Zach couldn’t believe it. Another dead body. Not his day. And things were about to get worse. Visiting his parents.
“So, what happened to Martin, sis? I mean, I know what happened to him. Duh. But what do you really think hap—”
“Little ears, Zach!” Zora tugged on her ear, a reminder. “We’ll talk about it after we drop the kids off.”
Zach examined his phone, anything to take his mind off their impending parental show-down.
“You happen to make any phone calls during your, ah…outing last night, Zach?”
“I’m checking…nope, but apparently I recorded something. Hang on…I’ll play it on speaker phone…”
A rustling sound, similar to airplane turbulence. Voices, only Zach’s identifiable. Although damn slurred. So embarrassing. And a woman’s voice in the background, hushed but whiskey deep. Sexy in a way. Fit the woman from what he could remember of her.
“…yur the hottest thang since jaleeponies…heh, no wait…jalopies…no…yur so hot, you could melt—”
“Oh for God’s sake, Zach, turn off the speaker!”
“What? Why? Might be a clue here.”
“Turn it off and give it to me!” Zora released a hand from the steering wheel, held it out to him. With the speaker off, she cupped it to her ear.
“Mommy, no phone while you drive!”
“I know, Justin, but this is a special exception. Now, hush.”
Zach scooted over, shoulder to shoulder with his sister, and listened. More come-on lines, apparently to the mysterious Cat. Even drugged, at the top of his game. Something banged. Footsteps? A key jangled. A door opened and shut.
“…come on feel th’ noiseee! Girrrlzzz rock yur boysssss…” Zach smiled, pumped a fist. Roofied or not, he could still kill his dancing anthem.
Zora sighed, held the phone away from her ear while Zach started the song over again.
“What?”
“You’re singing some stupid rock song. Repeatedly!”
“Yeah! That’s my jam! My song!”
“Zach, you can’t sing. Um…I’m almost afraid to ask, but…were you dancing for your abductor?”
He scratched his head, closed his eyes. Searching the dusty attic of his muddled mind. A memory unfolded and swirled into focus…
* * *
“…feel the noiseeeeeee! Yeah, baby! Thash…what I’m talkin…bout…”
Zach ended big, the only way he knew how, and tore off his pants. Embellished it with a pelvic thrust. “Bam!”
Sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed, Cat caught his pants. Smiled. “Very nice.”
“Hey…nice is my…whaddaya call it? Middle name.” Zach checked his phone. Wanted to make sure he recorded his performance.
“What’re you doing, Zach?”
“Recordin’ my killer moves…”
“Now we can’t have that.”
In seconds, the large chauffer crossed the room and yanked the phone from Zach’s hands. Shut it off. And pocketed it.
“Hey! Thash my phone!”
“You’ll get it back later,” said Cat.
Stumbling back, Zach banged into the wall. Dizzy.
“Maybe you better lie down, honey.” Cat patted the mattress.
Zach ran, dove onto the bed. “Got more things then…sleep on my mind.”
“I’m sure you do.”
Something didn’t feel right, though. Zach looked around, couldn’t remember how he got there. A dark, kinda crummy hotel room. He had Cat pegged as a sugar-momma, thought she’d go for more upscale digs. Not the hotel of infinite despair.
But, really…how’d I get here?
The last thing he remembered was dropping in the Bone-In’s dressing room.
What’s wrong with me?
Cat stroked his chest, let her hand linger. “Looks to me like you’re not up to much of anything, tiger.”
“Cat and tiger, Cat and tiger…” Struck him as funny. He giggled, his head riding a merry-go-round. “I’m alwaysh up for…fun.”
But for once he didn’t feel like it. And the big guy across the room seriously gave him the creeps.
“Whatever you say.”
“It’sh what I shay.” He sat up, trying to anchor the room down. “Whoa.”
“Just lie down and take a little nap. Plenty of time to play later.” It hadn’t escaped Zach’s attention that Cat had remained dressed, not exactly up for play herself. As he reached for her, the silver-haired giant in the corner jolted, took a step forward. Giving him serious, steely “kill you” eyes.
“Wanna…play, Cat…but does Lurch have to…watch?”
The big guy sneered. Maybe even growled a little. Hard to tell with cartoon mice squeaking in his head.
“What do you want me to do, ma’am?” At nearly seven feet tall, the guy was tightly wound, ready to split the seams of his chauffer’s suit. Or maybe he wanted to split Zach open, the way he glared at him.
