Styrofoam Throne (7 page)

I went another mile down the road until I got to St. Helen’s Liquor. It was an old man working this time. I needed to turn down the candy browsing and crank up the old thing. Maybe get some camaraderie going. I grabbed the bottle again and brought it to the counter.
 

“How ya doin’?” the man said.

“Ugh. Work is grinding my ass,” I groaned.

“Ditto, amigo.”

I placed the bottle on the counter with a shaky hand. There was another customer hanging out next to the counter and he stared at my trembling hand.

“Why so shaky?” the other customer asked with a wink.

“’Cause this’ll be my breakfast.” I didn’t even know where that came from. The customer nodded with an impressed frown.

“You know what suits me for that? I’ll tell ya a secret formula for perfection. You know that stuff they give babies when they’re dehydrated from diarrhea?”

“No,” I said.

“Pedialyte,” he answered. “Yeah. You take that and throw in a shot and a half of Everclear and hooo boy!”

“How come I never heard this?” the old man asked him.

“I’m not finished. You take that Pedialyte and mix it with that Everclear and then you top it off with some Mexican cough syrup. That’s a drink.”

“Jesus,” the old man said. “You forgot the flaming rag stuffed in the bottleneck.”

“Call it a ‘Woman Tamer,’” the customer said.

“I could use three Woman Tamers right about now,” I grumbled. “Two to drink and one to throw at my boss’ house. Goddamn, I’m tired.”

The guys nodded as the clerk rang me up.

“That’ll be six-fifty.”

“Donovan?”

Oh no.

The voice came from the liquor store entrance and was too familiar. It was one of my high school teachers, the cookie party one. Ms. K.

“Oh, hey.”

“Are you selling this boy liquor?” she said to the old man. “I’m his teacher.”

The man and his friend shook their heads as another bottle went under the counter.

Ms. K followed me into the parking lot.

“This isn’t what I’d hope you’d be doing this summer.”

“But it’s not for me. It’s for . . . someone else.”

“Not a day goes by where I don’t hear that one.”

“I’m serious!”

“I think I should maybe go stop by The Roost and have a talk with your mother.”

“Don’t, I swear it’s not for me!”

“Who is it for, then, Donovan?”

If I said it was for Dracula, it would just make things worse. Silence.

“That’s what I thought. I don’t want to see you trying to buy liquor or getting into trouble anymore—because I will, I
will
go to The Roost.”

The emphasis she put on “will” let me know that the threat wasn’t a bluff.

“Now get out of here,” she said, nodding down the street. “Go play basketball, for God’s sake.”

I ran down the street, yeah, but to another liquor store. Castle Liquor. From the parking lot, I could hear heavy metal blasting inside. It felt like a good sign.

I walked in, grabbed the bottle, and approached the counter where a long-haired rocker stood behind the cash register.

“’Sup, bro!” the rocker said.

“Just this, please.”

“Got i-dentity, man?”

“Oh, not on me. Do you take business cards?”

The rocker gave me a sympathetic smile and pointed above him.

“Sorry. Electric eye, bro. They just put it in last week. Some kid kept stealing beer.”

I looked up and saw a camera pointed at me and immediately tensed up.

“Oh, don’t worry, man. There’s no audio. I just can’t risk it. But, dude, check this out—I’ll tell you how to do it. See that bum out there?”

He pointed past the parking lot to the corner where a bum was holding a cardboard sign that read
THE MIDDLE IS HERE
.

“Get him to go to the side of the store where cops can’t see you and give him your order, tip him the change, and start fuckin’ rockin’!” the metalhead said.

“Ohhh okay. Thanks.”

I knew how this worked. I started to leave when the rocker called me back.

“Wait! Hey, is there some party going on tonight?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“The booze! Someone got a party goin’ on?”

“Hmm, I don’t know.”

“Well, there’ll be one now!” he yelled and broke into some wild-ass air guitar.

I walked around to the side of Castle Liquor and watched the crusty bum approach cars with his cardboard. The weather was good so most people’s windows were down until the bum got close. I became less intimidated by him with each glass wall put up in his face. He took it in stride, but watching his hope rise and fall so often made me want to let him in on the food runner gig. That’d be weird though.

