Human Doll Read online

  Twenty minutes later, a young tourist couple walked up to the tanning salon and read the hours posted on a sign next to the door.

  “They’re closed,” the husband said. “Let’s get some breakfast. We’ll come back later.” He sniffed the air. “Mmmm, one of their restaurants is cooking something delicious.”

  - - -

  That night, Viveka had a nightmare about her childhood.

  It was a wretched dream she had experienced many times before. She often wished that she didn’t have such a relentless memory.

  In the dream, she was curled in her bed in the family farmhouse, listening to her parents argue about her down the hall. Her whole body ached because her father had beaten her with his belt, until her mother had wrested it away from him to get him to stop.

  “It’s your fault she’s the way she is!” her father said, loud and slurring his words in drunken anger. “You let her read books that ain’t right. You encourage her.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with her!” her mother said, sobbing. Her mother’s name was Abigail. She never allowed herself to remember her father’s name. “She’s special. She’s our angel! You ought to be happy that she’s different from other girls around here. Those girls, they’re just idiots and whores. Our girl is going to be important someday.”

  “She’s a devil, and your mother is the same way,” her father said. “That old hag, what does she do all day in that big house of hers, alone for years and years? She prays to her lord Satan and brews potions for her fancy friends. You’re turning our daughter into another crazy devil-bitch.”

  “Why can’t you just leave the child alone?” Abigail said. “Just let her be. She hasn’t hurt anyone, and neither has my mother.”

  “Abigail, our girl is at an age when she should be playing with dolls and helping you with the chores. Instead, I found her behind the barn, cutting up that dead cow, looking at the guts! Only Satan could make a child do something so filthy and evil.”

  “I asked her about it,” her mother said. “The cow was dead already, and you know that. It was bit by a rattlesnake. She just wanted to look inside, to see how it worked. She is a smart girl. She just wanted to satisfy her curiosity.”

  “Her curiosity? Maybe she’ll cut us up someday, to see how we work,” her father said. “I say, maybe we should kill her before she kills us!”

  That was when the dream ended, and Viveka woke up drenched in sweat. It had terrified her, back then, to know that her father was fully ready to kill her.

  Fortunately, her mother would never have let such a horrible thing happen. The morning after her father’s vicious rant, she helped her mother to pack their things and together, they left their home forever.

  They didn’t have far to go. They moved in with Abigail’s mother, who lived just a half-mile away.

  That was when Viveka’s education – and her life as it was meant to be lived – truly began.

  Viveka picked up the remote and turned on the widescreen TV on the far wall. There was no way she was going to get back to sleep any time soon, so she decided to see if a good movie was on. Pretty soon, she was watching a marvelous old Universal movie, The Mummy’s Curse. Oberon jumped up on the bed to watch with her.

  Chapter 13

  The last time December had talked to Sinthia, she’d mentioned that she wanted to go out for gin-and-tonics with him sometime. He called her and asked if she wanted to meet, since they had matters to discuss regarding Sinthia’s Cabaret.

  They decided to meet at G&T75, a new club owned by a gay couple named Gary and Tim. The club offered seventy-five different variations on gin-and-tonics. Sinthia didn’t want to get sloppy-drunk, but she did want to try at least three different variations.

  “So which of the variations look good to you?” December said as they browsed the drink menu.

  “They all look good,” Sinthia said. She wore a sleek black wig and a black satin strapless evening gown. “‘Watermelon and mint’ looks interesting. ‘Cucumber and lime’ sounds healthy … it’s important to eat fruits and vegetables. ‘Citrus and rosemary,’ I bet I’d like that. Oh heck, I’d like each and every one of them.”

  December pointed to a picture in the menu. This variation was slightly green. “That one has a bay leaf in it. Looks fancy.”

  The waitress came by. Sinthia said, “Please bring me the ‘watermelon and mint.’ My friend will have the one with the bay leaf in it.”

  “We have three that feature a bay leaf,” the waitress said with a polite smile.

