It was six in the afternoon, five hours before I had set the alarm on my phone to go to Ronny's, about nineteen hours since I had encountered Smiley face-to-face and then came home to a smiley face mask on my bed, and a mere seventeen hours since Smiley's latest killing spree.
Just hours after I saw Smiley at Crave, he had went out and killed three more victims, all three of which I labeled "random" in my investigation notebook, and no longer followed Smiley's pattern of killing people that went to Mortimer. One of the victims, I had quickly noticed, look a hell of a lot like me.
Trying to keep my nerves at a minimum, I had spent most of my morning beating on my punching back in my room and writing in my journal, looking back and forth between the magazine cut out of the "How to Be Cliché" writing contest and Smiley's mask.
Now, at six in the afternoon, I was shuffling around the kitchen and discretely dumping steak knives into my gym bag as weapons. I was beyond nervous. Nervous that if I saw Smiley again, I would freeze up like I had the night before, and that I wouldn't have Sin to save my ass again.
Suddenly, I heard my mother let out a loud gasp. Heart in my throat, I rushed into the room to see what was going on.
"...And here's the exclusive surveillance footage of last night's events at Joseph's Advertising Corp. one last time!" George Smiley said, grinning at the camera.
On the television screen was now a tall brunette walking down a narrow hallway of some sort of business place. The camera showed her back as she pressed the button of an elevator. Just from looking at her from behind, she resembled me greatly. The girl clutched her Coach purse fairly tightly to her side and tucked her blouse and skirt neatly in place. As the elevator came to her floor and the doors opened, the footage zoomed in on a man in a brown trench coat that stood in the middle of the elevator. He had a knife in his hand, not a stake, and two decapitated bodies were curled up at his feet. His mask had a large, painted on grin, identical to the mask I had found on my bed, and two endless holes for eyes.
As the woman turned to run, Smiley lunged at her, gripped her around the waist with one arm, picked her up as if she weighed nothing, and then slammed the back of her head against the wall until she stopped flailing out and blood splattered and coated the walls. Smiley then held her limp body in his arms, pushed aside the hair from her face, and appeared to analyze her face for a good twenty seconds, before angrily sticking his knife into the wall, gripping the girls neck with one hand, bringing his head towards her neck, and--
The television went blank as my mother finally found the remote. "Mom! Turn it back on! I want to see what he did to her neck!"
"It's graphic, darling! Hickey's are bad. Only when you're married. Plus, no graphic television when you're grounded! Only Dora!"
"Put it back on or I'll tell Dad about Manuel the good looking pool boy you hired for one day barely spoke English and who started humping the diving board because you accidently hired him off of a prostitute website!"
"Who told you that?! How was I supposed to know Manuel was an ex stripper?!" Mom covered her mouth, realizing what she had spilled. "The website said he was good at cleaning out filters with his bare hands! It sounded convincing!"
"You see things from bedrooms of white trash mansions, and I saw many things, but mostly the big thing in Manual's pantalones! Television! On!"
Mom turned the television back on.
Smiley was directly in front of the screen. With a scream, Mom leaped up off the couch, coming towards me and squeezing me tightly to her chest. In Smiley's hand was a bloody knife-- the same knife that he had stuck into the wall, and in the background, was the girl that resembled me from behind lying lifeless on the ground. She wasn't beheaded, but she was definitely dead and covered head to toe in blood.
With a bloody knife in his hand, Smiley slowly dragged the blade across his mask in a smile and then threw the blade straight at the camera like a dart. The tape went black.
"Wow, that was better than all of the Saw movies combined!" Lavendar Smiley beamed, nudging her husband in the shoulder lightly with her fist. The television went black.
Mom pulled away from me. "No hugs for bad children and no television," she scolded, clearly flustered by the television. "Go sulk in your room about hating your life, your parents, and your boobs, even though half of America wished they had your long legs and curly brown hair!"
When I went upstairs, I took out my investigation notebook and wrote down some more questions and notes came to me while watching the surveillance footage. Also, after asking my father nicely in his office across the hall, I went onto Ebay and purchased surveillance cameras for the house.
Targets:
Targeted brown haired girl that resembled me -- didn't decapitate girl with brown hair.
Questions.
Left smiley mask on my bed -- why didn't he just kill me at the club? Also, how did he get inside my house if my parents were home? Did he steal anything from my room?
Is he watching me right now?!?!
Have I already met Smiley without the mask?
Is Smiley hot?
I scribbled that last one out.
Observations:
Parents still acting strange. Seem to be avoiding me, and not just because I'm grounded. While watching surveillance tape, Mom conveniently shut off television before Smiley appeared to be biting the girls neck.
Gary is avoiding me -- he bites necks, right?
Skeptical About:
Gary. When he left, I met Smiley.
Hunter. He was in my bedroom with the mask. Dead giveaway.
Mommy and Daddy. Still think they might be hunters.