A green light made the bum retreat to the sidewalk where the sun beat down on him. He folded the cardboard over his head and shaded himself from the sun.

I flagged him over. The bum sprang to action faster than his appearance let on and he bolted across the street.

“Hey, hey, Joe, what’d ya know?” he said.

“How’s it going?”

“It’s going but it ain’t gone, know what I mean?”

“What’s up with that sign?”
 

The bum looked down to his cardboard.

“The middle, we’re in it!”

“Huh?”

“Most guys like me have that ‘end is near’ shit going. I can’t tell ya when that is—but until it happens, I can tell ya where the middle is!”

“Uh, hey, I’ll give you the change from this if you can get me a fifth of Jack.”

“At your service, milord,” the bum said as he took the money with a bow. “Back in a flash!”

He disappeared around the corner while I leaned against the cool cinderblocks on the shady side of Castle Liquor. Relieved my mission was headed for success, I slid my butt to the ground and waited. And waited . . .

After twenty minutes had gone by, I started to think both the bum and the whiskey weren’t coming back.

I’m fucked if I got scammed. Shit.

“Hey, hey!” The bum turned the corner waving a bottle in a tightly wrapped, brown paper bag. “Sorry I took so long. Since I was a ‘paying customer,’” he said with a wink, “guy let me use the shitter. And I was carrying a heavy load, ya know? The AC in the back is amazing from the beer refrigeration too. Look! I’ve still got goosebumps.” The sense of his true joy was tangible. It made me feel better about myself. This was working out.

“Anyways, here ya go.” The bum handed me the bottle.

Now for real, this was the first time I had something regarded as contraband in my actual, true possession.

“Thanks for the tip, kid. Anytime you need me, I’m around.”

I tucked the bottle under my shirt and walked back to the pier with a smile and the beginnings of a strut. I didn’t want to make any money on this, I just wanted to be in with Dracula.

When I got back, I saw Renaldo balancing four nacho orders and two slush puppies in his arms.

“You got it? Told you.”

“Yeah!” I said, flashing the bag.

“Better get your ass up there, man. He is pissed.”

I walked up the ramp where Dracula was talking up a demonic nun and a zombie girl.

“There you are, Jesus!” he snarled.

“Hey.” I thought this was going to go way better.

“You got the booze?”

“Yeah, here you go.”

Dracula took the brown wrapper off the bottle.

“Oh, what the fuck?! Ancient Age? This is the cheapest fucking whiskey there is. I told you Drac drinks the Jack.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“You want me to go blind? Where are the rubs?”

I pulled the condoms out of my pocket and hoped for a better reaction.

“Un-lubricated?!?! You stupid fuck, these are going to rip my pubes out!”

“Uh, sorry.”

“You’re a shitty nacho bitch. Where’s the change?”

“I don’t have it.”

“What? Don’t try that shit on me. There should be plenty since you bought the world’s crappiest everything.”

“I had to give it to a bum to get the whiskey.”

“Bullshit. Empty your pockets.”

I fell under Dracula’s command and pulled out the change I had made all afternoon.
 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, you liar.”

Renaldo had been watching from a picnic table over.

“Leave him alone, he got you the stuff. That’s his money from before.”

“Shut up, you beaner. I’ll get you banned from here so quick you’ll have to go pick strawberries.”

Renaldo fumed and held his anger in. It was true, Dracula had the most pull at the Castle.

“Come on, lighten up,” the zombie girl said.

“Fuck that.” And he snatched the money out of my hand.

I stood there as Dracula disappeared into the Castle.

“That sucked,” Renaldo said under his breath.

I turned around and faced a bunch of cast members watching behind me. The dudes turned their backs but a couple chicks took pity on me. The demonic nun and zombie girl came over. They were both hot as monsters but the demonic nun was totally incredible. I couldn’t imagine what was underneath the getup, but what was on top totally worked. Seeing her walk in my direction, actually toward me, was a new rush.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, he’s a dick anyways,” the zombie girl said. “He’s acting that way because you’re taller than him.”

“Yeah?” Thanks, Zombie Girl, but I really want to know what the demonic nun has to say.

“Why do you think he likes being on the mantel so much?”

“Oh.” Okay, Zombie Girl was cool.

“What’s your name?” the demonic nun said.

