Craig hurried to the stage, zigzagging his way across the floor of orange puddles. He ran up the stairs to meet Sondra. “Are you crazy?” He tried to give her a stern look, but then broke into laughter.
“Did we get the job?”
“Yes, you did.”
Boomer walked over to Sondra and gave her a high five. “Yeah, Baby.”
E. Z. grinned. She couldn’t believe Sondra’s weird idea had worked.
“How did you do it?” said Craig. “I mean, how did you get it in your mouth? You were singing, and then you just spit it out.”
Sondra smiled proudly, turned her back to him, and pointed to the white tube hanging out the top of her tux coat behind her neck. The tip of it had some of the orange stuff on it. Then she turned back around and opened the left side of her coat, revealing an old-fashioned hot water bottle.
“We mixed up some Tang and a little oatmeal. Then, when the time came, we released this little thing.” She pointed to the crimp clamp on the tube. “Then we reached back and grabbed the top of the tube like this.” She pulled it around with her left hand, and pointed it at Craig, placing her hands to the sides of her mouth. “And then smashed down on the bottle like this.” She raised her arm, ready to fire her goo gun.
Craig held up his hands and stepped back. “Okay—I get it.”
“Works like a charm,” said Sondra.
“Yes, it does,” he said. “And it was the thing that put you over the top. Daddy liked your music, but I think he liked Chemical Rose better. Then you blew chunks all over the kids, and I thought he was going to skin you alive. You really took a big chance with this stunt.”
“I like to live on the edge,” said Sondra.
“Well, I’m glad it worked out. Once Daddy saw that the kids thought it was cool, he knew they’d want to bring all their friends here. But just don’t do it again.”
“Why not?”
E. Z. stepped in. “That’s fine, right? We got the job. We don’t have to do it anymore.”
Sondra snarled at her. “It’s my call. I’m the leader of this band. So, shut up!”
“Anybody else got any comments?” She waited. “Good!”
*
Craig led Cindy Banya into the office. The other band members had already walked out to the parking lot. He tried to focus on her face as he talked, but his eyes kept gravitating to her incredibly long sexy legs. For once, he almost wished he could look two directions at the same time—like Billy-Eye. “I just wanted to tell you how much I enjoyed your playing tonight.”
“Thanks.”
“No, really. You’re a great drummer.”
“I’m okay.” Just as Craig was about to speak, she said, “Well I’d better get home now. It’s after midnight. And I live with my parents, you know.”
“Oh, I’m sure they would understand. After all, you’re a grown woman.” And what a woman, he thought.
“I can do whatever I want, sure. But it’s about respect. My family still lives by the traditions and values of the old country.”
“Russia.”
“Yes.”
“But you were born here in the U. S.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Aw, come on—at least give me a little kiss.” Craig took her in his arms. He was about to devour her full, sweet lips.
“This is not what I want.” Cindy did not pull away. Clearly, she assumed he was a gentleman, and would be respectful of her wishes.
He did not loosen his grip. “What do you mean? I thought you liked me.”
“There is a time and a place.”
Craig released her, wondering how he could have misread her intentions. He had worked hard to get her into a band, and help that band get a job. Had she just been using him?
The door flew open. It was Billy-Eye, and he did not look happy. “You need to quit messing around, and get out here and manage your staff. This place has got to be cleaned up tonight.”
“Okay,” said Craig. But he didn’t budge.
“Now!” Billy-Eye bellowed.
*
The house was dark. Sondra tiptoed up the stairs and across the wooden porch. When a board creaked, she winced. She slipped into the house quietly, and turned on the lamp near the door.
“It’s about time!” Val was sitting in her recliner, holding a whisky glass.
“You’re drunk,” said Sondra.
“And you’re a murderer.”
Sondra hesitated. “What are you talking about?”
Val’s mouth gradually formed a smile. Then it stretched too far—until she looked like The Joker from Batman. “I saw you leave with that boy the other night. The one who came here looking for you. Mitch. The next day, the police found a body in the river.”
“So?” Sondra said, without emotion.
Val picked up the newspaper from the small table beside her chair and threw it at Sondra.
Sondra scanned the headlines.
There it was—a picture of Mitch. The article said that his parents weren’t sure why he was in Orange, and didn’t know of anyone who would want to hurt their son. “That’s too bad. He seemed like a nice kid.” She dropped the newspaper on the couch.
“Why did you kill him, Sondra? Did he try to make a move on you?”
“What makes you think I killed him? Or that I would kill anyone?” She paused. “I guess now you think you need to turn me in.”
“Not necessarily,” she slurred.
“Because if you’re planning to call the police, I want you to tell me right now—so I can murder you, just like I murdered him.”
Val froze.
Sondra snickered. “You get crazy in the head when you’re drunk, Old Woman. I’m going to bed.”
Sondra walked past her mother. She could have easily stepped behind Val’s chair and snapped her neck. She went into her bedroom, and shut the door.
*
Sondra had been sleeping for a couple of hours when she heard men talking in the living room.
Her bedroom door burst open, and two cops rushed in.
She tried to get away, but they grabbed her, and threw her back down on the bed. Then they rolled her over and bound her wrists with a rope.
She wondered why they were using rope instead of handcuffs. “What are you doing?”
“You have the right to remain silent.”
“I know my rights. I want a lawyer.”
“Anything you say… doesn’t matter.”
“What?”
“You have the right to an attorney, but you won’t need one.”
One of the cops put a dog collar around her neck and pulled it tight.
“What are you doing? Get this thing off of me—right now!”
They tied her ankles together, picked her up, and carried her out. When they walked through the living room, Sondra saw Val still sitting in her chair.
“Mom!”
“I warned you, Honey.”
“Mom, help me!”
Val smiled, and took another sip of her whiskey.
Sondra yelled for somebody to wake up and save her. Anybody. But she couldn’t even rouse the neighborhood dogs. And by the time they got her to the back fence, she was so hoarse that her screams were mere whispers.
They laid her on the ground, and snapped a leash onto her collar. Then they picked her up, and raised her body high above their heads. The wooden fence was much taller than she remembered it. They were barely able to push her over the top.
She fell what seemed like twenty feet, before the leash pulled taut—slamming her head against the fence as gravity continued to pull her body downward. For a split second, she imagined her torso ripping free from its head.
She was surprised to still be alive. She could touch the grass—but only with the tips of her toes. Suffocation had begun.
She reached above her head up to the leash and tried to pull herself up, to release the pressure. But she was already getting too weak.
How did her hands get loose? Maybe they were really still tied. She was getting delirious as her life slipped away.
No! Don’t give in! She grabbed the collar with both hands, pulling on it with all her might.
Suddenly she woke up, gasping for air. She was in her bed.
She jumped up, and ran into the living room.
Val was asleep in the recliner.