The Wild Zone (4 page)

“Stop grinning,” she told Will. “That still doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you.”

“Ever?”

She laughed, opening her car door and climbing inside.

Finally, Tom thought.

“Am I going to see you again?” Will asked.

Shit, how lame could you get?

Her response was to start the engine. Only as she was pulling away from the curb did she lower her window. “You know where to find me,” she called out, leaving Will standing in a shifting cloud of exhaust.

“Jerk-off,” Tom muttered, watching her car race down the street, then turn north on Ocean Drive. You don’t even have a car, do you, little brother? You couldn’t go after her if you tried.

But
I
can, he realized, impulsively chasing after her, careful to keep his body low and hidden behind the cars parked along the route, smiling as her car became mired in the traffic that was as constant along this strip of roadway as the ocean, even at this late hour. His own car was parked just a couple of blocks away. It was possible he could get to it before she was able to advance much farther, that he might actually be able to pick up her trail, at least find out where she lived. Maybe even persuade her to give him a chance. Some women just needed a little extra persuasion, he thought, remembering that stupid girl in Afghanistan, the one who’d gotten him in all that trouble, resulting in his dishonorable discharge, as if he were the only American soldier to ever get a little carried away. Hell, he’d risked his life every day for those goddamn ingrates. Was it too much to expect a little reward?

A few minutes later, he was behind the wheel of his ancient mustard-colored Impala, Suzy’s BMW barely half a block ahead, signaling her intention to turn left. He could follow her or he could turn around, he was thinking. Will was probably still wandering the streets of South Beach on foot. He could pull up beside him, offer him a lift back to Jeff’s apartment, let him know the jig was up.

Or he could keep following Suzy Pomegranate, see where she went, find out where she lived. Who knows? She might even be expecting him. He’d caught her smile as she exited the bar. He’d seen her eyes searching through the darkness, as if she knew he was there. Had she? Had she known all along? Was she even now checking her rearview mirror to make sure he was still behind her?

Hell, he thought, turning left when he reached the intersection, her car firmly in his sights. He’d come this far. Lainey was going to be furious with him no matter what. No point in giving up now. “Ready or not,” he whispered, winking at his own reflection, “Suzy Pomegranate, here I come.”

FOUR

J
EFF’S
CELL PHONE WAS
ringing as Kristin drove her secondhand green and tan Volvo into the parking garage of the canary-yellow, three-story apartment building on Brimley Avenue, a twenty-minute drive from the Wild Zone. She didn’t have to guess who would be calling at this hour. There were only two people who thought nothing of calling at almost three o’clock in the morning, she noted wearily, glancing over at Jeff, who was snoring drunkenly in the seat beside her, oblivious to the opening bars of “The Star-Spangled Banner” playing repeatedly in his pocket. One was Tom, no doubt phoning to report on the night’s developments; the other was Lainey, calling to find out where the hell Tom was. Kristin had no desire to speak to either of them.

She pulled the car into the first available space and turned off the engine, then sat there, staring at the gray concrete wall in front of her, the national anthem playing beside her, and wishing, not for the first time, that the building had an elevator. Or that they didn’t live on the third floor. Or that they lived in a newer building. In another part of town. A nicer part of town. That’s what she’d ask for, she decided, if a magic genie ever materialized to offer her one wish.

No point in setting her sights any higher than that, she decided. What was the point in dreaming big when such dreams invariably turned into nightmares? She’d already had more than her share of those.

It wasn’t as if they couldn’t afford a better apartment, or maybe even a small house. Between bartending and the occasional modeling assignment, she made pretty good money, and Jeff was doing well as a personal trainer. Assuming he didn’t quit this gym as abruptly as he’d left the last two. Oh, well, she thought, as she thought whenever she found herself wishing things were other than the way they were. At least this place was preferable to where she’d grown up.

Hell, anything was better than that.

“Hell” being the operative word.

“Jeff,” she said, poking at him gently. “Jeff, honey, come on. Wake up.”

Jeff made the kind of sound—a kind of half grunt, half groan—that begged to be left alone.

“Does that mean you’re awake?” Kristin pressed.

This time the groan was longer, more purposeful. Go away, it said.

“Sorry, but if you don’t wake up, I’m going to have to leave you here.” Kristin didn’t want to do that. Jeff always insisted on carrying a lot of cash. Someone could stumble upon him and rob him, maybe even beat him up, or worse. Just for kicks. Like those teenage boys she’d read about in the
Miami Herald
a few weeks back. They’d come across a homeless man huddled in the underground garage of their parents’ condo during a recent storm, and when the poor man had explained that he was just trying to stay dry, they’d responded by setting him on fire. “Just wanted to keep him warm,” one of the boys had been quoted as saying to the arresting officer. So, no, she couldn’t very well just leave him there.