“Right now, we just wait, Dennis. Remember the plan.”
“Dennish?” said Zach. “No…wait…really? Dennish?” Clearly European, with an accent thick as his neck, the chauffer didn’t look like a Dennis. Maybe a Boris or something James Bondish like that. “You’re killin’ me here! Dennish?”
Dennis looked less than amused.
“Cat…I think yer hawt…way hawt. But I’mma not…I’m not into…kinky crap. Can Dennish pleash leave?”
Before Cat answered, someone knocked on the door.
“Ah…that’s our final guest. Right on time.”
“Hey…hey…no orgiesh…”
“Be quiet, Zach. It’ll all be over soon.” She stood, fluffed her hair. Primping. “Get ready, Dennis.”
Silently, Dennis moved beside the door, his back against the wall. Cat opened the door. Two old men stood in the hallway. Maybe just one old guy but he wouldn’t stand still, shaking and shimmering like a paint-mixing machine.
Their voices rose, a heated argument.
But to Zach, it sounded like “rar, rar, blar, rar, dammit!”
Dennis stepped out of the shadows. Grabbed the old guy, lifting him off his feet.
Cat smiled, a canary eating grin.
Things just got weird. “Hey…hey…” Zach swung a leg over the bed. When he stood, his legs turned into rubber, snapping him back into bed. “Whash goin’…on?”
Dennis raised a fist, brought it down. Jabbed a hypodermic needle into the old man’s neck.
“Shtop…I mean, strop…hey…”
The old man went limp in Dennis’s arms.
Zach’s eyelids pulled down, snapped open, then closed again.
Before the lights turned out for good, Zach muttered, “I’m…not into…kinky shtuff…”
* * *
“‘…kinky stuff.’ Then…I must’ve passed out.”
“That’s all you remember, Zach? Nothing else? Did you get a last name from this ‘Cat?’”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“And can I say…ew. Just…ew.”
“What? Hey, it’s how I roll.”
“Yeah…keep on rolling.”
“I killed the song, though, didn’t I?”
“You butchered it.”
Zach smiled, proud of his sister’s rare compliment.
“Another dead end street, Zach.”
“But…we got a name for the chauffeur. Dennis.” Zach smiled, still amused by the freaky chauffer’s name.
“Sure, that’s great. We’ll just go look up every Dennis in Kansas City.”
“I’m just sayin, that’s all.”
“Fine. I’ll figure something out. But I’ve gotta get the kids to Mom and Dad’s first.”
“Oh, yeah…dropping the kids off.” Like he needed that reminder.
“We’re going to Grandma and Grandpa’s! We’re going to Grandma and—”
“Justin, if you don’t stop shouting, you won’t be going. Capiche?”
“Ka peace.”
“Mom, why don’t we see Grandma and Grandpa more often?” asked Nikki.
Frankly, Zach was fine with seeing them about three times a year: Christmas, Thanksgiving and an annual funeral of some distant relative he’d never heard of before.
“That’s kinda hard to answer, honey,” said Zora. “Sometimes adults have their differences.”
“Huh.”
“Zora, I know we need to get the kids to safety and everything, but—”
“What do we need to be safe from, Mom? From the guy who chased us?”
“—tell me again, why we have to go see Mom and Dad.”
Zora sighed, long and weighty. “We can’t take them with us, Zach! Your play-pals are chasing us!”
“Well, yeah, duh. But, like, why not just get a babysitter or something?”
“Oh, really? Really? So, tell me parent-of-the-year, how’m I supposed to get a babysitter at the last moment? For three kids?” With her hands on the wheel, she glared at Zach. A little too long for his comfort. Especially after the whirlwind ride they’d just survived.
“Um…eyes on the road, sis.”
“Don’t tell me how to drive! My kids have already scared off most of the local babysitters.” She whipped her head around, gave her kids a bitter smile. A scary smile Zach had been on the receiving end of many times. “Precious little monsters. Anyway, as it is, if Phillip wants to go out on the town, we have to set up something months in advance. Our parents are a last resort.”
“Maybe they’re not home.” Wishful thinking.
“Zach, when have you ever known them not to be home? Dad’s few clients come out to their…‘farm,’ while Mom…does whatever it is she does. Putters around in their fields, living off the land. Hippy crap.”
“Growing their weed,” Zach added quietly. Just not quietly enough.
“What? Grandma and Grandpa do drugs?” hollered Nikki.
“Way to go, Zach. No, honey…um, it’s for medicinal purposes.”
