Jack and Mr. Grin Page 2

  Mr. Moran looked up from his lawn chair and said, “Morning there. I suppose you’re ‘bout ready for breakfast?” He nodded toward the bag in Jack’s hand.

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I won’t keep ya. Just wanted to say hi.”

  “Always good to say hi. We’ll have to have you over for dinner one of these nights.”

  “That’d be good. You take care of that one. She’s a beaut.”

  “Thanks. I plan on it.”

  Jack nodded, turning to walk away from Mr. Moran.

  “You ever notice...” Mr. Moran said, stopping Jack in his tracks.

  He considered pretending he didn’t hear him this time but instead Jack turned back around.

  “What’s that?”

  “You ever notice how a tree is so huge?”

  Jack had no idea where this one was going. It sounded like something a five-year-old would say.

  “Anyway... a tree gets to be so huge and it just stays standin upright like that for years and years but did you ever stop to think about what’s keepin that tree up?”

  Jack took a deep breath. “Not really. I guess. No. I haven’t really thought about that.”

  “The roots. That’s what’s keepin the tree up. And did you ever wonder about them roots. There must be miles and miles of um spread out there, under the ground, growin into the pipes, diggin deeper into the earth to look for some water and, above all, keepin the tree upright. If lightnin strikes that sumbitch and he falls into my roof, it won’t be the roots’ problem, I’ll tell you that right here and now. It’s kinda like an iceberg...”

  “Yep,” Jack said, already backing away. He had to end this or, he knew, Mr. Moran could go on all day. He could start talking about a tree and it would inevitably end up with him relaying some childhood story Jack had heard nearly every time he spoke with the man. And Mr. Moran’s message was always the same. People were better “back then.” Life was better “back then.” Now was horrible. Every day was a torment, so filled with injustice. Teenagers—hell, kids—were all assholes. His family didn’t care about him. Nobody took any pride in their houses. The neighborhood looked like a shambles compared to a million years ago. Oh, Mr. Moran could go on and on and on. Jack had trouble with this single-minded, single-sided type of banter. Not to mention the repetition...

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Moran,” he said. “But breakfast is getting cold. You don’t wanna get me yelled at, do ya?”

  “They say the tip of the iceberg is only ‘bout ten percent of the actual iceberg. The rest is underwater. That means, most of the iceberg, you don’t even see.”

  By this time, Jack had backed across his neighbor’s driveway and stood at the perimeter of his own yard. “Later, Mr. Moran,” he said, raising the bag of food as if a visual reminder would help a little more.

  “Yeah, yeah,” the old man waved. “Call me Dick.”

  Jack turned and walked quickly, head down, up the porch steps, hoping Mr. Moran would not stop him again.

  Call me Dick, he thought. Yeah. Well, probably not anytime soon.

  His heartbeat picked up again.

  Standing at the front door, he was surprised his conversation with the neighbor hadn’t brought Gina outside to see what was taking him so long. She was usually pretty good at rescuing him from Mr. Moran. Maybe she didn’t want to put on pants. Maybe she hadn’t even heard them. Probably not, if she was still listening to that record.

  He opened the simple white storm door, reaching his hand into his pocket and bringing out the ring. He palmed it and opened the front door, imagining Gina on the floor listening to her Mailboxes record.

  She wasn’t.

  His heart continued to thud in his chest.

  The needle of the record player had reached the orange paper label in the middle and made a horrible screeing sound as it whirled round and round.

  The bathroom, he thought.

  He walked across the living room and peeked down the hall toward the bathroom. The door was open.

  Faster and faster his heart beat and he thought, this is it. This is really it. You’re really doing this. Up until now, it could all be undone. But this was different. True, it wasn’t marriage but it was something of a formal agreement. Things would be a little more set in stone after this.

  Set in stone.

  He didn’t know how he felt about that phrase. It made him think of statues and tombstones.

  Maybe she’s putting on some clothes.