  Sinthia looked at the caption of the photo December had pointed out. “An ‘herbal delight.’ Thanks!”

  After the waitress left, Sinthia turned to December. “I’ve never cooked with a bay leaf in my entire life, let alone used it to make a drink.”

  “I have a fun memory that involves bay leaves.”

  “In human history, no one has ever uttered that combination of words before. Tell me your memory.”

  “I was baptized Greek Orthodox, per my grandma’s request,” December said. “One year, my mom took me and my grandma to an Easter service, and the church had bay leaves scattered on the seats. I suppose it was part of the ceremony. Where we sat, we were the only people in the row, off to the side. My mom whispered to me, ‘What a waste. I could make a lot of chicken soup with these bay leaves.’ During the service, my mom and grandma went to the ladies’ room together, so while they were gone, I quietly scooped up lots of bay leaves and put them in my mom’s purse. No one was paying attention to me, no one one saw me do it.”

  “Ha! I love it. Then what happened?”

  “When we got home, my mom opened her purse to get some gum and saw the bay leaves. She asked me, ‘Did you do this?’ I told her, ‘Yes.’ Then she said, ‘Did anyone see you do it?’ I told her ‘No’ and she said, ‘Good job.’”

  Sinthia laughed. “I bet you had chicken soup every week after that.”

  “That’s true! She went chicken-soup crazy.”

  The waitress brought them their gin-and-tonics. Sinthia sipped her ‘watermelon and mint.’ “Mmmm! Refreshing. How’s yours?”

  December took a swig from his ‘herbal delight.’ “Not terrible,” he said. “I’ve had worse.”

  “Ha! Hardly a ringing endorsement. Hopefully your next one will be better.”

  “Do you enjoy working with Joleen Perfecta?” December said.

  “Oh, yes!” Sinthia said with a smile. “She’s delightful. I was worried that she might be a diva, but in fact, she’s as sweet as this watermelon concoction.” Then her smile drooped into a frown. “Of course, now we’ve lost Georgia Peechy. Her very public death has made headlines nationwide. I’m still getting calls about it. Also, I talked to that investigator fellow, Lyle. He said he was going to talk to you, so I’m sure you know everything he told me.”

  “Yes, I’ve talked with him. It’s a shocker, that’s for sure,” December said. “Georgia was so kind and charming. At your picnic, she was talking about how much she wanted to find love. I realize it’s still pretty early, but have you figured out who’s going to replace her?”

  “Yes, I have. While I was looking for a replacement for Monica, I talked with a queen who I would’ve picked, if I hadn’t eventually decided on Joleen. Her name is Roxanna Robusta and her talent is funny spoken-word poetry. She can be Georgia’s replacement.”

  “She sounds like a hoot!” December said.

  “I have another concern besides the death of Georgia,” Sinthia said. “I heard that Vandric from Stitched has died. I saw a story about it online – Human Doll Dies In Hotel Accident. For one terrified second, I thought the story was about you.”

  “Good of you to care!”

  “There are way too many folks being called human dolls these days.” Sinthia finished her drink, then waved to the waitress, beckoning her to the table. The waitress was at their side within a minute. “I’m going to try the ‘citrus and rosemary’ next,” Sinthia said.

  December looked over
the menu again. “I’ll have ‘blueberry and lemon.’ I need something sweet to wash away those herbs.”

  After the waitress walked away, Sinthia said, “Do you think Vandric’s death is related to what’s happening to our team? It seems unrelated, but still … so many strange things are happening, one right after the other. This stress is going to make my hair fall out.”

  “At least you have plenty of wigs.” December leaned closer and took her hand. “I know what you’re thinking. I remember you saying at the picnic that you would leave the show, if you honestly thought your life was in danger. Right now, you’re probably wondering if it’s time to abandon ship.”

  She nodded sadly but said nothing. The waitress returned to bring them the second round of drinks.

  “Ah, this is much better,” December said after a sip of his ‘blueberry and lemon.’ “How’s your ‘citrus and rosemary’?”