Zach snorted. “Yep, medicinal purposes, sure.”
“Anyway…no, I don’t agree with their lifestyles. That’s why we don’t visit often. But this is a special occasion, kids!” Zach admired his sister’s effort at putting a positive spin on the situation. Too bad she couldn’t manage some spin control for him. “You’ll enjoy your visit.”
“Just don’t get in the hot-tub with them.”
“Zach!”
“Sorry, kids, crap, sorry.”
Growing up, Zach dreaded the family “communal baths.” Dad had read something about Japanese families taking baths together, so in his hippy way, he thought of it as getting back to nature. Naked, of course. Usually, Zach liked to reserve his nudity for the dance stage. Normal stuff. But definitely not cool for family time.
Zach turned around, put a hand beside his mouth, and stage-whispered, “Really, though, guys…don’t get in the hot tub.”
He couldn’t believe his sister chuckled. But he always could make her laugh. It sounded good, the first moment of relief they’d had all day.
“Got it, no hot tubs,” said Nikki.
“No hot tubs,” sang Justin.
“Good Gawd,” said Zora.
“Hey, um, sis?”
“What?”
“You mind if I stay in the car? When you take the kids inside?”
For a second, Zora’s foot hit the brake, jerking them forward. “Oh no. Ohhh no! You’ve got to be kidding me! It’s because of your big, stupid, sloppy mess—”
“I’m not sloppy.”
“…that we’re going out there in the first place! I’m not about to take this on by myself! Besides…you’re the golden boy. Can’t do any wrong in Mom and Dad’s eyes. While they thought I was a ‘sell-out to the Man’ when I landed my security gig. Whereas you…you…gah!”
“Just a thought.”
“A first.”
“But, you know, really…Mom and Dad, um, think I work with the Kansas City Ballet. It’s hard enough coming up with excuses all the time why they can’t come see me perform.”
“Yeah…wouldn’t that be an eye-opener?”
“Oh, whatever. Maybe I should just tell them the truth. They’ve always prided themselves on being cool leftwing hippies. They’d probably understand. Maybe even appreciate my artistry.”
Zora guffawed, droplets of spit smacking the windshield. “Yeah, sure, why not? Your ‘artistry.’ Maybe you can give Mom a lap-dance.”
“Gross, sis.”
“Mommy, what’s a lap dance?”
“Something that’s demeaning and gross and should be illegal, sweetheart.”
“What’s dem-een—”
“Never mind. The grown-ups are talking. Yeah, Zach, our parents always claim they’re liberals. But the only thing ‘left’ about them is their limbs. And their penchant for communal baths and weed. At heart, they’re as conservative as they come.”
“Whatever…” Zach screeched a finger down the passenger window. Not to be left out of the fun, Justin conducted finger music on his window.
“Stop it, Justin.”
Screeee-tump…
“I just sometimes think my life would be easier if I could level with them, sis. You know, lay it out there, as Dad used to say.”
“Okay…first of all, if your life’s so hard, it’s because you make it that way. With your choices.”
“What’s wrong with my choices?”
“Well, I dunno, let’s see…hmm, have you forgotten the mess you’re in?”
“Not my fault.”
“Oh, for… If you weren’t a…” She put up annoying finger quotes and lowered her voice. “…‘male dancing entertainer,’ none of this crap would’ve ever happened.”
“You just don’t understand.”
“That’s right. I just don’t understand. You know what I do understand?”
“What?”
“Shut up, that’s what.”
On the outskirts of town, Zora whipped the van into a desolate convenience store parking lot. Apparently a last minute decision. Maybe she’d been doing a few too many last minute decisions behind the wheel recently.
“What’re we doing here?”
“I’m gonna get the kids something to eat. Before we drop them off. You remember what Mom’s food’s like.”
How could he forget? “Ugh. Yeah.” Raised on a diet of trendy, home-grown, barely edible food, Zach vowed once he left home he’d only eat healthy. As long as it tasted good. Couldn’t ever figure out how Spam fit into his parents’ health-minded crusade, though. The thought of that phony canned meat made him want to hurl. Again.
“Mommy, can I get candy?”
“No. Zach…I’m leaving Samantha with you. Think you can handle it?”
He laughed. “Yeah, I’m great with babies. Besides…she’s still asleep, right? Right?” He turned around, checking on her. Yep, still asleep. Whew.
“Sure, great with babies. Uh-huh. You ever even held one?”
