Trouble is a Friend of Mine

Or I thought I’d thought it. I guess I’d said it aloud.

‘I just wanted it to be special. You know. My first time,’ Henry said.

I willed myself not to melt at how amazingly well he pulled off that sensitivity. ‘Uhhh … hey, look.’ I flipped over a statuette of Buddha holding a pointy staff. A strip of paper was taped to the base.

‘X65*$$ … what’s this?’ Henry said. ‘Is this his password?’

I photographed it. ‘Who knows if it’s the password, but it’s a password.’

‘Why would you ever write down your password?’ Henry said.

‘That’s what happens when you have too many secrets,’ I said.

My father had gotten careless too, when he was cheating. He’d left a pizza delivery receipt to a Jersey Turnpike motel in a sweater he knew I liked to borrow. When Mom found a tube of lipstick in the car, I had to let him tell her it was mine. It was a nasty orangey red that was worn to a point in the middle, like the person had applied it by sucking on it. Gross. The worst part of the whole cheating thing was how it forced my father to say and do the most weasely things. It was all so far beneath him.

‘Maybe he has backup security,’ I said.

‘Like what?’ Henry said.

Tchak-tchak.

There’s something about the sound of a shotgun racking that’s so familiar even if you’ve never heard it in real life. It’s like a rattlesnake rattle. True, that’s something else I’ve never heard in real life, but my point stands. You just know to be scared. My butt puckered.

‘Turn around. Don’t try anything. I have a gun.’

The lights came on. Schell was in the door holding a shotgun. We all just stared at one another in the shocking brightness for a long while before the next thing happened. When it happened, though, it happened fast.

First, Schell recognized me. ‘You! You’re the kid with –’

Second, Henry threw the Buddha statue at him. It’s never a good thing when a quarterback throws something at your face. Blood gushed right away.

Schell screamed. ‘You little bastard!’

Henry rushed at him but it was a long space, so Schell had time to step back out of the room and slam the door shut.

‘I’ll shoot through the door!’ Schell said.

Henry and I froze and, before we could decide whether he actually would, Schell had locked the door. We heard him call someone.

‘Hey, it’s me … I’m at work … some kids broke in,’ Schell said. ‘Look. They didn’t just walk in, they had the alarm code … I don’t know if she sent them, but the timing’s interesting, don’tcha think? Just get your ass here and help me get rid of them. I can’t do it alone, I’m hurt …’

Another long pause.

‘Whatcha think I mean? Get rid of them,’ Schell said.

Even I knew what he meant. Henry tried to call 911 on the office phone.

‘I cut the phones, you punk-asses,’ Schell said.

I dialed my cell, but I’d forgotten he had a cell signal blocker.

‘I got you, you little bastards,’ Schell said.

‘Where’s Digby?’ Henry said. ‘You don’t think …’

‘We would’ve heard a shot,’ I said. ‘He left us.’

It frightened me that Henry looked freaked out.

‘Wow. I’m hurt,’ Digby said.

We couldn’t find where his voice was coming from. It took a second to realize Digby was in the drop ceiling, looking down from a gap he’d made by moving a ceiling tile aside.

‘I’m hurt, hurt, that you’d even think I could bail on you,’ Digby said.

‘Where were you? This guy’s got a shotgun. He’s on the phone talking about getting rid of us,’ Henry said. ‘Dude, I think he means he’s going to kill us.’

‘Oh, ya think?’ I said. ‘Digby, he’s blocking the phones.’

‘Yeah, but he didn’t spring for the full spectrum one … Wi-Fi’s still on. Like I said, the guy’s so two-thousand-and-late.’ Digby dialed. ‘Hello, I need to report a breakin at twenty-five twenty-seven Pine. Three intruders are being held at gunpoint.… What? No, we’re the intruders. Better hurry – I’m pretty sure he’s pissed off enough to kill us.’

Digby held out his hand and Henry gave me a boost. He climbed up after me and Digby replaced the ceiling tile. Then we heard a horrible metallic groan. The ceiling was buckling.

‘Spread out!’ Digby said.

We scrambled like roaches, arms and legs spread to distribute our weight across the tiles. The creaking stopped.

We heard Schell reopen the door.

‘What the hell?! What the hell?!’ Schell’s voice was high and hysterical.

He ripped apart his office. The wheeled office chair crashed around. He opened the coat closet and knocked hangers to the floor. He was so confused, he checked for us in desk drawers. Then, silence.