Drama Dolls: A Novel: [Dark, Suspenseful, Fast-paced, Exhilarating] (2 page)

Looped around her wrists, the remaining bags rammed into Barb’s legs, bruising spots that would later turn yellow. The pom-poms’ handles poked her belly, the plastic feathers tickling her upper thighs.

Passing through a used car lot, the Kia models and Hondas lined up in a row. A pair of minivans with slashed prices parked side by side. The scrolling marquee of a sign read NO CAR OVER $6,995. Financing was available with approved credit. The marquee, it read the days and hours of operation.

Catching her reflection in each car window she passed, Brittney stopped periodically to stare. Her transparent image doubled in with each automobile’s interior.

Slowing to a walk, Brittney spotted a vintage Corvette in the corner of the lot. It had a sign that read PRICE BREAK. Looking through the reflection, into the custom bucket seats, Brittney imagined cruising around town in flair. Turning heads, people pointing as the car rolled by.

The voice, it was screaming, “Buy it!”

Barb, gaining distance, turned around and jogged backward. She said, “C’mon!”

Catching one last glimpse at coolness, Brittney Doll picked up the pace and rejoined her fellow cheerleader.

The plastic Dolls passed a law office on the corner of an intersection; the sign on the building was for customers only. The red brick building stood out amongst the old fashioned neighborhood they were running through.

Once they got back onto the street, the Drama Dolls sprinted toward freedom.

The more pressure on her ankle, the more Brittney began to limp. She was running with the bulk of the weight to one side. Losing pace, slowing down to a gallop.

“OK?”

Shifting the possessions to her weak side to even out the weight, Brittney nodded. Looking back toward the house, through the little black squares for windows, the aftermath shined periodically as cars drove past. A rolling shadow on the ceiling the shape of a hand, one finger thicker below the knuckle.

Continuing down the street, weaving in and out of yard bushes, ducking at cars that passed by, the fleeing burglars managed the escape as planned. Walking farther away from civilization, through a wooded area, the stream water dripping on the rocks, the Drama Dolls had struck again.

The leaves rustled under their feet as the two trudged down the path that separated hills and water. Bags slung around their shoulders, Brittney and Barb slowly caught their breaths.

Far enough out, past the woods and multi-lane street that connected the neighborhood and downtown area, the pair ducked into an alley and removed their plastic masks. Breaths exhaled, the night’s heat causing them to sweat. A stench of rotten food and stale urine punched them in the face.

Brittney and Barb looked at each other and cringed.

The alley served as a dumpster spot for various restaurants. Sesame chicken leftovers in one dumpster. Mixed in were peanuts and chili peppers from discarded Kung Pao splattered over rice. The smell of soy sauce lingering.

Fried chicken dumped out in another. Bones with skin and fat rolled into napkins. Cardboard buckets with grease spots on the bottom were tossed in as well. Layered in on top of the chicken were refried beans from the taco joint next door. Thrown out ground taco beef, shreds of lettuce, and diced tomatoes splashed on the inside of the bins. Stale taco shells broken into pieces peppered over the pounds of wasted food. The aroma emanating from the dumpster was a smorgasbord.

A couple of Chinese cooks were standing around a dumpster smoking cigarettes. Speaking in their native language, the two were laughing as they inhaled their smokes. “Yào hē zuì jīn
wǎ
n (Going to get drunk tonight),” one cook said to the other. He inhaled his smoke, and then exhaled a couple of charcoal gray colored donuts into the air.

The other cook, spitting into the pavement, said, “Bù, yào ná
qǐ
háizi (Nah, have to pick up the kid).”

The drinking cook, hoping to get an entire twelve pack into his system before night’s end, said, “Tài zāogāole, yě
xǔ
míngtiān (Too bad, maybe tomorrow).”

The child touting cook, he smiled, nodded his head, and then flicked his cigarette butt into the distance. Waiting for his co-worker to finish his smoke, he kicked a couple rocks away from him. Once his friend was finished, the two Chinese men entered the back door of the restaurant, disappearing from view.

