As soon as they rounded the corner into the kitchen Jane punched Charlie in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him.
“What were you thinking?” Jane hissed. She flipped back her veil so he could see just how pissed off she was, just in case the punch in the breadbasket hadn’t conveyed the message.
Charlie was gasping and laughing at the same time. “It’s what Mom would have wanted.”
“My mom just died, Charlie.”
“Yeah,” Charlie said. “But you have no idea what you’ve just done for that guy in there.”
“Really?” Jane raised an eyebrow.
“He will remember this day always,” Charlie said. “That guy will never again have a sexual fantasy in which you do not walk through, probably wearing borrowed shoes.”
“And you don’t find that creepy?”
“Well, yes, you’re my sister, but it’s a seminal moment for Vern.”
Jane nodded. “You’re a pretty good guy, Charlie, looking out for a tiny stranger like that.”
“Yeah, well, you know—”
“For an ass bag!” Jane said as she sank a fist into Charlie’s solar plexus.
Strangely, as he gasped for breath, Charlie felt that wherever his mother was right now, she was pleased with him.
Bye, Mom, he thought.
PART THREE
BATTLEGROUND
Tomorrow we shall meet,
Death and I—
And he shall thrust his sword
Into one who is wide awake.
— Dag Hammarskjöld
19
We’re OKAY, AS LONG AS THINGS DON’T GET WEIRD
When Charlie arrived home from his mother’s funeral, he was met at the door by two very large, very enthusiastic canines, who, undistracted by keeping watch over Sophie’s love hostage, were now able to visit the full measure of their affection and joy upon their returning master. It is generally agreed, and in fact stated in the bylaws of the American Kennel Club, that you have not been truly dog-humped until you have been double-dog-humped by a pair of four-hundred-pound hounds from hell (Section 5, paragraph 7: Standards of Humping and Ass-dragging). And despite having used an extra-strength antiperspirant that very morning before leaving Sedona, Charlie found that getting poked repeatedly in the armpits by two damp devil-dog dicks was leaving him feeling less than fresh.
“Sophie, call them off. Call them off.”
“The puppies are dancing with Daddy.” Sophie giggled. “Dance, Daddy!”
Mrs. Ling covered Sophie’s eyes to shield her from the abomination of her father’s unwilling journey into bestiality. “Go wash hands, Sophie. Have lunch while you daddy make nasty with shiksas.” Mrs. Ling couldn’t help but do a quick appraisal of the monetary value of the slippery red dogwoods currently pummeling her landlord’s oxford-cloth shirt like piston-driven leviathan lipsticks. The herbalist in Chinatown would pay a fortune for a powder made from the desiccated members of Alvin and Mohammed. (The men of her homeland would go to any length to enhance their virility, including grinding up endangered species and brewing them in tea, not unlike certain American presidents, who believe there is no stiffy like the one you get from bombing a few thousand foreigners.) Yet it appeared that the desiccated-dog-dick fortune would remain unclaimed. Mrs. Ling had long ago given up on collecting hellhound bits, when after trying to dispatch Alvin with a sharp and ringing blow to the cranium from her cast-iron skillet, he bit the skillet off its handle, crunched it down in a slurry of dog drool and iron filings, and then sat up and begged for seconds.
“Throw some water on them!” Charlie cried. “Down, doggies. Good doggies. Oh, yuck.”
Mrs. Ling was galvanized into action by Charlie’s distress call, and timing her move with the oscillating pyramid of man and dog meat in the doorway, dashed by Charlie, into the hallway, and down the steps.
Lily came up the stairs and skidded to a stop on the hallway carpet when she saw the hellhounds pounding away at Charlie. “Oh, Asher, you sick bastard!”
“Help,” Charlie said.
Lily pulled the fire extinguisher off the wall, dragged it to the doorway, pulled the pin, and proceeded to unload on the bouncing trio. Two minutes later Charlie was collapsed in a frosty heap on the threshold and Alvin and Mohammed were locked in Charlie’s bedroom, where they were joyfully chewing away on the expended fire extinguisher. Lily had lured them in there when they had tried to bite the CO2 stream, seeming to enjoy the freezing novelty of it over the welcome-home humping they were giving Charlie.
“You okay?” Lily said. She was wearing one of her chef coats over a red leather skirt and knee-high platform boots.
“It’s been kind of a rough week,” Charlie said.
She helped him to his feet, trying to avoid touching the damp spots on his shirt. Charlie did a controlled fall toward the couch. Lily helped him land, ending with one arm pinned awkwardly under his back.
“Thanks,” Charlie said. There was still frost in his hair and eyelashes from the fire extinguisher.
“Asher,” Lily said, trying not to look him in the eye. “I’m not comfortable with this, but I think, given the situation, that it’s time I said something.”
“Okay, Lily. You want some coffee?”
“No. Please shut up. Thank you.” She paused and took a deep breath, but did not extricate her arm from behind Charlie’s back. “You have been good to me over the years, and although I would not admit this to anyone else, I probably wouldn’t have finished school or turned out as well as I have if it hadn’t been for your influence.”
Charlie was still trying to see, blinking away ice crystals on his eyelids, thinking that maybe his eyeballs were frostbitten. “It was nothing,” he said.
“Please, please, shut up,” Lily said. Another deep breath. “You have always been decent to me, despite what I would call some of my bitchier moments, and in spite of the fact that you are some dark death dude, and probably had other things to worry about—sorry about your mom, by the way.”
“Thanks,” Charlie said.
“Well, given what I’ve heard about your night out before your mom died and whatnot, and what I’ve seen here today, I think—that it’s only right—that I do you.”
“Do me?”
“Yes,” she said, “for the greater good, even though you are a complete tool.”
Charlie squirmed away from her on the couch. He looked at her for a second, trying to figure out if she was putting him on, then, deciding that she wasn’t, he said, “That’s very sweet of you, Lily, and—”
“Nothing weird, Asher. You need to understand that I’m only doing this out of basic human decency and pity. You can just take it to the hoes on Broadway if you need to get your freak on.”
“Lily, I don’t know what—”
“And not in the butt,” Lily added.
There was a high-pitched little-girl giggle from behind the couch. “Hi, Daddy,” Sophie said, popping up behind him. “I missed you.”
Charlie swung her up over the back of the couch and gave her a big kiss. “I missed you, too, sweetie.”
Sophie pushed him away. “How come you have frosting on your hair?”
“Oh, that—Lily had to spray some frost on Alvin and Mohammed to settle them down and it got on me.”
“They missed you, too.”
“I could tell,” Charlie said. “Honey, could you go play in your room for a bit while I talk to Lily about business?”