“What? Of course.” Nope. Never. “Lots of ‘em. Lots and lots and lots.”
“Okay, fine, baby whisperer.” After Zora let out Nikki and Justin, she opened Zach’s door. Clumped the diaper bag into his lap. “She’s due for a diaper change.”
“Wait…what?”
Zora and the kids had already skated halfway to the store. Walking backward, Zora smiled. Smiled. Her inner sadist showing. But maybe he deserved the treatment. For dragging her and the kids into it. Just a little.
Before Zora entered the store, she called back, “Don’t screw it up!”
Pfft. Right. Like I could screw up changing a diaper. No way am I gonna screw this up. No way!
“Alright, Samantha, let’s do this.”
Zach whipped up her seat, carried her to the back of the minivan. He needed the elbow room to work, man on a mission. With the carrier down, he lifted Samantha out. Holding her aloft, he sniffed at her diaper, grimaced. Samantha squirmed, wriggling in his hands. Smiling like her mother, the entire family out to make his life a living hell. But still freakishly quiet. Before he dropped her, which wouldn’t go over well at all with her mother, he laid her down. Procrastinating.
“Okay, Sam…diapers, diapers…” He rummaged through the bag, snagged a diaper.
“You’re packing a full load, girl.” He peeled off the tape at one side of the diaper, folded it back. The smell alone could’ve stopped an elephant dead in its tracks. Fighting his gag reflex, he removed the diaper.
“Man, Sam, what’ve you been eating?” Things shouldn’t look that green. And should there be so much? Hard to think it came out of her, practically half of her body weight.
Sam waggled her feet as he set the used diaper beside her. But the job seemed incomplete. He rifled through the diaper bag, grabbed a plastic container.
Wet wipes! Always wondered what they were for.
Zach pulled out a thick handful of the wipes, a decent sized barrier between his hand and the unspeakable.
“Just hang in there, Sam. This is gonna hurt me a lot more than you.” He darted in, dabbed, pulled away fast. Even though she was still dirty, Sam smiled at him.
This is a lot more work than I thought.
“Okay, Sammy, let’s stop messing around.” Gently, he lassoed one of Sam’s wiggling legs, held his breath, shut his eyes and patted down the baby’s bottom.
Zach exhaled, examined his work, smiled.
Yep, good as new.
The new diaper’s tape caught on his finger, then latched onto another part of the material. The diaper bag’s promise of “EZ use” was a downright lie. Have to be a brain surgeon to figure it out.
Behind him, headlights flashed, rose up into the trees. Tires crunched over gravel. The car stopped, its motor still ticking.
Zach turned.
Crap.
Black caddy. New dent in the back. And tall, dark and gruesome stepped out of the car: Dennis, Cat’s menace.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
Silently, the chauffer glided toward Zach. Grinning, displaying a shark’s worth of white teeth.
EZ Brite goes on quick, tastes so good, just give it a lick…
No! Focus!
Zach swept up Samantha in one arm, wielding the filled diaper in the other hand. “Get back! I’ve got a diaper! And I’m not afraid to use it.”
The chauffer stopped. Zach met his pale blue gaze, standing his ground. Then the tall man grabbed Zach’s arm and squeezed, a show of strength. “You’re coming with me.”
“Dude, get off me!” Zach shrugged him loose, whirled. Brought up the diaper.
Splat. A perfect landing.
Stunned, Dennis staggered back, his hands clawing at his face. Screaming as if he’d been burned. Only far worse.
The chauffer rebounded, reeled back, swung. Zach ducked, Samantha tucked against his belly. A double punch whooshed over Zach’s head.
Zach danced back, a boxer’s taunt. He planted the ball of his foot, pivoted, kicked the other leg up. Rolling it out kick boxer style. Part of his rigid dancing training.
His foot caught the much larger man in the chest. Dennis stumbled backward, arms flailing for balance. Gravity won the day, dropping him to the cement. Zach seized the moment, ran at him with Samantha cradled in his arms like a football. He leaped. Another kick to the chauffer’s face, one for the road. He went flat on his back, out.
“Zach!” Zora barreled out of the store, her purse slung over her shoulder, gun pointed up. Nikki and Justin scrambled behind her, trying to keep up. Freaking out over their pistol-packing mama.
“Mommy’s got a gun!”
“What the hell, Zach?”
“Mommy cussed!”
“This is the guy, Zora! Cat’s driver. The guy who’s been following us!”
“Great. Did you have to kill him? With a diaper?”
