Pretty Eyes

Pretty Eyes

The bar was noisier than Terrence would have liked. There were a lot of people, plus a live band. He ordered a beer and sat down, watching the crowd. People were laughing, talking, and dancing. They barely glanced at him. He blended. Holding his hand up, he waited for the bartender to notice him.

“Might take a while,” said a voice to his left.

Terrence turned and was face-to-face with a dream. A woman with deep blue eyes, twirling a lock of her dark chocolate-colored hair with one hand, smiled at him.

“It’s busy in here.” Terrence held out his hand. “Terrence Howard.”

She shook it. “Nice to meet you. I’m Gayle Stevens.” She leaned over the counter. “Yo, barkeep, can we get some drinks?”

Her jeans perfectly sculpted her ass. Terrence licked his lips and glanced away.

The bartender acknowledged them. “Be right there,” he said.

“Are you from here?” Gayle asked as she sat back down.

“No, I’m from Springfield.” He’d read somewhere that every state had a city or town called Springfield. “What about you?”

“Salt Lake, I’m headed to Kanab to surprise a friend.”

“Surprise?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Her birthday is Sunday. She has no idea I’m on my way.” Gayle winked at him.

She was way too friendly, too trusting. How much had she had to drink? He noticed one empty bottle in front of her and the half-full one in her hand.

“Okay,” the bartender said when he arrived. “What can I get for you?”

Terrence ordered a draft beer. Gayle went for a Corona.  

An awkward silence descended between them as they waited for their drinks. Or at least Terrence felt it was weird. He never knew what to do or say when a woman out of his league sat near him. Most of the time, he just shut up and said nothing. It was easier than stumbling over words or trying to make conversation with someone who would go off with the first chiseled beefcake perfection that approached her. Subconsciously, or maybe it was even consciously, Terrance scooted his stool away from her.

“Where are you staying?” Gayle leaned towards him, resting her chin on one hand and looking him in the eyes.

Terrence swallowed a sip of his drink and coughed. She had really pretty eyes. They were the color of the sky before the sunset.

“Nearby,” he offered, aware of how dry his mouth was. “You?”

“I just stopped in for a drink. My girlfriend used to come here. Do you come here a lot?”

She was asking too many questions. Terrence shifted in his chair. He didn’t want to look at her and gazed down at the counter instead. It was polished metal. Easier to clean. “I, uh, stop in now and then.”

“And you are staying …” she prompted, waving her hand at him to continue.

“A hotel.” She was persistent. He picked up his drink and took a sip.

“I see.” She nodded and looked away.

Damn. He was torn. He wanted her to leave, and he wanted her to stay. It would be safer if she left, but … she had such pretty eyes.

“Excuse me,” he said, slipping off the stool and going to the restroom. He stepped into one of the stalls and leaned his forehead against the red-painted wall. She needed to go away. Leave. If she stayed, he wasn’t sure he could stop himself. “Go away, go away, go away …” Terrence whispered repeatedly.

He heard the bathroom door open and stopped talking. He couldn’t hang out in the restroom forever. Maybe she’d left? He opened the stall door, washed his hands, and returned to the bar. She was nowhere in sight.

Sighing, Terrence felt relief surge through him. He picked up his beer and took a long pull. Glancing around the room, he eyed the crowd but didn’t see her. He finished his beer, set a ten on the counter, and walked to the door.

The cold autumn air hit him like a fist, knocking his breath away. He stumbled for a second and righted himself. He must have tripped on a curb.

“Terrence?”

Oh shit, she was outside.

“Thank God. I was coming in to find you.”

 She was approaching from the alley side of the building. His inner mind whispered, “Where it is dark, and no one can see.”

“Gayle.” He forced a smile.

She clasped her hands together and lifted her head as if in prayer.  “My car won’t start. I think it’s the battery. Can you give me a jump? I have cables.”

Terrence swallowed. “Sure.” She was practically offering herself to him. “Where are you parked?”

“Back here.” She pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “You may have to drive around.”

“Yes, okay.” He rubbed his nose. “Give me a minute or two.”

“Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

It was too perfect. He turned towards his truck. The world spun for a second, and he shook his head, clearing it, unlocked the vehicle, and sat down. Driving away was the perfect alibi. Anyone looking outside the bar would see him leave. The cameras mounted near the front entry would catch him pulling away. No one would suspect a thing. He reversed slowly and turned towards his house, using the blinker so the lights would reflect. He drove around the block. It was dark in the alley. The backlight must have burned out.

 Gayle was waiting by her car. Terrence blew out his breath. She had really pretty eyes. He would put them in the lighter blue container. Burn her body in his furnace, and no one would know what happened to her. She was drifting through town. Who was to say she hadn’t just left?

