The Opposite Of Tidy (13 page)

In truth, her dad had been going to take Evelyn St. Claire. And Junie had had a fit. So he’d told Evelyn that it was too soon, and too painful for Junie (entirely true), and that Junie had begged to go instead (also true), and that Junie really wanted to go to the rodeo and would be devastated if she didn’t (categorically untrue). Junie had insisted that she’d always wanted to go to the rodeo, just to wreck it for That
Woman. The punishment for succeeding at that was actually having to endure the rodeo and hang out with her dad for the better part of a week, during which he plied her with guilt presents in between long, awkward silences and equally awkward attempts at conversation. Hence, the hat.

They were on the freeway now, cruising along in the commuter lane. Wade had his window rolled down, and the wind rushed in, crisp and cool. On either side of the freeway, trees were newly green, and above, the sky stretched out blue for as far as Junie could see. The mountains in the distance still had a lot of snow on them, but it was definitely spring. It was the perfect day for a Very First Date.

She and Wade talked about school, his parents’ work, his brother, Wade’s plans for film school after graduation. They drove farther and farther out into the valley, and the farther Junie got from home, the farther away all her troubles seemed. By the time they saw the sign welcoming them to Chilliwack, she felt halfway normal. Like a regular teenager on a regular date, and not a liar trying to maintain a shaky façade.

Wade checked the directions, and then pulled off the highway and headed down a long, flat road that cut through farmland.

“What if this guy isn’t a film buff at all, but some psycho who’s lured you out here only to hack you into bits and feed you to his pigs?” Junie said as the farms grew more derelict the farther they drove along the road.

“This is possible.” Wade nodded. “Entirely possible. And if that’s the case, you’re in trouble too, sweetheart.”

Junie flushed when he called her “sweetheart.” It
sounded so casual and absolutely right. She could get used to that. But she couldn’t, she reminded herself. Because soon enough he’d be calling her “liar” instead. She slumped in her seat. No matter how far she got from her mother and her mess, it was always right there with her. Looming large and smelly alongside her heaps of garbage, as if Junie were towing her along behind her.

They found the address, wrought-iron numbers sitting atop a neat split-rail fence. They couldn’t see the house from the road. The driveway wound down toward the river, and only when they were halfway down could they see it. Small, painted bright purple with black trim. A crumbling old red barn leaned toward the river behind the house.

Wade made pig noises.

“Funny,” Junie said.

More pig noises.

“Hysterical.”

Wade stopped the van in front of the house. “Do you want to wait here?”

“If they’re going to hack us up, I’d just as soon go first, so no.” Junie undid her seatbelt and got out of the van. It was cool by the river, so she pulled on the sweater she’d brought and pulled it tight across her chest. The wind chilled her bare legs and pushed the dress against her thighs, and her hair over her shoulders. She was cold, but she felt beautiful. Like a girl in a famous photograph.

She wasn’t the only one who thought so. When she turned to see where Wade was, he was aiming his video camera at her.

“Do you mind?”

Junie felt her cheeks flush red. “No. Go ahead.” She racked her brain for something witty to say. “That way, if we get fed to the pigs, it can be evidence.”

“Put the hat on,” Wade said from behind the camera.

Junie reached into the van for it and placed it on her head, feeling at once both silly and star-like. “Ta da,” she said, doing a pirouette.

On the porch, the front door opened, and an older man came out. “You Wade?” he said, none too politely.

“Yeah, hi.” Wade lowered the camera. “Sorry. You’ve just got an awesome place here. Add a pretty girl, and I couldn’t resist.”

Junie wished she could collect his words and tuck them in her pocket so that she could hold them in the palm of her hand much, much later and still feel the warm heat of them deep in her belly.

“And it’s not available for film shoots, so come get the celluloid and get out of here.” With that, he turned back inside, letting a big Rottweiler out as he did. The dog sat at the top of the steps, staring at them with dark, wet eyes.