Vladimir. Vell, no offense to Transylvanian's, but his accent automatically puts him at the top of my list. Plus that curved scar from his lip to his ear reminds me of a grin. Creepy.
Everyone at this point that looks at me funny is a bad guy. Especially if they smile at me.
Bernard. Bernard's banana pancakes are getting better and better every single day. He's probably puts drugs in them and is trying to kill me slowly. Plus, everyone knows the butler always ends up being the killer. Definitely might be Smiley.
Since I could barely draw stick figures, I went onto YouTube and tried to look up how to draw people properly. After going through hours of videos, I started to sketch what I thought Smiley looked like. It looked pretty damn good.
However, as I started to visualize what Smiley looked like, I got the most unnerving feeling that slipped down my back like ice water. I couldn't help but slowly move my gaze towards my bedroom window, as if someone would be watching me.
There was nobody there. I locked my journal up with its key, stuffed it into the safe in my closet, and took a nap.
***
Hours later, I found my parents asleep in the private movie theater in the house that I hadn't even used once, watching The Godfather in galaxy footsy pajamas that we had all gotten for Christmas from grandma, and sharing a massive bowl of popcorn that lay slightly tipped over on dad's stomach as he snored loudly.
Taking advantage of the perfect moment, I attempted to quietly sneak out the back door of the house, slowly sliding the door open and putting a single foot softly out onto the patio, when Salt, who was wide awake and hyper off of pure puppy-ness, came rushing down the staircase from my room with his tap dancing nails, dashed through the dining room, and ran towards me like a giant cotton ball, leaping into the air and pouncing happily onto my butt, knocking me off balance and sending me pummeling clumsily outside and onto the patio. Before I busted my face open, I gracefully fell into a tuck and roll and jumped up on my feet with my arms horizontally outstretched from my body and a huge smile on my mouth like Jesus on Rapture Day.
I bowed and kissed my imaginary audience. "Thank you, thank you."
"Bark!" Salt said from behind.
"What do you mean, I have the thighs of a tennis player and the form of an cross-eyed gymnastics man? That was a nice tuck and roll!" I whirled around, glaring at the ball of fluff standing inside of the house, poking his head outside through the gap in the sliding glass door and panting at me, his little tail wagging vigorously, the Smiley mask in clutched in his mouth catching the light from the patio outdoors spotlight. Panicking, I hurried towards my puppy and gripped the mask, starting an impossible game of tug-o-war. "Salt! No! No play with the psychotic serial killer mask! Bad! I thought I locked you in my room!" I lifted the mask up in the air and brought Salt with it, his teeth latched on the mask like an iron clam, and his tail wagging even more excitedly.
"If you don't let go right now, I'm going to put you in your training cage and force you to watch Marley and Me! Good luck restraining the waterworks, pup! I'll be sending pictures to Mimi next door, she'll never give you her big biscuits if she sees how big your diaper is!"
Suddenly, Salt released the mask and whined, running back into the house like a child.
"Owner beats dog!" I shouted after him, quickly realizing my parents were sleeping and that was probably not the best thing to do whilst sneaking out of the house. Slipping my black gym bag over my shoulder, I pushed aside my investigation notebook and dropped in the Smiley mask. Staring down at the mask in my gym back, I momentarily got lost in my own thoughts, wondering what exactly I was getting myself into by tracking down a serial killer in the middle of the night.
Taking out one of the kitchen knife I had stored in the bag, I wiped some of the condensation off of it from my waterbottle on my thigh, which made the sound of sharpening a blade, then tightened the opening of my gym bag and the slipped it back over my shoulder.
"Pepper?"
The hair at the back of my neck stood up at the irritation in their voice. Turning around, I took in the tall figure standing before me who was partially out of the light from the porch's reach, and who was draped in shadows from the waist up.
"What the hell are you doing on my property?" I demanded.
"I wanted to see you."
"I don't remember giving you permission to enter my backyard. Oh wait, that's because I didn't give you permission and you're trespassing." I started to walk back into the house. "BRB, calling the police to take your sorry ass to jail."
"Wait," Gary said, making me stop, "I'm here to stop you and Ronny from doing something stupid tonight. Well....Ronny I've already stopped."
I turned back around, sighing. "Ronny spilled the beans and raised the white flag that easily? Did you flash him your junk or something?" Again... I wanted to add, remembering the text messages Ronny and I had shared.
"Fortunately, no. After a lot of threats to dump all of his hair products down the drain he was spurting all of his deepest and darkest secrets. Plus, I tied him to a chair, put Magic Mike on the television, and put the DVD remote in his hand. He won't be going anywhere for hours. And since you're grounded, he was your ride to Crave so now you have no ride."
Traitorous, fabulous bedazzling ho!
Trying to keep my emotions under control, I bit down on my lip and tasted blood. "The only stupid thing here is a person and that person is you. I should have never trusted you to actually stay with me and help me scope out the club."
Gary didn't say anything for a while. "I'm sorry."
