The Book of Masks (Vol. 2)

An Inside View

Previously: "Getting to Know All About You" 

Even if you can face Gordon's dad -- and you're pretty sure you can -- you don't have any desire to do so yet. So when you're back up in the loft and have opened a beer, you dial Steve Patterson. "Yeah, you okay?" he says instantly on picking up.

Your heart catches briefly in you're throat. It hits you that you're about to try snowing Gordon's best friend.

"Sure," you squeak. But your voice firms as you continue. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno. You just told me this morning you were gonna see Chelsea, clear the air."

"Yeah, we're okay. We made up. Made out. You know." You drum nervous fingers.

"Great," Patterson says with patent insincerity. "So why are you calling me?"

"To brag about it, fucker, why else?" You swallow a great gulp of alcohol. It seems to lubricate your instincts. "We're done for today, though, I'm lookin' for something to do. What are your plans?"

"You done with the loft? 'Cos I got plans up there."

"You're shitting me. Why didn't you say something?"

"Didn't wanna get in your way. I guess I can thank Chelsea, 'cos Kendra called me last night, said she was aching for my cock."

You wish this surprised you, but Gordon knows better. "Christ. You better fucking hope I never break up with Chelsea, or all this free pussy she shoves your way is gonna dry up."

He grunts. "Whatever you were doing to her last week, keep doing it, 'cos it worked solid on her." He warms to an evergreen subject. "She gets in your head, man, I've told you I don't know how many times -- "

"Yeah, so why don't you shut your fucking mouth about it?"

" -- but this time you got in hers." He laughs. "It's like you played her fucking game against her, and look what it got you. It got you something good, didn't it?"

"Four times -- "

"Liar."

" -- and so hard I had to carry her out to the car 'cos she couldn't walk. Did you just call me a liar?"

"Yeah I did."

"I'll be over at your place tomorrow afternoon to tattoo the inside of your ass with my -- " The rest of your threat is lost in his hoarse laugh. "Then I'll see you here tomorrow at one, right?"

"Sure. Probably spend the night there, banging Kendra."

"Fucker." You hang up, and gulp down some cold drafts of air and beer both.

You just passed your first test, convincing Gordon's best friend -- the ur-bully Steve Patterson -- that you were Gordon. And it was easy. Liquid. Intuitive.

But there's no more entertainment on that end, so you call Jason Lynch.

* * * * *

His eyes light up when he opens the front door to you. "Hey Gordon! Whew!" He brushes the front of your shirt. "You clean up nice. We got a hot date wi'chother or somethin'?"

"Didn't have anything else to put on." You push past him into the living room. "Mr. Lynch," you say deferentially to Jason's dad.

"Howdy, Gordon," he cheerfully replies. "How's your pa?"

"He's fine, sir, same as always."

"Give him my regards. And how's the team?"

"Going to State, sir. I'll kill and bury the squad in the back nine if we don't."

Mr. Lynch laughs, not knowing that Gordon would be half-serious in issuing that threat.

"So, you up for a movie," Jason says, and pulls at you. "Been a long time since we watched something together."

"Yeah, well, you know. Chelsea and everything," you murmur as you follow him down a hallway. Actually, you have the impression that Gordon doesn't like Jason a whole lot. For your part, you despise him.

He's short -- shorter even than you yourself -- but is very strong. He has all the attributes of the all-American high school athlete: sandy hair, blue eyes, a wide grin, and handsome, regular features. He ought to be Mr. Popularity. But he's a maniac and a sociopath known for starting fights just for the giggling fun of it, and for a lacerating tongue. Around Gordon, though, he is oily, obsequious, and flattering.

Like now, for instance: "Stevie told me you were hooking up with her today," he says of your girlfriend, and using the nickname that Patterson hates so much. He sniggers. "You make her beg?"

"We hashed things out." You duck your head as you follow him into his bedroom. It is neat and tidy, as though he was expecting company. But he's always neat and tidy, Gordon has noticed.

"Gotta make her beg, man," Jason says. "You can do it."

The bed bounces as you drop onto it. "She did a lot of crying," you admit.

Jason's jaw drops. "She did?" He throws his head back and howls. "No shit? Man, I wisht I'd been there to see it!"

"You wanna watch us sometime?"

