very large, very-sharp-teeth.

“I follow.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. Why? And, from where?”

“Where?”

“Yes, we’re here,” he gestured around. “Where were you before this? Before here?” He pointed at the thing’s feet.

It looked down at its feet, then looked up, raising a finger in a wholly inappropriate gesture. That horrific smile on its face. “I stand under!”

“Great,” Mason said.

“From. Where. Fog from.”

“You’re from fog… A creature of fog. Of course you are. That makes perfect sense.” Mason barely refrained from adding ‘Not!’.

Its nod was enthusiastic.

“Mauve?”

“Mauve,” it nodded, even more enthusiastically.

“And when was
I
in this fog?”

“You not Fog. Foooog scary. Loooots scary.”

“Uh huh. Right.”

“Right. Left!”

“Okay, Mauve, well, I have a party to get to…” He turned and gestured at the closed door, feeling stupid. “Are you going to be… uh, okay? Here?”

“I. Here for help. You free me.”

Oh good
, Mason thought,
so if the thing eats anyone, it’s my fault
. “Splendid.”

It tilted its misshapen head at him.

“Never mind. Okay then, I’m going to the party, then we’ll talk again. Can you, uh, wait out…” He trailed off, realizing there was no way it fit through the bathroom window. “How did you get in here?”

“Folds.”

“That’s not cryptic.”

It stared at him. Quizzically, he thought.

“Can you leave?”

“To Fog,” it said, very frightened, a quaver in its voice.

An unbidden tear came to Mason’s eye. He willed it not to fall. “No, just, outside will do.”

The thing nodded, and disappeared.

“Uhhh,” Mason said to the empty room.

He went to the window, peered out. No sign of it below. Or in the trees for that matter. It was dark out, though.

He left the bathroom and walked down the stairs, all the while thinking,
How did I get here?

In the kitchen, Emily was waiting with his drink, and when he saw her another voice added,
This is not my house. My lovely wife.

She was talking with someone. They both turned when he entered. “Hey again,” the woman said.

Mason closed his eyes and sighed. “Hi.”

Emily frowned. “You know each other?”

The woman smiled. “We crossed paths—in the bathroom.”

Emily’s frown deepened. She walked to Mason and gave him his drink. “Here. I made it just for you.” She pressed it into his chest.

He took it. “Thanks?”

“Anything else?” she asked sharply.

He had been looking at the other woman, now he looked at Emily. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re hitting on chicks at my party? Really? In my sister’s—” She gritted her teeth, glaring at him.

“Hey, Creepy—”

She shook her head. “Don’t.” She looked at the other woman, then at Mason. “Maybe you should go.”

“Pen—” he stopped himself. She gave him a sharp look, but said nothing. Neither did he. It was an honest mistake. But it made him think of Isla.

He nodded. “Can I use your car?”

She sighed. Then she took his drink, sipped it. “You know where the keys are. You should wait for my dad to get back. You can go socialize while you wait. With guys!”

Mason grinned. “I’m sorry Scary. I’ll take you for eggs tomorrow.”

A smile struggled to break through her grim expression. “They better not be white.”

“Oh, they’ll be green.”

She hugged him, with the sudden change in emotional state only the very young, or the very drunk, possess. He felt the drink splash on his back, but said nothing. You win some, you lose some.

“I’m still mad at you.” She looked at the woman. “And you”—she pointed with her cup—“I’ll deal with later.”

The woman put up her hands. “Hey, I wasn’t the naked one.”

Emily spun. “You were naked!”

Mason shrugged. “It was warm.”

Emily punched him. “Get out there before I throw this at you.”

Mason smiled. “Okay Scary. Who’s all here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Anyone I should be made aware of?”

She squinted at him. “What are you, my chaperone?”

Mason shrugged.

“Dalton isn’t here. It’s not his fault he’s an ass, he’s only nineteen.”

“So are you.”

“I’m twenty.” Her eyes closed as she said this, and her head nodded, as if to punctuate the sentiment.

“You’re absurd.”

