Читать книгу Candy Everybody Wants - Josh Kilmer-Purcell - Страница 10

The following Sunday night, around 7:30, Toni’s chartreuse Maverick pulled into the driveway, paused for about twenty seconds to take in the scene, then continued to pull all the way up and park on the concrete slab where the garage had stood.

The little debris that was left after the powerful explosion had been cleared by Jayson, Willie, Trey, Tara, and Tom Wernermeier. The twins’ father had taken charge of the situation after his wife proved incapable of offering any help beyond hysterically screaming Bible verses at Jayson and Willie. It had taken Oconomowoc’s two fire engine squads and three city policemen only about an hour and a half to deduce that the nozzle Jayson had wrenched from the hose in the garage was not a garden nozzle but the nozzle on the blowtorch that Toni used to melt down the wedding paraphernalia she used in her art. The hose, which was attached to a propane tank, had begun filling the garage with gas, which combined with the equally volatile art solvent vapors and lawnmower gasoline fumes. At precisely two minutes after 10:00 p.m. (according to the Jayson’s Dukes of Hazzard bicycle handlebar digital stick-on clock, later found down by the lake), the basement water heater had clicked to life. The minuscule electric charge pulsed through the fuse box attached to the north wall of the erstwhile garage, and ignited the soup of flammable gasses.

The resulting fireball burned so hot and so instantaneously that it used up all available oxygen in the immediate vicinity and completely burned itself out before most of the projectile debris even landed.

Whoosh.

The house itself was remarkably undamaged, except for the door that led from the garage into the kitchen. It had splintered and embedded itself in shards in the opposite pantry wall. The newly exposed wall that had previously divided the garage from the house was scorched from foundation to roof-line in aesthetically appealing swirls of soot and char.

This sooty graffiti, of course, was what Toni noticed first upon swinging herself out of the driver’s seat.

‘Look’s nice. Who did it?’ she asked of no one in particular, staring up at the ascending whorls of black on the lilac melted vinyl siding.

Tara, Trey, Jayson, and Willie were sitting cross-legged at the edge of the driveway. No one wanted to answer Toni first, unsure if assuming credit would lead to further compliments or an explosion of expletives rivaling the force of the original blast.

‘I didn’t eat anything bad,’ Willie offered up, clearing his name in the only way he knew how.

‘There was an accident,’ Jayson said. ‘The tank on the blowtorch exploded. It was my fault. But it was an accident.’

‘Well, it woulda been hard to accomplish on purpose,’ Toni mused, running a finger down the sooty wall. She turned back toward the car like nothing had happened.

As she was walking around the rear of the car to unload the trunk, Terri Wernermeier burst through her front door, determinedly speed walking toward them all. She was followed by a very tall and impossibly erect man in a graying crew cut that suggested a military history not completely left behind him. Behind him shuffled Tom, slumped over, staring at the sidewalk. Jayson got the feeling he’d lost whatever argument might have kept them all inside.

‘Are you Mrs. Blocher?’ the buzz-cutted man called out curtly from halfway across the yard.

‘Ms. to you, buddy, unless you’ve got a ring in your pocket,’ Toni replied.

‘He’s Detective Unsinger with Child Protective Services,’ Terri clarified, proudly. ‘I called him.’

‘It’s about time,’ Toni replied. ‘You’ve been beating these kids up with the Bible long enough–they need a little protection.’

Tara chuckled.

‘Detective Unsinger is here for Jayson and Willie,’ Terri said. ‘For their protection.’

‘Thank God,’ Toni sighed. ‘Officer, arrest this woman for first degree meddling and suspicion of busybodying.’ Toni put one arm around both Jayson and Willie and turned them back toward the house.

‘Ms. Blocher, I’m going to have to ask you to take your hands off those children.’

Toni ignored him and continued walking across the cement that used to be the garage floor.

‘Ms. Blocher,’ Unsinger repeated, before reaching out to place his hand on her retreating shoulder.

Being faced toward the opposite direction, Jayson wasn’t exactly sure what happened next, and as Tara and Trey recounted it to him later, much of it was a blur to them as well. All anyone was sure of was that Detective Phillip Unsinger wound up knocked unconscious on the driveway. Apparently, he’d been cold cocked by a four-foot-eight-inch tall woman who looked like a cross between Joyce Dewitt and Charles Bronson. She’d flown out of the passenger seat of the chartreuse Maverick with her right hook pre-aimed for Unsinger’s square jaw. No one had noticed her in the car when Toni arrived since her head barely cleared the cluttered dashboard.

‘Terri, Tom, kids,’ Toni said, ignoring the prone man at her feet and putting her arm around the tiny woman, ‘this is Franck–my lover.’

Terri gasped. Tom sighed. And a second surprise guest vomited out the Maverick’s door onto the driveway from his reclining position across the back seat.

‘And this,’ Toni continued, gesturing toward the mysterious vomiter, ‘is Franck’s brother, Gavin, of the infamous band: Lamb Rashes.’

