“What’s with all this plastic on the walls?” Lindsey asked as she blew her scraggly bangs off her face. “Are you into that freaky, nasty type of stuff? Because if you are, it’s gonna cost you extra.”
“No, plastic is for when I work on my paintings,” John said. “It helps to keep things less messy.”
Lindsey walked around the small room and scratched at the splatters of paint on the wall coverings. “So, are we gonna do this or what? You only paid for thirty minutes, and the clock’s been running.”
John quickly glanced at his watch. “Okay, if you could do me a favor, and just grab a seat on that couch, I’ll be right back down.”
Lindsey sashayed towards the dark leather loveseat in the center of the otherwise empty room. “All right, baby, but just so you know, you only got twenty-five minutes left.”
John ran off upstairs. “I almost forgot,” he yelled from the top of the staircase, “please don’t remove any of your clothes. I need you to stay dressed.”
Within a few minutes he returned accompanied by a strange-looking, chubby little boy with stringy blonde hair. The boy sheepishly glanced at Lindsey from behind John’s legs.
“Oh no, I don’t think so!” Lindsey shouted. “I knew you were some kind of freak!” She snatched her purse and rushed the stairs.
The child retreated up a few stairs as John intercepted Lindsey’s escape and wrestled her back to the couch.
“Lindsey, I need you to relax! Please! I only need you to stay with my son for a few minutes while I step away. That’s it. Nothing more.”
Lindsey broke free from John’s grip and straightened out what little clothing she was wearing. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m not a baby sitter, asshole.”
“Fine. I’ll pay you double then. Just don’t leave.” John reached into his pocket and pulled out five twenty-dollar bills. Lindsey snatched the bills and jammed them into her purse.
She glanced at the weird little boy on the stairs and then at John. “If you’re not back in twenty minutes, I’m gone.”
John walked over to the boy and pulled him off the stairs and into the room. “Connor, this is Lindsey. She’s our guest today. Go and say hello to the nice young lady.” He gave Connor a little nod and then ushered him towards the couch.
Once upstairs, John locked the door to the basement, strolled into the kitchen and greeted his wife with a gentle kiss on the cheek. Neither seemed affected or troubled by the horrific screams and anguished pleas for help that filtered into the kitchen through the closed basement door.
“It smells great in here Molly,” John said. “What’s for dinner?”
“I thought I’d make us a little pot roast tonight. “Is Connor all set?”
John sat down at the kitchen table and casually flipped through a newspaper. “He’s down in the basement. I picked up a little dinner for him on the way home from work.”
A loud crash from the basement rumbled throughout the kitchen.
“Did you remember to secure those plastic tarps?” Molly asked as she tended to the roast.
“He made an awfully big mess with that last girl.”
“Yes dear, they’re secure.”
“I hope so, because it’s your turn to hose down the basement tonight.”
John looked up from his paper and sighed. “Oh, is it Wednesday already?”
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©2012 Mark A. Camero
