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Ken was different from all of Jeanie’s other boyfriends. He had money. He hadn’t been rich all his life. When he was in his teens, his dad bought into the sanitation business and it had taken off. Ken went from living off of state-subsidized lunches to an expensive college preparatory school in less than three years. When the kids at his new private school found out what his dad did for a living, his nickname promptly became The King of Shit.
The two years he spent at Riverside Academy were hell. Ken never made any friends and never got free of his nickname. Kids would bow to him in the hallway and call him Your Majesty.
Ken never made many friends in high school. The ones that tried to befriend him—the outcasts, the ‘poor’ ones—Ken ostracized loudly, so he wouldn’t be associated with them. He was obsessed with status. His Majesty couldn’t fix his reputation in high school, because everyone knew what his dad did.
Once Ken got out, though, he took charge of his life. He distanced himself from his shitty family strategically, so he wasn’t cut off. He went to the best college, then got the best job. He drove the best car and lived in the best house in the best neighborhood. Ken fucked the best girl. He knocked her up and trapped her into being the best wife. When their son was seven, she took him in the middle of the night and left.
The three months after that were difficult for Ken. He drank, and drank, and drank until his sister thought he might drown. When she told him she was worried about him, he beat the shit out of her to the point she lost consciousness and landed in the hospital. She didn’t press charges, but it was a wake-up call and Ken began trying to salvage his life.
The first AA meeting he went to, he met Jeanie. She’d been going to the group that met at 2nd and Fairlane off and on for about a year and a half. She smelled the money on Ken from a mile away and made excuses to talk to him. She knew how to get men talking—ask them about themselves. It helped that Jeanie had a hot body, even if it was skinny. She could have just been that way. It didn’t have to mean that she did too many drugs.
Ken half-assed his way through the program and fucked Jeanie through the steps for a few weeks. He didn’t think about keeping her until he learned what she had—a seven-year-old son. Just like he did. Like he’d had.
Logan and Jeanie’s moved in shortly after that. Jeanie’s rent was due at her place and she didn’t really have the money to keep it and he liked her a lot, anyway, didn’t he? She’d made doe eyes at him and promised she’d cook and clean and he could fuck her whenever he wanted. She was ten years younger than his ex-wife and pretty enough to show off to the neighborhood. Ken said ‘sure.’ He made sure her kid was coming, too.
Logan never liked any of Jeanie’s boyfriends. They could be nice, but Logan’d learned the hard way not to trust them. After getting his ass beat bloody by Ken for ‘talking during the game,’ Logan stayed mostly silent. He’d answer if he was talked to, but he wouldn’t initiate and he wouldn’t say more than he needed to. Jeanie didn’t notice. Ken smiled wide and told him to speak up. Why, Logan was just as quiet as a little mouse, wasn’t he?
Ken made Logan uneasy. Ken called him by his son’s name—Jackson—sometimes when Jeanie wasn’t around. Logan had corrected him, confused, the first time, but Ken said old men are forgetful sometimes and Logan didn’t mind, did he?
Logan reminded Ken of ‘his boy’ and for his birthday—only a few weeks after they moved in—Ken bought Logan a perfect Golden Retriever puppy. The exact kind Jackson wanted. Logan loved Sunny. He made sure to feed him and take him outside and play with him. He knew if he didn’t, Sunny would do puppy things like chew on furniture and go to the bathroom in the house, and Ken would lose his shit. Having Sunny was stressful and Logan made extra sure to be nice to Ken and keep him in a good mood.
Ken was over the top about keeping the house clean. Logan had to keep his room immaculate and wasn’t allowed to have anything like toys in his room. Sunny had to sleep in a cage in the garage.
Logan had asked once if Sunny could sleep in his bedroom and Ken had said he was being kind enough letting the mutt sleep in the house. Ken made the puppy sleep outside on a chain for a week. Logan could hear Sunny crying during the night but he was too scared about getting caught to go comfort him.
There were two things about Sunny that Ken particularly hated. He hated how whiny the dog could be and he hated how Sunny squatted to piss like a little girl dog.
Most of the time, though, Ken was reasonably decent to the dog and used him as an excuse to get closer to Logan. Ken wanted the perfect, All-American family and the dog was part of it.
Ken was in an especially good mood because he’d taken the day off to make sure the landscapers did a good job putting in the new sidewalk. He didn’t trust Mexicans.
Ken decided to come along when Logan took Sunny on his morning rounds in the neighborhood. Logan wished Ken wouldn’t come on walks with him. Ken used it as bonding time and tried to use them to ‘get to know’ Logan. Which was code for telling him everything he was doing wrong. How he was stupid and uneducated and obviously poor. That Logan even looks poor in the new clothes Ken bought him. There was just something about his face. And if he talked, then it was obvious he was ignorant.
Logan couldn’t be like that if he was going to live at Ken’s house. He was an embarrassment. They’d think that Ken let Logan be white trash. That it was Ken’s fault Logan was like this. And Ken wouldn’t stand for it. Logan’d been living with him for over two months and he needed to shape up.
Ken was in the middle of going over this—again—when he saw one of his neighbors taking out the trash and started waving and waving. They were far enough away that it felt awkward, to Logan.
“Dr. Spacheman! Dr. Spacheman!” Ken called out over-loudly as he took Logan by the elbow and dragged him over. Logan dragged Sunny behind him. The doctor looked a little hesitant before a friendly, professional smile came over his face.
