Part 10 (1/2)
Andrew, sucking hard on a straw inserted into a thick chocolate shake, rejoined Matt outside the Gap. From the low-fidelity speakers of the Johnny Rockets across the street came the voice of young Elvis: I'm proud to say she's my b.u.t.tercup I'm in love ... I'm all shook up!
Andrew, reluctantly parting his lips from his straw, said, ”Can you imagine being proud to say that somebody was your b.u.t.tercup?”
Matt thought about it.
”Like,” said Andrew, ”you're introducing her to people, and you go, 'This here is MY b.u.t.tERCUP!' Hey, did you pee your pants?”
”s.h.i.+t,” said Matt, looking down at his khakis, which, as was mandatory for seventeen-year-old boys, were six waist sizes too large and covered only the lower b.u.t.t area. The JetBlast Junior had indeed leaked, forming a large, darkish wet splotch on the right side of Matt's crotch.
”s.h.i.+t,” said Matt, again.
”Here comes Jenny,” said Andrew.
”s.h.i.+t,” said Matt. He violently untucked his white T-s.h.i.+rt and tried to tug it down over the splotch.
”Hi,” said Jenny.
”Hi,” said Matt, twisting his lower body sideways, trying to aim his splotch away from her.
”Is that a squirt gun in your pocket,” asked Jenny, ”or are you just glad to see me?”
Andrew barked in laughter, spitting a milk shake mouthful onto the sidewalk. Matt tried to punch him, but missed.
”So,” said Jenny, ”where are we gonna do this? There can only be one witness, right? So it's like way too crowded here.”
”I was thinking, we could go that way,” said Matt, gesturing toward Grand Avenue. ”There's a parking lot behind the five-and-dime store.”
”OK,” said Jenny.
”Listen,” said Matt, ”I was wondering if, after I kill you, if you're not doing anything, I mean ... ”
”What he means,” said Andrew, backstepping quickly to avoid Matt's second punch attempt, ”is he's proud to say you're his b.u.t.tercup.”
”Matt,” said Jenny, solemnly, ”I would be honored to be your b.u.t.tercup.”
Whoa.
”OK,” said Matt, just as solemnly. ”But I gotta kill you first.”
They set off toward the five-and-dime, Matt making an effort to keep his splotch on the side away from Jenny, but otherwise feeling good and natural, walking next to her. As they left the noise and bright lights of Coco Walk, the three teenagers did not notice the stocky figure of Jack Pend.i.c.k, Crime Fighter, following unsteadily twenty-five feet behind them, his hand in his pistol pocket, the nasal wail of Phil Collins filling his melted mind as he steeled himself for whatever was coming in the air tonight.
CHAPTER SIX
”I can't see out this thing,” said Eddie.
”Well, try, G.o.ddammit,” said Snake.
They were standing at the entrance to the Jolly Jackal, wearing panty hose on their heads. Snake had pulled the left leg of his panty hose over his face; the right leg was dangling down his chest. Eddie had pulled the pelvic region of his panty hose over his face, so that both of the legs were hanging down his back, making him look like a large, frightened rabbit.
”I'm just saying,” said Eddie, ”we should of got a lighter shade.”
”We got what we got,” said Snake.
They had obtained the panty hose from the five-and-dime in Coconut Grove. They had not had time to examine their selections carefully, because Snake had shoplifted them while Eddie had distracted the store employees by pretending to have a seizure. Snake had grabbed the first panty hose he saw. They turned out to be Hanes Control Top, for the full-figured woman, in jet black.
”Might as well have a bucket over my head,” said Eddie.
”You just do like I tole you,” said Snake. ”You got the sack?”
”I got the d.a.m.n sack,” said Eddie, patting a rolled-up Winn-Dixie grocery bag tucked into the waistband of his shorts. The plan was, while Snake held the gun on the bartender, Eddie was going to fill the sack with money from the cash register, starting with the large bills, then the small bills, then, time permitting, the coins.
”OK,” said Snake, taking a deep breath. ”Remember, don't say nothin' in there. 'Specially don't say my name. And don't do nothin' stupid.”
”Far as I'm concerned,” said Eddie, ”this whole f.u.c.kin' idea is stupid.”
”We'll see who's stupid,” said Snake, gripping his gun and pus.h.i.+ng open the door.
”So,” said Matt, ”where do you want to be shot?” He, Jenny, and Andrew had walked through the alley from Grand Avenue and were in the dimly lit parking lot behind the five-and-dime, which contained a couple dozen cars, and, at the moment, no other people.
”Whyn't you shoot her in the crotch?” said Andrew. ”You could be, like, a couple.”
”Shut up,” said Matt. To Jenny, he said, ”How about I just shoot you on your hand?”
”OK,” she said. She liked that Matt was considerate about where he shot her.
”OK, then,” said Matt. ”Andrew, get ready to witness this.”
”Yes, SIR!” said Andrew, leaning forward and scrunching his face into a major frown to indicate how seriously he was taking this responsibility.
Jenny held out her right arm, turning the palm toward Matt, offering her hand to him. He could not believe how beautiful she looked. He raised the Jet-Blast Junior, holding it with both hands, straight out, like on the TV cop shows. He aimed at Jenny's hand and began to squeeze the trigger.
”FREEZE!” came the hoa.r.s.e shout from the alley. The three teenagers turned to see a stocky shape lumbering toward them. ”FREEZE!” the shape yelled again, even though so far n.o.body had moved. Then the shape emitted a pop, and the winds.h.i.+eld of the car next to Matt fractured into a craze of cracks.
”Holy s.h.i.+t, he's shooting,” said Andrew.
”Come on,” said Matt. He grabbed Jenny's arm and, pulling her with him, started running toward the far end of the parking lot. ”Andrew!” he yelled back over his shoulder. ”C'MON!”
Andrew started running after Matt and Jenny.
”FREEZE!” yelled the shape again. There was another pop.