“Dead guys don’t snore like that. Pretty cool, right?”
Zora looked over her shoulder into the store window. The clerk was on the phone, his hands waving flags of panic. Big day at Convenience Quick.
“No, there’s nothing cool about any of this!” Zora grabbed Samantha, gave her a quick check-out. “Come on…we’ve got to get outta here before the cops come.” She glanced at the Caddy, frowned. Handed Samantha back to her brother. “Get the kids in the car. Fast. I gotta do something. And put her diaper on, for God’s sake. Can’t trust you to do anything.”
“I was kinda busy, you know, trying not to get killed and everything.”
“Whatever. Move!” Zora hustled away, as fast as an eight month pregnant woman could. Squatting next to the Caddy, she pointed the gun at the tire.
Bang! Tsssss…
“Whoa!” she said. “Now that’s cool.”
* * *
“Sis, how come this guy keeps finding us?” asked Zach.
Something bugged Zora, fingernails scratching down the board of her brain.
Crap. Stupid.
“Give me your phone.”
“Why? You already said there’s nothing—”
“Just give it to me!”
Reluctantly, he handed it over. Acting like it was his prized possession. Probably was, too, other than his banana speedo.
She heaved the phone out the window.
“Mom, you littered!”
“Hey! Dang it, that’s my phone!”
“Get another. Think about it for a minute, Stephen Hawking. You—”
“Who’s Stephen Hawking? Some famous male dancer or—”
“Not important! You asked how the big chauffer found us. We tracked down your phone, right?”
He nodded. His dim bulb sparked to life. “Oh. You think that he did the same—”
“I know he did. Only thing that makes sense.”
“Well, crap…all my numbers were in there.”
“It’s not like you’re hard to find, Zach. Anyone who wants your phone number can find you at your gross club.”
“I guess…but it took me a long time to get all those—”
“Oh, whatever, like you’re gonna go on a date tonight.”
He shrugged. Gave her a forlorn look. Mumbled, “First my pants, then my phone…” Bad day for her brother. Worse for Zora.
“You know, if you didn’t knock out the driver, we might’ve learned something.”
He flexed a muscle. Kissed it. “What can I say? I’m a force of nature.”
“Force of something, maybe.”
“Don’t I know it.”
Clueless. Absolutely clueless. Zora wondered how her brother’d gotten along all of his so-called adult life without her. Not very well, judging from today’s events.
Justin let out a screech of excitement when they pulled onto her parents’ gravel driveway. Not much had changed since her last visit. Fields of corn and other produce, including, presumably, a hidden marijuana patch, surrounded the ramshackle country house. Their ludicrous van—still running after all these years—sat next to the outdoor cellar, a hideous lava-lamp of swirling neons and a new lovely shade of rust.
Welcome to the funny farm.
Zach looked like he might shriek, too, just not of the excitement-filled variety. The only one who dreaded these visits more than Zora. But her children’s safety came first.
“Come on, brother, chin up. You’ve faced a dead senator, a plastic sex kitten and a giant killing machine. Can’t be all that bad.”
“Whatever.”
Justin and Nikki had already exited the mini-van, soaring toward the front door. Zora and Zach trudged along behind them.
“Let’s just get this over with, Zach.”
Zora’s mother opened the door and threw her arms wide. The children clung to her, tugging at her apron.
“Hi Grandma!”
“What a lovely surprise! How’re my little angels?”
Yeah, right. Just wait ‘til you watch ‘em for a while, Mom.
“You should’ve called first,” said Sunshine, looking over her grandchildren’s heads.
“Hey, Mom. It’s not like you ever answer your land-line. And you don’t have a cell-phone.”
“Now, Zora, you know how they cause brain cancer. Zach! You’re looking well!”
“Hi, Mom.” Zach leaned in, pecked her cheek and got out fast.
“And all dressed up in a suit…big interview? Or a hot date?” She nudged her son with an elbow, added a wink.
“You know me, Mom, dressing for success.” Zora rolled her eyes. Not that either her mother or brother noticed. Too wrapped up in each other, the way family visits always go.
“Mom, I know it’s short notice…but could you watch the kids for a while? Maybe the night?”
Sunshine’s brow wrinkled, her usual look. Too many years spent distrusting “The Man.” “Sure…I guess. Kinda unusual, though…given we haven’t babysat in a long time.”
“It’s important, Mom.”
“Where are my manners, come in, come in.” She waved them in.
