Guaranteed Or Your Memory Back: A Short Story Page 2

  2

  Later back at his apartment, Dan sat down and began reading the book. He had received a text from Elise saying she couldn’t make dinner tonight, but that she could have coffee with him around four o’clock before she went to drama class, which was strictly an evening class. He’d forgotten all about that. They’d joked on some of their dates about how she would become a famous actress and he would write scenes in plays just for her. Dramatic ones. Maybe even sexy ones. Right now he didn’t care about any of that, he just wanted to tell her about what had happened at Bub’s Bargain New And Used Books, how tripped out it was, and ask her opinion on his eventual return, his plan of attack. Most important of all; he wanted to hear what she’d say when he told her about the ludicrous ‘guarantee’ the guy made him.

  Since it was only two in the afternoon now, that gave him ample time to at least dive into this book and see whether he liked it or not. It kind of felt as though it had somehow been tainted. The first twenty five pages were pretty good, and then the book slowly got more ghoulish and outlandish. As if the author somehow slipped into the Devil’s mindset. He read fifteen more pages until his face was a deep set grimace of horror. Next, without quite realizing he’d meant to, he threw the book as hard as he would have thrown a baseball across the room. It bounced off the opposite wall and landed pages down, the book cover mooning him with the front and back, the title—once so appealing, now perplexing distasteful—glaring up at him: BENEATH THE SILENCE ‘A NOVEL’ BY DEAN ROTH.

  Now, unfortunately, Dan knew exactly what was beneath the silence—what an amazingly adroit title, it could be used for any goddamn thing if one thought about it—and it was fucking gruesome! Dan closed his eyes, but scenes from the book kept popping up into his mind, more vividly now that his eyes were closed. He was definitely going to be bringing that horrid thing back to Bub’s. Now he wished the solemn promise Jeff made were actually true that he could deliver on his promise and make Dan forget what he’d read. Restore his memories to just before he walked in there. Or, if possible, give him even better memories. Well, the baldy with the snake tattoo around his ear was convinced of it all right, even if Dan knew it was a bogus claim. It was a bad carny pitch, something you might expect a Gypsy at a fair to swear by. Just drink a dis potion and you get new memories back! Ah, hah-hah!

  To get his mind off things, in particular that book and those awful scenes it portrayed, Dan left his apartment building and began walking along the street. This was a good thing, as he began to walk his head began to clear a little and he began to take in the sights and sounds. He heard and saw everything from the annoying noises of car horns to drills and jackhammers, construction workers yelling to each other, men and women sitting haughtily in outdoor cafes having murmured discussions—it was all a soothing balm over his poor disoriented mind.This sort of people-watching he did was a guilty pleasure. More often than not it gave him story ideas. Ideas he never actually wrote down, but that seemed cool at the time.

  New York City was a rich environment for the imagination—it gave a guy all kinds of ideas. Some great, some amazing. None realized, unfortunately, not yet anyway. Dan always meant to get to his computer and write stuff down, but it took a lot of energy to get to that point, and once he sat down to write, nothing was ever good enough. His sentences ran on and on. The prose felt stilted or at least mangled and rarely did it seem to flow. The dialogue usually didn’t make any sense. A bout of creative writing for Dan was like unintentionally creating a Frankenstein-like creature from words that never really became alive. But…on the other hand, it always felt good to write. And wasn’t that the main thing?

  Walking along 8th avenue, a TJ Max was up ahead on his right and 57th was approaching him, he knew if he kept walking in this direction he’d go straight to Central Park. It wasn’t as though he’d intended to go to the park, but it was a lovely day, and he thought communing with nature a little would help clear his head even more and maybe give him inspiration to seek alternative books to buy. The most important thing was for him to figure out how to give it back without sounding ungrateful and not letting that guy talk him into whatever parlor mind trick he planned on affecting Dan with.

