Richard Laymon - The Traveling Vampire Show

I’d sure leaked, though.

A hot, sick feeling flooded through me.

While I still had my back to Slim, I glanced down. The front of my jeans was safely hidden by the hanging front of my shirt. Rusty’s shirt, actually.

Vastly relieved, I looked down at the fire. The paper and kindling had burnt away, but the charcoal briquettes were just about right: the gray had almost reached their black centers.

“Looks ready,” I called to Slim.

“I’ll get the burgers.” She took another swig of beer, then reached down again and set her bottle on the step. Standing up, she plucked at the legs of her cut-offs. Then she turned around and rushed up the stairs. At the top, she swung open the screen door. She vanished into the kitchen.

I waited for the door to bang shut. My back to the house, I looked down and pulled aside the front of my shirttail.

No wet spot on my jeans.

One less thing to worry about.

Pretty soon, the kitchen door swung open and Slim came out with a platter of burgers in her hands. Though her hair wasn’t much longer than mine, a wispy flap of it draping her forehead and the fringe around her ears bounced as she trotted down the back stairs. So did her bikini top. I could see it jouncing up and down ever so slightly through the front of her T-shirt. The crew neck of her T-shirt drooped a little to the right from when she’d pulled at it to wipe off our mouths.

“I put salt and pepper on them,” Slim said as she came toward me. “Also, I found the buns.”

“Good deal,” I said.

While she held the platter, I removed the patties one at a time. They felt cold and greasy in my fingers, and sizzled when they hit the grill.

I looked at my hands. “Guess I’d better wash.”

“You could’ve used this.” Slim reached behind her back. Her hand returned holding a spatula, which must’ve come from a back pocket.

“Now you tell me.”

She grinned. “Go ahead and wash up. I’ll watch the burgers.”

“Right back,” I said. Taking the platter with me, I ran to the house. I set it on the counter next to the buns. The buns were already on another plate, open and slathered on both sides with mayonnaise.

Slim knew what we liked.

I hurried over to the sink. When I tried to wash my hands, I found that cold water wouldn’t take off the grease. I had to . use hot water and soap.

Through the window in front of my face, I could see Slim standing by the barbecue. Pale smoke was rising in front of her and drifting away on the breeze. She was frowning slightly. I couldn’t tell whether she was worried about something or just thinking hard. Maybe she was concentrating on the burger patties, trying to judge when to turn them over. She had the spatula ready in her right hand, but wasn’t using it yet. Her left arm hung by her side. She stood with her left leg stiff, all her weight on it, that side of her rump sort of pushing out against the seat of her cut-offs.

I might’ve kept staring at her forever, but the water burnt my hands. I gasped and jerked them out from under the faucet. They were stinging, so I let cold water run on them for a while. Then I dried them on the dish towel.

Slim was a big fan of cheeseburgers. So was I, for that matter. So I hurried to the fridge and took out our Velveeta. Carrying it to the counter and unwrapping it, I found myself remembering the Velveeta at Rusty’s house. And his mother’s bridge club. And Bitsy catching us. And how we’d run away from her.

Life had seemed wonderful for the past few minutes, but now I started feeling a little rotten again.

In my mind, I saw the eagerness on Bitsy’s face when she thought we’d be taking her with us.

Then I heard Rusty’s mother. Elizabeth has always been very fond of you.

I found our cheese slicer in a drawer.

I must say I’m terribly disappointed in you.

I pushed the tight wire of the slicer down through the block of Velveeta. When I had four slabs, each about half an inch thick, I put them on the plate with the buns. Then I picked up the plate and hurried outside.

Slim watched me trot down the stairs. She still had that frown on her face. As I neared her, she smiled. “Velveeta,” she said.

“Yep.”

“Just a sec.”

Fire was leaping around the patties, fueled by their dripping grease. Slim had already flipped them over. Their upturned sides were brown and glistening, striped with black indentations from the grill. They sizzled and crackled and smelled delicious. As I watched, Slim pressed down on each of them with the spatula, squeezing them flatter, making juices spill out their sides. Each time she mashed one, the fire underneath it went crazy.

After pressing all four of them, she switched the spatula to her left hand. With her right, she picked up the slabs of Velveeta. She laid them out, one on top of each patty.

Until she came to the fourth slab of Velveeta.

She gave me a quick grin. “This’ll be mine,” she said, and took a bite. A blissful look on her face, she started to put the remaining three-quarters of the slice on the fourth patty. Instead of letting it go, however, she brought it quickly back to her mouth and snapped off another quarter of it. “Gotta even up the sides,” she said through her mouthful. Then, reaching through the smoke and flames, she neatly set the remaining strip in the center of the patty.

By then, the cheese on the other burgers was starting to melt. “These are going to be great,” Slim said.

“Yeah.”

“But you know what?”

“What?” I asked.

“I’ve been thinking about Rusty.”

“Uh.”

“He really wants to see the Vampire Show.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“I’ve been thinking, it might not be so easy for him to get out of his house tonight. They probably won’t let him out, and he won’t be able to sneak out in time if they’re keeping an eye on him.”

“Maybe it’s just as well,” I said. “It might be better if we all miss it.”

“He really has his heart set on it, though.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“He’d be so disappointed,” Slim said, and looked at the grill. Melted Velveeta was starting to spill down the sides of the patties and drip into the flames. “Uh-oh.” Quickly, she stabbed the spatula underneath one of the burgers, lifted it off the grill and slid it onto a bun.

“Should we go to Rusty’s rescue?” I asked.

“I think we’d better.” Slim scooped off another burger.

“I thought you liked it better without him around,” I said.

“I do,” she said. She flashed me a sly smile, then transferred another burger from the grill to a bun. “But he’s still our friend.”

“Yeah.”

“More appreciated in his absence than in his presence….”

I laughed.

She took off the last burger, the one with half as much Velveeta. “This one’s yours,” she said.

“Okay.”

“I’m kidding,” she said. “It’s…”

“No, really, I’ll take it. I’d rather have that one.”

She laughed softly and shook her head. “If you want it that much, you can have it.” She set the top of the bun in place and pressed it down with her open hand. “She’s all yours.”

The sun normally would’ve been blazing in our eyes at this time of the evening, but it couldn’t get through the heavy clouds. Though the air felt muggy, a breeze came along every so often. A warm breeze. It felt pretty good, anyway.

We sat at the picnic table near the back of the lawn. It was painted green and had benches along both the long sides. Slim and I sat across from each other.

The cheeseburgers tasted great but they were very messy to eat. Juices and Velveeta dripped off their sides, ran down our chins, dribbled down our hands and fell onto the table. After just a few bites, I ran into the house to get napkins.