Funland

  Fuck her anyway, she wants to be like that.

  He clamped his teeth on his knees and bit hard enough to feel pain. The taste of his corduroy trouser leg was dry in his mouth.

  I could’ve gone to her house, he thought.

  He pictured himself on a sofa with Shiner in a dimly lighted room. He could feel her in his arms, feel her mouth against his. She was all soft and smooth, and she smelled of suntan oil.

  His teeth loosened their grip. He closed his mouth and pressed his lips against the moist corduroy.

  It would’ve been so wonderful.

  So right.

  It’s not too late, he thought. If I call her back…

  Then I’d miss out on Tanya.

  He saw himself in Tanya’s room last night, saw her standing before him naked and glossy, felt her skin under the slick layer of blood. Heat spread through the pit of his stomach. He felt the stirrings of arousal. He began to tremble, aching for her but afraid of her.

  She’s bad, he thought. She’s probably crazy. I shouldn’t want her. I should stay away from her. What’s wrong with me? God!

  So call Shiner. How? I don’t know her phone number. Not even her real name.

  Jeremy heard footsteps in the hallway. Then came a knocking on the door.

  “Honey? There’s a call for you.”

  His heart lurched.

  He crawled away from the door before answering, “I’ll be right out.”

  He scurried the rest of the way to the toilet, flushed it, then got to his feet and hurried back to the door. He opened it. His mother looked at him, frowning slightly. “Is everything all right?”

  “Yeah. Fine. Who’s on the phone. Shiner?”

  “She didn’t say.”

  “Must be. She told me she’d call back.”

  As he hurried away, his mother said, “Now, don’t make any plans without checking with me first. You’re still in trouble around here, young man.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Before entering the kitchen, he glanced back and saw her step into the living room. He picked up the phone.

  Let it be Shiner, he thought. Please.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s me.”

  Tanya.

  He felt a quick pull of disappointment and loss. Then heat rushed into the empty place. His heart quickened. “Just a second,” he said.

  “Have you got it?” His mother’s voice on the extension.

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  She hung up.

  “Okay,” he said. “She’s off.”

  “Can you get away later?” Tanya asked. “Around midnight?”

  “Midnight?”

  “It’ll be just you and me. We’ll meet the others later.”

  He felt as if his breath had been sucked out. He managed to say, “Yeah.”

  “We’ll take my car. I’ll park across the street from your house.”

  “Okay.”

  “Are you all right? You sound funny.”

  “Just excited,” he said.

  “So am I. I can hardly wait. Midnight.”

  “Yeah.”

  “See you then, Duke.”

  “See you.” He hung up the phone, turned around, and stared at the wall clock. Ten till nine. Three hours and ten minutes to go. Forever.

  Not forever.

  Midnight would get here. He knew that. And somehow he suspected that it might arrive too soon.

  He was hot and sweaty, but shivering anyway. He clenched his teeth to hold his jaw still. He wrapped his arms tightly around his chest.

  Felt like his lungs were shaking.

  I’ll take a shower, he thought. A hot shower. It’ll make the shivers stop. And it’ll help pass the time. Besides, I want to be clean for her.

  He walked unsteadily toward the bathroom, images twisting through his mind of Tanya’s scar, her bare breasts, Shiner’s smile, the razor blade sliding on Tanya’s flesh, the comfortable, exciting feel of Shiner’s hand in his, the suck of Tanya’s mouth taking the blood off his fingers. Spreading suntan oil on Shiner’s back. Spreading blood up Tanya’s belly and breast.

  Thirty-seven

  Robin sat cross-legged on the sofa, a folded towel beneath her to protect the upholstery from the dampness of her bikini pants. She played her banjo and sang for Nate.

  He sat on the floor in front of her, a dreamy faraway look on his face as he gazed at her. His hair was mussed from the swimming. It shimmered golden in the light from the fireplace at his back. The fluttering light burnished his bare shoulders and thighs. The wine in the glass that rested on his knee gleamed like a ruby. He didn’t sip the wine while she sang.

  Ending a piece, Robin said, “It’s getting a little warm in here.”

  “I could turn the fireplace off.”