Parking as close to her car as possible, he popped the hood and grabbed his mag light from behind the seat. Just holding it in his hands made him feel powerful. Don’t do it. One side of his mind said. He ignored it, got a good grip on the light, and opened the door. Shadows wrapped around the edges of his vision. He swayed for a second, feeling the cloak and the power settle on him.

“Where are your cables?” his voice sounded far away, deeper, more in control.

“Here,” she reached into the trunk, her back to him.

 His pulse increased, the edges of the world faded away, and it was just him and Gayle. He raised the flashlight. The world slowed down, and his darker side took control. Gayle looked up. Her denim blue eyes grew large, and everything went black.

****

It was always this way. His mind would retreat behind ebony curtains while he carried out the act.

 He blinked, eyes heavy, as if a weight were attached to them. It took a moment to focus and realize he was home in the cellar of his basement.  He recognized the dirt floor, the shelves lined with bottles of eyes, the blinking fluorescent light he needed to fix. Now, where was the body? Why was he sitting down? He tried to lift his arm and couldn’t.

Something was different.

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” Gayle stepped into view. She wore an apron and plastic goggles on her head. She pulled her hair back into a tail.

Terrence tried to open his mouth and speak. He tasted cotton, like his tongue was swollen, or he’d had too much to drink, but it was just two beers.

“Confused?” Her mouth spread in a red-lipped grin. She reached into her pocket and drew out a baggy with white powder. “I dumped a roofie in your beer while you were in the bathroom. It took a few moments for it to take effect, but once it did, all I had to do was prod you in the right direction.” She leaned against the counter. “There is just no way I would be able to drag your body anywhere. I mean, look at me.” She gestured to her body. “But now you’re awake.” She pushed herself away from the counter and picked up one of the bottles.

“See, when my friend disappeared, I started tracing her steps. The last picture she sent me was from a little bar in St. George, Utah. I didn’t have to search long. You all only have five.” She swirled the bottle, watching the eyes float around. “You know, you really should come up with a better plan. Move around. So far, I think I’m the only one who has figured you out. But that won’t last for long. You stick too close to home. You pick up strays, people passing through, and bring them back to the same place.”

She was pacing. Terrence clocked her with his eyes. It was like a pendulum swinging back and forth, making his head hurt. She set the first bottle down, picked up another, and held it to the light. He could see the eyes inside. Green ones.

“My friend had beautiful green eyes. There was a brown freckle on the left, like a birthmark. One of a kind.” She spun the bottle around. “Hard to tell which eye is left and which is right. Do you keep them in separate bottles?” She picked up another filled with brown eyes.

Terrence tried to flex his fingers, but his arms and legs were tied to the chair.

“How many have you killed?” she asked, going from bottle to bottle. There were seven in all. Six held two sets of eyes with parts of the optic nerve still trailing behind them, and a seventh contained one set. Gayle picked it up and held it to the lightbulb.

“A blue and a green eye.” She glanced over at him. “Is it a set? It's hard to tell if you don’t have labels. I mean, for all I know, they might be a single blue and green eye floating in formaldehyde. Do you take both eyes?” She cocked her head to the side, set the bottle down, and moved to the workbench, not waiting for an answer.

A wrapped bundle was at the end of the table next to a bottle of antiseptic and a box of rubber gloves. Gayle unrolled the bundle.

“Tools, nice.” She held up a pair of long-handled spoon wells with a split in the middle of the bowl. She turned back to him, and his heart thumped loudly.

Terrence was trapped.

“I’m sure you have an idea where this is going.” She found the rolling tray table he’d gotten when a hair salon closed. Setting the tools, the gloves, a couple of hand towels, and her phone on it, she wheeled it over to him. “Were you an eye doctor? No, that’d be too obvious.” Gayle cocked her head to one side and studied him. “I think you just have a perverted obsession with eyes.” She laid one of the towels across his lap.

His eyes widened, and he struggled weakly with the bindings. The drug continued coursing through his veins, leaving him enfeebled and complacent.

“Doesn’t matter.” She pulled the goggles down, thumbed her phone to life, and slipped on the surgical gloves. “You can learn anything on YouTube.” She gave him a crooked smile, her right eyebrow arching up. Straddling him, she pushed the lever and forced his head back, strapping it down. “Let’s see, we need to clamp the eye open, like in that old movie. Do you remember that one? Where they make the dude watch all this crazy shit and mind warp him?”

She fixed the clamp to his left eye, holding it wide open. His fingers clenched. He couldn’t move. Warmth spread between his legs, and he realized he had peed himself.

Gayle laughed, placed a second towel across his legs, and licked her lips. Pulling her face mask up, she leaned over him. “You really do have pretty eyes, ya know.”