Ephemeral creatures, p.24
Ephemeral Creatures, page 24
“So that headbangers’ club is about three miles from here,” Tara said when he returned to the table. “Figured we could stay at the Marriott a few blocks away, then tonight, we head to the club.”
“Cool with me,” Chad said.
Kevin nodded. “Sounds good.”
They split the bill and headed back to the car. As they were leaving, Kevin briefly considered visiting the souvenir shop but resisted the urge, having better things to spend his limited funds on.
An hour later, they were hanging out poolside at the Marriott. About one of the only things Kevin did for fun these days was to get in a morning swim at his apartment swimming pool. As a result, he was making good progress in getting rid of the severe case of farmer’s tan he’d developed in prison, although he wasn’t quite there yet.
“Get comfy, man,” he told Chad, who was sitting beside him on a lounge chair, fully dressed. “Cool off in the pool and work on your tan.” Kevin was suiting words to action, with his shirt off and wearing swim trunks. He planned to take a dip shortly.
Chad snorted. “You’ve heard of the great white whale from Moby Dick, right? Yeah, well me shirtless would give new meaning to that. And nobody wants to see that shit.”
They both laughed.
“Your loss, man. Nice view out here.” Kevin glanced over at a group of pretty young women sunbathing across the pool.
“Yup, but I can see it perfectly fine from the shaded cabana over there with the ice-cold beer. I didn’t bring swim trunks anyway.” He clapped Kevin on the shoulder and went over to said cabana, where he ordered a beer.
Kevin quickly forgot about the other sunbathing women when Tara joined him poolside. She must have turned every head in the pool area, looking stunning in a teal bikini, drawing attention like a supermodel. Her body was the perfect blend of toned and curvy. He’d known that already from her online pics, but seeing her in person nearly took his breath away. Beside her, he felt very much like the scruffy, ordinary joe he was.
Tara smiled at him as she made a show of spreading her towel across Chad’s vacated lounge chair, giving him an eyeful of cleavage. “Chad doesn’t want to join us?”
With difficulty, he tore his eyes away. “He’s having a beer at the cabana. Warned me he’d blind everybody if he took off his shirt.”
Tara laughed and stretched out beside him. Not staring took some epic willpower.
“What happened to the USC bathing suit?” he asked, just to make conversation.
Her face darkened. “I threw it out in a fit of rage.”
“You did what?”
“It went over like a uranium balloon, and all the trolls were quick to pounce. Didn’t help my anxiety issues any, so I threw it away.”
“Oh. Sorry to hear that. I thought it looked great, for what it’s worth.”
“That’s sweet of you to say. Thanks.” She smiled.
“Sure thing.”
After a few minutes, Kevin hopped into the pool to cool off. He was glad he’d taken Tara’s suggestion and packed swim trunks and sunscreen, which he’d applied when he first came outside.
After a few lazy laps of the pool, he got back out.
Tara asked, “So what happens when we identify this creep?”
“Haven’t thought that far ahead yet, honestly. I can tell you Liddy doesn’t want us to endanger ourselves by confronting the guy directly but doesn’t look like we’ll have a choice.”
“Kevin and I will handle it,” said Chad as he walked over.
Tara craned her head to look at Chad. “What do you mean ‘handle it’?”
“I’ve got my Ruger in my bag. Don’t leave home without it.” He gave them a smile devoid of humor.
“You can’t be serious,” Tara protested. She rolled onto her side and propped her head on one elbow, eyes wide behind her sunglasses.
“What, you’re thinking this is all just fun and games, Tara?” Chad demanded sharply. “We’ll cruise around and have this big adventure that you can brag to all your Facebook friends about? Maybe once we confront the bad guy, he’ll be like, ‘Oh, my bad, I didn’t mean to murder Liddy,’ then he’ll turn himself in to the cops like this is a Scooby-Doo episode or some shit?” He snorted.
Tara flushed with anger. “No, I didn’t think that, asshole! I’m here for Liddy, not for fucking social media likes!”