“Donovan.” Success! She speaks!

“You need a real job. I know the manager is looking to hire someone, want me to introduce you to him?”

“That’d be really cool.”

They went to get the manager. Renaldo got up and elbowed me.

“Dude, are you sure you want to give up what we’ve got going here?” he asked.

“Dude, yeah!”

Renaldo looked disappointed.

“Our own hours? Our own boss? Our own money?”

“What money?” I said, pulling my pockets out.

“Fuck, man.”

The Castle’s back door opened and a short, fat man in his forties came out smoking a cigar, wearing a Hawaiian shirt and corduroy shorts. The mostly unbuttoned shirt showed off his extensive bed of chest hair, so thick that his gold chain just floated on top of it.

“You the kid?”

“Uh, I dunno.” This was happening fast.

“You’re the fuckin’ kid. How old are you?”

“Six—”

The guy shook his head before I could finish.

“Sev—?”

He shook his head again.

“Eighteen?” I said.

“Ha, whatever. So you want a job here?”

“Yeah!”

“Four bucks an hour, under the table.”

I was confused.

“You get paid, you just don’t get a pay slip.”

“No problem.”

“Be here tomorrow, ten o’clock.”

“Thank you so much, this is like a dream come true.”

“What’s your name?”

“Donovan.”

“Donovan, welcome to my fuckin’ nightmare. I’m Jack Spires.”

He threw the cigar down and went back inside. The open door let out all kinds of screams coming from inside the Castle.

Renaldo got up from the table.

“Dude, so you’re just gonna ditch me now, huh?” he said.

“No way. But fuck, man. The Castle!”

“Alright, bro. I get it. But don’t get all weird on me when you’re a big shot. Or I’ll spit in your nachos.”

“I promise I won’t get weirder than I already am.”

“Okay, then we’ll make a plan to punch Dracula in the fucking face on Saturday.”

The next morning, I showed up an hour early to the Castle. The pier was empty and I used the time to walk around every inch of it, now that I would be “Donovan . . . from the Castle.” I went to the end of the pier and looked out at the ocean, the horizon, and breathed in the salty air. But it didn’t matter how picturesque it was. I turned my back to it and gazed down the pier toward the Castle. My heart beat with anticipation and intimidation.

Just before ten o’clock, as the steel gates rolled up on the arcade, food stands, and carnival games, I walked to the back door, eager to get inside the Castle. I joined the group of about forty people gathered by the back door. A community of individuals, all dressed in street clothes and without makeup yet, ranged in age from older teens and early twenties to a few in their thirties. They were all older, confident, relaxed, cooler—just more of everything I wanted to be. Most of the people looked far too normal to be concerned with the dark side. The Castle was their frat house. But a small group of the older ones did not hang around for the same reason. They were social rejects you’d cross the street to avoid. If they were prone to talking to themselves and threatening the skies while off the clock, they would certainly be an authentic fit for the Castle. No acting required. I was too nervous to talk to any of them and stared at the backs of their heads and sides of their faces.

I stopped scanning the group when I came to this one girl. She was uniquely perfect. Her incredible combination of bright blue eyes and a glowing round face pushed my heart into my throat. If I wasn’t so fascinated by her face, I would have noticed her hair first. It was feathered and dyed completely green, totally rare around Dunes. The green hair was an awesome invitation. It was like a flashing
OPEN TO WEIRDOS LIKE YOU
sign on her head. I must have stared too long because she noticed and turned toward me.

“Hey, you’re here!” she said, scaring the shit out of me.

It was a familiar voice, a scratchy coastal drawl that made you want to hear her talk about anything. I couldn’t remember ever talking to a chick that hot, minus that demonic nun from yesterday. Who I still wasn’t sure had even been real.

“Uh, hey?” I coughed up.

“It’s me!”

“Sorry?”

“From yesterday. The nun? I’m Melody.”

“Oh! Hey! I’m Donovan.”

I had never seen a girl look so beautiful as both a human and a member of the dark side. Good or evil, I’d take both.

“Did Jack get you a job?”

“Yeah! Fucking thanks!”

“Awesome. Well, hopefully we get to do a room together soon!”

A week ago, I couldn’t imagine working in the Castle or a hot chick talking to me without sneering, and now both are happening.