“Okay then.” Wade turned the camera off and put it back in the van. “Perhaps the feeding-us-to-the-pigs story isn’t so far off the mark.”

Junie backed up to the van, keeping the dog in her sights. “Only maybe he’ll feed us to the canine beast of doom instead.”

The man came back with a shallow, round silver box, just like the film canisters Junie’s grandma had kept the really old home movies in. Wade pulled a few crumpled
bills out of his pocket. “Do you think I’m supposed to go up there?” he whispered as he counted the money.

“He did say to come and get it,” Junie whispered back. She smiled at the man. He did not smile back. “Just go get it and let’s get out of here.”

Wade approached the steps. The dog stood up, hackles rising too, and growled.

“She friendly?” Wade asked as he took the first step. “She look friendly to you?”

Wade glanced back at Junie and mouthed
Help me
, making a desperate face. Junie stifled a laugh. Wade got to the top of the steps, and the dog bared her teeth. He and the man made their exchange and Wade backed down the steps and cleared the distance to the van in a hurry.

“Film shoot’s over,” he said as he turned the key in the ignition. The engine was silent. He turned the key again. It spluttered, and then nothing. It wouldn’t turn over. “Shit.”

“This is the part in the movie where we get stranded for the night on a dark country road and are forced to take shelter with a crazed madman and he holds us captive in his elaborate dungeon for several years and our families are overwrought with grief and never stop looking for us.”

“‘Wrought with grief.’” Wade turned the key again, to no avail. “That’s good.”

NINE

Wade waited a few minutes, explaining with a nervous catch in his voice that he’d probably flooded the engine and just needed to give it a chance to empty. Junie nodded, eyes locked on the man and his dog, still standing on the front step. Watching them.

“Here goes.” Wade gave the van a little pat. “Come on, Victor. Take us home.”

He turned the key. There was a tiny chug deep in the engine, which set Junie’s heart alight with hope.

“Yes!”

The chug spluttered into silence.

Wade turned the key again. And again.

“Mister Victor Van Go-Go is dead,” he finally announced after a dozen or more tries.

“Mister Victor Van Go-Go?” Junie tried to keep her
tone light, when in fact she was actually quite panicked. How were they going to get out of there?

“Victor for short.” Wade sat back in his seat and pulled out his cellphone. “I’ll call my brother. He’ll come get us.”

Junie nodded. But what she was thinking was that if his brother came to get them, they’d still be stuck there for a good hour and a half, if not more. His brother would be coming out in the thick of rush hour traffic. This was not good. Not good at all. Junie could feel a nervous sweat dampen her pits and brow. She was very glad she hadn’t put on any more makeup than she had.

She listened to Wade’s side of the conversation. By the sound of it, his brother had to write an exam. That was also not good. Wade got off the phone.

“He can come get us, but he can’t leave Vancouver until eight o’clock.” He held the phone out to Junie. “How about your people? Anyone who can come get us?”

Junie took the phone, thinking fast. Not her mom or dad. That would blow her lie out of the water, and she wasn’t ready for that. Not just yet. Mrs. D. was the only one. Junie wasn’t sure how to make the phone call without giving herself up. She turned the phone over in her hand, puzzling out how best to do it.

“You going to make a call?” Wade was sitting sideways in his seat, watching her.

“Sure.” Junie dialled Tabitha’s house. It rang several times and then went to voice mail. She hung up without leaving a message. “Not home.”

“Who’re you calling? Your mom?”

Junie nodded. She tried again and got the message again.

“Try her cell.”

But Junie didn’t know Mrs. D.’s cell number. “That was her cell,” she said. Another lie. She should start collecting points for them, she had so many going.

“But you said she wasn’t home. Didn’t you phone the house first?”

“Yeah. The second time was her cell.”

“Ah.” Wade sat back and folded his arms behind his head. “So here we are. In the middle of nowhere. Here’s hoping you have a pretty good sense of humour. And a decent sense of adventure to go with it.”

