Drama Dolls: A Novel: [Dark, Suspenseful, Fast-paced, Exhilarating] (8 page)

Laughter from the boys rang into the air. The noise traveled through the atmosphere and into Jeffrey’s house. Off key, collectively, they sang.

There was a loud bang. Alex’s friend fell to the ground after jumping up and down into a garbage can. The singing transformed into hilarity.

Their voices raised, the sound was getting louder and louder.

Inside the kitchen, Jeffrey looked out the window to the ruckus’s direction. Standing still, his arms on his hips, the silently fuming husband did not hear his wife slink up behind him. “They’re having fun, Jeffrey,” she said. “Just let them be.”

Hid body tensing, nostrils flared, Jeffrey said, “How do they even know this song? How old are they, like sixteen?”

His wife, shaking her head, said, “Silly husband. You were listening to the Doors and Queen at their age.” Jeffrey didn’t budge. His non-action prompted Her to rub her hand up and down his back. “I think those boys are a lot like you were. So, give them a break and just let them be.”

Beer cans shot out of the garage. The tin material jangling on the street. A bottle of Miller Lite rolled down the slope of the driveway. Followed by another. Crushed Bud cans flung out like saucers. Some landed in a tree. Others in the yard. One spinning so fast it curved from the velocity and nearly hit a parked car’s windshield.

A long haired boy with a smoke hanging from his lips ran out of the garage. Trash can in hand, he sat it upright in the middle of the driveway where the slope evened out.

A game was happening.

“Whoever can make the most cans,” he said, his Camel falling out of his mouth. Reaching down to retrieve the cigarette, he stuck it behind his ear. “The most cans in the garbage wins.”

A team of Bud cans whizzed out into the driveway. Coors saucers followed. The clinking was a snare drum at times. Round makeshift coasters on the cement. The sloping pavement looked like an indoor rock climbing wall with the crushed aluminum placed sporadically around the lot.

Following the screams of enjoyment, Jeffrey displayed his presence. Standing in the driveway, arms crossed, Jeffrey stared down the group.

The boys slowly halted their actions. One of the boys ran to the radio and turned it down. The music softly fading out into the next.

“Thank you,” Jeffrey said. He looked out into the driveway and said, “I expect this mess will be cleaned up before your parents get home?”

Alex nodded. His friends nodded. One boy laughed.

Jeffrey stood a few more moments, a look of disappointment on his face. He said, “Very good.”

With Metallica blasting from the radio, the song “One” with its double bass drum pounding through the boys’ chests, the long-haired boy started to bang his head. Another joined in and played air guitar.

Jeffrey shook his head and walked back to his house.

There was never communication after the incident. The only exchange was the polite head nod entering and exiting the house.

----------

The silence becoming awkward, Alex shrugged. “Cool.” He offered up the pot and the three killed the pipe. For Jeffrey, the night was continuing to be a good one. Without wasting any time, the trio piled into the Corvette. Jeffrey revved the engine, the feeling of man testicles hitting them in the face.

“Fucking awesome!” the shorter boy said. The windows rolled down, Alex and the shorter boy were sharing a bucket seat. Their arms hanging out the car’s window, the teenagers could not wait to see what the car could do.

Forcefully stepping down on the gas pedal, the car peeled out of the parking spot. Nearly hitting the curbs along the boulevard, the sports car fishtailed for a half block and then eventually straightened out. The late hour contributed to the streets being empty. Every stretch of straight roads, Jeffrey floored it, reaching high speeds he would have never attained in his Corolla.

The shorter boy turned on the Bose stereo. The volume, high enough to hear music but low enough to make out words, caused the young potheads to look at Jeffrey.

Feeling the stares on the side of his neck, Jeffrey turned up the volume. Inside the CD player was a Steve Miller collection. Guitar riffs pushing out of the Bose speakers, the sound filled the inside of the ‘Vette. The joyriders rocked out to the music.

Jeffrey, one hand on the top of the steering wheel, the other out the window tapping the side of the door, sang along with the track.

Alex pumped his fist to the beat and the shorter boy played air drums. The Corvette’s speed accelerating, turning corners effortlessly, Jeffrey felt alive and was not obsessing about Her or Emily or even Lena or William.

Running through a four way stop sign earned their trust. Speeding down weaving sections of road kept them engaged. Taking a right turn at a highway speed forced Alex to extend his arm out the window. His fingers making devil horns, Alex screamed, “Woo!”