  “No, don’t. It’s lovely.”

  “It makes you glow,” he said.

  She drew a forearm across her wet face and looked down at herself. Her chest gleamed in the ruddy firelight as if it were slicked with oil. Her bikini top was no longer damp from the pool, but its edges were darkened with moisture. “That’s sweat,” she proclaimed.

  “Your sweat’s beautiful.”

  Beads of it dribbled down her sides. She lowered her arms and smeared them to stop the tickling. “Beautiful or not,” she said, “I’m gonna warp my banjo.” She lifted it away from her belly, slipped the strap off her head, and used a loose corner of her towel to dry its back. She laid the banjo on the sofa beside her.

  “That’s all?” Nate asked.

  “I don’t want to bore you.”

  “I could listen to you forever.”

  “Maybe I’ll write a song just for you.”

  “I’d like that. What would it say?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” She reached to the table, picked up her wineglass, and took a sip. “A lot of stuff rhymes with ‘Nate.’ ‘Great,’ ‘first-rate’…‘fate.’”

  “‘Mate,’” he added.

  “Yeah. ‘Mate.’ that’s a loaded one, isn’t it?”

  “Says a lot.”

  “Nautical, too. Nautical’s good on the banjo.” She picked up the instrument again, played a few bars of “Blow the Man Down,” and began to sing:

  I’ve got a first-mate

  And his name it is Nate.

  Yo-ho, I think he’s just great!

  He’s sweet and he’s sexy

  From his toes to his pate—

  And oh how I love to mate with my Nate!

  Laughing, he shook his head, set his wineglass on the carpet, and clapped. “Fantastic. What’s a pate?”

  “That’s the top of your head.”

  He put a hand up there and ruffled his hair. “Sexy, huh? And my toes too?” He wiggled them.

  “You making fun of my song?”

  “I love your song.”

  “I know it’s sort of silly,” she said. “Most of my stuff is. The banjo’s not meant for serious stuff. It’s bright and plucky.”

  “Like you.”

  “Is that how you see me?” she asked.

  “Only part of the time. I see you a lot of different ways. Serious, sad, innocent, full of hope, afraid…but brave too. You must be damned brave, going on the road the way you did.”

  “That was just plain desperation.”

  “I feel like there’s so much I don’t know about you, Robin. I want to know everything.”

  “I’m just a simple gal who likes the banjo, big breakfasts, and hot baths.”

  “Hot baths, huh?” Smiling, he finished his wine. “I bet you’d love the spa.”

  “Hey, that’d be terrific.”

  “It’ll take a while for the water to heat up,” he said, getting to his feet. “You want to wait here while I turn it on?”

  “I could use some fresh air.”

  He picked up the wine bottle and watched as Robin stood, took her towel off the sofa, and mopped the sweat from her face and body. She draped the towel over her shoulders. Then she picked up her wineglass and followed him t
o the sliding door. His back was shiny in the firelight. The seat of his tight blue swimsuit gleamed. The fabric was dark in the center, dampened by sweat in a narrowing triangle between his buttocks.

  She put a hand low on his back and rubbed the slippery wetness of his skin as he tugged the door.

  He smiled over his shoulder at her.

  “Yo-ho,” she said.

  Then the chilly air got her. “Yo-yikes!” she blurted, suddenly shuddering.

  “Get in the pool quick! Save yourself!” He reached for the wineglass, and Robin gave it to him.

  Hunched over and hugging herself, she abandoned Nate and trotted over the concrete toward the deep end of the pool. She tossed the towel behind her. She leapt, hit the water, and felt it rush up her body, cool but warmer than the night air. Her feet touched the bottom. She rose slowly to the surface and swam until she again found the pool’s floor. Though it slanted down steeply behind her, it was just right. Standing on tiptoe, she was covered to her chin.

  She saw Nate in the darkness near the fence, bending over a unit of boxy equipment and pipes, turning nobs.

  “How can you stand it?” she called in a shaky voice.

  “Willpower.”

  “Get your willpower into the pool before it freezes and breaks off.”

  He finished and walked slowly toward the pool’s shallow end.

