No Doubt

Jerry gripped his chest, breathing heavily. Outside it was dark and getting cold, which was unfortunate, because that was exactly where he was. He heard splashes a home or two away, and faint giggles. No secret who those belonged to. The neighbors, or to be specific, their teen kids, were staying up late to **** their pool again. They would swim in the Arctic if they had the chance.

Looking side to side, Jerry stepped over a twig, jumped over an uncoiled hose, and finally slammed into his side gate door.

"Arrghmph!" he wanted to roll out the tip of his tongue, only to hold it. Glancing around to make sure he hadn't attracted anyone's attention, whatever they'd be doing in his backyard, somehow, he carefully unlocked the door. Then, shifting the straps of his backpack along his shoulders, he jangled out, down the side of the house.

While sifting through the shadows, smack in the middle of a clear-skied night, Jerry's mind wandered to the book quietly rustling in the inside of his backpack.

He shook his head. Why? Why had something like that come to someone like him?

And how? How did something like this work? And for it to do so with such... subtlety. (Other than the sinking words and, oh yeah, tether of smoke, anyway.) It was a bit creepy, somehow.

There was no fanfare, no whirling rooms, no sparkle-darkle. If you didn't know any better, you could have just jotted down as many things as you wanted completely oblivious to its effects until it was too late.

Because it's a book of "secrets", the boy echoed in his brain. Whatever that meant...

No. It was pretty clear what it meant. It meant he had in his possession an item that could re-shape the truths of the world. It meant he was able to re-write history.

It meant, he could finally reverse the sullen direction his life had seemed destined to go in forever.

Jerry took more deep breaths, his feet digging into the dirt below. He felt his chest heaving up then down, one hand against the side of the wall as he peeked around the corner. Before him was the front of the house. Down the walkway and at the curb by the front gate was a blue sedan; a lit sign was attached to the roof of the car, reading "Pizza Dash: fresh and fast!" With one door halfway open, the young, uniformed delivery girl from earlier stood just outside her car, phone nestled in her hand.

Puffs of cool, cloudy air departed Jerry's lips.

But first, he had to know. He wanted... no, needed absolute certainty, complete proof, a 100% ratio; no doubt.

No doubt that it was as true as a secret always was, no matter how much it pretended not to be.

Hard like obsidian, his gulp trailed through his esophagus and into his bottomless pit of a stomach. After coming to a mental verdict, he pulled himself away from the wall and his back bent forward, knees half-crouched. Silently he slinked into the ornamented lawn and its shrubbery.

Tiptoeing over the crackling leaves and sticks were a slight challenge. Jerry was never one for physical recreation or grace, so he wasn't relying on his nonexistent special ops training to remain in the cover of dark; he was relying on the same old thing that had worked for him his whole life.

Being Jerry Chumpkins.

It was a near mission abort, however, when the local stray cat nearly caused him to trip right over it.

"Vienna!" Jerry recovered, staring hard into the black cat with his own two, unintimidating eyes. He planted his two feet on the grass, and after confirming the girl was still at the front, unfazed and none the wiser, looked back to the stretching feline. "No loud noises or screeching sounds that'll give me away this early! Okay, Vienna? Hey, you got that?"

"Meeeow."

"Shh!" Another head turn. Another heartbeat. Then, a relenting nod. "...thanks."

Managing another breath, Jerry clenched a fist and slipped forward. His thin frame made it behind the silhouette of one of their house's swirling topiary. Tall, round; it was good enough for a snooper like him. Least for now.

The boy carefully adjusted his backpack over his body, trying not to rattle the leaves like they were Christmas bells. Then, summoning another breath, he took a reticent peek.

"Ha!"

A laugh -- and a masculine one too. Instantly, Jerry receded into the shadows. What was another person doing here?

"Darreeel!" There was that voice, as sweet and intoned as it sounded inside. This time, however, without that coat of professionalism, the down-to-earth pangs of a **** young working woman coming to the surface. "It's not funny!" The delivery girl latched an impatient glare to the man in the drivers' seat. Looking back to the camera in her phone, she picked at her teeth one last time. Then she pocketed the device and took a bottle of water from the slot of the car door, tipping it upward.

"You devoured that thing, Gina," the man smiled her way mischievously after her faint breath of air, one hand wrapped around the steering wheel. "And I don't mean--"

"Darrel, please!" Gina adjusted her cap, placing the empty water bottle back into the slot. She looked around nervously, scanning the neighborhood, then back to the house and the front porch. "Don't make this awkward!" her voice-turned-fervent-whisper insisted once her leaning body faced the car again.

This only amused him more. She rolled her eyes and settled into the front passenger seat.

"You know you're not even supposed to be here."

"I know," Darrel chimed, pulling out his own phone.

"You almost got me in trouble too. If it wasn't for that... " She hesitated before continuing, her voice timid. "...special service and the grace period it provides, my manager would definitely kill me."

"Fedora's not gonna do anything. Hell, she wouldn't have done anything without your -- er, I mean, the extra compensatory bonus the company offers. Which, by the way, has always been under the table." The broad-shouldered, charming faced man winked. "You've had a great track record 'til now, G."

"Yeah, exactly!" The car trembled a little at her shifting seat. "Until you decided to come along! For your idea of... of..."

"Shh..." Darrel stopped her with a finger to her lips, sliding his phone back into his own pocket. "It's 9:46 pm, baby. We still got plenty of time for some of my old-fashioned, trademarked 'cheesy romance'."

"Cheesy romance. Right." His acquaintance rolled her green eyes at him. Though this was no platonic work relationship. In fact, it appeared he wasn't even a co-worker at all.

The ever-delicate delivery girl had one hand around the other's finger, withdrawing from the middle of the car. Darrel just grinned, and moved in, planting his lips around hers. Eventually, she relented, dropping her hand. It landed across the contour of his back, and continued downward.

Just as they were about to embrace, lights washed over them from the distance.

"Crap!" Gina's eyes opened and she hurriedly closed the door, triggering the car lights to blink away. "Let's go, Darrel! We can't just... do this here..."

Once the door was shut, what looked like an affirmative nod from Darrel moved against the sheet of oncoming white, their mouths moving indistinguishably in black outlines. Over the crackle of rock, the engine started and he turned his head back, nearly reared into the mailbox, and slammed the pedal, riding off into the night-soaked avenue.

The car that had been parked in front of her home whizzed past. Mrs. Chumpkins quickly expended it an arched eyebrow, then turned her head back to face the street. She shook her head. "Pizza Dash?" she murmured. "What was that about?"

Jolene flitted an eye to the rearview mirror. She ended up drawing her gaze instead to the lanyard draped across its hook, and sighed at her smiling work picture.

One instinctive press of a button later, she pulled into the driveway. As the gate closed behind her, she stretched her back and disassembled into a tired yawn. The black-haired, attractive older woman hummed a Frank Sinatra standard as she removed the keys from the ignition and opened the car door.

It was good to be back home, at least.

Outside it was dark and cold. One house or two away, a fatherly call could be heard beckoning their rambunctious pool kids back in the house. The sound of wet feet against the ground followed soon afterward, under a gaggle of distinctly female chatter.

In the back porch, Jerry was staring at the ground, watching a trail of ants and their cyclic pheromone parade. In his hands was his phone, where he had his maps application pulled up.

Pizza Dash
Open 10:30 am to 11:30 pm
Amistad St. and Rustic Av.

Tomorrow, he thought.

Tomorrow he was going to start his life anew.