  Central Park was just a little ways further so he decided to walk it. Deciding to head East, he knew he’d make it to Gapstow Bridge. He loved that bridge. There was something magical about being there, looking up at the tall buildings beyond the perimeter of the park. The pond was a soothing balm for his soul, and whenever he was upset about something, he would always come to this area, particularly this bridge, and just gaze out the landscape and absently watch the people, letting his brain cycles go wherever they needed to for ultimate relaxation. He supposed this was his version of meditation. He realized he’d promised to have a little coffee with Elise soon, so he began to walk towards the edge of the park and hail an Uber.

  The car dropped him off at the Starbucks just in time to see his girlfriend walking in. Another girl in front of her held the door open, while she smiled and said thank you.

  Dan got out of the car and walked right in after her.

  He had to tell her all about his day and ask her all about hers.

  3

  They had been sitting now for ten minutes while Elise caught him up to speed on all the dramatic details of her class, her classmates which consisted of herself, five other girls, and two gay men from their group who were more dramatic than all six girls put together. She’d mostly been laughing while relaying how funny Nick was when the conversation inevitably turned to cornrows and weaves, he was an out of work hairdresser at the moment, and boy did he have some funny stories to share!

  Dan took all this in, nodding and laughing at all the appropriate places and asking all the right questions, but his mind was elsewhere, and somehow Elise could tell. She placed her hand on top of his.

  “Everything okay in your day?”

  He smiled, she rhymed like that sometimes without noticing or even meaning to. And how badly he needed to tell her about what happened, only he’d leave out the part where it was her suggestion that prompted his outing.

  “Mostly…”

  “Tell me!” She smiled big and goofy, the thing that made him slowly fall more in love with her every moment, and took a slurp of her Mocha Frappaccino.

  “Well, I did it. I went and got a book. A book by some author, it was even signed. Went into one of those bargain book places, one of the few that’s still around, you know buys and sells used books, that sort of thing?”

  She nodded her head, still sucking on the straw, looking at him with beautiful, somewhat goofy eyes, and he felt his heart open just a little more to see her like this, she was in a great mood, and that made him feel happier just seeing it. An image from the book he read popped into his mind, unbidden, and horrifying, and he shut his eyes, squinting them hard.

  “What’s the matter?” When he opened his eyes again, all the goofy had been erased, leaving a piercing look that left him in awe of her.

  Taking a deep breath he continued. He told her about Jeff ‘Bub’ Beelz, about the snake tattoo, about how hot it was, about the book, and then he explained to her about the ‘memory back guarantee’, at which she threw her head back and laughed hard. The other patrons in the ‘Bucks turned their heads around to take notice. Most of them were listening to their headphones, faces buried in the pale glow of their glassy laptops, ignoring the unfolding scene between him and his girlfriend.

  He squeezed her hand.

  “Anyway, I’m going to return the book.”

  She got serious again, looking at him now, “No, bad idea.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Throw the book away. He basically gave it away, and if he was that stupid, and stupid enough to believe he had some outrageous gift, then let him never see your face again! Besides when I told you to get a book I meant from the library, who gives a shift if it’s signed or not?”

  “Elise, I can’t just throw the book away. And a library is…ya know, not that personal—I can’t keep the book when I’m done, which was part of the appeal.”

  “This is New York City, you can do whatever you have to do to protect yourself from a batshit crazy man like that. It’s simple, you just don’t go back there. Go to a library and who cares if you keep the book? I just like seeing you reading one instead of staring at your phone, that’s all I meant.”

  “I’ll just put the book in a plastic bag, hang it on his door when the store is closed, and be on my way. I’m not going to steal his book for crying out loud!”

  She shook her head, a rueful smile on her face. “What if he’s there, waiting for you? Tries to hypnotize and brain wash you like, like, what’s that guy’s name? The old bald guy who could hypnotize people and make them think they were chickens?”

  “What?”

  “No! He wasn’t bald, he wore glasses,” she said, correcting herself, “And his name…his name was ‘The Great Kreskin’!”