“Thought I heard voices!”
Not the first time Dad’s heard voices either.
Zora’s father came strutting in, his bow-legged prowl more noticeable than last year. His wardrobe hadn’t been updated, though. Overalls over a tie-dyed t-shirt, a matching accessory to their van, pure hippy chic. And his hair, that damn hair. A long gray ponytail hanging from his bald pate. Bald men shouldn’t wear ponytails, just common sense. It constantly surprised Zora her father had a successful psychiatric practice.
“Hey there, kids!” Kelp—he’d legally changed his name in the Seventies from Robert—bent over, hands on knees. “How’s Nikki? Pretty as a picture, I see. And Justin…Justin, hey kiddo, pull my finger!” He prodded his index finger toward Justin, poking him in the chest. “Go on, pull it. Come on, kiddo, pull my finger.” Ever since he went Vegan back in the Eighties, Zora’s dad had turned into a bag of foul-smelling odors, able to dredge them up on command. She flashed back on her first day away at college, where she gorged herself on all matters of meat at an all-you-can-eat buffet. The indigestion had been well worth it. The taste of freedom.
“Go on, I won’t bite. Pull my finger, Justin!”
Zach gave his nephew a covert look, shook his head, mouthed, no.
Obviously disappointed, Kelp straightened. “Right on, right on. Zach, son, how’re you?” He leaned in for a hug.
Uncomfortable in his ill-fitting suit and skin, Zach obliged, putting a soul hand shake between their chests. Afraid to have their father’s hippy ways rub off on him.
“Doing great, Dad.”
“Grandpa,” shouted Justin. “Mommy shot out a tire and we ran a stoplight and Beary Brian’s chasing us and Uncle Zach beat up a guy with a diaper and—”
“That’s enough, Justin.” Zora moved in, her hands on Justin’s shoulders. Ready to strangle if necessary. “You know how he is, Dad. With his wild imagination.”
“Heh. Sure do. Always got your head in the clouds, don’t ya, Justin?”
“But it really happened, Grandpa! It really—”
“This isn’t the time, Justin.” Zora’s hand went over her son’s mouth. Bored already, presumably with the unfathomable world of adults, Justin shrugged, dropped it. “Grown-ups are talking.”
On tip-toes, Kelp looked out through the door. “Where’s little Sammy? Where’s the girl?”
“Ah! She’s still in the van,” said Zora. “Forgot all about her.”
“Here, let Grandpa get her.” Still spry for his years, Kelp raced out the door at a sprinter’s pace. He came back in swinging the car seat dangerously high. Of course Samantha slept through it all.
“Dad! Here…give her to me before you send her flying. She’s sleeping!”
“Hm? Oh, sure, little gal could sleep in the eye of a tornado.” Kelp set the seat on the floor. “Come on in…pop a squat.”
Zora sighed, shook her head. Her father’s fondness for keeping up on modern slang annoyed the living hell out of her.
“Dad, we can’t stay long. We’ve got something we—”
“Oh, horse pucky! Hardly see you kids at all. Surely you got a little bit of time for your ol’ folks.”
Zora checked her watch, made it obvious. Best way to counter her dad’s guilt game. “We really need to—”
“Come on in, come on in!”
Zach shrugged, followed their mother. Resigned, Zora joined them. Arguing with her parents was an exercise in futility, stretching out the smallest of decisions into long-ranging wars. She’d spare them five minutes and they were gone.
In the living room, Sunshine had already settled into her bean-bag. Most parents have “ma and pa recliners.” Not the Caulfields. Relics of an ancient generation, they proudly held onto their matching bean-bags, patches and all.
The air whiffed out of Kelp’s beanbag as he plunged into it. “Now…what’s the purpose of your visit?” No longer the host with the amiable most, Kelp settled into his serious shrink-face, all concerned wrinkles and authoritative extended lower lip. “Must be something serious.”
Nikki was growing antsy, walking around in a circle. Justin stood beside her, bouncing on his sneakers, doing a bathroom dance. Time to release the beasts.
“Kids, why don’t you go outside and play?”
They ran to their grandfather, hopping up and down. “Can we go play in the fields, Grandpa? Can we?”
“Sure, kids, why not?” He unleashed them with a wave, allowing them free rein through his fields of weed.