  Now his heart was practically racing. It felt like it was bouncing back and forth between his nipple and his spine.

  “Gina!” he called.

  No answer.

  Where could she be?

  His heart reached maximum velocity as he began his search of the house. His heart was not going to slow down anytime soon.

  Seven

  Now his mind raced along with his heart. Thoughts swarmed around— crazy thoughts— and he had to try hard just to focus on a single one.

  Where was she?

  He had, in only a few minutes, managed to search every nook and cranny of the house where a human could foreseeably be. Closets (he didn’t know why she would be hiding in a closet), the attic, the basement, every room. He had even opened up the oven to check in there even though he didn’t really think she would fit. Upon opening the door, however, horrible visions raced across his head— her body, dismembered and bent into impossible shapes. In the course of human history, he supposed, stranger things had happened. Of course, when one stopped to consider the scope of human history, there probably wasn’t a single atrocity that could be ruled out.

  Jesus fucking Christ, Gina, he thought. Where the hell are you?

  This was bad. Jesus, this could be bad.

  Realizing he still held the Granger Ranger’s bag in his hand, he set it on the kitchen table and went to find his cell phone. That was what people did during emergencies, wasn’t it? Make calls? Was this an emergency? He didn’t really know. But the way his heart and head pounded along, it certainly felt like an emergency.

  Deciding to go directly to the source of his worry, he called Gina’s cell phone. She was number two on speed dial (voice mail was number one). He held down the button and listened to the phone ring, straining to hear if her phone rang somewhere in the house. It didn’t. Which meant it had to be with her, wherever she was. Meaning she must have left. But he had no idea where she would have gone. They only had the one car. He used it to drive to work during the week. She worked at a cafe two blocks away and, if he didn’t drop her off, she walked.

  As the phone continued to ring, his fear mounted. She wouldn’t have gone out for a stroll knowing he would return shortly with breakfast. Maybe she had been abducted. But who gets abducted before noon? And in their own home. Again, he supposed it could have happened but he just couldn’t make this resonate in his increasingly cloudy mind. Abduction seemed so... cinematic.

  Eventually, he was put through to her voice mail.

  “Gina, this is Jack... I just came home with breakfast. Wondering where you are. Give me a call as soon as you get this... I love you.”

  Then he flipped his phone shut and wondered what to do next.

  Mr. Moran. Maybe he was still outside. Since he had been out in his front yard when Jack went to get breakfast and he had been there when Jack came back, it only stood to reason he would have seen Gina leave the house.

  He slid the phone into the front pocket of his jeans and went outside. He glanced over toward Mr. Moran’s and noticed he was still out there. Now he circled around the tree, casting angry and suspicious glances at it. Jack wanted to check the backyard first. It was October, so it wasn’t like there was any yard work to be done or anything, but it was an exceptionally nice day and it was entirely possible Gina had just wandered out there to take it in.

  But why would she take her cell phone?

  He felt helpless.

  Mr. Moran’s place was to the left. He took a sharp right, walking toward their driveway a
nd around the side of the house. And then the back of the house. And then onto the other side of the house.

  No sign of Gina.

  He raised his hand to Mr. Moran. The old man said, “Short breakfast.”

  “Actually,” Jack began. “We haven’t eaten yet. I have maybe a strange question for you.”

  “Shoot.”

  “You haven’t seen Gina, have you?”

  “This mornin?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Nope.”

  “See... I’m a little confused. She was in there when I left and then, well, you know, I just came back and she’s not in there. She’s nowhere to be found.”

  “Maybe she stepped out.”

  “It’s possible, I guess. But you would have seen her if she left, wouldn’t you?”

  “Well, my eyes ain’t as good as they used to be. And I mostly been lookin at this here tree.”

  “Regardless. I mean she’s, you know, like human-size and everything. Kind of hard to miss, wouldn’t you say? She would at least be like a big blur, right? Maybe even say hi or something?”

  “I don’t think I care much for your tone.”

