Free Darling by Brad Hodson Page B

hung up, he walked back over, laughing. “Well, Mike’s moving in.”
    “Sure he is. When?”
    He shook his head. “Tonight.”
    “What?”
    “He tried to tell his parents and they got in a big fight. He was kicked out. He’s hanging out at a coffee shop with some of his stuff. We gotta go pick him up.”
    “Right now?”
    “Yeah. Why?”
    She sauntered over and pressed a hand against his chest. “Because I still owe you something.”
    He looked around and laughed. “Here?”
    “Why not? No one’s around…”
    He laughed. “We’re like a couple of animals.”
    “Don’t get stodgy on me, old man. This is what our college years are all about. What’s the expression? Young, dumb, and full of…you know.” She winked at him.
    Dennis considered it for all of three seconds. “Who am I to ignore biological impulses and social norms? But afterward we have to go get Mike.”
    “Trust me. This won’t take long.”
     
    * * *
     
    He watched from inside the unfinished pharmacy as the girl went down on her boyfriend. He always thought of the shopping center with its open ceilings and exposed walls as an abortion, something that could have grown into a Blockbuster, a Subway, and a nail salon if it hadn’t been snuffed out during gestation.
    It excited him, watching her head move back and forth, and his hand moved to his crotch. He gripped tight and moved fast, his excitement mixed with anger that his hand wasn’t her mouth. He grunted as he finished, even angrier now that he saw the boyfriend wasn’t done.
    He thumbed the top of the knife that hung at his side, wondering if he could make it to the lovebirds before they finished. As he calculated the distance, the man whispered something and she pulled away. He fixed his pants, she stood, and they walked back toward the apartment building hand in hand, giggling all the way.
    He slammed his fist into a board, splitting it in two.
    He stepped out and watched their shadows disappear through the field. When they were gone, he went back into the pharmacy and leaned over the girl.
    “It’s time,” he said.
    She squirmed, her wrists and ankles straining against the ropes. She screamed something, but it was muffled against the duct tape. She couldn’t have been more than thirteen and a part of him felt pity for her.
    He grabbed her, threw her over his shoulder, and marched across the parking lot.
    As he approached the supermarket, one of the lights flickered on overhead. A warm breeze tickled his face. He wondered if it was an acknowledgement.
    “For you, my darling,” he whispered.
     
    * * *
     
    Mike sat on the curb and stared into his coffee. Sipped it. Wished he added more sugar, more cinnamon, more something , to offset the bitterness.
    Maybe it’s not the coffee that’s bitter.
    Whatever. He never liked coffee much anyway. He just bought the thing as a way to kill time while he waited for Dennis. He took another sip, holding the giant plastic cup in both hands like a child’s sipping cup. His bags and suitcase were crowded around him on the sidewalk and he rearranged them as people filed into the shop. Not that it mattered; they were still obvious and everyone still stared.
    So what? I got kicked out. Big deal. I was moving out anyway.
    A group of teenagers came giggling toward the coffee shop, two young guys in stylish T-shirts with the forearms of baseball players, a petite bubbly girl on each arm. One of them kicked Mike’s red duffel bag as he walked by. It wedged between his back and his suitcase.
    “Watch where you put your shit, dude,” the ballplayer said. One of the girls laughed.
    Mike glared at his back as the group went inside.
    Fuck him. He doesn’t know who you are. Go in there, throw your hot coffee in his face, then break his nose.
    He shook it off. As his Dad always said, “It’s not a Smart Thing to do, Michael.” He didn’t know exactly what constituted a Smart Thing, but his father assured him he never did one, whether by