“Uh…don’t touch anything kids,” shouted Zora. “Okay, Mom…Dad…” Zora tried on a serious face, too. It didn’t hold. Even though she’d faced down thugs and gun-toting criminals in the past, her parents always had the ability to reduce her to a little girl, shy and withdrawn. She sat on the sofa next to her brother, gathering her thoughts. Leaned back to relieve her aching back, stuck her legs out. Studied them. Seriously buying time. “I know I don’t ask you to baby-sit much—”
“Ever,” interjected Sunshine with an imperious finger.
“Not true. But I’m in a bit of a jam here and I hate calling on you last second, but I really—”
“Are you in some kind of trouble?” Kelp leaned forward, digging for his wallet. He always offered money first even though he preached that hugs solve everything. Zora wished a hug could solve their current predicament.
Zach sat up, excited, practically licking his lips. Zora jabbed him with an elbow.
“Dad! Put your money away! You know Phillip and I are doing fine. We—”
“Oh, yes. Phillip.” Ice dripped from Kelp’s lips as he slowly enunciated Zora’s husband’s name. Worst thing in the world to an aging hippy? Accountants. “Well…fine. What about you, Zach, the Kansas City Ballet paying you what you’re worth?” The bean-bag scrunched as Kelp shifted again, second excavation attempt at his always full wallet. Because banks were strictly forbidden in the Caulfield household. The evils of corporate America and all.
“Well, come to think of it, Dad, I could use—”
“Say no more, say no more.” He pinched out two twenties, raised his eyebrows. A trap.
Another nudge to her brother set him back into the sofa.
“It’s not about money. I just need you to babysit the kids, for God’s sake. Please.”
With great drama, Kelp whipped his wire-rimmed glasses off, set them on his knee. Put a finger over his lip and tapped it. The doctor was in! “I…see. Now, let’s lay it all on the table, shall we? What I’m seeing here bothers me. We don’t see you two in months, you drop in unexpectedly with the kids. Together. Odd. Let’s rap, kids, adult to adult. How ‘bout you level with the old man, rap with him and…”
Oh, for God’s sake. We’re never getting outta here!
Kelp rambled on, Zora’s mind drifting to more urgent concerns. When her Dad was on the shrink seat, he loved to hear himself talk, the only one in the room. She lifted her wrist, made a grand performance out of checking the time. Maybe this had been a huge mistake. But, really, what other choice did she have?
“Zach!” Abruptly, Sunshine clapped her hands, bringing Zora back to the room. “We’ve been dying to see you perform!” Sometimes, Zora thought her mom interrupted her father intentionally to shut him up. Very subtly, very smoothly.
Way to go, Mom!
“Ah…you know…I’m sorry, but I’ve told you how I get…stage fright if someone I love is in the audience. I might mess up and not put on a good show.” Zach offered outstretched goodwill hands and his charming smile. The parents weren’t buying it. Even though they didn’t have time for this, Zora’s mouth curled up at the corner. Fighting a mad smirk. Her brother deserved to squirm a little bit.
“Oh, but that’s silly, Zach,” said Zora. “Since there’s no one here except for Mom and Dad, why don’t you give them a little preview of what you can do?”
He gave Zora a round-eyed look, leaning somewhere between shock and stark fear.
Dance, pretty boy, dance!
“I think that sounds like a rockin’ good idea,” yelled Kelp, thankfully abandoning his Dr. Caulfield guise. “Come on, son!”
“Yeah, come on, Zach!” Zora slapped her hands on his back, pushing him until he had no choice but to stand.
“Well…I…ah, usually need some…um, classical music to dance to.” He ran a hand through his full head of hair, grinning, believing he’d dodged the bullet.
“Got your needs covered, Zach.” Sunshine reached toward the small coffee table between her and Kelp, fiddled with something. Chords of Beethoven filled the room, blasting from a small, yellow IPod. Their first concession to modernization in years. One Zach clearly hadn’t counted on.
This is gonna be good!
Guilt bit into Zora. Well, more like nibbled. Sadistic? Sure, of course. But funny? Absolutely!
With no way out, Zach thrust his arms in front of him, clenched his fists. Did minor knee-bends, shaking his hands, killing time. Searching for a beat. Classical music was poison to Zach, had been forever. He much preferred his steady diet of ghastly arena rock and metal. For minutes, he bounced on bent knees, his legs planted like an awkward kid at his first school dance.
Kelp slipped a questioning glance toward Sunshine, but she had her golden boy blinders on, entranced by Zach’s ludicrous routine. Zora put a hand over her mouth, hiding a grin. Didn’t really matter. All eyes were on her brother’s floundering about, hypnotically so.
