[fiction] Damaged Goods: Part 2^e+1

Panic Switch

"Ben Webb.  You're my hero.  You're the man.  Just say it all back to me," said Snow.

"You saved a dog from a burning barn," said Ben.

"Good god man, you have to sell it.  Sell it.  How do you get laid?"

"You know I really don't...."

"Well its way easier to get me laid, I promise.  We can figure you out once I can move my leg.  I'll show you how to ride a motorcycle."

"I'm not sure I want to learn-"

"If you want to be a man, you want to learn.  Also never tell Biff I said that.  Anyway.  Back to me.  I've never used this escort service before, and its 50/50 whether they are, you know, always DTF, more like just strippers.  Have...yeah you probably don't know what I'm talking about.  That's cool.  Just man up and work with me here."

Ben rolled his eyes.  "Your dog-"

"Baby dog."

"Yes your baby d--your puppy ran into a barn that was on fire, and you ran after it, and it was very scared and you had to chase all over like, burning hay and shit.  And then you grabbed it but the barn collapsed and you shielded the puppy with your body."

"Excellent.  That's good.  There's hope for you yet."

"So what if they want to see the puppy?"

"Oh the puppy died.  Smoke inhalation.  Little guy just closed his eyes right in the fireman's arms and they even had a little doggie mask--you know what? You don't need to know all that.  I'll wing it.  Its definitely dead, thought, that's way better."

"Oh yeah?  What's your puppy's name?"

"Beeeeeeeeeeuuhhhharney.   Barney.  Barney the puppy dog."

"Really.  What breed."

"Kind of a mutt.  Two ears, four legs, a tail, lots of poop.  Now shut up I hear a car.  Ok just mention it right before you bring them in.  But casually.  Don't make it look like you are telling them on purpose.  Then they'll think you're lying.  You know what?  Just don't say anything at all.  Say hi and just wave them in here."





In the kitchen, Christine was curled up on the counter, wearing a hoodie and reading a book when she heard a door slam.  Christine, who was already on edge, leapt off the counter and ran to the back door.  She grabbed the door knob, but couldn't move.  Her knuckles turned white, but she couldn't make herself turn it.  After a few minutes she let go.

During that time she heard a large number of expletives.  Christine entered the front room in time to see three scantily clad girls hurry out the door.  The last one tried to scratch Nikka, who sent the girl flying out the door with a kick.

Christine could see out the front door to a town car with tinted windows.  The driver's door opened and a very tall, very large, very muscular man with dark skin got out and looked menacingly at Nikka.  Nikka grabbed a shotgun from the umbrella bucket, pumped it with one hand, tossing it in the air and catching the handle, leveling it at the driver.

"Take these fucking sluts back where you all came from and we won't have any trouble."

The driver, whose primary job was to intimidate affluent but unarmed young men, briefly considered the woman in the doorway who was both furious and armed, and decided the whole situation was resolved.



"What the fucking hell?" asked Nikka.  "You think you can satisfy three girls all beat up with your leg broken?"

Snow looked at the ceiling for a second, licked his lips, wiggled his fingers on both hands, took an extra second to count, and then said "Yes," with the proud voice of a fifth grader who had just answered the teacher's question.  "Actually I could do four if I was on my back.  You know if you wanted to-"

Nikka screamed, grabbed the bottle of Jameson off the coffee table, and flung it at Snow's head with all of her might.  The bottle shattered, sending whiskey and small pieces of glass everywhere.  Nikka stormed out of the room.

Ben and Christine looked at each other for one of those very long, speechless seconds.  They broke contact when they simultaneously realized that Snow wasn't moving.  Ben took care of Snow while Christine went after Nikka.


Christine didn't have any trouble opening the back door to follow Nikka out.

"Fuck off.  Just shut up.  I know what you're going to say, so just shut up and let me smoke."  Nikka had two cigarettes in her mouth, which she was trying to light with shaking hands.

"You can't know.  I don't even know what I'm going to say," said Christine.  Christine walked up to Nikka and smiled.  "Maybe I don't need to say anything."  Christine pulled the cigarettes out of Nikka's mouth, one by one.

Nikka looked back at her.  Finally, she smiled.  "That's what I like about you.  We never left anything unsaid."

Christine blushed.  "The boys are the opposite...it seems like they actually use more words sometimes just to make sure they avoid effective communication."

"The Silence...its is a funny thing.  Sometimes I spend a lot of time wondering what would have been different if I had broken it, if I had said something.  Do you ever wonder like that?"

Christine held Nikka's chin and traced her lips with a finger.  "Some people need it at just the right-"

They were interrupted by the sound of the back door squeaking.  Nikka and Christine whirled around and glared.

"What?"  The tension in Nikka's voice was sharp enough to make heads roll.  But there was something else in her voice; a sort of weakness Christine had never heard before.  And, while Nikka had previously done many, many things that would not be mistaken as hallmarks of elegance, it was that head snap, the way she said that word that changed things.  Even the bottle throwing had had a sort of super-feminine ring to it.  No.  It was this loss of control in Nikka's voice that removed the remaining mystique.  In Christine's mind Nikka stopped being the vigilante-hero, crime-fighting, ambulance driving super-goddess and became a person.  A mortal, fallible, vulnerable person.

Ben ducked back inside just a hair.  "Um...yeah.  I'ms...was just gonna take Snow to the hospital real quick.  We'll be right back."

Nikka and Christine didn't say anything at first.  Ben paused for a few seconds and then disappeared back into the house.



Minutes later, Ben gave them one more obsequious wave before speeding off to the hospital.

Nikka stared at the blood on the sofa, which looked like a murder scene and smelled like whiskey.

Christine said: "You know If you really want to get under his skin you should pay some hookers to get him all worked up and then just leave."

Nikka laughed.  And then, whatever.  I am so tired.