  “What a he-man,” Robin said.

  He curled his arms up like a body builder showing off his biceps.

  “Mr. Universe,” Robin said.

  “Want me to turn on the pool lights?” he asked.

  “Yeah. All the better to see your magnificent body.”

  He wandered off again, and flicked a switch near the door. The patio remained dark, but the pool suddenly filled with light. He came back to the edge. Pale blue reflections shimmered on his skin as he crouched and dived. He darted out low over the water, knifed in with barely a splash, and glided straight and smooth to the far wall. There he stood and turned to Robin. He waded toward her, standing tall, though he must’ve been freezing from the chest up. Below the surface, his body wavered and rippled.

  “You look like something in a funhouse mirror,” Robin said. Her chin shook as she spoke.

  “The kind that makes you ten feet tall?”

  “The kind that make you wobbly.”

  The water rose around him. When it almost reached his shoulders, he was near enough. Robin drew herself against him.

  “You’re shivering,” he said.

  “How come you’re not?”

  “Man of iron. Are you nervous, or just cold?”

  “Just freezing. I’m over being nervous. That was a life ago.”

  “We didn’t blow it,” he said.

  “You didn’t burn the steaks.”

  “Lucky me.”

  Where their bodies were pressed together, a warmth grew. The warmth spread through Robin, calming her tremors but not making them vanish entirely. Where she wasn’t tight against Nate, the water rubbed her like an October breeze.

  “We could’ve waited in the house,” he said.

  “I’m all right now. Sort of.”

  “Just think of all that hot water pumping into the spa.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “It’s probably a little warmer right now.”

  “Then what the hell are we doing in the pool?”

  “Kissing.”

  “No we’re not.”

  “Yes we are.” He pressed his open mouth against Robin’s. His wet lips were chilly at first. But his tongue was warm. His arms tightened their hold, and he began to step backward. Robin hugged him with her arms and thighs. She felt the water slipping over her, sliding down, baring her to the cold air.

  Finally he turned and lifted her onto the tile wall of the spa. “Thanks for the ride,” she said.

  “I’ll go turn the bubbles on.”

  He stepped away from Robin, breaking the warm bond. The cold stole her breath away, but only for a moment while she swiveled around. Then she sank into the mild, soothing water of the spa. It wasn’t hot. It wasn’t even warm. But it wasn’t chilly either. It was wonderful. Sighing, she settled onto a smooth benchlike ledge, and the water covered her to the shoulders. She stretched out her legs, let them drift upward. Something that felt like a summer wind blew against the side of her left thigh. She put her hand there, moved it against the pressure, and found a hole low down in the wall—a hole that gushed hot water. She went to it and sat in front of it. The heat pushed against the small of her back and spread out against her. She moaned with pleasure.

  Suddenly a rushing sound filled her ears. All the water in the spa began to froth and bubble. It seemed to throb, pulsing against her skin.

  Nate came out of the darkness. He had the wineglasses, the bottle, and the towels. He set them near the edge of the spa, filled the glasses, then climbed down. He handed a glass to Robin. She took a drink. The wine was cool in her mouth, but once swallowed, it seemed to glow inside her, radiating warmth.

  Nate sat across from her, only his head and glass-bearing hand above the surface. His body, reddish in the murky crimson light from the bottom of the spa, was visible but blurred through the roiling water. His face was smudged with shadows. Distorted and unfamiliar.

  “You look like the bogeyman,” she said.

  “Thanks a bunch. You look kind of like an evil queen yourself.”

  She cackled. “Who’s the fairest of them all, ducky?”

  One of his feet stroked her skin. “The fairest is Robin. Cock Robin.”

  Cockless Robin.

  Poppinsack.

  “A bum called me that,” she said. The water was very warm now. Cozy. Steam drifted off the churning surface, a pink mist that was shredded and scattered by the breeze. She drank more wine. “Cock Robin,” she said. “He also called me Cockless Robin.”

  “Bastard,” Nate muttered.