  “First of all, you can’t be hypnotized if you don’t want to be. Second of all, the people were most likely in on his act. Third of all, I have this awesome app called Google and it will tell me when the store is open or closed. I’ll wait until it’s closed for a long while, then go back and leave it on the doorknob in a plastic bag.”

  “Don’t leave any money in it.”

  “Not planning on that, babe,” he said.

  “Don’t call me babe. And I think it’s still a mistake. What if he’s crazy enough to wait for you?”

  “Are you kidding me? Why would he? It’s not like I was the only customer there, or that he ever had!”

  “You said earlier that you were the only customer there.”

  “Well, I had forgotten about the old lady.”

  “What ol
d lady?”

  “The old lady who walked in when he was going to tell me about his special return policy.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, now that I think on it, it was a little weird. He whispered something to her and she nodded her head, left, and he closed the door and flipped the sign…”

  Her eyes went as wide as saucers, she grabbed his hand and squeezed, hard. “You can NOT go back there, Daniel Strauss! You hear me? No way Jose! He’s some kind of weird voodoo dude, just skip it. Throw the fucking book away in the trash and never return there. God it?”

  “Elise…it’s no big deal, I’m telling you, it’ll be fine, I’ll be fine. But I’ve got to return his book to him, I just can’t in good conscience steal his book and throw it away.”

  “Why are you so stubborn?”

  “I just don’t want to take something that isn’t mine, ok? Is that so wrong? I thought it was right.”

  “Ha, ha, smart-ass, I just don’t think it’s a good idea, that’s all.”

  “Better to be a smart-ass than a dumb-ass.”

  “Whatever, smart-ass and dumb-ass are exactly the same thing,” she said, and blew the bangs off her forehead. She was clearly annoyed, and not just pretending to be now. He didn’t want to get into the differences between ‘smart’ and ‘dumb’ in connection to ‘ass’, not when she was clearly in a sour mood.

  “Listen,” she said, leaning forward, “I just want you to be safe. Can you take one of your buddies? Eric-what’s-his-face, or Bradley?”

  “Maybe Eric, but I doubt it. Bradley’s in New Jersey for the day.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, he texted me something about Fireworks, but knowing him that’s probably a codename for some girl he plans to hook up with.” He smiled at the thought.

  She threw back her head again and laughed raucously. He’d succeeded in shifting her mood with a little levity, but her admonishments to steer clear of the crazy book shop had unsettled him a little.

  Still, a man needed to do what a man needed to do and all that.

  4

  Dan texted Eric a simple opening greeting.

  * * *

  Hey man, what you up to today?

  * * *

  A near immediate reply:

  Woke up with a head cold, I feel like stepped on doggypoop. 💩

  * * *

  Dan cursed under his breath.

  Sorry to ‘hear’ that, bro. Feel better.

  * * *

  He stuffed the phone in his shorts pocket and considered if he had any other friends he trusted to bring along with him, people who respected him and would believe him if he simply told them he didn’t feel totally safe. Damn it, why had Elise planted that idea in his head, about him being there even after the place was closed, and waiting on him? Jeff was just one of a million other small time business owners in Manhattan trying to make it, why would he have some whacked out agenda? Crazier things have happened, bro, and you know it.

  “Whatever,” he told the room. “I’ll be fine.”

  That left as a posse of one, so it was back to the store, but first, he opened the Google Maps app on his phone and consulted its infinite wisdom about Bub’s Bargain New And Used Books. It was currently closed. No other information except a small rectangular picture placeholder where the picture should be but wasn’t. Just the name and address, and one of those little orange-red pins on the map. That was a little odd, almost all the businesses in Manhattan had pictures of their establishments in the program, so how come this one didn’t?

  Because you already know, Dan. This place isn’t even real. It’s not even on the map. The guy is just a carney, blowing through town, a fly-by-night operation if ever there was one. Absurd thoughts, but they wouldn’t stop.

