Funland (42 page)

“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.”

“You haven’t lost me,” she said.

“Weren’t you listening? I’m—”

“I killed a man once.”

“No.” Nate’s fingers tightened on the sides of her head.

“Yes. I think I did, anyway. I try to tell myself he might’ve lived. Every day, I try to tell myself that. But I don’t really believe it. My knife’s big, and I shoved it right into the middle of his chest. Maybe he didn’t die. He probably did, though.”

Groaning, Nate drew her forward. Robin climbed onto him and straddled his lap. He slipped his arms around her and held her tightly. “Aw, Jesus,” he murmured close to her ear. “Robin, Robin.”

“He attacked me,” she said. Voice cracking, she added, “Doesn’t make it any better, though.”

“Aw…aw. God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“We’re a hell of a pair, huh?”

His body began to shake against her. He was crying. Holding her tight and jerking with sobs, his breath hitching. Robin cried too.

Caressed by the hot throbbing water, they hugged one another and wept.

Thirty-eight

At eleven o’clock Jeremy’s mother set her book aside and started to watch the television news.

“I guess I’ll go on to bed,” Jeremy said.

She looked surprised. “What about
Saturday Night Live?”

“Not on,” he reminded her. “And its summer replacement stinks. Besides, I’m really tired.”

She arched her eyebrow. “I can’t imagine why, getting home in the middle of the night.”

“Yeah.” He kissed her, told her good night, and went to his bedroom. With his door shut, he gathered the clothes he would wear later. He slipped his Swiss Army knife into a front pocket of his corduroy pants. From the bottom drawer of his desk he took Tanya’s razor blade.
Keep this with you to remember,
she’d said. It was still wrapped in his handkerchief. The white cloth was smeared and blotched with dried brown blood.

He unwrapped the blade and looked at it. Memories of last night rushed in, seizing him with fear and desire.

Who needs the razor as a reminder? he thought. Who’s going to forget
that?

But Tanya had asked him to keep the razor with him.

He wound the handkerchief around the blade and tucked it into a pocket of his cords.

Then he rolled up his clothes and pushed the bundle under his bed. He tossed his robe over the back of a chair. He turned off the light and got into bed.

The glowing face of the clock on his nightstand showed eleven-fifteen. Half an hour before time to get dressed and sneak out.

The minutes crawled by.

His mind seethed with fevered images. Tanya and Shiner. Their faces, their bodies, their smells, their voices. Shiner and Tanya. And detours into memories of the troll falling from the Ferris wheel, Tanya straightening his broken legs, Jeremy earlier snapping the guy’s finger to pay him back for striking Shiner. Detours into Jasper’s Oddities, Cowboy shaking the jar of the fetus, the huge awful spider, the leathery remains of the mummy, Cowboy’s wisecracks, the chase and the fight and jerking the shirt off the wild girl and feeling her breasts. A detour to Karen dancing at the party, sweaty in her transparent bra and panties. A detour to the dry, amused voice of the troll calling
Tha’s a fack
from the darkness under the boardwalk. Every detour led him back, soon, to Tanya. To Shiner. The thoughts of Shiner hurt him with guilt and loss. The thoughts of Tanya strained him with hard desire. He wanted her, he ached for her. He felt dirty for choosing her instead of Shiner. And afraid.

The sound of footfalls in the hallway released Jeremy from the dark turmoil of his thoughts. He heard a door close, running water, the flush of the toilet, and finally his mother’s footsteps passing his door as she went to her bedroom.

Eleven-thirty-five.

He waited for the minutes to pass, his mind occupied now with thoughts of sneaking out, but sometimes slipping into fearful wonder about what might happen in his rendezvous with Tanya.

At a quarter to twelve he rolled silently out of bed. He stuffed his pajamas and robe under the covers. Naked and shaking, he knelt beside the bed and reached beneath it for his clothes. He sat on the carpet and put them on.

Then he crept to his door. He eased it open. The hallway was dark, even in front of his mother’s room. But he suspected she hadn’t fallen asleep. Holding his breath, pulse pounding in his head, he trailed his fingertips along the wall to help guide him, and made his way forward, the rubber soles of his shoes silent on the floor.

