After Dark (8 page)

“
De nada
,” Johnny said, and Miles left.

“Is the shower finished?” Lilith asked.

“The plumber was sick today. We're hoping to have it fixed by tomorrow.”

“Oh snap, Ma,” Johnny said. “I totally reek, and I've got a date tonight.”

“A date?” I said. “How did you line up a date? You haven't been here for twenty-four hours, and you've spent most of the time blasting paint off of the side of the inn.”

“I got a text from Elizabeth,” he said, shrugging.

“That reminds me,” I said, turning to Mom. “I need a new phone.”

“I told you, Charlie, I'm not buying you a new phone. You've got your computer and your tablet. You don't need another phone to lose.”

“I can't walk around with a tablet in my pocket, Mom. And during my long and arduous walk home today, I was thinking that I should probably have a phone in case I get into some kind of trouble or get lost. I mean, what if there's an emergency?”

“It's a small town, Charlie. The people are friendly. I'm sure you'll manage,” she said.

“What about the shower situation?” Johnny asked.

“Go down to the river. There's a place called The Bend where I used to go swimming. Take the truck.”

“Look,” I said, “bathing in the river is all well and good for the television star of the family. Apparently he can line up dates standing on the side of the road in the middle of the night, but how am I supposed to meet anyone if I'm walking around in Choke clothes and smell like a mix of BO and dirty river water? I say we book into a hotel while we wait for this place to get fixed up.”

“First, Charlie, the river's not dirty,” Mom said. “And second, the bathroom will be done by tomorrow. There's no reason for us to leave.”

“Not yet, anyway,” I said. “Not yet.”

Saturday, 4:40 p.m.

Lilith stayed behind with Mom while Johnny and I piled into the truck and headed down to the river. I'd been picturing a private little watering hole, with birds singing in the trees and fish swimming around us. Instead, the road was lined with cars, and The Bend was absolutely packed with people.

It wasn't hard to figure out why it was called The Bend — it was just a long curve in the Rolling River that would look like a giant
C
from above. The inside part of the
C
consisted of a smoothed-down, solid ledge of rock that gradually sloped down from the woods behind it into the water. The ledge was covered with people, lying on towels. We were standing on the road, on the outer edge of the
C
, looking down on them. On the other side of the guardrail was a high cliff that dropped straight into the river. A gang of kids was standing on the edge and taking turns leaping into the air and screaming their way down into the water. The river was about as wide as the road, and there was a mix of people floating around on air mattresses, inner tubes or just swimming lazily in the black water.

Up the river and to our left, there was a wooden bridge that you could cross to get to the rock ledge on the other side. Johnny headed for the bridge, but I was feeling lazy, so I got in line with the ten-year-olds on the edge of the cliff. When it was my turn, I kicked off my flip-flops and took a flying leap into the water.

I'm not sure if my sunburn was a factor, but the water was like ice, and I think I had a minor heart attack when I went under. It was pitch-black down there, and the water got colder and colder the deeper I went. By the time I came back up, I was gasping for air and quickly turning from red to blue.

“Are you all right?” a kid on an inner tube asked, paddling over.

“I'll be fine, as soon as my heart starts up again,” I said, breaststroking my way toward the ledge on the inside of the
C
.

Five feet from the water's edge, I could stand up on the part of the rock shelf that extended into the water. I eased my way up onto dry ground and lay down to bask in the sun.

“Nice entry, bro,” Johnny said, sitting down beside me.

“Thanks, I'm in training for the next Olympics.”

“Oh yeah? For what event?”

“The Jumping-Into-Ice-Cold-Water event. How did I look?”

“Fearless,” he said.

That's when I heard someone behind us say, “Isn't that Jaysin Night?”

“I think you've been spotted.”

“I think you're right,” he said, as people started murmuring behind us.

“By the way, the water's just a smidgen on the chilly side.”

“Thanks for the warning, bro,” he said and yanked his shirt off. Johnny's ripped, of course, and I heard the murmuring behind us get a little more frantic.

