The Last Day

FIFTY-ONE

Her hair wet from a long, hot shower, Alice stood looking into her closet trying to decide what she was going to wear to the “toys for bucks” exchange at the mall. She thought about Earl when she looked at the box on her dresser where his gun was hidden.

The question was whether she'd dress comfortably as always, or maybe dress up like a serious businesswoman. It was business she was going to be doing. Two thousand dollars for a little toy car whose doors and hood didn't even open up. For that kind of money there should be a little toy driver who moved his hands and head and maybe even changed the toy oil. It was mind- blowing that anyone would pay that much money for a toy Alice dried her hair, feeling she deserved the money for, if nothing else, keeping it safe.

The car reminded her of visiting her father and his bimbo wife, a Vegas Barbie whose boyfriend was plastic surgeon Ken. She'd already had her lips pumped up so she looked like she lived in a beehive. Alice's three- year- old half brother was an annoying little dork with a nose that ran constantly. He couldn't talk without yelling demands at the top of his shrill voice.

Alice's mother had new breasts, probably thinking that with the bigger breasts she could hold a man, or some other silly shit. She read brochures about face-lifts, buttock inserts, and all manner of cosmetic- enhancement nonsense. Alice knew it was a waste of money, but there was no way to convince Delores Palmer, who had the money to waste. If her mother didn't think she could have the pert figure of a sixteen- year- old, Alice could be driving a nice new BMW convertible instead of a shitty little beater.

Alice decided to dress formally. She stretched on a tight pair of black designer jeans her stepmother had bought her in Vegas, a crisp black T-shirt sporting a Jolly Roger where the skull had been replaced with a silhouette of a doughnut, and lightweight socks with yellow bathtub ducks on them. She slipped on a pair of dark gray sandals.

Going down the stairs, Alice heard odd sounds. Slipping to the kitchen door, she looked in to see her mother lying on the butcherblock island, with her skirt hiked up and her legs spread. Her blouse was open and her new and very erect breasts were exposed for the benefit of Bruce Benning, a neighbor who had just turned seventeen. He lived five doors down and had mowed the lawn since spring. Alice herself had flirted with him on several occasions over the years, but to no avail. Now, standing on tiptoe, his shorts a nylon puddle on the floor, he thrust his hips, driving himself in and out of Delores Palmer, his gaze moving between her breasts and his member's mesmerizing vanishing act.

Furious, Alice turned and went to the den and started to go out through the French doors, thinking she'd slam the door to jar the couple. With her hand still on the handle, a thought occurred to her and she looked at the telephone. She crossed over to the table, punched in 911, and waited for the operator to answer.

“Nine one one. What is the nature of your emergency?”

Alice cupped the receiver and whispered, “Hurry, help me. I'm afraid… he's going to rape me.”

She set the phone down, leaving the connection open so they couldn't call back and spoileverything. The best thing about living in a good neighborhood was that there were lots of cops with not much to do.

Delores Palmer might figure out Alice had called them, but whatever shit she caught would be worth it. Her mother knew Alice was home, since her car was in the driveway. Delores conducted her life as though she was a busy, single woman without a worry in the world… or a child.

Alice went out the door, closing it gently so her mother wouldn't be disrupted. Alice imagined that the interruption would be much more impressive when accomplished by armed police officers peering in at the fuck session from the freshly mown backyard.