‘Lamb Blisters!’ corrected the breathtakingly skinny young man wiping his mouth as he unfolded from the cramped back seat. ‘Christ a’mighty. Lamb Rashes don’t even make no fuckin’ sense.’

‘Sorry,’ said Toni.

Gavin was as tall as his sister was short. Probably six-foot-five inches, Jayson calculated. His hair was making a valiant attempt at standing up in spikes, but, it was perhaps too tired from multiple dye jobs to do much more than bristle in random, blotchy, rainbow-colored clumps. Gavin brushed by Jayson and disappeared into the house through the plywood that served as a temporary door between the missing garage and the kitchen. Jayson could tell by the smell that lingered behind that this hadn’t been the first time today Gavin had vomited–though it might have been the first time he’d managed to miss his own clothes.

‘Well, Franck, here’s my studio I was telling you all about,’ Toni said, making a sweeping gesture around the open air where the garage had stood.

Franck leaned back, propping her foot up on the front bumper of the Maverick and lighting up a Marlboro Red. Jayson liked how Franck held her cigarette butt between her thumb and forefinger, and how she winced each time she inhaled. Jayson had learned to smoke from old movies, and while he was still partial to the languid Old Hollywood method of smoking, he made a mental note to try out Franck’s more masculine method one day soon.

‘It’s real nice, Toni, real nice.’ Franck nodded. ‘Got a real nice view too,’ she added, giving the cotton sundress-clad Terri a sultry once-over from her head to her bare feet.

Jayson thought he heard Terri whimper, but it seemed impossible given how stiffly paralyzed she seemed.

The beleaguered Tom stepped forward and put his hand on the top of the twins’ heads.

‘Well, we’ll be getting on home now. I think everything’s okay for the immediate future, Toni,’ he said.

‘Thank you Tom,’ Toni smiled and winked. ‘And, Terri, be sure to take your trash with you.’ Toni pointed toward the wincing Officer Unsinger who was rubbing his jaw while slowly regaining consciousness.

Toni went around behind the car and started emptying several beat up cardboard boxes out of the trunk. Several were torn at the sides and spilling out unfamiliar clothes…flannel plaids, drab army colors, black leathers.

‘How long you staying?’ Jayson asked Franck, who was warily watching Terri, Tom, and Unsinger cross the yard back toward their house.

‘Dunno,’ Franck said, pulling a cane out from the front seat. ‘As long as your mother puts out, I guess.’

‘So you and my mother are dating?’

‘Maybe. We don’t like to use patriarchal words.’

‘You’re a lesbian.’

‘Yep, if you’re into labels.’

‘And so’s my mother?’

‘Guess so, chum.’ Franck leaned her weight on the cane and sighed. She winced as if the pain of punching out a man three feet taller and a hundred pounds heavier was just catching up to her.

‘What’s wrong with your leg?’

‘It’s my hip. Dysplasia. Always been like this.’

In addition to her smoking style, Franck’s cane, in Jayson’s eyes, was her second redeeming quality. Ever since watching an episode of Happy Days where Ralph Malph broke his leg in a skiing accident and suddenly found himself the center of Mrs. C’s and Joanie’s sympathies, Jayson had wished for some sort of physical impairment. He’d spent an afternoon last year slamming his forearm against the kitchen counter waiting for a sickening bone snap that never came.

Franck fished a Slim Jim from inside her leather jacket and unwrapped it. Willie immediately appeared at her side.

‘Want some, buddy?’ Franck asked him, a wide smile spreading across her face, softening her features so that she suddenly appeared ten years younger.

‘Just a little,’ Willie said shyly. He really wanted a lot, but had long since realized that his luck was better when asking for a little of something than all of it. Franck put the end of the Slim Jim into his waiting mouth.

‘He’s not supposed to eat after six. He has Prader-Willi syndrome,’ Jayson said.

‘Toni told me all about it,’ Franck replied, smiling widely at Willie. ‘I get the willies too sometimes.’ She fake shuddered from head to toe. This made Willie giggle.

She held out the jerky stick toward Willie’s face. ‘Now bite down and pull. Hard’

Willie did, and came away smiling, the jagged end of jerky sticking out of his mouth.

‘Fwhank you,’ Willie said, chewing.

‘You’re mighty welcome, chum,’ Franck replied, putting her non-cane-using arm around Willie. The two of them followed Toni, who was carrying the boxes of Franck’s clothes into the house.

Stopping just inside what used to be the door to the garage, Toni peeled the remote garage door opener off the Velcro tape that held it to the wall. She turned around, pointed it at the empty air where the overhead door used to be, and pantomimed pressing the button repeatedly with her thumb. This made Willie giggle. Which made Franck giggle. Which made Toni giggle at her own joke.

Jayson shut the driver-side car door that Toni had typically, absentmindedly left open, and followed his new Fall Season family into the house. This was undeniably a major cast-shakeup, Jayson thought. And right before school started. He wasn’t certain that the big producer-in-the-sky knew what he was doing.