Hellhole (25 page)

“You're all so weird and squirmy,” Burg said, “but complicated. You do bad things, like we do. But you also do good things, for reasons I can't fully grasp. And then there are people like you, who sometimes do a bunch of bad things in order to produce a good thing. There's something about that that's . . . what's the word . . .”

“Noble?” Max suggested. “Virtuous?”

“No, that's not it. Idiotic, maybe?”

“Ah.”

“But idiotic in a riveting way. You people should be studied.”

“Um. Thanks?”

“What I'm saying is, I like it up here on earth. And that makes me a total freak down below.”

Burg frowned, as if surprised by what had just come out of his mouth. He sighed and put his feet up on the table, scratching his beard, thinking. Max did the same thing, scratching the skin on his chin where no whisker, he was sure, would ever dare to grow.

“You know what, Shove?” Burg said. “I think I want to stay up here for good. The powers that be won't like it, and the Moneygrubbers'll hate me—they've been trying to figure out a way to stay up here for centuries—but my mind is made up. Your world is just too fun. Your snacks are just too tasty.”

Max's panic alarm went off at this, but he tried to play it off as nothing. “Okay, but—but you're not gonna, like, rain hellfire upon the earth or anything, are you?”

“Nah. Once you find me a house, I'll mind my own business. Maybe I'll get a bird.”

“A bird?”

“Yeah, one of those little yellow things that can talk to you. I'll teach it all kinds of swear words. What fun we'll have! What fucking fun!”

“Well, guess what?” Max stood up and formed his body into a this-is-really-exciting stance. “I've got some good news for you. Are you ready for this?”

Burg looked intrigued. “I am!”

“I . . . found you a house!”

He lit up. “Really?”

“A really big house!”

“Really?”

“You can move in today!”

Burg slumped back down and clucked his tongue. “Mmm, no. No, that's not going to work for me.”

Max almost fell over. “What?”

“I can't move in yet. I haven't packed, I haven't beat
Call of Duty
—I haven't even approved of said domicile.” He put his feet on the table. “How can you expect me to just drop everything, upheave my life without even getting the grand tour first? What if I'm signing myself up for a glorified beaver dam?”

“But—it's a house!” Max sputtered. “A
mansion!
I found you a mansion, free of charge, and you're telling me you have to
approve
it first?”

Burg wagged his finger. “Buyer beware.”

“Approval was
not
part of the deal.”

“And now it is! Isn't haggling fun?”

There came a knock at the basement door. “Max?” Audie called. “You down there?”

“We sure are!” Burg called up to her.

Audie warily made her way down the stairs. “What's happening here?” She pointed to Burg, who on impulse had arranged himself into some unholy amalgamation of Eli and Peyton Manning.

“Hey, baby,” he said to her. “Wanna—”

“No. Never. Ever.” She turned to Max. “Where did you disappear to? I heard you flipped out at Mrs. Rizzo—”

“Yeah, speaking of which—” Max rounded on Burg. “Thanks a
lot
for almost getting me kicked out of school. It's bad enough that I don't have enough time to do homework anymore, but now the added voices in my head are really going to give me the leg up I need to get expelled.”

“Hey! I was bored!”

“Well, it's not cool, okay? It's an invasion of privacy! How much—” Max blushed. “I mean, how much else have you listened in on?”

Burg's face was unreadable. “Nothing important.”

“Well, it's rude. So stop it.”

“Look, Shovel, did you get detention or not?”

Max grunted. “Not.”

“Then you're welcome. Now where's my Spicy Beef Nacho Hot Pocket?”

Max ignored this and turned to Audie. “Can you do me a favor?” he asked in a low voice. “I need to give Burg a ride to his new house, and—”

“You found a house?” she said. “Already?”

“Yeah.”

“Do I want to know how . . . or where . . .”

“No, the less you know, the better,” said Max. “But I need to get Burg there. As soon as possible. Can you call Wall and ask him to give us a ride?”

She shot a glance at Burg, whose face had melted into something half Manning, half Ryan Seacrest. She gave Max a look. “Well, okay. But you might want to have him change into something a little less freakish.”