Steve Miller now singing “Take The Money and Run.”

The shorter kid, he just smiled with his mouth open. The fast motion of the car, the frequent turns, and the fact that he was higher than a kite, they all contributed to him leaning over Alex, stretching his upper body out so that his head could reach out the window, and then hurling out into the atmosphere at ninety five miles per hour.

Hearing the jerking of the shorter boy’s body go into a full blown seizure of vomiting, Jeffrey sped up, surpassing the one hundred miles per hour mark.

The shorter boy, in between BOO LAHs and inverted swallows, said, “Slow down!”

Leaning as close to the middle as possible, away from the window, Alex said, “No! Speed up!”

And Jeffrey, attempting to not have vomit splattered on the side of his ‘Vette, stepped down on the pedal so hard the ball of his foot began to cramp.

The warm air entering the car hit each joyrider in the face.

The shorter boy’s vision became blurry. His head was floating. Eyelids falling down over his eyeballs. Alex, leaning into Jeffrey, watched his buddy judder into a frenzy. Watching the convulsing boy disco centipede in mid-air, Alex couldn’t help but laugh.

The car slowed down to a highway speed. The car approached a business district.

The shorter boy’s vomit now a dry heave, with his mouth sticky and his throat dry, he slowly started to feel better. Vision restoring slowly, the shorter boy could identify his surroundings.

A gas station was in sight. A faint smell of cheeseburgers lingered in the car. Alex’s lips curled downward. He said, “Fucking gross, dude.”

The shorter boy, swallowing until he built enough saliva, said, “Sorry. That was from this afternoon.”

Pulling into a parking spot, Jeffrey said, “Who needs beer?”

Squished into one seat, the shorter boy, his thighs on top of each other, said, “Beer!” Alex just laughed. The post-puker boy, turning to Alex said, “What? My stomach is empty now.”

“Let me guess,” Jeffrey said, “Bud? Miller Lite? Coors?”

Exiting the car, the shorter boy slid off Alex to stretch his legs. He said, “Whatever you buy, I’ll drink it.”

Jeffrey, anxious to hang out, said, “Sounds good.” He disappeared into the store.

Alex, sitting shotgun, checked out the car’s interior. Looking over at the dashboard, the steering wheel’s center with the Corvette logo, he admired the car’s gauges.

Leaning back toward the passenger seat, Alex grabbed the stick shift. Talking to himself, he said, “Nice.”

Opening up the glove compartment, Alex found a tube of lipstick. Next to it, a tiny makeup pouch zipped closed. He twisted the base of the lipstick and watched it extend upward. Replacing the tube, he reached for the makeup pouch.

“What do you got there?” the shorter boy said.

Removing his hand, closing the glove compartment, Alex said, “Nothing.”

“Wasn’t sure what you wanted so I bought all three,” Jeffrey said, emerging from the storefront. A six pack of bottles each, Jeffrey handed them to the shorter boy and walked around to the driver’s side.

Slithering in the car, both hands filled with alcohol, the shorter boy twisted off a bottle cap and handed the beer to Alex. He reached for another one, removed the cap and then handed it to Jeffrey.

“Thank you kind sir,” Jeffrey said. Taking a swig of the beer, Jeffrey licked his lips and said, “Ahh!”

Alex held up his Miller Lite. Both Jeffrey and the shorter boy clanked their bottles together. The three toasting to a good night.

Pulling out of the parking lot, the Corvette racing down side streets, the passengers downed their drinks.

“Where we going?” Alex said.

Turning down random streets, cutting through various neighborhoods of houses, Jeffrey said, “A place I used to go to with my wife.”

Alex and the shorter boy looked at each other. The shorter boy, coming down from his high, feeling a bit nervous, said, “You’re not going to want to have sex with us, are you?”

Jeffrey laughed out loud. His beer half gone, he said, “No, it’s just a cool view of the sunrise.”

“Why would we want—”

Alex nudged his friend.

The shorter boy, stopping in mid-sentence, looked at Alex.

And the neighbor kid, he did nothing but shake his head.

Steve Miller played underneath the quietness. The car cruising toward the lookout point, Jeffrey downed the rest of his bottle. He said, “I’d just think you’d like the view.” Flinging the bottle out the window, Jeffrey floored it.

