The Best American Mystery Stories 2002

“Where’s the beer?” Lila stands over him swinging her jeans. She’s wearing her baggy shirt, and that’s all. She sways and the moonlight makes her eyes glow.

“Left it back there.”

She drops her jeans on his face, puts a bare foot on his chest, and moves it around slowly. Then she straddles him. He touches her tentatively, her ass hard and soft at the same time. Just as he is, though he hasn’t taken his medication at all in the past week.

“Well, that’s the last we’ll ever see of it.”

She squeezes her thighs against him like she’s riding and he’s the horse. Her cunt wets through his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

She gets off him. “Let’s get some movies. We’ll drink my father’s shit.” She pulls her pants from his face, sits on him like he’s a bench, takes her blades out of her backpack, holds them out to him. “Do it.”

She has soft feet, like a baby, and short toes. He takes her toes in his mouth and sucks.

“I knew you were a perv,” she says, taking her feet from him. She puts on her blades herself, and starts off not too steady, calling back, “Well, you coming or not?”

At Blockbuster she picks out a couple of kung fu flicks and they go into her building by the side entrance, where the jerk is on the door. “Use the stairs,” he says.

Anthony takes off his blades, while Lila can’t make her fingers work right and tears at hers in a fury, can’t undo them, and gets angrier and angrier. “You got a knife? Cut them off me.” She claws at him. “You hear? Cut them off.”

He takes his knife, pops open the blade. She pulls it from his hands and hacks at the leather.

“You’re ruining them,” he says.

“Who cares?” Tearing the wrecked blades off, she drops them into the trash can near the back stairs and hands him his knife.

They climb twelve flights and at the back door she tells him to take off his high-tops. “Otherwise,” she says, “they’ll come out and tell me I can’t do this and I can’t do that, like I’m a prisoner.” She uses her key to get in. It’s a kitchen. The cleanest kitchen Anthony’s ever seen. Like no one eats in it.

She’s jumpy, throws the videos on her bed, starts going through her drawers, searching the floor of her closet. “You got any acid?”

Anthony shakes his head. He watches her acting crazy. She leaves the room and he waits. She’s making him jumpy, too. She comes back with a bottle of dark booze and takes a long swallow, then offers it to him. He takes a swallow, chokes, coughs, hands it back to her. Tastes terrible. He’s never had more than a beer.

“I gotta have acid,” she says. “Let’s get out of here.”

They’re back in the park near the bandstand, and there’s a big full moon giving off light and a crowd of the night people, many who work regular day jobs and have money for weed and booze and other stuff. He recognizes them now and they know him, because of Lila. He feels powerful because she’s singled him out to be with. They accept him now.

Someone passes them a sweet-smelling joint and they drink Zima and do acid, and he lies back on the steps and looks up at the moon, watching it expand and shrink and turn into a leering, snot-dripping face.

“Where’d you go. Lulu?” Danny Boy sits down next to Lila and throws his arm around her, like he owns her or something. “How about a little sugar?” He makes smacking sounds with his lips. He’s so drunk he can’t keep his head up, and he stinks of vomit.

Anthony feels Lila stiffen up next to him. She gives Danny Boy one of her bad looks. “That’s it,” she says. “We’re goin’ to the lake.” Anthony follows her, but can hardly feel his feet anymore, and she’s swinging and swaying like she feels the same as him.

Danny Boy gets up like she’s invited him to go along.

Nobody’s at the lake yet, but they will be because the cops will start coming around with the searchlights and drive everyone away from the bandstand. The surface of the lake is like one big dark mirror. Anthony stands at the edge and looks into it and it goes red and yellow and purple and ends up making him lose his balance.

“Watch out there, son.” Danny Boy grabs Anthony’s shirt. He’s so drunk, he leans into Anthony, slobbering, and Anthony pushes him away. There’s a ripping sound.

“You tore it,” Anthony says, looking at his shirt. Everything explodes in his head. His mom’ll kill him. He punches at Danny Boy, but the man is already on his knees.

“Slice him,” Lila yells. “Where’s your knife?”

Anthony takes his knife out, pops the blade. Danny Boy looks up at him, blinking in the moonlight. He tries to get to his feet, but falls down again.

“What’re you waitin’ for?” Lila screams.

Anthony has his arm low. He underhands the knife. The blade catches Danny Boy as the man comes up. Catches him in the gut. Danny Boy grabs hold of the knife and struggles with Anthony, like he wants to keep it in his gut and Anthony’s trying to get it out. There’s blood flying, like it’s raining, and Danny Boy howls like a jungle animal. Magic music, is what it is, and when Anthony gets the knife out, he plunges it back in, and out, and in, keeping time to the music. It’s so good... so good. So good...