“Sure I do.” Yet another lie. Junie liked things to be somewhat predictable. This, to her tastes, was far too much excitement. The thrill of her Very First Date was one thing. Being stranded with no hope of rescue was another.

The man and his dog were coming down the steps.

Wade made more pig noises, only not so loudly or enthusiastically.

“Really, not funny,” Junie said. “Not at all.”

The man came around to Wade’s side and leaned in the window. “Think you flooded it with all that business?”

“No, sir.” Wade shook his head. “I was careful not to.”

“Hmph.” The man patted the van, almost tenderly. “You got to treat these old ladies with kid gloves, you know.”

“It’s a man,” Junie blurted, victim to her nerves.

“What’s that?” The man scowled.

Junie withered. “It’s a male van. His name is Victor.”

The man squinted at her and made a sort of grumble in his throat. “Well. Suppose you two should come inside. Make whatever phone calls you need to. Get yourselves organized. Might be able to help you.”

Wade held up his cellphone. “We’re good. Thanks.”

But Junie had to pee and she wasn’t about to squat behind the van or traipse off to the bushes. “Actually, I’d love it if I could use your washroom. Sir,” she added, taking Wade’s lead.

The man nodded and made his way back to the steps, implying that they should follow.

“Now there’s a good sense of adventure.” Wade grinned at her. “I like it. A lot. My kind of woman.”

Junie didn’t tell him that she really did have to pee. She hopped out of the van, and the two of them climbed the steps. They waited at the top, even though the man had left the front door open. The dog was sitting in the doorway, growling. The man returned.

“Out of the way, Lucy.”

The dog trotted inside, casting one more casual growl over her shoulder as she did.

The house was filled with art. Paintings hung in groups on every wall. Small sculptures lined the surface of the long dresser in the front hall. The art was the first surprise. The next was that the home was extremely neat. Even tidier than Tabitha’s. Junie had thought the man would live like a typical bachelor, in a kind of comfortable mess. But the house was clean, and bright, with skylights letting in the sunshine.

“Phone’s in there.” The man pointed in the same
direction and then went in ahead of them. There was another man. Older, by the looks of it. Bundled in a quilt, sitting at one end of the couch, watching an old black-and-white movie on a large flat-screen television.

“Mister movie buff, I presume.” He muted the movie and then lifted a hand in a half-wave. “I hear you’re having some engine trouble.” He had a British accent, and a pronounced wheeze.

“Yes, sir.” Wade pointed to the TV. “And that’s
Double Indemnity
, right?”

“Very good. I’m impressed. I like a bit of Barbara Stanwyck on a regular basis.”

Junie had no idea what they were talking about.

“1945?” Wade ventured.

“Close. 1944.” The man sat up a little straighter and shrugged off the quilt. “And your microbus?” He was very thin, his shoulders bony through his sweater. He struggled to stand and get a look at the van through the window. “What is she, a ’78?”

“Yes, sir.” Wade elbowed Junie and gave her a look. This guy knew his stuff. Junie hoped Wade was right and the old fellow could get them on their way.

“I’m Royce.” The man held out a shrivelled hand. Wade took it, shaking it lightly. Junie followed suit. “And I don’t suppose Jeremy has properly introduced himself.” He held out a hand, ushering Jeremy into the introduction. “Shake hands, Jeremy. Don’t be a dragon.”

“I’m Wade. And this is Junie.” More handshaking. Now Junie really had to pee.

“Excuse me, but could I please use your bathroom?”

“Down the hall, on the left,” Jeremy said.

June found the bathroom easily. It was filled with art too, and it had one of those fabulous claw-foot bathtubs. Above the toilet was a black-and-white photo of a much younger Royce and Jeremy outside, sitting naked in what looked like a homemade hot tub, which was really only a big wooden barrel filled with water, sitting atop a rock perch above a fire. Their arms were slung around each other. Big grins on their faces. Royce had a beard and looked a lot more robust, but you could still tell it was him.