  “Look, I’m sorry, Mr. Moran—”

  “Call me Dick.”

  “Okay. Look, I’m sorry Dick but I’m a little... frazzled and just really really confused and I need all the help I can get so if you saw anything I really need to know.”

  “Nope. Sorry. Ain’t seen nothin. I’d let ya know if I seen anything.”

  “Okay. Of course. Yes, I know you would. So I guess I’m gonna go back in and make some more calls. Will you just let me know if you see her or hear from her? I know it sounds stupid. I’m probably just freaking out over nothing. But if you do...”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks.”

  “She’s so beautiful. I’d hate for anything to happen to her.”

  “Me too.”

  Jack turned back toward the house, already sliding the phone from his pocket. He didn’t really know where he should call. He guessed he would try the cafe first. Maybe someone had called her, needing her to come in and work or maybe she had gone to pick up a paycheck or something but he knew she just got paid on Friday and he was almost certain she would have called him if she had to work. Still, he had faith in that reason. Yes, almost certainly, she was at work. People always called in on Sundays. Especially Sunday morning. People always called in hungover on Sunday mornings. That wasn’t really out of the question at all.

  He went into the house and sat down on the couch. He made himself sit down on the couch. If he didn’t sit down, he was just going to nervously pace the entire house again.

  Before he could punch in her work number, his phone rang.

  Eight

  “Jack Orange?”

  “Yes.” The voice didn’t sound familiar. Or it sounded like any male who could have been calling. He felt like he didn’t know anything anymore. “Who is this?”

  “I just called to talk.” The man sounded like he was smiling and something deep inside Jack knew that wasn’t good at all.

  “Who are you?”

  “I think you know who I am.”

  Already he had a picture of this guy in his head. He was like a more bloated version of his high school history teacher. The teacher would come in and lecture for an hour about holocausts and smile the entire time. Only his history teacher had been very thin. Just from a couple of sentences, Jack pictured this guy as a plump man. He didn’t know why. He was there, on the other end of the line, his plump red cheeks all pulled back, those white teeth, almost perfect enough to be dentures, gleaming out from all that rosiness.

  And this man had Gina.

  He either had Gina or he had done something with her.

  “If I knew who you were then I suppose I wouldn’t be standing here so confused right now,” he said. His heart was really beating now. Already, his head raced with ideas of trying to track the man by this phone call. Of trying to pick up some sound from the other end that would allow him to place it. The sound of kids playing in a playground, or a siren from a fire engine, or a train. Anything. But he didn’t hear anything except for the man’s somewhat labored breathing and, perhaps, the sound of his cheeks pulling back from his gums in that hideous grin.

  “I wasn’t talking about my name. I was thinking more generalized. You know who I am.”

  “You have Gina.”

  “That’s right, Jack. I have Gina.”

  “But why?”

  “Geez,” the man said. “What would a man want with an attractive young lady? I could go into detail but I feel like that would be insulting your intelligence.”

  “You better not hurt her.”

  “Don’t start with the threats. Not yet. I’m the wrong guy to be threatening, Jack. Besides, maybe you’re too late. Maybe I’ve already hurt her.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Do you honestly want to hear about what I want?”

  “If it’s money, whatever, just don’t hurt her.”

  “But what if that’s what I want? What if I want to hurt her? What if I want nothing more than to hurt her? Hurt her and do things with her?”

  He resisted the urge to go off on the man. He couldn’t afford to do that. Maybe if they were standing face to face... but they weren’t. He was in the dark. Mr. Grin held all the cards. One card in particular.

  “Besides,” Mr. Grin said. “Don’t offer me money. I know you don’t have any of that. I know quite a bit about you.”

  “Again, what do you want? You wouldn’t have called me if you didn’t want something.”

  “Did you and Gina have fun last night?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Fucking. Jesus, you’re obtuse. Did you have fun fucking last night? That was the last time you did that, wasn’t it?”

  “How do you know that?”