  “Glorious!” Sinthia said. “So give me your honest opinion. Am I being a coward, wondering whether or not to quit the show?”

  “Not at all,” the model said. “You’re being very brave about the whole situation. But a person can be brave for only so long.”

  “True. So true.”

  “Those same worries are also going through my head. Right now, we both know that murder is involved. But no one seems to be coming after us, as far as we know.” December took a hearty swig of his cocktail. “Are we safe, or still on some maniac’s to-do list? We do know that worrying pointlessly isn’t going to solve anything. So at this point, I’m staying. I don’t run away from problems – especially when I don’t even know what I’m running away from.”

  “That’s a good way to look at it. For now, I’ll stay, too,” Sinthia said. “You know what? You’re hella smart for a human doll. No one can accuse you of having silicone for brains.”

  Chapter 14

  Back in her hometown, Des Moines, Iowa, Elektra Sparkz was simply known as Ellen Ketelsen. Everyone in her family was plump, so as a child, she never gave much thought to the fact that she was a big girl.

  In high school, she was cheerful and the other kids liked her – to her face. In gym class, she noticed a lot of giggling and smirking whenever she was in the shower. Every now and then, she would catch the words, “apple farmer.”

  One day, she asked her best friend Kayla, who was very popular, why the other girls called her an apple farmer.

  “Did somebody say that to your face?” Kayla asked, shocked.

  “No, but I overheard it, and I could tell they were talking about me,” Ellen said.

  Kayla didn’t want to tell her, but finally she gave in. “An apple farmer is a big girl with round little tits, like apples.” She gave Ellen a sympathetic smile. “Don’t worry about it. Your tits will probably get bigger as you get older. It would also help if you lost some weight.”

  The word in Kayla’s response that bothered Ellen was ‘probably.’ Ellen didn’t like to leave anything to chance. She started to diet and exercise, and the resulting weight loss helped to improve her figure. In college, she majored in marketing, so she could land a high-paying job someday. She had her heart set on breast implants, and knew they had to be expensive.

  In time, Ellen became the high-paid marketing director of a high-profile ad agency. She bought implants during her first year there, and with every promotion, she bought larger ones. Soon she was scheduling different new procedures on a regular basis. Her surgeries included chin and cheekbone implants, two nose-jobs, liposuction, a Brazilian butt-lift, and much more. The results elevated her to new levels of happiness. She was becoming addicted to plastic surgery.

  The media found out about her surgeries and she became known as a human doll. The title didn’t bother her at all. It was better than being an apple farmer.

  Soon, being a human doll turned into a lucrative side hustle. She still worked as a marketing director, but much of that work could be completed on a remote basis. For her appearances as a human doll, she billed herself as Elektra Sparkz, and she felt incredibly empowered by the new name. She was a frequent guest on Stitched, and lifestyle shows across the country often asked her to make appearances.

  One day, after she’d completed a live appearance on a San Diego morning show, she was approached in the studio lobby by a handsome older man in a black trenchcoat.

  “Hello there!” He held out his hand. His voice was pleasantly husky. “I’m Noah. You must be Elektra Sparkz!”

  “Hi, Noah,” she said. “Yes, I’m Elektra. If you’re here to see the morning show – you’re too late! I’ve already completed my segment.”

  “No, I’m with a different project,” he smiled warmly. “I saw on your blog that you’d be doing today’s show, so I thought I’d stop by to see if I could chat with you for a minute about a movie role. Do you have the time?”

  “I always have time to talk about a movie role.”

  “Excellent! There’s a coffee shop in the hotel next door. Let’s walk and talk.”

  On the way, Noah explained that he was the producer of an independent suspense movie, currently in production. “The working title is Abduction, and it’s about a young woman who’s kidnapped by terrorists because she’s the daughter of a presidential candidate.”

  “Would I be playing the daughter?”

  “No, the terrorists make a mistake and kidnap the wrong woman,” Noah said. “You’d be playing the wrong woman. The part isn’t large, but it’s very dramatic. At one point, you wrestle with one of the bad guys and he throws you in the trunk of a car to carry you off.”