“Finn! It’s good to see you—who is this big guy!?” The doctor was everything that Ken wanted to be. Successful, with a prestigious career. Everybody respected him. “I’m sorry—it’s Ken, isn’t it?”
Dr. Spacheman was always dressed in well-tailored dress shirts and slacks that accentuated what good care he took of his body. He drove a red convertible that looked very, very expensive. Logan wanted to ride in it. His lawn was immaculate. He took care of it meticulously, all by himself. The sidewalk was edged to perfection.
“Yeah, it’s Ken. You can’t remember everyone’s name! This is my son, Jackson.” He grabbed onto Logan’s shoulder and tugged him around a little bit, fondly. His eyes were tight in the corners from Dr. Spacheman not remembering his name but his smile and friendly behavior never wavered. Logan had seen Ken act like this a many times—in almost every social situation they’d been in together. It made Logan nervous. Ken would blow up when they got home.
“Jackson! It’s good to finally meet you! Ken’s so proud of your grades! And I heard you want to be a doctor when you grow up! What are you thinking of specializing in?” Dr. Spacheman seemed genuinely happy to meet Logan and almost like he was proud of Logan for wanting to be a doctor. There were just a few problems. Logan’s name wasn’t Jackson. He didn’t make especially good grades. And he didn’t want to be a doctor. But he knew better than to tell Dr. Spacheman those things.
“Uh…” Logan didn’t know there were different types of doctors. “An animal doctor?”
Dr. Spacheman barked out a laugh before he smiled encouragingly at Logan. Ken glowered at him when Dr. Spacheman wasn’t looking.
“Oh, I thought you wanted to be a *human* doctor.” Logan didn’t know what he said wrong, but he knows he messed up. “That explains why you always look so happy with your puppy. Do you practice doctoring on him?”
They all looked down at Sunny, who chose that moment to squat like a little girl dog and piss all over Dr. Spacheman’s sidewalk.
“No! BAD DOG!” Ken exploded as he grabbed the leash straight out of Logan’s hands and dragged the puppy as he peed across the concrete to the grass, leaving an unseemly trail of yellow urine behind him.
It all happened so fast. Logan watched, horrified, as Ken reached down and scruffed Sunny, slamming his body on its side into the yard in an attempted show at dominance. Sunny screamed and alligator rolled, snapping at Ken’s hand—anything to get away. The entire time the puppy didn’t stop pissing and the pee stream squirted in a line over his forearm.
“Hey, that’s alright, Ken. It’s just a sidewalk and he didn’t know better,” Dr. Spacheman looked alarmed at how big Ken’s reaction was and had his hand stretched out to try and calm down the situation.
Logan stood frozen.
Ken regained his calm and let go of the puppy almost instantly. He realized he’d misrepresented. He’d berate himself later for having a ‘poor person’s reaction.’
“That’s how we used to train our dogs…I guess it’s a different world now.” Ken tried to joke it off. Sunny stayed cowering on the ground at his feet.
The conversation with Dr. Spacheman didn’t last much longer. It didn’t seem like their neighbor had much more to say than a few attempts at light-hearted pleasantries and a banal remark about the weather.
Logan wouldn’t remember the walk home.
He’d remember the building dread and trying to catch up. He’d remember Sunny slinking, and that he felt poorly because he had to yank on the puppy some to get him to keep up. Falling further behind wasn’t an option.
“Get in the backyard,” Ken snapped. The gate to the privacy fence hadn’t swung shut before Ken swung around and kicked Sunny harder than he’d punt a football. The puppy squealed in pain as he flew into the air, only to be closelined on the leash Logan was holding and brought crashing to the ground.
“Congratulations! You’re going to get to follow your dreams and practice doctoring animals now, Jackson.” When the golden retriever puppy landed, he couldn’t stand immediately, laying all pathetic and hunched in on himself.
Logan didn’t think. He bellowed and ran straight at Ken, shoving him at his hips and taking him off guard.
Ken stumbled before catching himself and twisting toward Logan. Ken’s face became a coagulated purple-red and he close-fist punched Logan right in the solar plexus. The little boy made a jarred ‘oof’ sound and fell back into the dyed-red mulch that bordered the backyard.
Logan starfished on the ground with his breath knocked out of him. He gasped for air like a fish out of water. Mouth open, mouth closed, mouth open, mouth closed. Ken stood over him for a few seconds before he fisted Logan’s shirt and lifted the kid off of the ground, shaking him violently. Logan was stunned and couldn’t struggle much more than reflexively kicking his legs out.
“YOU THINK I’M GOING TO LET A LITTLE DOG EMBARRASS ME?” Spittle flew directly in Logan’s face. Ken tossed him onto the sidewalk and Logan came down hard, his left arm snapping underneath him at a bad angle. He screamed in pain.
Ken didn’t spare him another look. He kicked Sunny again and again even as Logan crawled across the ground and put his body over the dog. Ken kicked him a few more times before suddenly, he was done. He didn’t say anything. He walked up the deck stairs and into the house. Logan lay gasping for breath with intense stomach pains. He was crying and hyperventilating and his arm wasn’t right. Sunny was barely moving.
That night, Logan went to the ER with a story about a car wreck.
In the morning, Sunny was gone.