Psychedelic Hollow 6
itsmeocean@hotmail.com
"I'm sorry, Frank. He said he wanted to sleep and I thought I won't be long and I wasn't. Anyway, I was only gone for twenty minutes at most when he split. Damn!" Conrad growled and slammed a fist hard upon the boot of Frank's Lexus. Joe, his mind drifting far away from Conrad's tirade as his muscles twitched, aching to get into action, jumped a little, startled. He shot Conrad a dirty look, who, as usual, ignored him, and grunted, earning himself the same look from Frank.
Frank- his intelligent brother who was somehow too kind-hearted for his own good. Joe was most willing to bet that Conrad had a hand in Justin's disappearance.
"Real sorry, Frank. I can't… . You really didn't need to help us. That ungrateful piece of crap!" Conrad's hefty chest heaved heavily up and down with unspeakable rage, "I really shouldn't have just left him alone!"
Damn right you shouldn't. Gee, you sure look really guilty about it.
The brothers and Conrad Daye were at the car park of Bayport High which was closed for the last week of summer's holidays. Soon after Frank picked Joe up from the house, Conrad called again, asking them to make a detour to the school as he suddenly remembered that Justin had a love affair with the rooftop of Bayport High. Five stories high, the building could be fatal, especially if Justin was on an acid trip.
However, when they reached the school's compound, all was empty save Conrad leaning against his Harley chain-smoking away, judging from the scatter of crushed cigarettes' butts all around his feet. Heavy sheets of silence hung above them as they searched the compound again for signs of Justin but he was nowhere to be found. The tense quiet was punctuated occasionally by outbursts of expletives from the gruff hulk and Frank's soft, calming words. Joe didn't know what his mother ate when she conceived Frank but she sure ingested more than a fair share of patience and composure into her eldest. Joe would have immediately pounced on Colin and screamed bloody betrayal.
But since Frank didn't, Joe would respect his brother's choice of diplomatic action and continued belief in an old friend. However, Joe could recognize the doubts veiling Frank's dark eyes when he suggested before they met with Conrad that Conrad could have assisted Justin's escape. His brother was kind-hearted. Nonetheless, he was no idiot sitting there like a duck waiting to be shot.
"Do you know where he often escapes to when he's down besides here?" Frank asked, his eyes sweeping the school's car park and beyond as if he had bionic sight to spot Justin wherever the punk was.
"The row of arcade centers down by Cole's Quay … wait, that was when we were kids…" Dark clouds eclipsed the glint in Conrad's eyes and he shrugged, drooping his gaze onto the concrete ground as his head hung in shame, "I don't really know where he could be, actually. He could be at Colin's, since Colin's his best friend."
Joe exchanged a look with Frank. Best friend. Colin. Frank nodded and from the look of recognition in his brother's eyes, Joe knew Frank had an inkling of who Conrad was talking about.
"We should take a look. Conrad told me Colin's address… if that doesn't work out, we can always search those arcades."
"Roger, bro." Joe opened the car door, "But I think Conrad should go back home, just in case Justin was merely taking a walk."
"You don't tell me what to do, blondie." Conrad snarled in response but Frank laid a hand on Conrad's shoulder.
"I think you should stay home too. It's late. You're angry and Joe may be right. If Justin's home, you can call us and we can stop the search."
Nodding in reluctance, Conrad wordlessly walked away from the Hardys and seconds later, Joe heard the Harley rousing with a melodic purr, and he listened admirably with some envy at Conrad.
"Funny how when I suggest the same thing politely, he's still rude to me." Joe scratched the side of his head, "And blondie is such an insult!"
Frank slipped into the driver's seat as Joe closed his door and buckled up. "Forget it, Joe. Some prejudices are hard to let go of but one day, he will."
"I don't really care about what he thinks of me. Just pissed about what he said about me." Joe crossed his arms angrily, "Blondie! Bah! If the stereotype about blondes and stupidity is indeed true, I'm the exception."
"Yup, you're absolutely right. How about we perm your hair and dye it black after this?" Frank teased, "What say you, blondie?"
"Oh, just shut up and drive…" Joe glared at his brother, thinking of a wisecrack but failing miserably, "Brownie!"
"No sirree… I'm a scout. Last I checked, I still got it all."
"You know what I mean." Joe muttered sullenly, "Let's hurry and get your money back or Callie's going to scream at you for being so stupid."
