Page 62 of Daddy's Pursuit
The other man—a stocky guy with a crew cut—said, “Burn like light it on fire?”
“No,” the other one said. “Burn. Like a burner phone. You know, you don’t really light the phone on fire. You just… dump it. Get rid of it and shit.”
A few moments passed. Iris wondered if the men were going to address her, but instead they continued to stand on either side of the closed metal door.
The stocky man shook his head. “Be a shame. Getting rid of that house. The Mamas and the Papas used to party there. That’s what I heard, at least.”
“Who the hell?” The other man had a puzzled look on his face. His protruding Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he spoke. “You talking about Daddies and Mommies there for the Littles? What the hell?”
“No. The group. From the Sixties. They were, like, hippies or whatever. They sang that song about the leaves being brown and shit.”
The lanky fellow spread his hands. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Brown leaves? Who’d sing a whole song about that?”
“That group, the Mamas and the Papas, did. That’s what I’m saying. But the whole song isn’t about brown leaves. They’re like, hey it’s all gray and shit here. I’m gonna go sleep in California where it’s sunny and stuff.”
The lanky man sighed as he fished his phone from his pocket and began tapping on the screen. “I’m googling this.”
“Yeah. Good. You’ll see what I’m talking about. Dude, everyone knows that song.”
Iris watched as the other one rolled his eyes and continued to stare at his phone. “It’s notsleepingin California. It’sdreaming. The song is calledCalifornia Dreamin’.”
“I was close. When do you dream, dumbass?” The stocky man tapped his head, as if wanting his colleague to use his brain and think. “When you sleep. Come on.”
The skinny man put his phone back in the pocket of his jeans. “I don’t give a shit about that song or the Mamas and Papas or whatever.”
“I’m just saying it’s a damn shame to dump that house. It’s historic,” the other guy said. “That’s all. And it’s a good spot to party.”
“Well, it’s gone now. The cops know Frank owns it. He can’t keep it. There are hundreds of houses around town. He’ll get another party pad.” He looked at Iris. “Right now, we just need to keep an eye on her. That’s all we need to worry about.”
When he pushed off the wall, Iris feared he was walking toward her. Instead, though, he turned and opened the door. “I don’t think it takes two of us. You got this?”
The other man nodded. “Get me a chair, will ya?”
“Sit on the bed.”
“She’s sitting on the bed.”
“Sit next to her.”
The stocky man shook his head. “I don’t wanna be creepy.”
“We kidnapped her. We’re holding her here against her will. That’s pretty damn creepy already.”
But the stocky man shook his head more adamantly. “Just bring a chair.”
The other man scoffed as he left. But less than a minute later, he returned with a metal chair. He placed it down without another word and then left, the door clicking ominously closed behind him.
Iris shifted on the bed and then started gently singing “California Dreamin’.”
“Yeah. That’s it. That’s the shit I was talking about,” the guy said with a smile. “Hey, you’re a pretty good singer.”
She smiled up at him. “Thanks. What’s your name?”
He looked uncomfortable, as if he didn’t know if he was allowed to answer. Finally, he gave a shrug to no one in particular and said, “Darren.”
“Hi, Darren. I’m Iris.”
He nodded, but again, he looked uncomfortable. And more than a little confused.