“Hop along there, Cassidy, or they're going to get to you before you can get into the water and wash off all your Hollywood BO.”

Johnny marched into the river, dove under and came up on the other side, grinning.

“That is most definitely Jaysin Night,” someone said behind me.

“Are you sure?”

“I'd recognize that body anywhere. What's his real name?”

“I don't know.”

“I think it's Jack.”

A second later, four girls in bikinis padded by me and slipped into the water.

“Hi!” one of them called as they swam out to meet Johnny.

“Hi,” Johnny said, and they giggled a little.

Interrupting them now would be bad form, so I lay back, closed my eyes and was drifting off when someone sat down beside me.

“That must get annoying.”

I opened my eyes a crack and saw Elizabeth Opal sitting next to me. Her long red hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she was wearing a black bikini.

“Nah, not really,” I said, springing up and into a sitting position. “Even before Johnny was a big star, he had gaggles of girls following him around. I really wouldn't bother with him if I were you. I'm sure there are far more interesting people to get to know.”

“They're behaving like idiots,” she said as the girls all giggled again.

“They're not your friends?”

“Not really,” she said. “I grew up in Rolling Hills, but I don't go to school here, so I always feel like a bit of an outsider.”

“Where do you go to school?”

“Winehurst Girls' Academy, but my dad almost sent me to Choke,” she said, nodding at my T-shirt, which I hadn't bothered to take off.

“Winehurst is a fine institution.”

“I suppose,” she said, looking out at Johnny, who was now sitting near the edge of the water, saying something that was making all the girls laugh harder. “Most of the people there are snobs, and I hate the uniforms.” She glanced back at me. “I guess you don't mind yours.”

“Sure, I love gallivanting around in my uniform! Heck, I wanted to go swimming in my full uniform — blazer and tie. But my mom wouldn't allow it. She said it would be too pretentious. What do you think?”

“I think you're crazy.”

“Or a fashionable trendsetter.”

“Hmm. Or maybe you got too much sun today.”

“Are you saying that sunburns aren't in style in Rolling Hills? They're all the rage at Choke.”

“Are you always so sarcastic?”

“Only when I'm talking to the most beautiful girl in town.”

“See,” she said, “now I know you're just being sarcastic. Do you take anything seriously?”

Johnny had left his harem of starstruck fans behind, and he sat down beside Elizabeth.

“You didn't tell me Charlie was so funny,” she said to him.

“He never quits,” Johnny said, grinning.

“I don't think those girls are going to quit either,” I said, nodding at his fans, who were getting out of the water, too.

“Yeah,” he said, “I guess we're going to have to come here when it's not so busy.”

“Wait until July, when the tourists arrive. You won't be able to find a square inch of space to sit down in,” Elizabeth said.

“And when they find out that Jaysin Night enjoys the occasional midnight skinny-dip, they'll have to sell tickets to this place,” I added.

“Come on, bro. Cut me some slack.”

“He's right, though. Maybe not about the skinny-dips — I wouldn't know about that …” Elizabeth said, blushing a little. “But you're big news, Johnny. And I think they're going to want a few pictures.” She nodded toward the girls, who were now coming our way with their phones.

“Time for me to go,” I said.

“Me, too,” Elizabeth added, and we both got up. “Are we still on for tonight, Johnny?”

“You bet,” he said.

“I'll meet you at The Opal at eight. Bring an appetite.”

“Will do,” he said. “Why don't you stick around, bro. I can give you a lift back.”

“No, I've been in enough pictures with you, Johnny. I'll walk back to the inn. It'll help me thaw out.”

That's when the mob arrived. It included the four girls, with phones, and about seven other people who had recognized Johnny. They jostled around, trying to get a picture with him, while I wandered away with Elizabeth.

We crossed the bridge and looked back down at The Bend. The crowd had gotten bigger, and Johnny was busy being a good sport and smiling for the cameras.

“What's he really like?” she asked.

