Head Cleaner by David James Keaton

Author:David James Keaton [Keaton,David James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Polis Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

8.

“Eva’s not gonna show up,” Jerry said, watching the final customer of the evening leave without renting anything, a man they’d never seen before, though they never got a good look at him, distracted by the usual closing duties mixed with inane arguments. But they did notice the man hadn’t bothered giving the new releases more than a cursory glance. “This is dumb,” Jerry added. “Why are we still hanging around? Let’s get out of here.”

“Settle down. I thought you said we needed to wait five days.”

“I did? No, this is still just the place where we die, boss.”

“No, it isn’t. We don’t die here, Jerry. Because here isn’t tomorrow. And nothing that happened on those tapes happened to me yesterday…”

“Here we go again.”

“…and nothing that happened on those tapes happened to us tonight. For one, Eva wasn’t here. And she was all over that tape.”

“I just think sticking around too long is goofy. Tempting fate. Maybe call Bunny to finishing closing up? Or Teagan? Whoever. Because I’m gonna go.”

“Bunny fuckin’ quit,” Randy reminded him, thinking again about the dangers versus the solace of maintaining a routine.

“Well, he’s quit before, and he’ll quit again,” Jerry said, already dialing the store’s phone. He turned on the speaker so Randy could hear, but it was a busy signal, unusual in these days of cellular, but Bunny had a land line, too. Randy always maintained that a throwback slacker like Bunny should have been riding a horse instead of a skateboard. Jerry was dialing the last digit of his fifth and final attempt to get through when Bunny came crashing through the door, dreadlocks piled high in a tangled swirl, with two stray snakes dangling over each ear.

“Well, speak of the devil…” Jerry said, hanging up.

“…and his horns soon appear,” Randy finished.

“You rang!” Bunny said, cracking his knuckles like he was ready to work. The tattoos on the tops of his fingers read “B-U-R-R” and “I-T-O-S,” though they rarely lined up for anyone to get the joke.

“Feel like making 50 bucks the hard way?” Randy asked him, patting the tape recorder in his pocket like it was his sidearm.

“Yeah, I was just calling you, Bunny, to see if you’d close,” Jerry said.

“I know. I was sitting at home, watching TV, and, like, I could see you dialing my shit.”

“Shut up.”

“No, I’m serious.”

“This I gotta hear,” Randy said, already regretting it, but he moved closer to make sure he got everything on tape.

“Okay, my apartment is 5 miles from this store, right, and when the street lights blink on, like they just did 5 minutes ago, I can see right through that front window, clear as day.”

“Bullshit,” Randy said, “Anyway, here’s what we need you to do…”

“Wait, what did you say?” Jerry asked.

“I said I can see through that window. Because all the new garbage cans the city put around these five blocks between here and my crib are so shiny and so new that the reflections rebounds off these cans and

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