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Plain SightThis story may contain adult content. |
| Written by Fleet Hepburn | |
| Friday, 15 August 2008 | |
"Sometimes I swear that thing is watching me," Rob said as I entered the office. He was a paranoid drunk, and I could see that his bottle of Jack Daniels was half-empty. Almost as an afterthought he added, "Hey man, what's up?" I followed his gaze to the shelf bordering the office. There were mostly knickknacks; the owner probably picked them up at yard sales to add his own aesthetic flair to the office. I had always guessed they were placed around the office to conjure up a feeling of nostalgia. I never perceived any of them as ominous, tacky maybe, but not spooky. "What are you talking about Robby, have you been drinking?" I felt like mocking him, telling him how pathetic he was. I felt like reaching into my suit coat right there and blowing him away, but instead I took a seat across from him at the desk. I'd give him the opportunity to explain himself. "I'm talking about the camera, man. Sometimes I think its recording me." "That camera is definitely not recording you, kid." It must have been forty years old, one of those old cameras that require film. I remember seeing the old projectors at my grandparent's house. The result was kind of like a silent movie where everything was going real fast and people would have to act animated to compensate. I saw one of my mother at Niagara Falls when she was ten years old. I got up and walked closer to the camera. I could just graze the bottom of the lens from where I stood, and I walked back to Rob extending my dust-blackened finger. "You giving me the finger?" He asked. Now, I prefer paranoid-drunk Rob over angry-drunk Rob any day. It's not that I can't hold my ground; it's more of a nuisance than anything. There's no reason to start something without provocation. "Cool it Robby, I was just showing you how old that goddamn thing is. No one's used that thing in years, trust me. I was just looking out for you." "Yeah, well look out for me in your seat. I don't like people standing over me, it makes me nervous." Back to paranoid-drunk. I took my seat and lit a cigarette, twirling it in the air. After thirty seconds of silence, I caught him looking at that camera again. "What's the matter with you anyway?" I said, flicking some ash carelessly on the floor. It wasn't very hospitable that they got rid of the ash trays. "Nothing's the matter." He leaned back in his seat. "I've just been hearing things, that's all." "What have you been hearing, Robby?" "Hey, would you use a ******* bottle or something instead of flicking ashes on the floor?" He threw a beer bottle at me and it smashed on the floor. "Hey, that was real ******* smart, wasn't it?" I said, carefully picking up the jagged neck. I didn't want Robby getting his hands on something he could use against me. "You gonna stab me with that?" He leaned forward to show he wasn't afraid. "No I'm not gonna stab you. Why don't you just have another drink?" He did like I told him and took a long swig from the bottle, returning it to the desk. "I've been afraid someone's gonna kill me," he said looking me dead in the eye. "That's what I've been hearing. Some people think I'm going to the cops; that I'm going to make trouble for Joey." Joey set up his drug deals in the bar below the office. Everyone knew he did it, but Rob was the only one who took the time to talk to the cops when they came around. It made the wrong people suspicious, and it was a mistake that Rob wouldn't live to regret. "Is that what this is about? That's why you're up here drunk and paranoid?" I put the inflections in the right places to show how sincerely concerned I was for Robby. "I don't trust anybody. Just you, and that's because we're like brothers. Aren't we?" "Of course we're like brothers. You went to my mother's funeral last year, you took my sister to the prom..." "Well, she ain't my sister. You might be my brother, but there's no relation there," Even in his state he knew he crossed the line with this comment. "You're not still mad about that, are you? That was like five years ago and I didn't touch her, I swear-" "Relax Robby. You're right, we're like brothers. And I know you wouldn't disrespect my sister that way." I looked up at the shelf again. Some of the pieces did seem a bit sinister, come to think of it. There was the glass clown with his painted smile. I don't know how kids don't piss their pants when they see those ******* things. "Robby, you didn't say nothing to the cops, right?" He hesitated, and it surprised me. I expected him to lie, to give me some speech about honor and how he could never be a rat. Instead he just stared off, not saying a word. "Robby, tell me you didn't say nothing-" "Would you kill me if I did? I mean, us being brothers and all..." "No I would not. If you want me on your side I should know everything." "O.K, well in that case...I did. I was sick of seeing the scum Joey brought into this place. I used to feel safe here, and then people started showing up with knives and guns; I had a guy threaten me just last week. I wanted him out of here." "Robby, that was a big mistake. You shouldn't have done that." He knew what I was about to do. He thought about it long enough to give me one of those looks-those looks that say ‘you're about to betray me, aren't you.' I took the pistol out of my pocket and plugged him in the head. He died with that look still on his face. He'll probably be buried with it. That bullshit betrayed expression will stay with him until the maggots eat it away. I got up. I fully intended to say ‘Nice knowing ya,' or something like that, smirking on my way out. I would have, too, if it weren't for that feeling. The feeling Rob described ad nauseam until I shut him up. I told myself it was bullshit; that the camera was forty years old. Then it occurred to me that it might not be the camera at all; the boss might have hidden a small camera around the office. I'd seen those ads for the ‘nanny-cams', marketed towards perverts or paranoid people. It was possible that he hid a camera between those knickknacks, or maybe inside one of them. I held the bottleneck in my hand and knocked all the glass figures off the shelves. I kicked the ******* clown's face in when he was on the floor, too. There was nothing on the ground but blood, broken glass, and a sprinkling of cigarette ash for flavor. I still wasn't satisfied. I got on the chair and moved around the room, examining the shelves. I looked everywhere and I couldn't find a camera. I even opened that old video camera to see if there was film in it. There wasn't. Finally I decided Robby's paranoia had gotten to me. Maybe when I shot him his paranoia jumped in my body or something. I just knew that I was worried about nothing. I left the office, saying a short goodbye to the ******* on the ground.
The next morning the cops showed up, searching the office. It was a mess, with all that broken glass and dried blood everywhere. The lead investigator took the owner aside, asking him if he knew anything that could help them catch the killer. "Hell ya I got something," The owner said. He was smiling ear-to-ear thinking he was a hot ****. "The whole thing was filmed." The investigator raised an eyebrow, "How'd you manage that?" "Well, I bought one of those spy-cameras they advertise on TV," He said. "Problem was-It was too ******* big to hide in the office. It looked a lot smaller in the commercials. So I got this idea, why not hide it in the lens of that old video camera on the shelf?" The cop liked this, "Kind of a hide it in plain sight thing, right?" "Yeah. Kind of like that."
Copyright 2008 Fleet Hepburn |
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