“Whoa!” Kevin held up his hands placatingly. “C’mon, guys. Let’s see where the trail leads us first. And no, we aren’t gonna go Rambo on this guy, right, Chad?” He’d told Griffith earlier that they would deal with Hrym themselves instead of going to the police, and he was prepared to do that. As to how, exactly, he hadn’t fully considered.
Chad crossed his arms and frowned down at them. “Gotta be prepared for anything—never know what might happen when we catch up with this fucker.”
“Right,” Kevin agreed. “But nobody’s shooting anyone yet. For now, let’s find out what we need to then reassess our options. Nobody is obligated to stay involved in this quest if you feel uncomfortable. So, if anyone wants out at any time, just say so.”
Tara glared at Chad a moment before rolling onto her back again. “Fine. And no, I’m not gonna bail.”
“I’m in till the end,” Chad said easily. “Heading up to the room to catch a nap. This heat’ll cook your brains if you stay out here too long.” He walked off, seeming to limp a bit more than normal, his prosthesis probably bothering him, with the heat and humidity.
Kevin noticed the afternoon did seem to be getting uncomfortably hot in the sun, especially without any breeze. He was sweating freely. “Sorry about that. We’re all a little wound up right now, I guess.”
“He can be such a dick sometimes,” Tara groused. “I’m doing this for Liddy. And since you asked for my help.”
Kevin hadn’t exactly come out and asked for their help, but he appreciated the sentiment all the same. “Yeah, that’s Chad for you. He’s more like his old self than he was before, though. I’m glad you guys are both here. And you aren’t wrong to ask questions. Just wish I had some answers.”
“Me too. I could use a drink. Would you mind getting me a daiquiri? Get yourself something too. Just charge it to my room—four-ten.”
“No problem.”
An ice-cold Corona sounded incredible, but he limited himself to a bottled water. He was afraid if he started drinking again, he’d be unable to stop even though he’d never been an alcoholic. However, if he did slip up and Ward caught him with one of her surprise urinalyses, he would be sent back to prison without further ado. He knew that was paranoia but judged it best to avoid indulging in the first place.
When he returned with the drinks, Tara quickly popped a pink pill into her mouth and washed it down with the strawberry daiquiri. She tried to do so discreetly, but Kevin still noticed.
He was thinking about heading up to the room for his own nap, but just then, Tara decided to get in the pool, so he waited. He felt ashamed at checking her out since she was married, but the glimpses of the old Tara he’d seen over the past couple days still made his heart race. And she did look amazing, not to mention the fact he hadn’t been with a woman in more than ten years.
Just stop, idiot. More important stuff to worry about—let it go.
But that was easier said than done. His old crush seemed to have reignited as if the intervening decade had never happened. Tara didn’t help matters any when she asked him to apply some more sunscreen to her back. Her skin was soft, and his face grew hot as he rubbed the sunscreen across her back and up her graceful neck when she held her hair aside. Their hands touched when she rubbed some lotion across her shoulder, and she caught his hand in hers, squeezing his fingers. Their eyes met, and her smile seemed awfully sultry, but that was probably his overactive imagination.
“Here, I’ll get you now,” she said. “Turn around.”
Kevin’s pulse raced. “I, uh, think I’ll head inside and shower off, actually. Maybe grab a nap before we head out later.”
Tara shrugged. “Probably not a bad idea. I won’t stay out here too much longer.”
“All right, cool.” He gave her an awkward wave and headed back inside with his bottle of water. Did she look disappointed I’m going in? What the hell was that? Was she flirting with me, or am I imagining shit? He didn’t know, but the safest course, just like with the drinking, was to avoid such situations in the first place.
Cold shower should do the trick. Hopefully.
***
Tara made the hotel’s boilers work overtime with a long, hot shower before they headed out to dinner since she wanted to wash away not only the chlorine and sunscreen, but also any lingering residue of the roach motel from the prior night. Showering in that disgusting place had tested her courage, and flip-flops needed to be worn at all times. She made sure to snap pics to post to social media, though Chad’s earlier comment had stung more than she liked to admit. The idea of documenting her road trip online no longer held the appeal it once had.