Kristin climbed out of the car, marched to the passenger door, opened it, and began pulling on Jeff’s arm. “Come on, Jeff. Time to wake up and go to bed.” Now that makes a lot of sense, she thought, pulling harder.

“What’s happening?”

“We’re home. You need to get up.”

“Where’s Will?”

“I have no idea.” Kristin felt movement at her breasts and looked down to see Jeff’s head buried between them, his eyes still closed, his mouth reflexively searching for the nipples beneath her leopard-print blouse. “I don’t believe you. You’re unconscious, and you’re still at it.” She pulled out of his reach, watching his head roll back against the seat, a silly smile on his handsome face that somehow managed to be simultaneously smug and endearing. “Come on, Jeff,” she urged. “It’s late. I’m tired. I’ve been on my feet all night.”

It took Kristin another five minutes to coax Jeff out of the car, another ten for them to reach the top of the stairwell, another two for Kristin to half carry, half drag Jeff along the exterior hallway to their apartment door. “If you’re going to throw up, please do it before we get inside,” she said, glancing toward the ledge that ran along the side of the building. Like many low-rise complexes in Florida, the building looked more like a motel, its thirty units—ten per floor—overlooking a small in-ground pool, each apartment accessible only from an outside corridor. Still holding on to Jeff, Kristin fished in her purse for her keys, ignoring the three-quarter moon winking at her from between a nearby cluster of palm trees. The majestic old palms made everything look better, she was thinking as she opened the door and pushed Jeff inside. They hid a multitude of sins.

Would that they could do the same for the interior of the apartment, she thought as they entered the rectangular living room, notable primarily for its lack of anything notable. There were no picturesque nooks or crannies, no crown molding to interrupt the plain white walls, no pot lights or decorative details in the low ceiling. Even the large picture window that took up most of the west wall was uninviting, looking out, as it did, at a similar building across the way.

The furniture was only slightly more interesting, consisting of a blue and green print sofa that currently doubled as Will’s bed, a navy leather ottoman, a few mismatched standing lamps, a couple of plastic, white stacking tables, and an oversize beige leather chair, all decidedly more functional than fashionable.

A surprisingly large eat-in kitchen stood at a right angle to the living room, while a small hallway led from the living area to the bedroom at the back of the apartment. There was one bathroom.

“The Star-Spangled Banner” began playing as soon as Kristin closed the door, as if heralding their arrival. Kristin watched Jeff’s shoulders straighten instinctively. “Don’t answer that,” she said as he began fumbling for the phone in his pocket.

A second later, Lainey’s voice was running along the dark blue, sixties-style shag carpeting and climbing up the walls, like toxic fumes. “Where is he?” Kristin heard her demand as Jeff held the phone an arm’s length away from his ear.

“Told you not to answer it,” Kristin couldn’t help but whisper.

“Don’t lie to me, Jeff,” Lainey continued. “If Tom’s with you, you better tell me.”

“Who is this?” Jeff asked, smiling playfully at Kristin and letting the phone slide from his hands.

Kristin caught it before it hit the floor. “Tom’s not here,” she told Lainey.

“I’ve had as much crap as I’m going to take from that man,” Lainey cried. “I mean it, Kristin. I’ve had it.”

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”

Her response was the phone going dead in her ear.

“Always a pleasure talking to you.” Kristin tossed the phone onto the sofa.

“Hey!” came a startled cry. “What the hell . . . ?”

Kristin gasped as a figure bolted upright on the couch, rubbing the side of his head and looking thoroughly confused.

“Will?” Kristin asked, flipping on the overhead light.

“Shit,” Jeff said. “What are you doing home?”

“Trying to sleep?” Will asked, shielding his eyes from the sudden intrusion of light.

“Anybody else under those covers?” Jeff lunged toward him, pulled the blanket off the makeshift bed, threw it to the floor.

“What are you doing?”

“Where is she?”

The veil of sleep slid abruptly from Will’s pale face. He took a deep breath, released it slowly. “If you’re referring to Suzy, obviously she’s not here.”

“Where is she?” Jeff repeated.

“I assume she went home.”

“You assume? You didn’t go with her?”

“No,” Will said. “She had her car. I grabbed a cab. . . .”

“What are you saying?”

“What are you asking?”

“Did you fuck her or didn’t you?” Jeff demanded, suddenly very sober and alert.

Will looked to Kristin, hoping she’d intervene. She didn’t. In fact, her eyes told Will she was as interested as Jeff in the answer. “No,” he said finally.

“What
did
you do?”

“Walked on the beach, went to a movie.”

“You’re shitting me,” Jeff said incredulously.

Will shook his head, releasing another deep breath as he fell back against the sofa’s soft cushions. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

“You walked the beach, went to a movie, she went home, you didn’t fuck her,” Jeff reiterated, as if trying to force the words to make sense. “What the hell happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“Yeah, I get that. What I don’t get is why. It was a done deal, little brother. How could you blow it?”

