Chapter 21

Richie parked the car in the quickly filling stadium parking lot. He fell back and looked at Caitlin’s face. He picked the little baggie out of his pocket and put it on the dash.

“That’s all that’s left,” he said. “The plan is to give it to Gabrielle Xu. She was, is, hopefully, Harper’s favorite. Anything less would shame her.”

“OK,” Caitlin said. She was trying to think through the fog. Her unpredictable recent love affair had come from Richie slipping something into her smoothie. He had spiked Zita’s coffee. He had peppered Oksana’s burger. He had flavored Perla’s pie. He had drugged Lilith’s drink.

And somehow Nat and Flo had gotten caught up in everything too.

To get his hands on magic beans, Richie had traded his cow. Caitlin covered her face and tried to suppress her laugh.

That. Was. So. Mean!

Richie leaned back in his chair and waited. He tried looking at her. Her body shaking with laughter she was dribbling out. Normally if her tits had been wildly jiggling like that, Richie would have been enthralled.

Now he was impatient and angry.

“Am I a bad person?” he forced the words out.

Caitlin shook her head. Harper was missing and gone. Caitlin was laughing at a mean joke Perla would have said about Harper. Caitlin swallowed her mirth. She closed her eyes and turned to look at the magically imposed love of her life.

She bloomed into a smile.

“Not a bad person,” Caitlin said. “You made a bad choice. Everyone makes bad choices. You clearly are not going to make a choice like that again. You’re not going to trade Zita for four and twenty blackbirds baked into a pie.”

Her singing voice turned to laughter again. She grabbed her face and shook her head.

“I’m sorry!” she barked.

“I wouldn’t!” Richie said, pale-faced.

Zita, Flo, Oksana, Perla, Lilith, Caitlin, and Gabrielle Xu, international pop idol. Would he trade all of them back for Harper?

No, it was the wrong thing to do it one way, there was no going back.

“I should’ve spiked Mary’s coffee,” he said. “I could ask her to give up Harper and ... No, I couldn’t do that.”

“Maybe she’ll find her,” Caitlin said.

“Maybe,” Richie said doubtfully. He snatched the baggie off the dashboard and slipped it into the pocket of his skinny jeans. “You have the tickets?”

Caitlin pulled the two passes out of her bag.

“You excited?” Richie asked.

“In sharing you with another woman?” Caitlin frowned, but couldn’t keep it. “Hell yeah I am.”

“I meant about the concert,” he said. “Honestly, when I got the tickets, I figured this was going to be a nightmare that Harper loved.”

“You don’t like the music?”

“I can’t stand Hate You Love You Hate You or whatever,” he said.

“Yeah, you hear that song everywhere!” Caitlin agreed.

“But most of her songs are upbeat and fun,” Richie said.

“Except Where Are You?”

“And How Will I Get There?”

“What?”

“That’s the whole title of the song,” he said, and frowned as he sat limply. He unbuckled his seatbelt and let it retract across his body without moving.

“Oh, that’s a long title.”

“So is Hate Me Like You Love Me Like You Hate Me,” he said.

“True,” Caitlin said. “You know, you didn’t have to pretend you didn’t quite remember the title. I’m not gonna judge you on knowing your girlfriend’s favorite song.”

“I don’t know yours,” he said.

“It’s Fat by Weird Al,” she said.

“What? Seriously?”

“Yeah, Dad used to sing it to me,” Caitlin said.

“Really?”

“Uh huh,” Caitlin nodded. “We going or not? Can’t get your next girl sitting in the car.”

“I guess we’re going.”

Frankie sat low behind the Burger King dumpster. He squeezed a rat between his hands. The others had already run off across town. They couldn’t keep up with a car. He didn’t have the means to track Richie that the rats did. But they didn’t have the means to move across the city like he did.

He had thought about stealing a car.

He had a better idea. He just hoped the fucking police cruiser would ditch the strip mall parking lot and fuck off before the window closed.

Cars these days had GPS and alarms and shit. He could end up making a huge amount of noise or someone could call the cops and say, “Yeah, this guy stole my car and drove it straight to 123 Go Straight To Fucking Jail Avenue.”

His heart was slow and calm. For some reason, when he was stuck, it felt like his heart was going to burst. Going to Richie calmed it down. It stopped his skin from itching. He lifted the rat to his face.

“Sorry little guy,” he said. “I know how you feel.”

The rat shit in his hands.

It hadn’t been the first time.

