Suckerpunch Read Online Free PDF Page B

you five bucks.
    You’re on, he said.
    We walked down the hall, opening cabinets, looking for something to claim as ours. All the carpet was stripped and our footsteps on the plywood floors echoed throughout the house, bouncing off the empty walls.
    Honey, I’m home, Oliver shouted, his voice in stereo.
    In the living room we found a cat curled up beside the fireplace, her mangy fur the color of smoke. I crouched and held out my palm. Here, kitty, kitty, kitty, I said.
    I told you, Oliver said. Now pay up.
    You said someone is shacking here. A cat’s not a someone.
    Yes, it is.
    It’s a some thing .
    You don’t know what you’re talking about, Nub.
    Who flunked English and had to go to summer school?
    Mrs. Connelly is a bitch, Oliver said.
    Doesn’t matter what she is, you still flunked.
    Oliver took out his wallet and pulled out the small sheet of acid.
    Get that shit away from me, I said.
    Sorry about your bad trip.
    Never again, man. I’d rather eat glass.
    Let’s get this cat wasted, he said, tearing off a tab.
    Give her a Valium instead.
    That’s no fun. She’ll just lie around.
    She’s going to freak out, I said. Maybe we shouldn’t.
    Oliver held the paper blotter out on his fingertip. The cat sniffed the tiny square of paper and then looked at him timidly. Her eyes were light blue, almost transparent. Come on, Oliver said, and just like that the cat scurried away from us and up the stairs.
    I wonder who used to live here, I said.
    Who cares? This could be our hangout.
    Yeah, we could bring chicks here and—And what? Oliver said, cutting me off. I bet you’ve got cobwebs on your dick.
    Ha ha, I said. I imagined Oliver’s mom pulling down my boxers, brushing the cobwebs off. I imagined her taking me inside her mouth.
    We heard the cat meowing somewhere upstairs and we both stood quiet, listening. Oliver went up the stairs first, two steps at a time, and I followed behind. At the top of the stairs I turned left and Oliver went right.
    In the hallway there were nails poking out from the walls, white rectangles where framed pictures used to be. They were like the ghosts of photographs.
    I stepped into a small bedroom that overlooked the front of the house and saw Britt’s car parked along the curb, the windows clouded with smoke. There were two silver bowls in the corner of the room, one filled with water, the other with brown pellets. On the sill was a syringe and a rubber cord.
    Marcus, over here, quick, Oliver shouted.
    I hurried back down the hallway, full of adrenaline.
    Oliver stood in the doorway of what looked like the master bedroom. He pointed at the cat, who was sniffingat the closet. She meowed and lifted her paw and scratched the closet door.
    Get out, motherfucker, Oliver said, trying to sound tough.
    There was silence, a moment when nothing moved, then the closet door glided open.
    The man standing there was thin and had dirty blond hair. I mean he was really thin. It looked like his skull was leaning against his face, pressing against his pale skin. He just stood there with his arms raised above him as if we were the police. The cat walked between his legs and curled back, stepping over his dirty sneakers.
    You can put your hands down, I said, and he did.
    There was a mattress on the floor pushed into the corner of the room, a tin ashtray and a spoon. He had a candle still wrapped in its clear plastic, fat and white like a tall glass of milk.
    You living here? Oliver asked.
    Yeah, he said. Just for a while. His voice was low and soft, almost feminine.
    We just wanted to scope out the place, that’s all, I said.
    Hey man, you guys have anything on you? He scratched his neck, his eyes darting back and forth between Oliver and me. The cat arched her back and yawned, her face nothing but tongue and teeth.
    Nuh-uh, Oliver said.
    How ’bout cash? You guys got any cash? He licked the corner of his mouth. They say I’m good, he