“I didn’t blow it.”

“You didn’t fuck her.”

“You think you could stop saying that?”

“Did you or didn’t you fuck her?”

Again Will’s eyes traveled toward Kristin. “I didn’t.”

“Okay, Jeff,” Kristin said, responding to Will’s silent plea. “Why don’t you go to bed? You can find out all the gory details in the morning.”

Jeff shook his head and laughed. “Doesn’t sound like there were any.” He turned around and walked toward the bedroom down the hall, still shaking his head and chuckling. “You coming?” he called to Kristin.

“Be right there.” Kristin waited until Jeff turned the corner to their bedroom before sitting down next to Will and covering his hand with hers. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“I think you pretty much know everything,” he told her, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Considering you set it up.”

Kristin’s lips formed a sad little half smile. “You mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad? It was the best night I’ve had in a long time.”

“I’m glad. She seemed very nice.”

“She is.”

“Think you’ll see her again?”

Will shrugged. “Who knows?”

“It’s been a rough year, huh?”

“I admire your capacity for understatement.”

“Nice to be admired. In any capacity,” Kristin said with a laugh. “Anyway, there’s no place like Miami for smoothing over rough patches. I’d say you came to the right place.”

“And what does my brother say?”

“He doesn’t say much about anything. You know Jeff.”

“That’s just the point. I don’t know him.”

“Give him a chance, Will,” Kristin urged. Hadn’t she been saying the same thing to Jeff ever since Will’s unexpected arrival?

“My mother didn’t want me to come, you know. She said I was just asking for trouble.”

“Why would she say that?”

“The Star-Spangled Banner” suddenly started to play. Will patted the sofa around him, locating Jeff’s phone and looking at Kristin expectantly.

Her response was to take the phone from Will’s hand and flip it to mute. “Enough of that nonsense. It’s time for everybody to get some sleep.”

Will needed no further encouragement. He lay back down and closed his eyes, curling into a tight, fetal ball. Kristin reached down and retrieved the blanket from the floor, laying it across him and stroking his back. “If you ever want to talk,” she began. “About anything . . .”

“Thanks,” Will said, the word sliding out from between barely parted lips.

Kristin pushed herself off the sofa, laying Jeff’s phone on the ottoman. “Sweet dreams,” she whispered before turning off the overhead light and returning the room to soft, welcoming darkness.

SHE DREAMED ABOUT
Norman.

Kristin was five years old when her mother’s new boyfriend offered to babysit while her mother auditioned for a local TV commercial. He’d made himself comfortable on the secondhand brown velvet sofa in the living room of the run-down apartment, opened a can of beer, and put his feet up on the stained coffee table, all the while restlessly fiddling with the TV’s remote control. Kristin was on the floor, playing with the two battered Barbies she’d rescued from a neighbor’s garbage bin the previous week. Their tangled hair still smelled of rotting potato peel, even after several washings with dishwasher detergent. “Hey, kid,” Norman said, patting the cushion beside him. “You want to see something interesting?”

Kristin had joined him on the sofa, her eyes opening wide at the sight of a man and woman kissing deeply.

“You know what they’re doing, don’t you?” Norman asked. “They’re tasting each other’s tongues.”

Kristin giggled. “Do they taste good?”

“Very good. Do you want to try it?” He leaned forward, so that his face was very close to hers, and she could feel his beery breath warm against her nose. “Open wide,” he instructed before she could say no.

Kristin did as she was told—hadn’t her mother told her she was to listen to Norman and do exactly what he said?—and Norman promptly thrust his tongue deep inside her small mouth. Saliva filled her throat, and for a moment, she felt as if she couldn’t breathe. She pulled back, stifling the impulse to gag.

“Did you like that?” he asked, seemingly oblivious to her discomfort.

Kristin shook her head, afraid to speak, as if his tongue had robbed her of her voice.

Norman laughed and pulled a package of Life Savers out of the back pocket of his jeans, peeling a red one off the top and handing it to her. “Think you’ll like this better?”

Kristin nodded, popping the Life Saver quickly into her mouth. Red Life Savers were her favorite.

“Don’t say anything to your mother about what you did,” he cautioned her as the taste of cherry died on her tongue.

What
you
did, Kristin could hear him repeat now, the words jolting her awake as, once again, she stifled the impulse to gag. She checked the clock on the nightstand beside the double bed. It was a little past four, which meant she’d been asleep less than an hour. She tried to lie back down, but Jeff’s body had already shifted in his sleep, and both his right arm and leg were now stretched out onto her side of the bed.

“What are you doing?” said the sleepy voice beside her.

“Just trying to get comfortable.”

Kristin felt his hand curl around her left breast. You’ve got to be kidding, she thought. “What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” His fingers began circling her nipple as he inched himself up on his elbows, drawing her body back down.

“I thought you were sleeping.”