Alex, up for anything at this hour, also coming off his buzz, said, “No man. Sounds cool.”

Looking over at Alex, Jeffrey flashed a smile. Turning up the volume, Jeffrey continued the drive. The ‘Vette’s speed well above the limit.

The sunrise made Jeffrey happy. Smiling into the giant orange glow rising up the sky, the three boys at heart sat back in their seats, drinking beer, and enjoyed the scenery.

Each down from his respective marijuana buzz, the trio sat in silence, watching the ball of fire expand into the horizon.

Alex, taking a swig of his Bud Light, said, “Sorry to hear about your wife.” Swallowing the beer, he said, “That must be tough.”

The shorter boy, his lips pursed, nodded his head in agreement.

And Jeffrey, squinting his eyes as the sun’s rays entered into the car from the windshield, said, “I appreciate it.” Raising his beer bottle, inciting a semi-toast, he said, “I’m sorry for giving you and your friends shit that time in the garage.” Alex and the shorter boy raised their bottles. Jeffrey, his hand still in the air in front of him, said, “You guys were just being kids. I had no right.”

The sun rose higher into the sky. The darkness turning into dawn.

The three clanked their bottles together, sitting back to watch the sun brighten the atmosphere.

Jeffrey, leaning back into his seat, said, “Truce?”

“Truce,” Alex said.

----------

Monday:

SPANNING HALF THE DINER’S front was a large window. Through it, William could be seen drinking coffee. He sat alone, an empty spot in front of him. A spot set with a napkin, fork and spoon, and upside down coffee cup.

He checked his watch and then looked at Jeffrey through the glare as he entered the establishment. Around the diner, patrons ate eggs, bacon, and toast. Drinking orange juice while engaging in conversation. There were chicken fried steaks on hot plates. Hash browns with shredded cheese burnt on top. Some customers had hot coffee in mugs. Families, they got together for a morning tradition.

Mounted on brackets were flat screen televisions. Broadcasting throughout the breakfast joint was the local newscast. A news anchor threw the newscast over to the weatherman, who was standing in front of the map of the local area.

He was telling the viewers that the next several days would be dry and sunny. “So, if you’re thinking about heading to the pool, the entire week looks perfect,” the meteorologist said. “Later on, I’ll have your seven day forecast.”

A waitress working a section with no empty tables, she carried breakfast dishes on her serving tray. She dropped the meals to various customers, receiving smiles as her tray lightened with each step. Meandering toward William and Jeffrey’s area, she flipped her tiny notepad for a clear space.

Rushed, sitting opposite of William, Jeffrey quickly flipped over his coffee cup. The server asked the new diner what he wanted to drink. “Coffee,” Jeffrey said. “I definitely need coffee.” She nodded without looking at him. Getting situated, sinking into the booth’s cushion, Jeffrey made himself comfortable.

William eyed his counterpart with a curious expression. His eyebrows lowered. Taking a quick look around the diner to make sure no one was staring, William’s attention returned to Jeffrey.

A thick coat of Russian Red lip gloss was splattered across Jeffrey’s lips. Pale pink blush over a warm foundation that hid his imperfections, it was evenly spread across Jeffrey’s cheeks. His hair combed back behind his ears, you could see the outline of foundation around Jeffrey’s hair line.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said.

Sipping his cup, avoiding Jeffrey’s gaze, William stared in his direction. He stared through his friend. Jeffrey’s expression was blank. “You look like shit,” William said. “You OK?”

When the news program returned from commercial, the anchor teased a story about a breakin. Jeffrey slapped William’s hand and then listened in on the newscast. His neck turned sharply to the television, but soon after, Jeffrey’s head returned to William to reduce the invisible stares on the burglars.

Irritated with the slap, William returned the favor, lightly tapping the top of Jeffrey’s knuckles.

Enlarging his eyes, inconspicuously motioning to the television with his neck, Jeffrey whispered, “Listen.”

The anchor was saying how a late night breakin resulted in many valuables being stolen from a local house. The owner of the house, Melissa Pierce, said that most of the items taken were valuables from her grandmother. “I can’t believe someone would steal this stuff,” she said into the camera. Framed in the left center of the screen, she said, “These items mean nothing to them but a great deal to my family.” She began to cry and then the camera cut back to the anchor in the studio.

