Tweaking
Brad Wilk
Max had better places to be than the parking lot at the Rainbow motel like home asleep, dribbling on his pillow. Mary, his twenty year old fiancée, was supposed to be part of the solution he thought, a warm body by his side, a wiz in the kitchen and as promised by Dr. Jack the best lover around. The woman was supposed to be loyal and not some flakey broad vanishing in the middle of the night. That wasn’t the deal, he screamed to himself; cheeks twitching in rage, eyes blood shot to hell. No freaking way! Not by a long shot.
Nearly tilting his red CRX on its side he screeched to a stop, almost clipping the bumper of a Ford Explorer parked to his right. Running on adrenaline, oblivious to his movements he yanked the keys from the ignition, grabbed a tattered book bag from the back seat and pulled out a non registered .38. While curling a tooth pick above his lip, chewed and splintered he squinted at the chambers thinking how much heavier the gun seemed to be since he held it last then flipped off the safety. That’s a first, he thought, shaking his head, never did that before. Then, taking a deep breath, he shoved the cold steel into the waist of his weathered jeans behind his favorite silver belt buckle, a little handy down from good ol’ pop engraved with a bucking stallion.
Stepping out of the car, Max straightened up, slammed the door and pressed a little button on the side of a bulky, computer like watch strapped to his wrist. After a long, high pitched tone the watch flashed three times like a Morse code beacon and finally went silent and dark. Thank God for this Global Positioning feature, he thought, it’s a real life saver.
Strutting across the lot, looking side to side Max felt incredibly uneasy. Everything was way too still, he thought, to damn peaceful. He felt as if he were walking on a sheet of thin ice that would crack any moment and suck him down. Who would know? Who would care?
Like an orchestra tuning up he heard the mating calls of cicadas and wondered if maybe he should’ve stayed home, waited till morning and been more patient. Hell, he figured, when I hear those bastards singing again I’ll be forty then fifty-seven and then I’ll probably be dead. Will Mary be there in the end? Will she be by my side?
Then, emerging from the dingy hotel he noticed two young blonds, sexy as hell in tight, black mini skirts. As they walked past with their high heels clicking on the black top one nearly brushed his shoulder. He could smell her alluring perfume, sweet and fruity and felt a little twitch in his crotch, a sudden rise in his shaft. Looking back the girl gave Max a good look over, head to toe and batted her massacre thick eye lashes. He’s a keeper she told her friend, biting her polished pinky nail; love to see what he’s packing.
Max’s cheeks coiled from the smell of cat piss when he entered the hotel lobby. Of all the damn odors, he thought, that’s the worst, even nastier then those Arab or Indian delis. On the side of the front desk he saw a silver looking bell which he slammed his palm over. It sent out a short ping. Behind the desk he saw black and blue beads covering a doorway that he figured led to a shabby little apartment; one of those white trash holes complete with rabbit ears on the Television, candy wrappers everywhere and a shit load of beer cans crushed and empty scattered about the floor.
That’s where that damn stench is coming from he thought. Damn slob probably goes days wearing the same ripped underwear. Well, he reasoned, pinching his ear lobe, I’ve done that too.
Intently, Max leaned over the desk, eyes glued to the doorway, desperate for someone, anyone to emerge. He had to know where Mary was. He had to know now. “Is anyone there?” he yelled, slamming the bell like some fire button on Space Invaders. “A little help out here please. Hello, anybody in there? Hello.”
Rattling the beads, a hairy hand holding a cigarette finally sprang out. Soon after, a sloppy, unshaven man in his late thirties followed. Strands of black, greasy hair were combed forward on his ramped forehead like some ancient Roman’s. His faded, blue robe was covered in white cat dander with a rolled up Racing Form about to fall out of the side pocket. In a passing flash the man’s three chins reminded Max of steps leading down to his basement, a little home within his home that he desperately wanted to return to but not without his Mary.
From behind his ear the man pulled out a pen, opened a ledger that spanned the length of the short front desk and cleared his throat.
“Are you looking to stay the night?” he asked, rubbing his bristled chin, refusing to look up. He took Max’s silence as a ‘no’.
“Well, we have hourly rates too, if that’s what you’re looking for.” He pulled off a drag, blowing it to the side than met Max’s eyes. “So what’s it going to be pal. You want a room or not?”
His breath was some deadly combo of coffee, cigarettes and spam. Leaning in, taking the rancid odor head on Max yanked out a wallet sized photo from his back pocket and flashed it before the man’s blood shot eyes.
“Pretty girl” the man said, pursing his thin, chapped lips. He looked a little to long for Max’s liking. “She with you?”