  You shouldn’t go back there, he’ll be waiting. Closed or not. He’ll hypnotize you. You’ll cluck like a chicken. Thick glasses. Great Kreskin!

  Jeff Beelz, everybody calls me Bub.

  Shaking his head, he told himself to knock it off. Everything was just fine, he was just fine. Dan grabbed the book, flung it in an old Duane Reade plastic sack, the blue D and red R looking especially warn and faded, yet still vaguely patriotic against the white of the sack. He wrapped the loop handles around his wrist a few times, walked out of his dorm room, down the stairs, out onto the street, and into a cloudy mid-evening. After this he was going to go grab a bite to eat and laugh at how absurd his trepidation had been.

  Slowly, Dan decided to take his time, he wended his way down 8th avenue, crossed over to 40th and kept going towards 9th where he’d spotted the bookstore in the first place. Years ago, when Dan was a younger chap, he’d come along this area only with a lot of friends. Muggers, petty thieves, drug dealers, and hookers were the sort that used to hang out in this area. Since the mid 2000’s, however, and the democratization of technology bolstered people’s sense of self-confidence and faux happiness, the seedier side of the world mostly kept to night time shenanigans. During the day it was still safe, and cops regularly patrolled to ensure that crime was down to a bare minimum. Especially since it was summer time, just a few days from the 4th of July weekend, as a matter of fact.

  The slower he walked, the hotter it seemed to get. He consulted his all-knowing-phone once again and it informed him that the temperature was a staggering 98, partly cloudy. Every now and then he’d pass a big shop with air conditioning that was apparently determined to cool the entire world, or at least the street beyond its doors. And boy was Dan grateful!

  Finally he arrived and was standing maybe forty feet away from the door. The sign looked old and rusted, as if it had been sitting there for a hundred years or more. The B in Bub’s Bargain New And Used Books looked slanted and misshapen, it was made of metal—had it been made of metal when he’d first come here? He couldn’t remember, but the sign looked different now, that was for sure, and he knew he wasn’t just imagining it.

  Feeling his stomach tighten, he moved towards the door, the book now felt like it was throbbing and pulsing inside the Duane Reade bag, as if at the mere presence of this crazy bookstore it decided to become alive and wriggle its way out of the sack and scuttle down the street. This thought gave Dan a little pause.

  Mustering his conviction that all was right in Dan Strauss’s world, and all would continue to be right in his world, he moved forward with more than a little false bravado, his arms and hands shaking, the air moving in and out of his lungs in raspy gasps as though he’d been running for over a mile in this heat. He got to the door, hung the sack with the nearly vibrating (or so he thought) book in it over the door handle, and began walking away, shakily. He felt like he was thirteen and had just approached and asked out the hottest girl in school and she had said ‘yes’, only the feeling was that she was really a witch and would eat his face off his skull when they went to make out.

  Not five shaking steps were taken from the door when he heard a familiar voice call out his name from behind him.

  He turned slowly to see the man. In the light of day he really didn’t look all that bad. In fact he was sort of charming, beguiling somehow.

  “Thought I saw you. It’s a little coinky-dink to see you here. I was just thinking about our deal. This the book you’re returning?”

  “Yeah,” Dan managed to say.

  “Not a Roth fan I can tell. Unless you’re one uh them speed-readin’ monkeys. You aren’t are ya?”

  “No.” For some reason Dan’s worst nightmare was playing out in front of him, in the most banal way possible, which somehow made it all the worse. He was a short guy, but he was stout, and the bald head and almost fake too white teeth made him seem unreal, as if something beneath his skin wanted out.

  “Whaddya say, pal? Wanna see if I’m the real deal?”

  “No, thanks. I think I’m good. I can live with myself.”

  “You sure? Roth’s images are pretty awful.”

  I bet you knew that too, didn’t you, Dan thought.