At the mention of the small fortune, Frank's mirth dissipated as his lips disappeared into a thin line and his eyes glazed over with some latent anxiety. It wasn't Joe's fault that Justin ran away but, seeing Frank so quietly despondent made Joe feel rather culpable for the remark. He slumped in his seat as tightness squeezed his chest, occasionally stealing glances at his brother, wondering when it would be okay to apologize. They drove in silence for a moment before Joe finally plucked the courage from thin air.
"Sorry, bro. I didn't mean that. Callie won't scream or anything… you know her, she loves you, man. And we'll get the money back. And… you are not stupid."
Frank grunted, turning into a lane which would lead them up a picturesque cliff.
God… is Frank going to throw me into the ocean? I always knew it! The quiet ones are the crazy ones!
"Sorry… man… hmm… you know… blondes are dumb… dumbeedee dumb dumb! We don't always think before we speak. Haha!"
"Hmm…" Frank glanced at him weirdly as he stopped at a red light, "Hmm."
"Remember! You love your little brother very, very much!" Joe threw his brother as big a hug as he could from across the gearbox. "And your little brother got a sweet little daughter to take care of!"
"What rubbish are your rattling about?"
"I don't know! You look so angry! I got a little… well… worried." Joe fumed, gesturing around, "This is good place to beat the crap out of me!"
"Will I beat the crap out of you?" Frank burst out laughing, and that exclamation of amusement lightened Joe's heart immensely from the guilt of a thoughtless remark. "If I have such tendencies, you'll be black and blue a long, long time ago!"
"I… well… I know. You know something, I wonder what would happen if say, we are like Conrad and Justin…"
"Forgiven, bro. And we won't." Frank promised, ruffling his hair roughly, "Coz if we are, then we will not be us. So we won't, coz we are us. They probably just weren't themselves too."
"I knew it! Your brains are fried coz I don't have a clue what you're talking about." Joe threw his hands up in surrender at Frank's baffling words. But that's you, bro. Joe thought fondly, Always throwing odd sayings like these to make yourself sound smart!
"Nay, my brains aren't fried. You just didn't get it because you're a blondie."
"Oh! Just shut up already!" Joe sank back into the bucket seat, twisting his lips this way and that in dire annoyance. Finally, he decided that everyone was just jealous that he was so blond, so cute and so smart.
***
Frank threw his keys on the coffee table with a loud clang as he heard Joe plopping himself onto the long couch. His brother sat sprawling with his head resting on the top of the couch's backrest, his breathing slow and laborious, that of someone mentally and physically fatigued by fatigue itself. At four a.m. in the morning, after a prolonged, wee-morning search, Frank was feeling enervated as well and he knew that Joe, owing to those injuries, wasn't as fit as he used to be; as Frank was accustomed to seeing him as. He locked the door and smacked his parched lips- thirst was giving weariness a run for whatever amount of money he had left as his number one peeve right then.
"Want a drink?"
"Noooo……" Joe drawled, lolling his head to one side. His closed eyes occasionally twitched with spasms and Frank decided to leave him alone to rest. In the dark and forlornness of night, every sound was echoed to ten times their normal decibels. He cringed when the jolted bottles slotted in upright on the fridge door's shelves clanged and clinked as he opened it, not so much out of his own discomfort but for fear of waking his kid brother.
Thus, all motions ceased for a moment and silence blanketed the house again. As quietly as he could, despite his cottony limbs, he managed to draw out the bottle of ice water and shut the fridge's door gently. Downing the bottle's entire contents in slightly more than a few gulps, he turned to his left when he heard the shuffling of footsteps dragged across the floor.
"Frank… you got an extra duvet for me? I can't get used to sleeping without something wrapping me up like a cocoon." Joe leaned against the side of the kitchen's entrance, rubbing his eyes, "Damn, I'm tearing…"
"Why not you go rest on my bed? I'll take the couch."
"Nah… I'll take the couch… it's your house…"
"And you're my kid brother. C'mon, don't argue with me at this time… I ain't the energy for it." Frank threw the emptied plastic bottle across the distance into the sink. Both brothers winced as the bottle knocked against the metallic sink with a series of resounding 'plonks'.
"Do you have to do that?" Joe groaned as he followed Frank into his bedroom, "My ears hurt…"
"I'm too lazy to walk… sorry."
Joe threw him an annoyed glance before plopping down onto one side of the king-sized bed. "Hey, your bed's so big. We can share… You can take the other side. I don't think I'll kick you off the edge this time."
"Don't worry 'bout me. Nighty-night, kiddo."