My heart sank. It was a question that a hundred girls had asked me over the years. I had been hoping Elizabeth was going to be different.

I was about to answer when she laughed. “I'm kidding, Charlie. That's got to be the single dumbest question I could possibly ask.”

“Beautiful, smart
and
funny,” I said, shaking my head. “You're a triple threat, Winehurst.”

She laughed. “Do you want a drive home?”

“No, I think I could use a little more sun. Plus, Johnny will find a way to escape from his groupies in a few minutes.”

“Suit yourself,” she said, smiling. “I'll see you later, Charlie.”

“Later, Winehurst,” I said. Then I watched her walk back to her Porsche and drive away for the second time that day. I didn't actually think Johnny would be done with his fans in a few minutes, but Elizabeth was clearly more interested in Johnny, and I really didn't want to compete for her attention. I've learned you can't play that game against Johnny Harker and come out on top.

Saturday, 5:45 p.m.

Instead of milling around by the river, I decided to start walking back to the inn. I figured Johnny might get caught up posing for photos for ten minutes, but ten minutes came and went, and there was still no sign of him. Twenty minutes passed, and then thirty, and every time I heard the sound of an engine coming down Elm Street my heart did a little dance (my feet were too tired to dance). Two cars passed me, but neither was a giant black pickup truck with a television star behind the wheel. The second one was a Jeep filled with local yokels about my age. The guy in the passenger seat gave me the finger on the way by, proof that Rolling Hills was a normal enough kind of place after all. I thanked him for his kindness and continued to trudge along the gravel shoulder. Thankfully, the trees were tall enough to keep me in the shade, because it was still stinking hot outside, and my sunburn was starting to irritate me. After forty minutes with just the sound of my feet scuffling along, I was lulled into a partially hypnotic state. I have no doubt I would have wandered by the Baxter place without even knowing it if Miles Van Helsing hadn't snapped me out of my trance.

“Psst,” he hissed.

“Huh?” I said, looking around.

“In here,” he said, and a hand reached out of a nearby bush and dragged me off the gravel shoulder.

Miles was still dressed in black, only he had his baseball cap on backward and a pair of binoculars around his neck.

“The Baxter residence,” he said, pointing behind me.

I turned and saw a two-story house at the top of a low hill across the street. It was an old country house, but well cared for, painted white with green trim. There was a porch out front with four green wooden deck chairs, two on each side of the front door, which was also painted green. The lawn was immaculate and there was a green mailbox at the bottom of the driveway with
The Baxters
painted along the side.

“That's where the monsters live?” I asked.

“Creepy, isn't it?” Miles said, in not much more than a whisper.

“No, Miles, it's not creepy. It's ridiculously normal.”

“That's why it's so creepy.”

“I can't believe I nearly fell for all this,” I said, and started back for the road, but as I was walking away, a man came out the front door. He was wearing a straw fedora, sunglasses, a long-sleeve blue dress shirt and khaki pants. He looked about as average as average can get.

“Baxter,” Miles hissed, pulling me back behind the bushes.

Baxter walked to a black Volvo parked beside the house, got in, started it up and backed down the driveway. He pulled onto Elm Street, stopping for a moment to switch the car from reverse into drive. He was only a few yards away from us, and I got a pretty good look at him. I didn't notice any glowing red eyes or fangs, and he wasn't moving with jerky spasms. He was just an average Joe going for a drive. I watched him for a moment, and then he drove away.

“I'm leaving, Miles — and you should, too. Go back home, blog about your paranoid conspiracy theories and then have a nap. You need to clear the cobwebs out of your brain.”

“You can't go that way,” he said, grabbing my arm. “You'll blow my cover.”

“There's no cover to blow, Miles. People around here already know you're certifiable,” I said, yanking my arm free. “Plus, Baxter just left — or did you miss that?”

I was just about to step out onto the gravel shoulder when he grabbed me from behind. “
Mrs.
Baxter is still inside,” he hissed.

That's when Johnny finally drove by in the truck.