“I’m a little absurd, so would you call me absurd… id… jig… ly…” She frowned. “Hot?”

“You are sweating.”

“I am not!”

Mason grabbed her drink and wiped it across her forehead.

“What was that for?”

“Look at that sweat on your forehead.”

Emily laughed hardily, then her face instantly fell expressionless. “That was so, hilarious,” she said, with an impressive lack of inflection. She grabbed the drink back from Mason.

“Is he coming?”

“Not with me.” She laughed. So did the other woman.

Mason looked at the woman whose name he didn’t know. The back of her hand was to her mouth and she was looking at the floor, laughing.

“Sorry,” Emily said. “No, I didn’t even tell him. I doubt he remembered it was my birthday anyway.”

Mason continued to stare at her.

“He’s not, jeez. Thanks for worrying about me Mom.”

“Someone’s gotta do it. God knows Missus Doyle isn’t.”

She snorted. “I’m gonna tell her you said that.”

“Good, maybe she’ll clean up her act.”

She laughed. “Yeah, maybe she’ll stop letting me watch PG-13 movies.”

Mason shook his head. “They’re messing with your mind.”

She made to throw the drink at him. “Get outta here before I change it about letting you hang out.”

“Jeez, now you’re Scary.”

“Only a little?”

Mason smiled, cast one last glance at the other woman, then headed toward the living room, and into the party.

It felt nice to do something normal. To forget about what he was dealing with, even if it wasn’t for very long. Even if he couldn’t get as drunk as he wanted to right now.

That was probably good though. He didn’t really know anyone here, and in these types of situations, Mason liked being the most sober. Call him pretentious if you like, but it gave him a sense of superiority.

Her parents got back soon after. They were happy to see him, as they always were, though Mason couldn’t figure out why, not after what had happened.

But he was glad for it anyway.

He was in the kitchen with her dad watching him put away bottles of champagne and snacks.

Mr Doyle was older than his own father. His own dad had been twenty-six when Mason was born, and Mr Doyle had been thirty-one, waiting until he was secure in his job before he and Ms Doyle got married. Maybe because of this, he was a lot more relaxed than fathers of daughters Mason knew.

“Mr Doyle—”

“Still?”

Mason shrugged. “It feels weird to call you Atwell.”

The man smiled. “What’s up son?”

“I wanted to borrow Emily’s car.”

Atwell faced him. “Yours break down?”

“Something like that.”

He pressed his lips together, then nodded. “Sure, don’t see why not.” He took out his wallet, and held out a card. When Mason just looked at it, he shook it. “Here.”

“What is that?”

“You’ve never seen a credit card?”

“I mean, for what?”

“Gas. Emily is terrible about filling it up.”

“No, Mr Doyle, that’s fine.”

“Nonsense. Don’t want to miss this party and have to pick you up if you get stranded.” He closed the distance and awkwardly stuffed the card into Mason’s pants pocket.

“Thanks,” Mason said, looking at his pocket. “I doubt I’ll need it.”

Best to be prepared. He slapped Mason’s shoulder. “Now help me put this stuff away.”

When he’d put the stuff away to Mr Doyle’s satisfaction, Mason went to say goodbye to Emily, but stopped in the large doorway to the large living room. He stood there, watching her. She didn’t see him. She was laughing, talking with friends, gesturing wildly. She was so happy.

Mason went to the garage, opened the door, started Emily’s car, and quietly left.

He didn’t notice the car follow him

He normally would park in his spot because, it was his, and he was weird like that. However, his own car was blocking him and he had to park on the street.

Then he was forced to knock on his own door when he discovered it was locked and rediscovered he didn’t have his keys.

Sera came to the door. Her hair was wet.

“Go swimming?” Mason asked, pushing past her.

“Well come in,” she said.

Mason fell onto his couch. “I’m so tired.”

“You sleep a lot.”

Mason stared at her, and contemplated doing many things. Luckily for her, he was tired, so just said, “Did you take a shower?”

“Yes and before you ask, I only looked in your medicine cabinet. What’s the lotion for?”