The cop car pulled out through the drive-thru and Richie squeezed himself tighter against the wall. They didn’t see him. He scratched his ankle on the edge of the dumpster and didn’t get up for another minute.

The rat twisted and tried to run. It wanted to go left and so he led it. The rat calmed down instantly.

Boom! Big tits lesbian tease! He had worked with the slut for months and it was only now she was taking dick.

Richie’s dick.

Frankie realized he liked her in a way he had never liked anyone.

He admired her.

He rushed up to her. She was dressed in her work shirt and black pants. She had her hat and purse in her left hand.

“Hey, uh...” He had never learned her name. It was a weird name anyways. Maybe. “Ogsma!”

“What?” she met Frankie’s eyes and paled. Her eyes flicked to his hands and she dropped her bag and her throat opened. She was about to scream.

“Fuck! Shut up!” He thrust the rat towards her face. She paled and scurried back.

“I need a drive, a quick one, then you can go to work!”

“What?” she said. “I’m already late.”

He kicked her purse towards her.

“It’s just a drive! They’re not gonna fire you!” he said. He hadn’t been fired until he had needed that bitch lawyer. Why’d Don have to grow up to be a dick?

“I–”

Frankie shoved the rat closer and kicked the bag again.

“Pick it up and let’s go!” he said. “Now!”

“I–”

The rat came closer and she flinched. She tried to dart left but his hands moved, rat aimed at her face. She wobbled and tremored.

Goddammit! Why did girls need to be bullied so much to do anything? It’s just one fucking drive!

And if he took her keys and car and just let her go to work, she’d call the police.

She picked up her bag.

“Give me your phone too.”

Nat lay in bed. She was feeling a deep cold misery. She had a purpose, the happiness and pleasure of her younger brother, Richie. He kept stunting all of the ways she knew how to help a man.

It sucked.

She picked up her phone.

He and Caity were out at the concert. Nat wouldn’t interrupt a date.

That was how she lost her best friend in grade ten.

The girls were important to Richie. Nat couldn’t destroy him like that. The only thing left was to make the girls happy.

Oksana came to mind.

The big titted lesbian was everything a guy like Richie could dream of. No chance of cheating on him with some other dude. Half as horny as he seemed to be. Only Lilith seemed to get off as easily as Oksana.

She didn’t reply.

Lilith?

Nat’s lip curled. The little sister might have been 18, but she was still in high school. Zita too. Nat was the adult in the room. She had–

Flo!

The milf had a decade plus on Nat, but clearly the eldest girls needed to stick together, could understand each other better.

Though Nat had no idea how to be a mom or to keep a job like the Burger King shift manager.

She fired off a quick text.

Five minutes later, the response finally came.

“Emergency at work. Can’t talk if it’s not about Richie.”

It wasn’t.

This was about Nat.

Perla had gone off to work at the diner.

That left the teenagers.

She texted Lilith.

“He~ey! At Flo’s! Playing with Trevor and Zita! Wanna come watch cartoons and build legos?!!!”

Watch cartoons and build Legos...

Ask a child a question...

Fuck it.

Nat swung her feet off the bed.

She remembered playing with legos with Richie once upon a time. He kept building spaceships and Nine Elevening them into her little houses.

This time she could build the spaceships.

She headed downstairs, walked to the front door and stepped her feet into her shoes.

“Fuck,” she dropped her head. “I gave him my car.”

“You on the list?” The bouncer standing in Richie and Caitlin’s path was six foot six and two hundred and fifty pounds. He wore a dark blue shirt with security across the chest. He narrowed his eyes at Richie.

Richie’s hand went to his pocket.

Caitlin drew their passes from her bag.

Security watched Richie drag his hand up and rub his hands.

“Here you go,” she said, smiling.

“You got ID?” he asked.

Richie went to his other pocket and pulled out his wallet. Caitlin handed over her driver’s license.

The security guard looked over Caitlin.

Her makeup was good, but it couldn’t perfectly cover the bruises on her cheek and burn mark on her neck. Her hand was still in its plaster cast.

He looked at Richie. Richie tried to smile, failed, as he handed over his ID.

“You need a hand stamp,” he said to Richie.

“What? Why?”

“Because this says you don’t turn 19 until next month and you’re not drinking,” he said, handing back the driver’s licenses. “Head down to the left. I’ll wait with your girl.”

He pointed and a 20 something girl waved Richie over.

“You OK?” he asked as soon as Richie was with the girl.