The Daylight Room and other short stories

Close Encounters

Marvin possessed a chilling proficiency in selecting his victims, coupled with an innate talent and an unwavering attention to detail. Over the years, he'd honed his ability to act swiftly, always choosing locales far from watchful eyes for his dark deeds. In a different realm, his stealth and expertise might have been lauded. Yet, he chose to dwell in obscurity, operating under the veil of darkness, unseen and undetected.

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On a night like this, alone outside you'd be inclined to believe in the boogeyman again. The warmth of the car, the headlights cutting through the darkness offered a slim sense of safety. The car rolled to a halt and they both got out.

The girl walked around to the front and took a photo of it with her phone. She'd not included him on the picture. It wasn't a deliberate omission; he'd simply made himself part of the backdrop, leaning against the hood, his face obscured as he lit his cigarette. It wouldn't matter anyway, from that angle he was indiscernible, wearing what he called his uniform. Black Jeans, shirt and boots with a dark leather bomber jacket.

Eying her over his cupped hands he clasped the cigarette tip between his teeth, "She's a great example of the 68 Ford Galaxie, faux leather roof, rust red and struggles on a cold day." He tried to keep the smoke from making him cough, talking through it in a raspy voice, "But why a photo?"

She came close to him and took the cigarette from between his fingertips. "The picture isn't for me, it's for security." she eyed the cigarette in disgust, "I don't smoke." She said and put it back between his fingers.

She saw him close up for the first time in the orange light cast by a single streetlamp. He appeared different outside the gloomy ambiance of the bar, maybe it was the light but for a second his skin tone looked unreal, if she had the chance to tell Sally she'd probably say, "Too perfect, that's it, like a mannequin. No nasal hairs, spots, orange peel just friggin perfect." The thought forced her to grin involuntarily. 

"What's so funny?" Marvin asked.

"Nothin." she replied, a hint of guilt in her voice, but she could see Sally's face, her filthy grin when she said he was perfect. Those eye's flashing between her legs as if to ask a question.

Marvin pulled hard on his cigarette and pushed blue smoke through his nostrils. The dim streetlight gave the whole scene an orange tinge. She stood on the tarmac swinging her hips to a silent tune that played in her head. The tantalizingly short skirt swayed above her knee high boots. The thin white polo neck outlined a pair of firm breasts that defied gravity. 

In their short conversation in the bar she'd come across as a smart girl, admin clerk, ambition for acting, got on with her dad, blah fuckin blah. Not so smart as to jump in a car with a complete stranger on the basis of a twenty minute conversation after assessing that he was a 'nice guy.'

Marvin was not a nice guy.

"Security?" he finally asked.

"Yup." She said.

Marvin enjoyed watching her sway and let her continue, this wasn't exactly the Australian Outback but it was a sparse neighbourhood and there was little chance she'd be hit by a bus at this time of night. 

Marvin could afford to be patient. "How so?"

She looked up for a moment, watching the moths dancing in the glow of the streetlight. Marvin waited, drawing another lungful of smoke.

The girl began walking the white line like a drunk on a sobriety test, a test she had no hope of passing tonight. 

"It's a thing we do, me and my friend Sally," she said, "well Sally does. She hooks up with a guy she sends me a picture of the car. That way," she paused, "if anything happens then we'd know who did it."