“Um, son?” Kelp raised his voice to be heard over the music. “Is that…what they’re teaching you at the KC Ballet?”
“Yeah, Dad!” Loosening up a bit (no doubt to the rock blaring in his head), Zach swayed back and forth, swinging his arms behind him, in front of him. Smacking his hands together. “I’m just warming up!”
Uh-oh. Maybe another one in a long line of bad ideas I’ve had today.
Beaming like her name’s sake, Sunshine’s face crinkled up. Her hands clasped together as if in prayer. So proud of her son. Zora had a feeling that pride would soon be put to the test.
Her brother’s body flowed into liquid, a rolling and undulating wave. His eyes closed, apparently sinking into his stripper zone. He raised a foot, twirled on his other. Smacked his rear, screeched, “Yeah! That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout!”
Kelp sat forward, mouth gaping open through his bush of a beard. The smile fell a little from Sunshine’s face, not much. Still her golden boy.
Zach continued the torture, apparently oblivious now to his whereabouts. At least he kept his clothes on. Small favors. He twirled, kicked a leg up high. When he turned his back on them and bent at the waist, Zora really worried.
Don’t go there, don’t go there, don’t go…
Not only did he go there, but he let his ass lead him. With hands on his knees, he shook his bottom, twerking as if his life depended on it. Zora covered her eyes. She preferred a dangerous car chase.
Oh my God, so stupid! Please make it stop!
God heard her prayers, granted her mercy. Zach straightened, twisted one last time. Raised a victory fist and shouted, “Yeah!”
Kelp reached over and thumbed off the IPod. Zach’s panting, his chest heaving in and out, filled the room. Otherwise, radio silence. Sunshine shifted, the bean-bag crunching beneath her. She exchanged a look with her husband. Then Zora’s mother clapped. A slow clap at first, straight out of an annoying sports movie. Then Kelp joined her.
You’ve got to be kidding me!
“Son…I’ve gotta’ say…” Kelp levered himself out of his bean-bag and went toward Zach, arms out. “…wasn’t what I was expecting at all. But it’s mighty impressive, mighty impressive. You’ve got some mad skills, some mad moves!”
“Well, of course he does, Kelp!” Sunshine joined the group love moment. “Naturally, he’s talented! He’s a Caulfield, after all!”
While they hugged it out, Zora sat on the sofa. Stunned. And not a Caulfield. Now a married LeFevre.
She couldn’t take it, not any longer. Crap to do, places to go, idiot stripper brothers to save. She rolled off the sofa to her knees then climbed to her feet.
“Well, Kumbaya and all that! Huzzah for Zach! Thanks for babysitting. We’ve got to go.”
They didn’t hear her. Not over Zach’s ridiculous bragging and lying.
“At the KC Ballet, they make sure we know all kinds of…dance stuff.”
“I thought I recognized you twerking. That was a twerk, right?”
“Oh, yeah, I know it all. You should see my other moves.”
“Love too, anytime, son.”
“How ‘bout if I—”
A two fingers in the mouth whistle stopped the love fest. The next best thing to pulling the gun out and blasting holes in the ceiling. “Hey! Zach, we’ve got to go!”
“Oh, yeah, yeah…right, sis.”
The loving hands of her parents dropped from their stripper son. But Dr. Caulfield, professionally serious shrink, was back on the job again. He transferred his hands to Zora’s shoulders.
In a quiet voice, he said, “Zora. I feel you’re in trouble. It doesn’t make sense, your showing up here with your brother. Especially when he’s dressed in a suit. One that obviously belongs to your husband.”
She wanted to scream. Even in his fatherly moments with her, it was still all about Zach. “Phillip, Dad. My husband’s name is Phillip.”
“Of course it is, honey. But…can you tell me what kind of trouble you’re in, Zora? Lay it on the line, get down and—”
“Dad…no. I don’t have time now. Okay? Just…trust me. Please?”
He smiled, a sad, small smile. Then he nodded. “I do trust you, honey. And I love you.” Dipping in, he brushed her cheek with a kiss.
“Love you too, Dad.”
Not done yet—he was never done when it came to touchy-feely moments—Kelp whispered into Zora’s ear, “Take care of your brother, alright? You’ve always been the sensible one. Cool?”
It floored Zora. He’d never told her that before. And maybe he’d been paying more attention to her than he’d let on before. No matter, no time for maudlin moments. She returned his kiss, said, “Cool, Dad.”