“Yea, she’s with me” barked Max, pulling the photo away, slipping it back into his pocket “Have you seen her?”
The man’s eyes twinkled as he gently tapped the ledger and searched the water stained ceiling. Covering his mouth with a fisted hand he forced out a weak cough, a little hint that nothing in the Rainbow Motel came for free - Especially information.
The man’s face suddenly turned a chalky pale and his eyes bulged as Max yanked him by the furry collar of his robe. He could see the fire in Max’s eyes, the desperation. He hated eyes like that. Eyes like that meant trouble Ð Dead trouble.
With all the characters coming and going at the Rainbow Motel he figured he knew who the suckers were but with Max he guessed fast ball and got a sharp, breaking curve right down the heart of the plate.
His lips quivered. “O.KÉ.O.KÉI’ll tell you where she is. Just let go of me.” Now freed from Max’s grip the man stepped back and finger combed his thin black hair in an attempt to restore whatever dignity he had left. “Jesus. You didn’t have to do that. I would’ve told you man. Just calm down. Chill out. O.K?”
Max had enough of the guy’s antics. He was steaming inside and about to explode in a fit of rage if he didn’t get the answer he wanted. “Which room pal? I want to know now.” He pulled up his t-shirt, flashing the polished handle of his Smith and Wesson. “And I want the keys too.”
Nailed to a sheet rocked wall hung a wooden box by the side of the desk. With an eye on Max and the other on the box the man snatched room key 702 with a trembling hand.
“Here you go man. Just don’t do anything stupid. I’m trying to run a respectable hotel here you know.”
Max grabbed the keys. “Yes I’m sure you are pal. This place is five stars all the way”, he said with a pressed grin then headed towards the screen door and yanked it open.
Outside, Max made his way across a weathered green carpet that lined the front of the Rainbow hotel. What a scumbag he thought. Guys don’t get any shadier than that.
Firmly gripping the handle of his .38 he kept an eye on the descending room numbers; 720, 718, 716. He could hear his heart pounding in his head like a snare drum, making it almost impossible for him to think straight. His adrenaline was pumping fast now. His pace was quick, determined and tense. An urge to piss came over him but he held it back. What was going on in those rooms? He wondered. Were people fucking? Were they sleeping? So many secrets behind those doors. If only those walls could talk he thought. God only knows what they’d say about my Mary.
At room 702 he came to an abrupt stop then took a long breath, attempting to calm himself for what he was about to see. Maybe she was just sleeping he reasoned. Or maybe this was some sort of surprise, a little sex party to break up the routine. Wouldn’t that be great? Stay optimistic he told himself. Keep the faith. Mary never cheated before so why should she now?
Feeling as if he were jumping off a ten foot diving board Max finally inserted the key and in one fluid motion turned the lock and threw open the door. After all, doors were meant to be opened. Right? Sure they were. Opened and closed.
Suddenly, Max’s stomach felt as if it were struck with a wicked case of food poisoning. It churned from what he saw. The urge to vomit crawled up his throat. A horrid tasting vile seeped into his mouth. Bending over he grabbed his stomach and in small convulsions began to dry heave, spitting what he could onto the ash stained carpet of room 702.
Kneeling on the queen sized bed Dr. Jack threw a smile down at Max as he pumped Mary from behind in slow, undisturbed thrusts. His hands, firmly gripped around her narrow waist bought her close as he buried every inch of himself inside. Oblivious to Max’s presence Mary moaned uncontrollably while she pushed the head board for leverage. She begged for more, pleading in loud cries for the good doctor to go faster, to give everything he had.
“Max, so nice of you to join us” said Dr. Jack, staring at him with a victory grin. A physical specimen, Dr. Jack had a grey pony tail that bald man would kill for. With every thrust into Mary it bounced off the small of his sweaty back. At sixty years old the handsome doctor was in better shape then men half his age; stronger, healthier, ten times more alive. When women remarked on his striking similarity to Sean Connery he would often say, “On the contrary my dear, the man looks like me”
Dr. Jack spanked Mary’s tight behind. “You like this?” he asked, “Is this what you wanted?”
“Yes Doctor Yes. Please don’t stop.”
Cocking the trigger, Max trained his .38 on the doctor’s head. Uncontrollably, the gun shook in his trembling hand. From a crouched position by the door he tried to steady himself for a clear shot but his nerves were too jacked up.
One lousy pull of the trigger, he thought and this guy is history, completely out of your life. Do it, he told himself. Do it now!