His laughter catches, and he reddens. "No, I didn't mean -- " He punches at you playfully. "I'm just glad t' hear you're -- I mean, that's one thing me and Stevie agree on. You need to take charge of things with her, show her who's -- "

"You wanna do yourself a fucking favor? Stop talking about my girlfriend and how I need to treat her. Cos' if you're not auditioning for the part yourself, it's none of your fucking business."

He turns green, mutters an incoherent apology.

"I came over here to watch a movie, okay? Whaddaya have?"

"Whaddaya want? Something with titties?"

"Ungh. Something with guns and explosions. And titties," you add with a shrug.

He goes to his bookshelf -- which holds only DVD cases -- and paws through them until he finds a title that meets your criteria. He puts it into the player, turns on the TV, then goes to make popcorn and get some sodas. You settle sideways on the bed with your back to the wall.

As Gordon Black, these are your friends: Chelsea Cooper, Steve Patterson, and Jason Lynch. There is no one else that Gordon regularly hangs out with. And they're all crazy.

Except he's been hanging out more recently with you and Caleb. You cock your head. What does Gordon think of you guys?

You don't get back much of an answer. You remember his meeting Will Prescott and Caleb Johansson at the municipal library on Wednesday night, and the amazement he'd felt at the revelation of the masks and the book that made them. That was the first time Gordon had ever really paid attention to you and Caleb, and his impressions of you are colored by the singularity of that experience. As near as you can tell, he thinks you're goofy, and he's contemptuous of the rabbity way you decline to stand up for yourselves. But it's not like he has any strong opinions of you. Certainly it's not like with Cameron Huber, the football quarterback, whom Gordon loathes for the way he bullied Gordon around in middle school, back when he was a lot smaller than he is now --

These unhappy memories are interrupted by Jason's return, and you turn your attention to the movie, which is some ten-year-old, made-for-TV science-fiction movie with a lot of hard bodies in both the male and female parts. It's good enough for what it is, and what it is is a way to keep your mind idling without getting distracted by anything troublesome.

* * * * *

The movie lasts only ninety minutes or so, and when it's done you're left with only Jason for entertainment. That's not your idea of a grand time, so you beg off spending any more time with him by telling him you need to get home.

Which you would definitely need to do if things were normal. But things are not normal, as you confirm when you get back to Gordon's house.

His dad is watching TV when you come in, and you can't help cringing when he casts a hooded look at you. "Have fun today?" he asks in a tone of voice that usually foretells trouble.

I'm not Gordon Black, you remind yourself, and you straighten up. "Yeah, I hung out with Chelsea, watched a movie with Jason."

"Did you eat?"

So that's what this is about: You messed up his dinner plans. Gordon would be dying with fear by this point, and his dad sounds like he's trying to re-establish his hold, for he's really ramping up the cold fury in his tone and look.

I'm not Gordon Black. "No. So I'm gonna fix me some mac and cheese, maybe cut up a few wieners to put in it." You turn your back on him and go into the kitchen.

At the sink you fill a pot with water, and from the pantry you pluck a box of Kraft macaroni and cheese; you break it open and chomp on a few hard noodles, like popcorn. When you turn to the refrigerator, to get out the milk, you find Gordon's father standing in the doorway, glowering madly at you. His hair bristles.

Gordon shrivels up, but you stand back on your heel, raise your chin, and stare back evenly at him. He can make it very hard on you -- he's trained in fucking people up. But you've got Gordon's body, and after today you've got Gordon's own experience in fucking people up. Just pretend he's Huber, you tell yourself, and that rouses your inner Gordon from his inner cringe. You begin to game out ways of taking him if he makes a move.

But he doesn't. Without taking his eyes from you, he withdraws back into the living room.

But you're not going to give him the satisfaction of mere retreat. You follow him until you're in the doorway, and you don't take your eyes from him either. When he's back at his chair he finally gives up, and sits to glare at the ESPN anchors.

You take supper in your bedroom -- another forbidden activity -- and shut the door.

As the hours until bedtime pass, you wonder what's going through Gordon's mind. How is he reacting to having your instincts? And if he's got your memories now -- including the memories of facing down his dad the other day -- how is he reacting to them?

You take out your phone and consider calling him.

Next: "Who Goes There?" 

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"Table of Contents (Vol. 2)" 
"The Book of Masks (Vol. 2)"