She dressed in a nice skirt and blouse for dinner. Later, she would don some appropriate club gear. She’d brought along a slinky little dress just in case, but that wouldn’t work for a heavy metal club, not that she’d ever been to one before. But she’d looked online for ideas of what to wear. She hadn’t planned on going to a metal club—hadn’t ever pictured herself doing so, in fact—but she had jeans and boots. And with the T-shirt Matt Griffith had given her, she could probably make that work.
She could still feel Kevin’s hands applying the sunscreen on her skin, strong yet gentle. For whatever reason, she found him incredibly attractive, much more so than in their youth. Riding her Oxy high now, she even imagined seducing him at the hotel later that night. She would invite him to her room on some pretense of talking about their quest, then find an excuse to kiss him…
“Stop!” A voice in her head shouted. “This is nice, what we have going. You don’t want to fuck it up. You’ve got enough problems without more drama by sleeping with Kevin.”
She sighed, knowing her conscience was right. But some serious chemistry was going on between them—she wasn’t mistaken about that.
David called to check up on her before dinner, while they were walking along the canal toward the restaurant, spoiling the mood somewhat. At first, she was tempted to ignore the call but knew she had better answer to allay any suspicions on his part.
She took the call while Kevin and Chad listened to a busker doing a passable job of performing the old song “If You Could Read My Mind.”
“Hey, hon,” David said. “How’s it going?”
He never calls to ask how it’s going. Rather than being touched, she simply felt irritated.
“Fine,” she answered with forced cheer. “Ashley and I are just heading to dinner right now. Pretty tired from perusing clothes, clothes, and more clothes all day. And shoes! OMG, you wouldn’t believe how much stuff they have here.”
“Uh-huh. That’s great, hon,” David said, already losing interest, as she knew he would at the mention of clothes and shoes. “And you’ll be back Sunday?”
“Yep, that’s the plan right now.”
“All right. Hold on a minute.” He called Aiden over. “Tell Mom hi.”
“Hi, Mommy,” Aiden said.
Tara smiled. “Hi, sweetheart. I miss you. Do you miss me?”
After a delay, he gave a grudging “Yeah, I guess.”
His reluctance hurt a little. “Well, I’ll see you soon, all right? Be good for your dad.”
“Okay. Good night, Mommy.”
“Good night, sweetie. I love you.”
“Love you too, Mommy.”
David came back on the phone. “Time to get him to bed. Talk tomorrow?”
“Okay, sure. Talk to you later.”
She hung up and stuffed the phone back in her purse then rejoined the others.
“That the place you were talking about, Tara?” Kevin asked, pointing at DaVinci’s Ristorante a few doors down.
“That’s it.”
“Good, I’m starving.”
“And I need a drink,” she replied. “Long night ahead.”
-32-
Tara studied the Abaddon’s Call T-shirt Matt had given her to promote. She guessed there weren’t a lot of metalhead women out there, at least not fans of such an obscure indie band. Because he hadn’t had any women’s T-shirts, he gave her a men’s size small. The graphic displayed a buxom woman clad in a skimpy chain-mail bikini, with a red-skinned demon with leathery wings crouched subserviently before her. The image reminded her of something from a Heavy Metal magazine she remembered her older brother reading back in the day. She had snuck a peek at an issue once, wondering if it was some type of pornography, but had been disappointed. It had been more like an adult comic book.
The pricey restaurant of earlier had failed to impress her much, despite the impressive Yelp rating. “Sluggish” would be a generous term to describe the service, and the food was already cool when it arrived, though it had been fairly tasty. Two glasses of a nice chianti had washed down her reservations, however, and she was feeling nice and chill, especially with her nightly Oxy kicking in.
Dinner conversation had been limited primarily to chitchat, though Chad had apologized for “coming off harsh” at the pool. She told him not to worry about it. Their quest was certainly uncharted territory for Tara and probably for the others as well. Emotions were running high, with everyone determined to get justice for Lidia but also a little scared about what would happen next. In her case, she was also excited. Even without knowing the endgame, simply being involved with Kevin’s quest felt liberating, providing her a reprieve from the trapped-in-a-glass-bubble sensation she often felt in her daily life.