At the front door he slipped the guard chain off its runner and lowered it gently. He turned the latch. The tongue of the dead bolt made a quiet thump. He turned the knob, swung the door slowly open, stepped onto the porch, and closed the door behind him.

Beyond the porch screens, the street was bright with lamplight. A few cars were parked along the curbs. One of them might be Tanya’s. He knew he was early, though. Maybe she hadn’t arrived yet.

Maybe she wouldn’t come.

The thought filled him with hope, ripped him with agony.

He shut the screen door carefully and stepped down the stairs.

If she doesn’t come, he told himself, I could walk over to Shiner’s.

Look, I changed my mind. Can I come in?

Hell, I don’t even know her address.

Across the street, the headlights of a parked car shot bright beams and then went dark.

Jeremy’s heart jumped.

He quickened his pace. At the sidewalk he glanced back at his house, half-hoping to see lights bloom in the windows, the door fly open, his mother rush out yelling,
And just what do you think you’re doing, young man?

The house was dark. He’d made a clean escape.

He stepped into the street. An arm waved to him from the open driver’s window of the car that had flashed its lights. He returned the wave. He rushed around the car’s front, noting that it was an old Ford LTD. The passenger door swung open as he approached it, but the interior remained dark. The dome light was either out of order or Tanya had disconnected it on purpose.

Stopping beside the door, he crouched and peered in. Tanya was shrouded in shadow, her features masked and blurred, but familiar enough to wrench Jeremy’s breath away. He dropped onto the passenger seat. He tugged the door shut.

“Here,” Tanya said.

He scooted toward her. The engine was running, but not smoothly. He could feel the car vibrating under him. Though the windows were rolled down, unpleasant odors of gasoline and stale cigarette smoke lingered in the air. And there was another scent, musky and humid, strange to him but somehow making him think of jungle nights and savages. It came from Tanya.

She turned to face him. She wore a dark sweatshirt and sweatpants. She took hold of Jeremy’s hand—the one he had cut with the razor—and pressed it to her lips. With her other hand she pulled the loose front of her sweatshirt away from her body. She guided Jeremy’s hand under the shirt, up her hot bare skin to her breast. Leaving it there, she put her arms around him and leaned toward him and kissed him. Her mouth seemed to engulf him. She moaned as he fondled her breast. It was so incredibly smooth, its nipple big and jutting and springy. He rubbed his hand all over it while her tongue swirled into his mouth. He squeezed it. He fingered the slick scar below the nipple and traced it downward, stopping only when he reached the drawstring of her pants, wanting to follow the scar lower but not daring. He glided his hand up again, felt the whistle tumble beneath it, and swept his hand toward her other breast. Suddenly he didn’t dare touch it. He clutched the whistle.

Tanya’s mouth went away.

“We have to get going,” she whispered. “Later. We’ll have time later. For everything.”

Jeremy nodded. He took his hand out of her sweatshirt.

She kissed him gently, her lips slick against him. Then she took something out of the pouchlike pocket at her belly. “These are for you,” she said.

Jeremy held the flimsy packet up to the windshield.

“Surgical gloves,” Tanya explained. “We don’t want to leave fingerprints.” She took another packet out of her pouch, opened it, and put the gloves on.

“We have to wear them now?” Jeremy asked. He didn’t want his hands covered. He wanted them bare and feeling Tanya.

“The car’s hot,” she said.

“Oh,” he muttered. His stomach seemed to tighten. He could feel his penis start to shrink. “You mean you stole it?” he asked.

“Of course.”

He squinted at the ignition. There was no key in it, but the car was running.

“Jeez,” he said.

She turned to the front, released the emergency brake, tugged down the shift lever, and swung the car away from the curb. “We’ll be leaving it at Funland,” she said. “Don’t worry, the owners will get it back. But we can’t take a car they might trace to me.”

“What’re we going to do?” Jeremy asked.

“Get us a troll,” she said. “I know right where to find the perfect troll for tonight.”

“Really? Where?”

“Nate’s house.”

Robin, braced up with an elbow against the mattress, gazed at Nate. He looked as peaceful as a child. His arms and legs were spread out, just as they’d been when he fell asleep beneath her a while ago. His chest rose and fell slowly with long breaths. Robin rested a hand on his chest. Though his skin looked golden and warm in the wavering candlelight, it was cool to the touch.