Dr. Jack let out a barbaric growl, pulled Mary towards him and finished deep inside her. Purple veins exploding from his tanned forehead, the doctor exhaled an exaggerated sigh then pulled his slacks off the worn, grey carpet and casually slid them on. Completely ignoring Max, showing no concern for the gun trained on his back, Dr. Jack methodically moved towards the television, grabbed his white, silk shirt off the top of it and slowly put his arms through the sleeves. It was time to go. There was work to be done. Dr. Jack had pressing business.
“Max” he said, snapping his cuff links on, admiring himself in the mirror, “I thought we had a deal?”
Not getting a response Dr. Jack moved towards the bed where he admired Mary’s Barbie doll body entwined in a tan blanket and crumpled white sheet. Completely satisfied and utterly exhausted she was in a deep sleep sprawled across the bed like a falling sky diver. Dr. Jack soaked up every curve of her body, every inch of her delicious skin. Of all the ones, he thought, Mary was his favorite. You just can’t beat that feeling of tweaking that first one he figured, no matter how hard you try. It’s never the same.
Dr. Jack slid into his checkered Brooks Brothers sports coat and from the inside pocket pulled out a thin, metallic device covered in flat white buttons. Pointing it at Mary he lowered his thumb on the base of the controller causing a yellow light to flash at the tip. Suddenly, Mary began to violently thrash her arms and legs beneath the sheets as if she were experiencing the worst possible nightmare. Cold sweat ran down her forehead. Her arms and legs were completely stiff as she tried somehow to push them away from her body.
Dr. Jack pressed another button and in a jerk reflex, as if he were pulling strings on a puppet Mary sat straight up. She looked like a school girl begging to answer a question; back arched, firm breasts pointed towards the ceiling. She appeared so innocent, so na•ve, thought Max.
Pull the trigger, pull it now! This has to stop.
“Move away from her”, yelled Max, rising from his crouch, leveling the gun on the doctors head “Leave her alone”
De-activating the controller Dr. Jack calmly slipped it back in his coat pocket. Then, suddenly Mary collapsed to the bed as if she were dropped from a roof. Every ounce of energy was drained from her body. Her skin was a ghostly white and her swollen eyes, shut tight from the stress looked like prunes. It seemed as if she had taken a shower as her soaked blond hair fanned across the bed and dangled off the side.
Dr. Jack gathered his sliver Rolex and car keys off the night table. “Well, I think its time I get going” He acted like the gun was a toy, a harmless prop Max would never use.
Now standing before Max, Dr. Jack raised his manicured hand and with the magical touch of a snake charmer lowered the barrel of the gun. Max couldn’t resist. There was nothing he could do. He knew Dr. Jack had the upper hand. Without him Mary would be lost forever. All her memories would be erased, completely wiped out. My God, Max thought, she wouldn’t even know my name. Five years together and it would all be gone.
Standing by the opened door, adjusting the collar of his jacket Dr. Jack surveyed the drab hotel room “Well Max. I’ll be expecting your payment.” Defeated, Max’s hand went limp allowing the gun to fall to the floor. “And if I don’t receive the money by Friday”, added the doctor, “Mary will loose all memory Max. To her you will be a stranger. A pervert looking for a quick one”
Heading out the door Dr. Jack swiveled his head back and met Max’s eyes. “But have no fear my friend. When she awakes she’ll have no idea what happened here tonight. She’ll awake in a dazed state completely confused.” The doctor pursed his lips. “But if you miss your payment Max the deals off. I have a back load of customers that would love to lease Mary out. Rich customers too. Don’t disappoint me Max. Have the money in my hands by Friday.”
The good doctor climbed into a red 66’ Mustang and lowered his toned arm out the window. He loved these little visits. They were a wonderful perk to his job. Sometimes, he thought, it was necessary to take his woman on test drives and it seemed Mary was running on all cylinders.
Dr. Jack’s Mustang roared to life. The powerful V-8 sounded like a rumbling Sherman tank as he lowered his foot on the accelerator. Shifting, he reversed from his spot, threw the gear in drive and merged with the speeding traffic of the Interstate. The August wind blasting his face, Dr. Jack sparked a cigar feeling superbly pleased by his sexual performance with Mary. Sixty years old, he thought and still hopping like a rabbit.
Now, two hours later, at approximately 5 am Dr Jack turned off his blasting radio and merged onto Kennedy Boulevard, a long strip of road cutting through Jersey City. Cruising in first gear past Bodegas, liquor stores and boarded up store fronts he finally rolled to a stop and surveyed the selection of high heeled girls huddled on the corner.
That blond, he thought, still young and pretty. She’s perfect. Well not quite yet. Give me a week in the lab. Maybe two and then she’ll be ready. A lobotomy took some time. Tweaking was an art.