Approaching the pair of Dolls with a carafe in one hand, the waitress, her lips curled to hold in a smile, cheeks with half dimples, poured the hot drink into Jeffrey’s cup. A trembling hand, the coffee an unsteady stream, the server nearly overfilled the mug.

“Are you going to eat?” she said to Jeffrey. Her voice high and melodic, she was holding in a laugh. Her customer waving her off, the server moved on. Hitting her thigh against the table, she excused herself, slowly receding into the kitchen. A din of faint laughter erupted in the distance.

“Did you hear that?” Jeffrey said.

“Hear what?”

Above them, coming from the television, the anchor was saying that if you have any information on the burglary to contact your local police department.

Surprised at the calmness of William, Jeffrey threw up his hands, palms out in the air.

“What? That?”

Jeffrey nodded his head up and down in a rapid pace. He drank his coffee, his eyes still staring into William’s with anxiousness.

William, cupping his glass with his hand, he said, “I don’t think the police will find the burglars.” Calm in his demeanor, he shrugged languidly.

Slightly worried about the newscast, but relieved that William was not exhibiting any worry whatsoever, Jeffrey drank his coffee. Holding the glass up to his mouth, his eyes panning left to right, he said, “I haven’t slept.”

Watching the door to the kitchen swing, William said, “I can tell.”

William was blurry in this state. Rubbing his eyes, Jeffrey said, “Do I have bags?”

Shaking his head slowly, the cup of coffee in hand, William said, “No.”

The long night before hit Jeffrey’s aging body like a train. It could have possibly been the marijuana and alcohol, but staying up all night without sleep had to contribute as well. The previous nights, he had seen a few hours of rest, but gradually, the sleep had become scarce. Jeffrey’s eyes were tired. His eyelids were drooping by the second.

Sniffing, William said, “You smell like pot, dude.”

Smelling his armpits, first the right and then the left, Jeffrey shrugged. “Not sure why.” Inhaling his pit again, right arm straight up to the ceiling, the sleep deprived Jeffrey said, “I don’t smell anything.”

The voice, irritated and crabby, it said, “Everybody’s on to you.”

William, his mouth curled downward, frustrated with his friend, said, “Smell again.” Provoking Jeffrey, William said, “Seriously. You smell like pot.”

Crinkling his nose, Jeffrey sniffed from his right shoulder, down his arm, around the front part of his waist, up his chest, and then down his entire left side. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes to relish in his entire stink of a frame. Holding in his body’s aroma, Jeffrey eventually exhaled through his nose until his body deflated. Opening his eyes, he said, “Nope. Don’t smell anything.”

William rolled his eyes and then looked out into the diner.

----------

Aside from Lena, William was Jeffrey’s only real friend. After She had passed, his free time had increased dramatically. All the extra hours translated into reverting back to old habits. Days of sleeping became days of drinking became days of online surfing. He scoured porno sites. All sorts. A month long trial period led to downloading photos and videos on his hard drive. There were pop-up windows for other sites that whet his appetite. Other services. Jeffrey, he searched for adult toys the shape of film star vaginas.

William, conversely, was part of a virtual club. A fetish site. Dressing up in women’s clothing and chatting online via webcam. Free trial just for signing up.

Discovering the fetish site through random searches, Jeffrey had set up an account, logging him in to a whole new life. Since he was dealing with the pain of his past existence, a brand spanking new reality was appealing.

Before the night could turn to day, Jeffrey found himself ordering outfits from websites specializing in women’s attire. He purchased from sites that William shared. The sites, they appeared on Jeffrey’s screen as he clicked the hyperlinks. On the web storefronts were outfits ranging from office workers to nurses to cheerleaders to nuns.

Soon, Jeffrey’s credit card statement was showing hundreds of dollars in women’s clothing. Momentarily, his credit card statement was showing hundreds of dollars in adult videos and sex toys. Concealed, unmarked boxes appearing on his front door step each week, Jeffrey’s life without Her was beginning.

----------

“This just in,” the anchor said on the television. “The breakin has been solved.” Jeffrey’s head jerked up to the program. “Police officials say the burglars were local kids in the area looking for presents for their parents.” Footage of the neighborhood was shown on the screen. Random shots of street signs nearby, houses in the area, and police officers circled in a group. When the videotape ran its course, the anchor returned on camera. “The owner said she feels sorry for the kids and hopes they learn their lesson that robbing from a person to help out another is not right.”