Excess hamburgers were piled to the top of the remaining garbage can. The bums were stocking up for the week. Mice scurried from under the dumpsters. Birds were drinking from puddles formed by water dumped out from kitchens. There was piss splattered where the buildings met the pavement.

Swallowing hard, Brittney said, “Yuck!”

“Totally,” Barb said. A bird flew by with half a bun in its beak. It dropped a crumb that landed on Barb. “Not cool!” she said, wiggling her arm. The piece of food fell down to the pavement. A mouse ran up to the bread and snatched it, running away before Barb could know what happened.

The heist had gone well, a treasure of materialistic belongings for their stash.

“Drama Dolls Strike Again!” the inner voice of conquering reason said.

Barb locked gaze with Brittney, their hearts beating heavy. Gasping for air, they nodded, the Dolls’ real lips building to smiles. Masks on top of their heads, the plastic faces crumpled, looking up to the stars. Empty eye holes stared into nothing.

“Great work, Barb.”

“You too, Brittney.”

Crumbling gravel in the distance startled them. Nodding their heads sharply down, each mask slipped to the respective cheerleader’s chin. The getaway car, a black Buick LeSabre boat, crept around the corner, its headlights turned off. It was purring through the night. The large body fit just enough in the alley for the car’s doors to open.

In the backseat were bags filled with necklaces, bracelets, loop earrings, and stud earrings. The bags had tiaras, rings, and chokers. A Pearl Drop Tattoo choker was sticking out of the top of one bag. The bits of jewelry, they were the lifted contents the cheerleader Dolls had to sort through later. Prior heists that also went as planned.

Slouching against the door in the backseat was a passed out Drama Doll. Her body, it was limp and hunched down. Her head fallen into the window. Uniform wrinkled, the shirt was scrunched up halfway over her torso so you could see her navel ring. Shaven legs from the knees down; blade cuts were a music staff without notes. Thighs were a smooth satin. The doll wore spotless white shoes. Her right one untied.

The passenger side door swung open. Leaning over into the front passenger seat, Lena screamed, “Get in!” The Doors played softly out of the speakers. Melancholy keyboards complementing the guitar riffs.

Masks positioned, Brittney and Barb tossed the loot into the car. Sliding up against the bags in the backseat, Barb made herself as comfortable as she could. Squeezing in pushed the passed-out Drama Doll’s head farther into the window. The mask was looking ghostly through the glass. Staring out toward the direction of the heist, Barb said, “Let’s go!”

Birds flew off with hamburger buns. Soaring in front of the car, through the windshield, the cheerleaders could see bread crumbs dropping onto the street. A homeless man digging into a dumpster pulled out a chicken leg. Biting into the meat, his teeth pulled the skin from the bone. The vagrant swallowed his score and then scooped out taco meat with his hand, throwing the chunks into his mouth simultaneously with the dark meat.

Brittney and Lena looked at each other and winced. “Gross,” Lena said.

Her own plastic mask over her head, hair pulled back in a ponytail, Lena shifted into drive. Hands were covered in gloves around the steering wheel. On her feet were white cheerleader shoes. Her mini-skirt layered over a pair of runny pantyhose. Lena looked exactly like them – totally beautiful.

Observing the passed out, dolled up freak show, Barb said, “What’s with her?” Brittney stayed quiet. Although Lena stayed silent as well, she made a point to stare at Barb through the rearview. The silence in between the music urged Barb to repeat herself. “What’s with her?” she said, this time louder.

Speeding away, Lena remained quiet. Jim Morrison singing “Light My Fire.” Lena lip syncing Morrison through her mask. Her plastic lips rolling up and down to the words.

“Tired… she’s just tired,” Brittney said. Looking over at Lena, the air thickening from the discomfort, Brittney quickly changed the subject. Her thumb pointing over the seat, she said, “This is Barb. Barb, this is Lena.” Rubbing her ankle with her hand, the heat from the friction started to burn Brittney’s leg.

“Yea, we’ve meh-”

Clearing her throat, Lena cut Barb off. She craned her neck back and gave Barb a sharp, dirty look.

