Norman Partridge - Slippin' into Darkness

Shutterbug recoiled as if his fingers had been burnt. He smelled his own sweat. Humiliation punched a hole in his heart. He wasn’t handling things the way a man should. First the A-Squad and their crazy hi-jinks, then the phone call, now this. Everything was caving in. There was too much trouble to shore up.

“Look, Steve…this whole thing was a mistake.” Shutterbug sounded truly remorseful now, because cops were big on remorse. “I should have stood up years ago. I wish I could now. Believe me, I would if I thought it would do April any good.”

The cop’s eyes flared at the mention of April, “Leave her out of this.”

“Okay…okay.” Looking for another opening. “Look, I appreciate you bringing this to me. I hope you won’t be upset if I say I want to make it worth your while. I’m sure my dad would have wanted me to show my appreciation.”

The cop sighed. “You just don’t get it. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. I’m not a shakedown kind of cop.”

“Okay…but- “

“No. Not okay. No buts. You’re in the clear, as long as you keep quiet.”

The words on the phone were ice in Shutterbug’s memory: Two words for you, Hanks: shut up. Whatever they hit you with, don’t say a word. That’s what we’re doing, that’s what you should do. 9

Shutterbug stepped back, bumping the camera that stood behind him. He didn’t say a word because the. 38 was in Steve Austin’s hand, and the barrel was aimed at his skull.

“Understand this,” Austin said. “I’m not going to kill you. You can thank your father for that. But you have to promise me one thing if you want to keep living.”

“What’s that?”

“You have to leave April alone. You have to promise me that.”

Shutterbug didn’t know what to say. He nodded furiously.

“No. I want to hear you say it.”

“Look…whatever happened at the cemetery, it wasn’t us. The grave was open when we got there. I was pretty wasted-so were the others. But you have my word that we didn’t touch that grave.”

Austin’s eyes showed nothing. “So,” he said, “you’re going to leave her alone. I still need to hear you say it.”

“Yes…of course. I’ll leave April alone. Whatever you say.”

“As long as we have that straight, I’ll keep you out of this. But go back on your word and you’ll find that all bets are off. I’m not used to people disappointing me, and I don’t know how I’ll handle that. Don’t make me find out.” And then it was as if something uncontrollable rose in Austin and he had to look away to smash it into submission. “I don’t want you to think about her.”

The gun slipped back into the holster. Austin returned the film to his pocket.

Shutterbug couldn’t help himself. “Look, why don’t we get rid of that film once and for all? Why don’t we burn it?”

Steve shook his head. “You used it for a long time. Now I’m going to use it. It’s the only thing I’ve got that can protect April from the guys who did this to her.” He tapped his pocket. “The guys in her nightmare.”

Nightmare. There was the word. Images from the previous night filled Shutterbug’s head. Bat and Todd and Derwin and Griz busting up his house. “You won’t tell them, will you?” Shutterbug’s humiliation was now a hot flame, but the words kept coming. “I mean, you won’t say anything to Bat or the others about our talk?”

Steve reached across the counter and patted Shutterbug’s shoulder. “C’mon. Stop worrying. Like I told you: you’re in the clear as long as you keep your word. As long as you don’t disappoint me.”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“Good. I’m glad this worked out.”

The big cop turned and was through the door in an instant. Shutterbug swallowed hard. His clerk would be here any minute now. He would feign sickness, go home-

A harsh tapping rattled over the glass door.

Shutterbug saw the cop’s tonfa drumming the smoked glass, saw Austin’s silhouette behind it.

Austin’s silhouette.

The yearbook photograph of April and the cheerleading squad froze in Shutterbug’s memory. The picture he was forced to mangle. The silhouetted figure standing in the biology lab, watching April through a wall of glass.

Steve Austin.

The black shadow didn’t move. Words penetrated heavy glass. “If you know what’s good for you, steer clear of the nightmare.”

And then the man, and the shadow, were gone.

First, Shutterbug ripped toilet-paper streamers from the trees in front of his house, cursing the A-Squad as he worked. Then he went inside and unplugged the telephones. One in the kitchen. One in his bedroom. One in the basement. Then he sat down and thought things over. He thought about what Ozzy-what Steve Austin – had said to him. Austin, still stuck on April Destino after all these years. The quiet bastard had always been a loner in high school, and now Shutterbug knew why. The guy was a nut, worshipping the memory of a dead whore like that.

Obviously, Austin hadn’t known the real April, the pitiful woman with lines on her face and a body that was going to seed after years of dope and booze and various less pleasant forms of abuse. That particular piece of meat wasn’t exactly a candidate for pedestal treatment.

She lived in a trailer park, for christsakes. Shutterbug wasn’t the only one who knew that April. She got around. A couple of his business associates over in the City had their own April Destino stories. She had done her share of hardcore before her body started to go. Shutterbug had actually seen the stuff without putting two and two together-

April wore wigs in the movies, and he hadn’t recognized her until they got reacquainted.

The big reunion occurred at a wild wrap party over in Marin. A Friday the 13th rip-off with a guy in a hockey mask who wielded a hard twelve-incher instead of a machete. Big house and bigger egos. Too much coke and too many bores, and he had stepped onto the deck for some air, big redwood deck with plenty of ferns and Tarzan shrubbery.

And there was April Destino. Red leather pants. Sequined halter top barely containing breasts that were fuller, heavier than when she was a teenager. Bare feet and painted toenails, a gold ring on one little toe.

Running into April scared him, sure, but things turned out okay. She made a joke of it-laughed and thanked him for giving her a start in the business. And then it was his turn to laugh and thank her for the very same thing. They did some coke together. They left the party together. He almost proposed that they go looking for a pool table, that’s how raunched-out he was that night.

Restraint won out and they ended up at her trailer. It was mounted on a cement foundation and sported aluminum siding and all, but it was still a trailer. April gave him a naughty smile and whispered that he was going to pay. And he laughed and said that if he was going to pay, they were going to get it on film and it was going to be good. She assented to that particular proposal. All very mysterious about it, grabbing her coat and a few things from her bedroom, stuffing everything into a small backpack.

And then they were at his place. That was when he still had the prison set in the basement. Many moons ago. She got off on it-or pretended to-stripped off her leather pants, white snake legs shedding blood-red skin, white ass pumping. She laughed and said that the fumes from the photo chemicals he stored in the basement were giving her high a nice edge.

With April it was all business, and it was just his luck that her business was pleasure. She gave him a good look and let him get the focus right. She hadn’t shaved her legs in maybe four days, but he still got hot peeping at those crisp blond hairs. Then she took off the sequined halter-there wasn’t much of it-and slipped into the old blue-and-white cheerleading sweater that she’d brought in her backpack.