"Night." Joe mumbled, slipping under the covers and nodded off to sleep. Frank smiled, never ceasing to be amazed at how Joe could just fall asleep without much ceremony. Switching off the lights and turning on the air-conditioning, he closed the door softly behind him as he left room, thoughts about the case trickling slowly back into his brains. He sank down on the couch and pulled off his t-shirt, using the remote control to activate the antique ceiling fan. With only the songs of crickets and the soft whirr of the revolving blades accompanying him, he hunched over the coffee table and drew out his PDA from his pants' pocket to scribble into the word processor- an action which could always help him brainstorm.
Colin's house had come as a shock to Frank when he first learned of its address from Conrad. He had always pride himself as being able to float above the stereotypes but sometimes, certain revelations could still caused his pupils to dilate. Drug addicts were often portrayed to be either reckless college kids or young, rebellious teens who grew up in lower-income neighborhoods. However, Colin clearly belonged to an upper-middle income class family. His family's bungalow nestled peacefully in an expensive suburb of Bayport which was developed atop Angela's cliff that overlooked the Atlantic Ocean. However, a pictorial sight was all the brothers got. They rang the doorbell repeatedly but no one answered nor spoke to them through the intercom. After a long wait, they had no choice but to leave the place.
Then it was down to those sleazy arcade centers that Conrad vaguely remembered his brother visiting; centers that Conrad had brought Justin to during his wayward days when no one was at home to take care of the little boy. Again, the search was futile and tedious but the thought of the money, which was meant for the wedding and marriage, kept Frank going and Joe following closely behind, supporting him.
"I… well… I know. You know something, I wonder what would happen if say, we are like Conrad and Justin…"
Now, Frank smiled wryly at the memory as he toyed with an idea, What would happen if Justin was like Joe instead?
Conrad probably wouldn't have that much on his hands thought he might be irritated to no ends. Joe has a good head on his shoulders.
But a good head can easily turn astray without love and concern.
The trials of parenthood… hey, I may just end up being a father by next year…no… that… that may not be a good idea…
Old fears haunted him- since the kidnap of Hallie and abduction of Callie, the demon lurking behind him gorged itself silly on his post case paranoia. He remembered fearing for the safety of his unborn children when Hallie was taken away from them but when Callie and Joe almost fell as a permanent victim to Richard Thompson's perverted motives, the sense of loss and anguish churning within him had been inundating, flooding his entire being with that sense of hopelessness and failure that he wasn't sure he could live with had Callie, Joe, Hallie or all were to succumb to life-ebbing harm.
He understood what Joe was talking about when he said he wanted to bring Hallie up in some isolated island far away from the vices and yawning manholes of the world. Frank would add in another clause- away from the dangers of their chosen occupation.
Shrugging the demon away for a moment, he tried to concentrate at the case at hand. Although he was tired, he couldn't help but want to seize every second and solve the mystery quick- it wasn't about the money only- it was also about wanting to be right about Conrad. Frank wasn't close to the ex-gangster but he had respect and faith in the guy. Because of their past history, Frank felt a strange sort of affinity to the brusque spirit. He knew what he did in the past for Conrad had influenced Conrad's change of heart and in a way, he took pride in Conrad's reform and would feel more than betrayed if Conrad had been exploiting him all along.
Tried as he might to stay up, droopy eyes refused to co-operated, as did the sludge he called his brains sloshing in his skull. Accepting his limits, he stood up and almost fell backwards when he lost his balance for a moment as his knees doddered from exhaustion. Sighing, calling it a night, or rather, a day, he retreated back into his cooled bedroom only to find Joe spread-eagled across the bed, snoring softly. So much for sharing- he never liked to share sleeping space with Joe anyway. When they were children and had to sleep on the same bed when traveling overseas with their parents just so the whole family could be housed in the same hotel room, Joe had always managed to kick him off the bed onto the carpeted floor to their parents' amusement.
Trudging back to the living room again, he stripped down to his boxers and, after hurling his jeans onto his t-shirt lying in a heap on the floor, he slumped down face flat on the leather couch but his eyes could not close as his thoughts, though impossible to sort out right then, kept blaring in his mind.
What if Conrad was really helping Justin to escape? What if I have been played like a fool?
What if?
He didn't know when did he start to doze off into a dreamless sleep or how long had his eyes rested. However, when he woke up feeling that he was on a canoe adrift on rocky waves, the first person he saw was Nancy looking down on him, gently shaking him awake with some concern shining in her eyes.
And then he was fully jolted from his sleep upon the sight, not that she was hideous looking- no way. Embarrassment flushed his cheeks as he scrambled up for some sort of covering.