Ray Garton - The New Neighbor

"Not really."

"How about if I insist?"

"Look, Anthony, I don't really know what happened myself."

Scolari sat on the bedside and spoke quietly. "Look, Ronnie, let's be straight, okay? I think you know that I do a lot more than buy and sell stocks and run a little corporation. I think you know I've got some friends who do things that aren't quite within the law. We've never talked about it, but it's always been there, right? I'm sure Marie told you plenty. So this isn't going to come as a big surprise. I had a friend put a tail on your neighbor lady. Frankly, I was planning to have her killed. Okay? I mean, I was pretty shook up, you know? She moved. To Indiana. My man followed her. A week after she settled into her new place, we lost contact with him. He was found beside a creek, several miles from her neighborhood. He was also found in a garbage dump about a mile from there. And we never found all of him. So… are you sure you don't want to tell me what happened?"

Prosky was shocked, but he still did not tell his brother-in-law the whole story.

"You say this woman's responsible for what happened but you can't prove it, so you can't go to the police, and yet you mean to tell me you're turning down an offer of help from an outside source? You think this is all her fault, and yet you can honestly say you don't want her to pay for it?"

"You want to know the truth, Anthony? I'd like to kill her myself."

Scolari smiled. He lifted the prosthetic arm and carefully removed a pin from the wrist. "Do this," he said, nodding at the arm as he held out an arm, made a fist and snapped it back.

Prosky did as he was told and the blade appeared.

Scolari was still smiling. He cleaned his manicured fingernails with the steel pin as he spoke. "It's your decision. You can forget it if you want. You can even have another arm if you want. But I've got somebody else watching her now. I know where she is. It's up to you."

Prosky had been following her ever since.

Robby told him everything. He was hesitant at first, then spoke with more ease, relieved to finally face the fact that something was not right, and even more relieved that he did not have to face it alone. When he spoke of Jen, he lost his control and began to cry, unable to continue.

"It's okay, Robby," Prosky said. "At least you're seeing it now, before it's too late for you. I'm not going to lie, it might be too late for them. But maybe not. You might be able to help them."

"Huh-how?"

"Remember I told you I never used to believe in a higher power? That all of this changed that?"

Robby nodded.

"Well, like I said, I'm not gonna send money to any of these tall-haired, diamond-ring-wearing televangelists with a private jet and a few limos. But I do believe in… something. Some force of goodness. And a force of evil. I know that's a touchy topic of conversation, but we don't have time right now to debate our differences of opinion about the… the creator, or… whatever. So, I’ll just say this. I think there’s a piece of both of those forces in all of us. Good and evil. Call it whatever you want, I think we’ve got it in all of us. And it’s up to us which side tips the scale. Sometimes we can influence that scale for others, too. Like right now. Your family. You love them, don’t you?” “Course I do,” Robby croaked. He wanted to say, This is bullshit! Horror movie bullshit ! But he couldn't, because he knew he would not believe his own words.

"Well, Robby, you need that love right now. It can help you tip the scales in the right direction for your family. Lorelle is trying to suck that love out of you and replace it with something… bad. She creates hatred where there was once love. You’re seeing it in your family right now. But she can only do that if she’s allowed to do it.” He took a drink of his coffee.

Robby gulped down the lump in his throat. “Well? What do I do? What do we do? To stop her, I mean."

Prosky put his mug down on the table with a thunk and contentedly smacked his lips. His smile was terribly distorted, but it was still a smile. "I thought you'd never ask.”

If I Had a Hammer

Everyone was home. Karen and Jen did not leave that morning. Karen called in sick and when she realized that Jen was not getting ready for school, she asked why.

"I don't feel good," Jen said.

Karen had hoped to be alone, but Jen didn't look well. "Okay," Karen said. "Whatever you think."

It was the only time they spoke that morning. They watched television silently, and Karen went back and forth to the coffeepot, trying hard to stay awake. She felt unbearably weary.

George came back from the radio station three hours after leaving the house. Neither Karen nor Jen asked why he was back so early and he did not offer an explanation. He really didn't want to go home because he knew Karen had not gone to work, but he couldn't function. There were ball bearings tied to his eyelids, his shoes were full of metal shavings and his brain was covered with a thick layer of dust. Trying to work was useless, so he gave up and went home.

Karen and Jen were in the living room and they both looked awful. He stuck his head in for a moment, then turned and headed down the hall, pausing a moment to think, they're sick, too. Maybe they need something . Then: Fuck 'em . He went to the bedroom and began changing his clothes. He stopped, naked except for his socks, to frown at himself in the mirror over Karen's dresser.

“Fuck 'em?" he muttered, puzzled by his own callous attitude. He thought, They're sick . Karen takes care of you when you're sick. What's the -

Monroe hissed, shot out from under the bed and clawed at George's feet, coming so close that George felt the cat's saliva splatter his ankle. Anger spewed up from George's middle like lava from a volcano as he kicked Monroe against the closet door, then reached down and took a handful of the cat's flabby flesh. Monroe yowled as George carried him out of the bedroom and down the hall to the front door.

Karen was already out of the recliner and standing in the living room doorway, fists clenched, eyes narrowed. "No, George, no!" she shouted.

"Everybody else on the street lets their cats outside ! What makes this cat any different?"

"He's never been an outdoor cat. He can't take care of himself, he'll get hurt !"

"My ass," George growled, opening the front door. "He'll kill anything that moves ! He's a cat, not a goddamned retarded blind child!" He flung Monroe out the door; the cat spun head over tail through the air before rolling over the grass with a pathetic screech.

Karen ran after him in her bathrobe, crying, "You son of a bitch! You goddamned monster!"

She swept Monroe up in her arms, but George didn't stay to watch any more. He turned away, knowing she'd bring the cat back inside. Then he froze. He suddenly realized he was naked.

Jen was staring at him. He didn't make a habit of parading naked in front of his daughter. He felt a rush of embarrassment and thought that she was probably embarrassed, too. But she wasn't.

Jen's gaze was aimed straight at his crotch. Her left index finger was locked between her lips and her checks were sucked in deep beneath her cheekbones. Her right hand was under her robe, between her legs. Her eyes were narrowed in the same way they would be if she were smiling. He realized she’d been watching him for a while, ever since he’d come out into the living room. It looked almost as if she were -

George hurried down the hall, trying not to think about it.

Back in his bedroom, he put on jeans and a blue chambray shirt, ignoring the slight tingle that passed through his cock when he thought of the way Jen was sucking on her finger…