  “She has a nice little mark just below the neckline of her t-shirt. That’s mighty big of you, to keep things like that away from the public eye. We wouldn’t want her friends and coworkers or, God forbid, the public to think she was a nasty little slut.”

  Jack’s heart continued to rage and anger surged up through him. At the very least, he thought, this man had removed Gina’s shirt.

  “But, you see, Jack, Gina is a nasty little slut. Bet you didn’t know that...”

  Jack desperately wanted to say something but he didn’t think anything he could say would help his cause.

  “Know how I know she’s a nasty little whore?”

  “How?” Jack spat.

  “Because I’ve fucked her. I’ve fucked her quite a bit. And I want to keep on fucking her but you are threatening that. You’re threatening to get in the way of all of it.”

  Now other thoughts were spiraling through his brain, none of them good, and he found himself inexplicably mad at Gina, even though he knew what this man said couldn’t be true.

  Or could it?

  Immediately, he began thinking about the opportunities she may have had to cheat. Then he stopped himself. That wasn’t really the issue now. That could only be a distraction. What he had to realize right now was that she was in danger and he needed to find her. He needed to help her.

  “See, Jack, she’s made it very clear to me that she would like to stop fucking me and keep right on fucking you.”

  “That’s impossible.” He couldn’t help himself.

  “Well, that’s what I thought too. How could anyone want to stop fucking me...”

  “You know what I meant.”

  “Oh, you mean it’s impossible that she could be fucking someone else?”

  “Yes.”

  “She’s a very resourceful gal, that Gina. Anyway, I feel like you’re not really listening to me anymore.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Okay. So, in short, I don’t want to stop fucking her. I like her pussy. I like the way she... shaves it.”

  A vice clamped Jack’s heart, imagining Gina in s
ome sicko’s house, stripped down for his perusal and pawing.

  “Now, I’m willing to take this like a man but I can’t just bow out completely. What kind of man would bow out completely, without a fight?”

  Jack found it very hard to breathe.

  “Why, I’ll tell you... it wouldn’t be a man at all. It would be a pussy. I am not a pussy, Jack. You are a pussy.”

  This childish insult almost made Jack laugh out loud.

  “So,” Mr. Grin continued. “I’ve decided to give you a chance to find me. And I’ve decided to let you in on the rules.”

  “The rules?”

  “Yes. The rules. Ready?” A brief pause. “If you go to the police with this, Gina is dead. Not just dead but tortured, degraded, humiliated... and then killed. And don’t kid yourself by thinking I won’t know if you go to the police. I will be the third person to know after yourself and the person who answers the phone at the station. So don’t even think about that. Unless you like to hear Gina scream.”

  “Don’t hurt her.”

  “You sound like a broken fucking record.”

  “What are the other rules?”

  “That’s really the only one. You have twenty-four hours to find me. That’s the other one. After that, we will be so far away, you’ll never be able to find us. You won’t even know where to begin looking. Gina’d be plenty upset but, over time, I think she’d get used to it. And if you find me, one of us is going to have to die. So, therein lies your big ethical decision. Do you forget about her, convince yourself she’s a lying slut and let us get on with our lives together? Or, once you find me, are you willing to kill another human to keep the one you supposedly love? Or, do you sacrifice her by calling the police and doing the ‘right’ thing?

  “What’ll it be, Jack?”

  “I’m going to find you. And I’m going to kill you.”

  Mr. Grin laughed on the other end. “Well, then, I guess you’d better get busy, hadn’t you?”

  Then he was gone. Disconnected. And Jack stood there in the living room, thinking how beautiful it had been that morning. But that now seemed like forever ago. This was not the same Jack who had stood there before. This Jack felt like he was actually mad enough to kill someone else. And that was something he had never felt in his adult life. He had also never even considered the fact of Gina’s fidelity. He had trusted her with every ounce of his being. He didn’t know if the call changed that. He desperately wanted to go out to the car and start driving, looking for her, but knew he had to put his thoughts in order first.