  “He was a funny guy. I actually liked him at first. Poppinsack. He really had a way with words. He reminded me of those medicine-show guys you see in old cowboy movies. Hawking a cure-all from the back of a wagon. You should’ve seen him, all decked out in a buckskin jacket with fringe, feathers in his derby hat.” Nate’s foot dropped away from her shin. “A real character. I liked the guy, and then he robbed me.”

  “Robbed you?”

  “Yeah. While I was sleeping on the beach. Before I even met him and he acted so friendly and gave me tea. All the time he was being nice to me, he knew what he’d done.”

  Nate shook his head slowly from side to side.

  The theft had been buried inside Robin like a secret shame. Sharing it with Nate felt good and right. She needed to tell him the rest.

  “My money? I kept it in my underwear.” She expected a hot rush of embarrassment, but it didn’t come. “I was asleep and he stole it out of my underwear. God knows what else he did…his hands in there. Then he goes and calls me ‘Cockless Robin.’”

  Nate muttered something that was lost in the gurgling sounds of the water.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I wanted to kill the creep.”

  “I did.”

  “What?” Robin asked, certain that she hadn’t heard him correctly.

  “I killed him.”

  She gazed at Nate, stunned. She set her wineglass down and went to him. She knelt between his legs in the swirling hot water and put her hands on his thighs.

  “An old guy with a walrus mustache,” he said.

  “Yeah.”

  “I killed him Thursday night.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Robin said. But she did believe it. Nate was too grim to be joking. “How?” she asked.

  “You know about the trollers.”

  “You’re a troller?”

  “I was. Not anymore. After what happened to the old man, I lost my stomach for it. It was awful. And it was my fault. They couldn’t have started the Ferris wheel without me. I had the key. We didn’t know he
’d fall, but…”

  “How did it happen?”

  “We cuffed him to the safety bar of one of the gondolas and took him up. The bar wouldn’t hold him. He fell. He fell from the top, screaming. Then I took his body out on my surfboard. I took him way out, belted to it, and dumped him.”

  “God,” she muttered.

  “It was the night I met you.”

  She remembered waiting for Poppinsack that night. Waiting in the fog with her knife, then getting spooked and hurrying away to find safety under the house beyond the public beach. “I was going to take him,” she said. “I was going to get my money back. I was waiting for him in the dunes.”

  “Well, we killed him.”

  “I might’ve, if he’d shown up. I had my knife out. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to make him pay.”

  “At least…it helps some, knowing what he did to you. Maybe he deserved it. Still makes me sick to think about it, though.”

  “I know,” Robin murmured. “I’m sorry.”

  “So how do you like it? You’ve been making love with a murderer.”

  She gently rubbed his legs. Her throat was tight with sorrow for him. “It sounds like it was an accident.”

  “Well, it was an accident. He was too heavy for the safety bar. But we set it up, you know? He was up there because of us. Everybody wants to say it was an accident, but we did it to the guy. He was a troll, and we nailed him. Most of the others seemed pretty happy that he fell. I’m sure Tanya was overjoyed. She’s been out for their blood ever since we got into this Billy Goat Gruff thing. And she’s been getting a lot worse lately.”

  “The girl at the stop sign?” Robin asked.

  “Yeah. She’s been losing it, you know? I can’t really blame her. Some trolls messed her up really bad—cut her up, raped her, all kinds of stuff. So, you know, it’s not surprising that she hates trolls. I do too, for what they did to her. She used to be…innocent, happy. She was never mean to anyone.”

  “You loved her, didn’t you?” Robin asked.

  He hesitated. He put his hands on her shoulders. “I used to love Tanya. Before the trolls got her. They killed the part of Tanya that I loved.”

  “I’m sorry,” Robin whispered.

  “Now she’s just full of hate. All she cares about is nailing trolls.” He shook his head. “We got so much revenge for her. She’s had a feast of it, but she keeps wanting more. Her appetite’s been getting worse and worse. Now that she’s actually killed one…I hate to think what they’ll do to the next troll they catch. But at least I won’t be part of it. I only wish I’d quit sooner. Before it came to killing. But I didn’t. Now I’m a murderer.” His hands moved up and gently caressed the sides of Robin’s head. “I have to live with it,” he said. “And I guess I had to tell you. Better to lose you now than later.”