  At the coffee shop, Noah continued to describe the movie and Elektra’s potential part in it. She was definitely interested, but it seemed strange that he wanted her for the role. Finally he asked, “Do you have any questions?”

  “Yes! Just out of curiosity, why do you want me for this part? I’m not an experienced actress.”

  “To be honest, an experienced actress might want more than we can offer. At the most, I can only offer you three-thousand dollars. I’ve seen you on TV and I’ve been thinking, maybe you’d like to branch into acting someday. In that case, maybe you wouldn’t mind appearing in a movie that doesn’t have a huge budget. Plus – this is very important – you bear a resemblance to the woman who plays the daughter. That resemblance is completely necessary to the plot.”

  Elektra nodded. “I can see that.”

  They talked more as they drank their coffee. Elektra liked Noah and figured that helping out this nice man might be fun. Plus, she’d get to be in a movie, even if it wasn’t a summer blockbuster. Her social media followers would be impressed. And, she’d get three-thousand dollars, which wasn’t bad. Better than nothing!

  When they’d finished their coffee, Elektra let him know that she would indeed be interested in the part.

  “Excellent!” he said. “I have copies of our standard contract in my car. You don’t have to sign it today, but I’d like to give you a copy so you can look it over. Show it to your lawyer, if you want.”

  Elektra followed Noah to the parking garage next to the coffee shop. He led her to a rusty, blue compact car. “This is actually my grandson’s car,” he said. “He’s the assistant director. This will be the car the terrorist will throw you into! What can I say? It’s a low-budget production.”

  Elektra laughed. “I don’t even think I could fit in the trunk. Maybe you should rent a bigger car.”

  “Actually, the papers we need are in the trunk,” Noah said. “In my grandson’s briefcase. Let me get it out.” So saying, he opened the trunk and looked inside. “Shoot! I don’t even see the briefcase. Do you see it?”

  Elektra nodded. “Looks like your grandson just threw it in there. Toward the back. Let me get it for you.”

  With that, Elektra bent over and into the trunk. Noah reached into a trenchcoat pocket, pulled out and uncapped a hypodermic needle, and gave her an injection in her posterior.

  “Yow! What was that?” Elektra cried. She struggled to extract h
erself from the trunk, but too late. She passed out and went limp.

  With just a little pushing and shifting, Noah managed to squeeze Elektra’s body into the trunk. He then slammed the door of the trunk shut.

  “See? You did fit,” he said with a smile.

  A moment later, he drove the compact out of the parking garage.

  A few hours later, a rusty, blue compact car exploded in the parking lot of an abandoned church in an impoverished neighborhood. The vehicle had been stolen from that neighborhood two days earlier. The explosion had blown open the car’s trunk and doors. The police were astonished to see a horribly blasted, thoroughly roasted cadaver, lolling out of the trunk like a limp tongue hanging out of a dead dog’s mouth.

  - - -

  Another night, another dream. At least it wasn’t a nightmare.

  Viveka dreamed again about her childhood. Usually when she had a dream about her early years, it was the one in which she remembered being beaten by her father. This new dream concerned the events that followed that beating.

  In the dream, she was eating lunch with her grandmother, Eugenia, and her mother, Abigail. They were living in Eugenia’s big house on the edge of town. The old woman made a good living, making medicines and perfumes for the rich people in town. Her skills were over her son-in-law’s head, since he couldn’t imagine how a woman could be smart enough to create such complex substances by herself. He’d insist she was being helped by a man – the Devil.

  After lunch, Abigail mentioned that she was going to walk to the market. After she left the house, Eugenia led Viveka into the kitchen. Back then, her name wasn’t Viveka Megamega – that was simply a colorful alias she’d taken on, after she became an artist. When she was young, her name was Keziah.

  “Now that we’re alone,” Eugenia said, “I’d like to show you how to make some of my elixirs. Knowing how to prepare these mixtures will assure you of success in years to come.”