The camera zoomed out to include the weatherman, who was now sitting next to the anchor. “Looks like we have a Robin Hood situation,” the anchor said.

Laughing, the weatherman said, “Yeah, let’s hope those kids learn a valuable lesson.” Turning to the camera, the angle shot zooming in on his face, the meteorologist said, “Now, going from Robin Hood to
your
neighborhood, but what can I say but the weather for the foreseeable future will be absolutely fabulous.”

Jeffrey’s shoulders sank. He stared at the broadcast until it went into commercials.

William, reeling Jeffrey back into reality, said in a haughty tone, “Are you sure you don’t smell anything?” He raised his cup to his mouth.

And Jeffrey, losing interest in the television altogether, said, “I also haven’t had a chance to shower yet.”

The mug’s rim covering his face, William did his best to avoid eye contact. There was a spoon nearby hitting a plate. A baby crying in the distance. The restroom door closing and then latching. Whatever they were, William noticed the distractions. Every distraction.

Each waitress who emerged from the kitchen, William could tell what the order was on her tray. A stack of pancakes with blueberry syrup caught his eyes. A bowl of fruit on the side of a Denver omelet. Anything held his attention.

The heavyset customer in the tan suit with his tie loosened, William counted a third orange juice. A second helping of pancakes, empty butter containers on the edge of the table, the Drama Doll took note.

Glancing over the entire restaurant, his attention coming to, William said, “You really need to get some sleep.”

Before Jeffrey could answer, William turned his head and watched a mother care for her infant child. She picked him up from his booster seat in order to wipe his face. The little boy squirmed, his head moving left to right to avoid the washcloth. Fighting with her son, the mother held his chin with her free hand, scrubbing with the other. The boy winced, his eyes closed. “Stay still,” the mother said.

“Not after this coffee,” Jeffrey said, holding up the glass. Sipping the drink, the warmth tickled his throat. The stares around the diner were harsh. Heaviness upon him. The two of them, so much to say when dressed up as Drama Dolls, the regular old men could not hold a conversation.

The voice of sarcastic reason, it was paranoid. It said, “Everybody’s looking at us.”

Finally, William, he said, “What time is, uh, Lena coming?” He swallowed.

Jeffrey opened his mouth to speak. But then, Lena entered the establishment. Sliding in next to Jeffrey, her tiny waist touching his, Lena said, “Lipstick looks great.”

Jeffrey and Lena flashed their teeth to each other. Wide smiles. “Thanks,” Jeffrey said. He said, “William didn’t notice.”

Lena cut William a disdainful look.

Mimicking her, Jeffrey sneered at him too.

William, his eyes bouncing from Jeffrey to Lena’s and then back, said, “Staying in character?”

Without a second thought, Jeffrey said, “Just getting ready for tonight.”

A family of six entered. They waited at the front of the diner to be seated. Lined up in a row from tallest to shortest, the father asked for a menu. The waitress assigned to the Drama Dolls’ table, she was dishing out a menu to both mother and father.

“We just need to clean off a table,” she said. Then she swung around the half wall dividing the main room and pay station and collected a five dollar bill that was slid under a plate at a table covered in dirty dishes.

Assisting the busboy, who was collecting plates into a bin, the server wiped down the tablecloth and pushed in the table’s chairs.

After a condescending glare toward Lena, William said, “Oh, we’re doing that?”

Lena sat with a muted expression. Her eyes went wide. She smiled with her teeth, her actual face a replica of her mask face.

Cup in hand, moist lips stained along the rim, slurping the coffee into his mouth, Jeffrey said, “Totally.”

Waving the family members to their seats, the waitress said, “I’ll be right with you to take your orders.”

As the family passed the cheerleaders’ table, the siblings displayed a montage of stares, giggling, and an “Oh my God!” The mother, catching wind of the sight, pulled her youngest in close to her and said, “Shhh!” When the boy continued to laugh, his mother cupped his mouth with her palm.

The server, she swung around Lena, took her order, and then disappeared into the kitchen.

Echoing what Jeffrey replied, Lena said, “Totally.”

Checking the time, Jeffrey, he said, “After breakfast we’ve got an appointment.”

----------

Walking through the house, the assistant was always one or two rooms ahead. Picking up clothes or kicking shoes under the bed, she scrambled last minute in order to show the room’s full beauty. Straightening curtains, wiping off dust with her finger, the assistant put in place anything that jumped out at her.