“Will do.” He scooped Audie up into a hug. “Thank you
soooo
much, Audie.”

She hugged him back, then peeled herself out after it started to go on for too long. “Don't mention it.” She turned and hopped up the stairs. “I'll go call Wall and meet you out front.”

“You heard her,” Max told Burg. “Upstairs. Come on.” He turned to leave, then Burg spoke again.

“Hey, Shovel?”

“Yeah?”

“Hold her hand.”

“What?”

“That girl you like,” Burg said. “Try holding her hand. Seems like your style. Slow, inoffensive. Nice guy–ish. That's your angle.”

Max bit his lip.

“Thanks.”

 

Max sat on his front stoop, uneasy and lightheaded. When he spotted Wall's car rounding the corner, he jumped up.

“Calm down,” said Audie. “He won't suspect a thing.”

“Yeah, relax,” said Lore, remaining seated. She undid the rubber band holding her ponytail and shook her hair out. “You don't want to seem too desperate in front of the popular kids.”

“Shut up, Doritos Breath. I don't need advice on how not to be a loser.”

“Says the loser wearing a plastic dinosaur watch.” Lore, who was really Burg in shape-shifting disguise, rearranged her hair into two buns on either side of her head. “Look at me! I'm Princess Leia!”

“Stop that.”

Max gave a jaunty wave to Wall and approached the car as it pulled into Audie's driveway. “Wall!” he said. “How are ya?”

Wall gave him his trademark solemn nod. “Hey, hoss. Audie says you need a ride?”

“Yes, they need a ride,” Audie said, diving into the passenger seat before Burg could.

“Yeah,” Max confirmed. “We accidentally rode over a pile of broken glass yesterday, and both our bikes got flat tires. You mind?”

“Nah. Where you headed?”

“Up to Honeybrook Hills? We're working on a project for calculus”—there it was again—“with Krissy Swanson, but at lunch she told me she has to stay home and baby-sit her little sister this afternoon, so she was wondering if we could meet at her house.”

Wall looked askance at him. “Krissy Swanson allowed herself to be seen talking to you?”

Max chose to take that not as an insult, but as an opportunity to strengthen his lie. “Yeah, she wasn't a fan of it. I think that's why she's ‘baby-sitting,'” he said with air quotes.

Wall's shoulders heaved a mighty shrug. “Okay, whatever,” he said, rolling up his window. “Get in.”

“Lore!” Max called to her. “Get in the car!”

Lore-Burg, hair still in Leia buns, sashayed over to the car and bowed deeply to Wall's window. “The Force is strong with this one.”

Before Wall could raise an eyebrow, Max opened the back door and pushed Burg in. “Have you even seen
Star Wars
?” he whispered, clambering in behind her.

“I've seen the
Star Wars Holiday Special.
It's a hit in hell.”

Audie turned around in her seat and mouthed “Honeybrook
Hills?
” followed by a series of manic questions. Max mouthed a bunch of answers back. Not a word was understood by either party. Meanwhile, Burg began to fondle his own boobs.

“Stop that!” Max hissed, elbowing him.

When they got to the Honeybrook Hills sign, Max tapped Wall on the shoulder. “You can pull up right here! Thanks, Wall!” He opened the car door, shoved Burg out, and slammed it again, all before Wall could ask any perfectly reasonable questions.

Audie would throw him off the trail, Max was sure of that. Now he had to switch into upbeat real estate agent mode. If he didn't sell Burg on this house, it was back to square one, and there weren't many Combos flavors left for him to steal.

“Wait till you see this place,” Max said in an enthusiastic voice as they walked. “You'll shit your pants. Should you ever choose to wear any.”

“This skirt's not bad, I have to admit,” Burg said, swishing the pleats. “Airy and fresh. Nice to get a cooling breeze blowing through the forest every once in a while, if you catch my drift.”

“Drift caught.”

Finally they came to the house. Max, sweating and out of breath, made a sweeping, grand gesture toward the front door. “This is it.”

Burg took off without a moment's hesitation, throwing open the door and sprinting into the foyer. “Holy shit!” his excited cry came through the open door. “Vaulted ceilings! Parquet floors! A gun rack!”