Outside the back car window, the alley was shrinking to the size of a faraway train tunnel. Eying Barb, the darkness hiding her gaze, Lena said, “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

Gazing out the window, avoiding Lena’s stare, Barb slid down in her seat. “A pleasure.”

Of course, Barb’s real name was William.

And Brittney’s was Jeffrey.

----------

Before the burglaries, William and Jeffrey would dress up as adult cheerleader Dolls in the comfort of their own homes. It wasn’t just them, though. There were adult cheerleaders as far as eternity. The beautiful thing about the World Wide Web was you could have a group of peppy cheerers leading rallies in the privacy of their bedrooms. A multitude of one-person pyramids toppling over to the ground. Kicking their legs up and standing like a statue with their arms straight up. The open curtain, open window, was the student body in the stands.

Behind the monitor screens, the Dolls simultaneously typed into the little chat box at the bottom of the website. Many of them shared stories throughout the day.

An online group for fetishes, William slowly blasted out emails to build his community - a community of adult Dolls who shared his passion for being beautiful. For being accepted.

William, he grew up obese and his skin was full of acne. His teeth were a row of baked beans. Pushed down into the dirt the beans were either straight or crooked, leaning toward the left of his face. Much of his childhood had been riddled with bad fortune. His self-esteem never blossoming.

Sitting on a playground bench, observing a girl as she combed the hair of her Barbie doll, William had seen the girl’s smile widen like the doll’s manufactured lips. Watching the young child hug her doll, kissing it as she held it in tightly, the overweight loner witnessed true happiness. Something he had never himself experienced. Now, he was trying to recruit others.

Jeffrey would gradually log in at random intervals to see the group’s posts. Most of the posts came from William. Instead of feeling sorry for himself, Jeffrey felt compassion toward William, who had wanted to be beautiful for so long.

Over time, members dropped out, disappeared, or grew out of the phase. The online community’s participation lessened. Posts reduced. There were only a handful of members commenting. Penis enlargement pills and discounted sex toys were the only advertisements being pimped out.

After a while, the membership dwindling, William and Jeffrey took their passion out to the real world. Decked out in full cheerleader outfits, the two visited retail stores, pricing out televisions and computer equipment. They shipped packages via ground through the post office. William and Jeffrey attended rock concerts. Experiencing the reactions from people made them feel important.

Dressing as Drama Dolls, sipping lattes at coffee houses, the stares fed into their sickness.

Eyes burning through their backs, snickering when the two cheerleaders passed by, after a while, the rush began to fade away. The people around them became artificial. As if William and Jeffrey were sitting behind a computer again.

To keep the momentum alive, Jeffrey suggested crimes. Not murders or assaults, nothing of the sort; rather, his plan involved home invasions. Stealing. Looting. For the rush, exhilaration.

This most recent burglary, a dozen’s worth of stash collected, was the beginning of the end for Jeffrey. It was the beginning of the end for the Drama Dolls.

----------

The getaway lasted the entire Doors album. “People Are Strange” going into “Break On Through” going into “Love Me Two Times,” the entire drive was a fog. The rawness of Robby Krieger’s riffs complementing Morrison’s vocals took Brittney back to a different time. A different life. A life before she met Her. It took her back to a life before the Drama Dolls.

The depth of Morrison’s voice was haunting at this hour. Ray Manzarek tickling the keys brought chills through the plastic coated figure’s spine. It didn’t help that the night was in full swing, allowing the drive to be pitch black at times.

Brittney looked over at Lena. The driver’s attention was fixed on the road ahead of them. The ghostly profiled mask, seemingly glowing in the night, brightened under each street light that the car passed.

Craning her neck into the backseat of the car, Brittney saw Emily slumped down into the seat. The car’s wheels rolling over bumps on the road caused the passed out doll’s neck to swivel. At times, her limp head bobbled as the Buick rolled into divots in the street. The movement of Emily’s neck accompanied Morrison’s voice as it echoed throughout the speakers. As if she was singing along.