Chapter 16: THE BOYFRIEND

Roger Remoth opens the door to his daughter’s bedroom and stands in the breach.

“Someone here to see you,” he says with a disproving frown.

He steps back and lets Matty Donnelly step on by and into the room.

“Hi, babe!” Matty says to Trish on the bed. He smiles by way of additional greeting.

“Hi, back to you,” she says, glad to see him. She just loves the way his smile lights up a room. Both of his cheeks dimple. Little creases form at the corners of his light blue eyes. The cleft in his chin even seems to sink deeper.

“Don’t make this overly long, Trish,” her father says. “You need your rest.”

Roger leaves but doesn’t close the door behind him.

“Suddenly, I don’t think your father likes me any more,” Matty says. He pauses long enough to deliver a quick kiss to Trish’s forehead. His blond hair smells pleasantly of his tar-based shampoo. He sits in the visitor’s chair already bedside.

“What daddy doesn’t like is that I called you on the cell phone I’d promised him I wouldn’t take with me to Dry Wash Gulch. Then, I’d no sooner hung up from talking to you when I was kidnapped.”

“He doesn’t think I told anyone where you were, does he?”

“He doesn’t know what to think, Matty. Besides, you really didn’t know where I was, did you?”

“What in the heck were you doing there, anyway?” Matty has been wondering ever since he heard.

“You know how my parents have this thing for rocks.” Trish has thought about what to tell him. Importantly, it isn’t exactly a lie. “They think Melissa and I should love them, too. They hear of something interesting, geologically, and they figure we should all go, as a family unit, usually immediately, to see it. Go figure.”

“The police have any clues who took you?”

“Not that they’re saying.”

“You remember anything more?”

“A snake. A cat. A dog. Maybe, even, an Indian.”

“An Indian? Like a surround-the-wagons-we’re-being-attacked-by-an Indian?”

“Yeah, but don’t tell anyone, because that part is really vague. As is the number three.”

“Three? As in Three Blind Mice? Three Little Pigs? Three kidnappers?”

“Whatever, whoever, maybe nothing, it’s probably just left-over hallucinations.”

“I heard the bastard drugged you.”

“You heard wrong. I only got stuck with a needle or needles. Twice. No sign of anything injected. The police say some sadistic perverts get off on weird things, these days.”

Mary Remoth makes an appearance with a vase of red roses.

“From Matty,” she tells Trish. “I’ve put them in water. They’ll have you thinking of him until he comes back the next time. Right now, you should get some rest.”

“All I’ve been doing is resting.”

“I’ll come back tomorrow, babe,” Matty says, stands. He kisses her on the cheek. “Promise.”

He leaves. Heading down the front walk, he feels Mr. Remoth’s gaze nailing him through the house’s front picture window to the paving stones.

“Hey, buddy!” someone calls from across the street.

Matty glances over to see Sydney Michaels and the new kid, Cooper something.

Matty heads in their direction.

“Your girlfriend up to visitors?” Sydney asks. “Some of the kids at school would like to stop by.”

“Probably best for everyone to wait for a couple more days,” Matty decides. Mr. Remoth isn’t exactly welcoming, but that might be special treatment just for Matty.

“You know Cooper, here, don’t you? Soon to be joining us on the wrestling team.”

“Actually, Coach Waynright isn’t going to decide that until tomorrow,” Cooper reminds.

“I’ve seen one of the other guys up for the slot,” Matty says. “Joey Spellman pinned him to the mat within thirty seconds. You’ve no competition from that direction.”

“So, how is Trish really doing?” Sydney probes.

“As well as anyone kidnapped, poked with a needle or needles, and still trying to deal with the aftermath of hallucinations about a snake, a cat, and a dog.” He almost adds — and about a Native American, and the number three.

“She’ll be okay,” Cooper assures.

“If that’s true, you know more about it than the quack-quack doctors do,” Matty says.

“Maybe that’s because Cooper, here, is a bona-fide diviner, buddy,” Sydney informs.

“Isn’t that someone who goes around with a forked stick, looking to find water?”

“Come to think of it... Not in this case, though. Cooper divines the future. Go ahead, Cooper, tell Matty something that’s going to happen to him.” “My insights aren’t all that automatic, if you know what I mean,” Cooper excuses.

“Ah, come on!” Sydney insists. “At least try.”

“Sure, go ahead.” Matty, doesn’t believe it’ll happen, but his interest is piqued.

Cooper bows his face into the fold formed by his two open hands.

“Do…do…do…do,” Sydney chants the theme song from a popular scary TV show.

Cooper opens his fingers but leaves them anchored, claw-like, to his face.

“You’re soon destined to have a close encounter of the third kind with a werewolf,” he informs Matty.

“No shit Sherlock?” Sydney responds.

Matty’s eyes squint. His lips purse. He looks from Sydney to Cooper. He bursts into full-throated laughter.

“Damn!” he chides and gives Sydney’s left bicep a quick and forceful fist-jab. “What’s up with the two of you trying to take me for a bloody idiot?”


Copyright 2009 W. MALTESE