After completing her modifications, she donned the T-shirt, which other than being too tight across the bust, fit well enough. Using a seam ripper from her travel sewing kit, she’d removed the collar. Then she used her travel-kit scissors to make a small, strategic cut down the front, which after she squeezed into it, had the effect of showing off some serious cleavage.
Hmm… not too shabby. But I doubt I’ll be able to wear it more than once or twice before it rips too much.
Coupled with a snug pair of distressed jeans and her leather boots, she thought she rocked the outfit. It was perfect for a heavy metal club, she hoped. Her closest comparable experience was a Pearl Jam concert David had taken her to when they were dating while she was still in college. That had been more grunge, with lots of flannel, but jeans and concert T-shirts had been common. She went heavy on the eyeliner and added dark lipstick to complete the look. She snapped a selfie, intending to post it later.
But first, it was time to get down to business and hit the club.
***
Kevin nearly had to pick his jaw up off the floor when Tara joined Chad and him in the lobby about quarter to ten.
“Let’s catch an Uber,” Tara said.
“A what?” Kevin barely paid attention to her words, drinking in the sight of her in a too-small T-shirt and painted-on jeans. She looked amazing.
She rolled her eyes. “Such a Luddite you are. Get him up to speed, will ya?” she directed the last to Chad, already pulling out her phone and fiddling with an app.
“Can’t say I’ve ever used a rideshare either,” Chad replied. “Heard of ’em, at least.”
Kevin felt overdressed, but his wardrobe was a bit limited. He wore jeans and a navy-blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled. Chad wore jeans and a Pantera Cowboys from Hell T-shirt, but with his high-and-tight, he didn’t look much like a rocker either.
“Never thought that, out of the three of us, I’d be the one looking like the metalhead,” Tara teased, bumping her hip into Kevin’s as they went outside to wait for their ride.
“Never expected we’d end up going to a metal club. I’ve never been to one before. Haven’t been to any clubs before, actually,” Kevin amended. “Well, other than the one I took Liddy to for her birthday concert, but that doesn’t count since we were underage and couldn’t drink.”
“That’s a sad state of affairs, brother,” Chad said.
“Yeah, it is. By the way, that’s a good look for you, Tara.”
She smiled. “Glad you like it.” She tossed her hair, the blond locks shimmering. Though she appeared to be in a good mood, her eyes looked a little glassy, making him think of the pill she’d swallowed earlier, which might not mix well with the wine from dinner, depending on what it was.
“You’ll probably get Griffith some converts by rocking his gear like that,” Chad added.
Tara beamed. “Already took a selfie to post.”
After a few minutes, their Uber arrived. They piled into the back of a soccer dad’s beat-up minivan, and he drove them the short distance to the club.
Wrong Side of Heaven was located in a retrofitted warehouse that had maintained its industrial look. The neon sign over the doors burned crimson, and a mist generator created a foglike glow around the sign. Even with the riveted metal doors closed, wailing guitars and pounding drums emanated from inside.
Two huge bouncers manned the door, one a skinhead in polished leather curb-stomper boots, cargo pants, and a painted-on wife-beater. A mess of amateurish ink decorated his arms and neck, with one tattoo above his right eye, even. He would’ve fit in perfectly with the Aryan Brotherhood thugs from prison. As far as Kevin knew, he might have been a card-carrying member.
The second bouncer was a clean-cut black man who could have been a linebacker for the Longhorns. He was dressed casually in jeans and a polo shirt, the sleeves barely containing his huge arms.
Kevin approached the black guy, figuring he might be more sympathetic to their cause. The skinhead looked like he could be a buddy of Hrym’s.
“Hey, how’s it going?”
“Evening,” the bouncer answered. He gave the three of them a cursory glance and polite nod, in contrast to the skinhead, who was blatantly ogling Tara.