At first, I was stunned that he had immediately apologized. "Sorry isn't good enough for Pepper Ballard. We were like Batman and Robin, man. Freaking Mermaid Man and Barnacle Boy but really Italian, younger, and a lot cuter. Tricking the bouncer and getting access into the club was freaking awesome but then Robin took the Batmobile and got TFO, leaving Batman all alone. Gotham city needed both of us, bitch."
Maybe Garbear is rude, but good Lord, have you seen his abs? Bitch can draw, too. I'm still waiting for him to draw me like one of those French girls...
"I didn't expect Vladimir to be there," Gary said, stepping out from the darkness. His dark jeans hung low on his hips, and the hood of his black sweatshirt was all the way up, masking most of his face besides his pale, sculpted jaw, lip piercings, and slight stubble. There was something unnerving about that. "I've known Vlad well before my father married Ronny's mother, and he's always been a dick. His family are unfortunately one of the founders of this place, so I have to put up with him. We've disagreed on many things over the years. Vampire politics that you wouldn't understand. My father hates him just as much as I do, but we don't believe in killing when we feed so we both have to go to Crave to eat."
"So let me get this straight." I started to laugh a little. "You left me at Crave because of vampire political disagreements?"
"Yes."
"You're a fucking liar."
Gary straightened. "Excuse me?"
"You were jealous as hell because Vlad was coming onto me. And instead of saying, oh, I don't know, that I was there with you, you left to prove some sort of manly point that he could have me."
"You make yourself seem so innocent when you were thrusting your breasts into his face and encouraging him to flirt."
I rolled my eyes. "I don't even have boobs--!"
"Yes you do. You want to know the truth? The truth is that it pissed me off that you wouldn't tell him to stop," Gary admitted, his fists clenching at his side. "Vladimir was obviously taunting me, and you were letting him. My father's side of the family has customs that Vlad's arrogant family will never come to understand. Those customs might be older than dirt, but people like Vladimir and I still follow them. One of those customs is that when you take a woman out anywhere, if they come onto another man, then you back off because they're disrespecting you. You don't confront them. You don't discipline them or bite them or any other shit. You back off. So I backed off."
I dropped the knife in my hand at my side, feeling the water works coming on. I had hurt him a lot more than I thought I had. "Gary--" I started.
"Yes, I was unbelievably jealous. I'm not good at expressing myself to people. That's why I draw because I feel like I can communicate better through my art. Let me tell you, I communicated very well to you after I left you at Crave. I drew you as a really nasty, slutty old hag with herpes that I plan on giving you if I get any angrier than I am right now. I probably shouldn't have added the Italian sub being shoved down your throat by a pale, pedophiliac vampire aka Vladamir the man-whore, but it just fit at the time--"
"Gary--" I started again.
"And you know what? You're very rude and upfront, Pepper Ballard. There, I said it. I drove you to Crave when I didn't have to, and you bitched and moaned to me the whole car ride, purposely trying to get under my skin. I mean, yes, you're t*ts looked really nice in the corset -- like, really nice, but had I known you would have went on a rant the whole car ride, I would have strapped you to the roof or something right when I picked you up at your house. And yes, I didn't really have a choice in driving you because you threatened me, and you're a really intimidating when you threaten me. Where was I even going with this?" Gary paused, shifting on his feet. "Right. I went out of my way to help you, and you betrayed me first, even if it was just for a few minutes. You were letting him touch you and flirt with you and I started to visualize all of the things he obviously wanted to do with you and you complying to them, and I just couldn't take it! So I left and settled the score, I guess. I left before I did something stupid. And right now, you are about to do something really stupid, because you're going to go to Crave, and you're going to get exactly what you want. Trouble."
Deep down, I thought it was really sweet of him to come over and apologize to me and prevent me from "doing something stupid," but he didn't know me at all if he thought I wasn't going to Crave that night. Then, it occurred to me that Gary had confirmed that Smiley would be at Crave with confidence.
"And how exactly are you so sure that he'll be at Crave? I thought you were just assuming from the ticket that he would be there?" I asked, still gripping the knife at my side tighter in my hand.
"I'm just going to cut to the chase, Pepper." Gary's next words would change my perspective of him completely. "Don't go to Crave tonight, stop "investigating" and dressing up, and we won't have a problem."
"What? I whispered. "What do you mean?" My heart started to pound in my chest. Something was off about Gary. Something was seriously, seriously off. His posture was different. The way he spoke to me was different. It was as if I no longer recognized anything about him in a matter of seconds.
"I'm not the bad guy, Pepper. Please, believe me." Gary's voice was calm, level. But when Gary took out a roll of rope from underneath his hoodie and dropped it between us, one end of it grasped firmly in his hand, and his voice morphed into something rough and animalistic, I no longer felt safe. "But I can't let you get in the way of my job tonight."
In a blink of an eye, the knife was out of my hand, I was struggling beneath strong hands, lifted off of the ground and over a strong shoulder, and everything went black.
********************************************
LE GASP.
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