Should I maybe have taken those away?
Max thought before a wiser part of him decided,
Hey, if he wants to kill anything, he'll kill it. Gun or no gun.

He went inside after him. Burg, back to his devilish form, had already flung himself onto the plaid sofa. “This place is so clutch,” he said, smacking his lips. “Great view, big fireplace, animal carcasses—really, the full package.” He got up again and stared into the glass eyes of Deerzilla. “This one's going to be my Scooby-Doo booby trap. My Scooby-Dooby trap, if you will.”

“It's your house, you do what you want. Oh, and here's the best part,” Max couldn't help but add. It was a point of pride that he'd managed this impossible detail. He opened the sliding glass door and ushered Burg onto the deck. “Ta-
da!
”

Burg brought a hand to his mouth. He almost seemed to be tearing up. “For me?”

He let out a squeal, then knelt down and brought his face next to the hot tub. “Hello, my pet,” he cooed. “Oh, the depraved acts you'll facilitate.”

“So what do you think?” Max said. “Does it meet your lofty standards?”

Max's mom sometimes watched a reality show that involved brides shopping for their wedding dresses and the hysterics naturally infused therein. It was rife with tense, dragged-out strife, all leading up to the suspenseful moment when the women decided whether they were going to take the dress or not. This was exactly like that, except with less taffeta.

“Well . . .” Burg said, expertly ramping up the drama. “Yes!” He clapped daintily. “I officially approve.”

Max let out the breath he'd apparently been holding for, it seemed, three days. “Fantastic. Then we're all squared up, right? I upheld my end of the bargain, and now it's time to uphold yours?”

Burg frowned. “Refresh me.”

Max remained patient. “We agreed that if I found you a house, you'd cure my mom. Well, I found you a house. With a friggin' hot tub. So you have to cure my mom.”

“Absolutely!” said Burg.

“Awesome.”

“Right after you do
one
more thing for me.”

Max froze.

“What did you say?”

“Don't get me wrong, Shovel—the house is great. But it's so big and empty and lonely . . . how's about you fix me up with a lady friend? Your mom's single, right?”

“No,” Max said, panic rising. “No, you said that all I had to do was this one thing. We shook on it! You burned my hand!”

Burg wiggled his own hand. “Gray area.”

“Oh my God! OH MY GOD!” Max's fingers had assumed choking position, and they were slowly creeping toward Burg's neck. “What do you think I did all this for? You promised you'd cure my mom if I got you a house!”

“And now that I
have
a house, I'll want some company. Find me some company, and then I'll cure your mom.”

Max literally saw red. He'd always imagined that expression to be a figure of speech, but bright crimson spots exploded in the outer reaches of his vision, framing the bastard in a picture of unadulterated fury.

Lore was right,
he thought.
He screwed me over, just like she said he would.

“There is no way,” Max spat, “in heaven or hell that I'm setting you up with my mom.”

“
I
think you're underestimating my dateability. I recently perused a magazine article that educated me on five—count 'em,
five
—new erotic zones discovered by sex scientists—”

Max wiped the sweat from his brow again. It was taking every ounce of his heavily depleted energy to stay his strangling hands in the face of phrases like “sex scientists.” “You're out of your mind! Besides, what kind of woman is going to agree to go on a blind date arranged by
me?
”

This stopped Burg in his tracks. “That's a good point.” He thought for a moment more, stroking his beard. “You'll have to find me someone online, then.”

“NO!” Max kicked over a patio chair. “That's it. I'm not lifting another finger for you.” He stalked to the sliding door and wrenched it open. “I stuck to my end of the bargain,” he said just before storming out. “Now you stick to yours. OR ELSE.”

Burg gave him a condescending sneer and looked out over the lake, the tips of his horns glinting. “Or else what?” he said with a dry laugh.

 

Max knew something was awry the moment his house came into view.

Granted, he'd just stalked all the way back from Honeybrook Hills, and the fury plus the persistent heat had lightly scrambled his brain. Plus, the sun had just begun to set, so there was a bit of a glare. But he could plainly see that the front door was open, and he knew one thing for sure: he had not left the front door open.