'Sons of bitches!' Barry yelled. 'Sons of bitches!'
The phone rang again, but this time neither of them answered it.
In the morning their house had been painted black.
The Bonita Vista Homeowners' Association Covenants, Conditions, and Restrictions Article V, Security and Control, Section 9, Paragraph A:
The Association and any of its committees or subcommittees has the right to monitor residents on any section of the Community properties or on any jointly owned right of-way in any manner it deems appropriate using any means at its disposal. Residents whose dues are in arrears or who are involved in disputes with the Board may be monitored anywhere at any time including in their private residences.
It was hard writing a speech. He was used to creating dialogue, having two characters express ideas and points of view through conversation, but coming up with a stirring, rabble-rousing address in the real world was quite a bit different from doing so within the boundaries of a fictional universe in which he controlled all of the variables and all of the reactions. He was not and never had been a public speaker, so the fact that he would be performing this himself --and before a hostile audience no less--brought additional pressure.
His first draft clocked in at a whopping fifteen minutes. He pared it down as much as he could, read it to Maureen, and it still came in at twelve.
He would have to be selective, and he would have to be merciless. It was impossible to fit in everything he wanted to say, so he would be able to address only his most important concerns and use the most egregious examples of the association's transgressions.
But he was having a hard time figuring out what those were.
He scrolled down the computer screen, reread his words for the hundredth time.
'Tape!' Maureen called from the living room.
He hurried upstairs. He'd been videotaping BVTV all day and night, fast-forwarding and reviewing the tapes every six hours as they filled up, looking for anything filmed in their house. He had figured out where the camera in the bedroom was from the angle of the shot he'd seen on the television, and he'd torn out that section of wall until he found the device, which he'd immediately smashed. How someone had gotten the camera into that spot was a mystery, and the only thing he could figure was that it had been built into the house during initial construction and had been there ever since.
They'd patched over the hole in the wall as best as two amateurs could, but it still looked like hell and Maureen had hung a framed Georgia O'Keeffe poster over the space to hide the bulging spackle.
So far, they'd seen no indication that any of the other rooms in the house were under surveillance, but he wouldn't put anything past Calhoun and his cronies, and he continued his close monitoring of BVTV.
The day before the association's annual meeting, Barry finally had a speech he was happy with. It still ran long-four minutes instead of three, even speaking fast--but he figured he could keep talking while they told him his time was up and get the last little bit in before he was cut off completely. Celebrities did it on award shows all the time. It was a legitimate tactic.
They went to bed early, both of them exhausted from stress. They made love for the first time since discovering the camera and talked for a while about what they would do and where they would go when they finally escaped Bonita Vista. Gradually, the pauses between their sentences grew longer and their voices slowed as they started to drift off.
He wasn't sure when he finally slipped into sleep, but at some point he was no longer lying in his bed. He was sitting on a hard metal folding chair with all of his neighbors. At a table on a raised stage, Jasper Calhoun and the rest of the be-robed board were gazing imperiously out at the tightly packed crowd.
The president announced in a strong clear tone: 'Additions to the C, C, and Rs include a provision declaring that all men may butt fuck Maureen Welch at their convenience, without her permission or the permission of her husband, Barry. All those in favor?'
A sea of hands shot up with Nuremberg precision.
'All those opposed?'
Only Barry's hand was raised.
'Passed!'
He awoke in the morning looking across the pillow into Maureen's open eyes. 'Meeting today,' she said.
The room was packed. Most of the people he did not recognize, but there were others he did: Mike and Tina; Frank and Audrey; Lou and Stacy; Neil, Chuck, and Terry; individuals from Ray's parties;
homeowners he'd seen at the rally. They were seated on metal folding chairs and there must have been over a hundred of them.
In the front of the room was the board.
In the back were the volunteers.
The layout was remarkably similar to that of his dream, and he experienced an uncomfortable feeling of deja vu as he and Maureen walked into the community center. There should have been voices, should have been talking, the large room should have been filled with the buzz of numerous conversations. But everyone was quiet, each of them glancing through enormous black-bound books that lay in their laps. To the right of the doorway, Barry saw, was a table piled high with dozens of identical volumes.
A man standing next to the table, dressed absurdly in livery, motioned them over. 'Please pick up your revised copy of The Bonita Vista Homeowners' Association Declaration of Covenants, Conditions, and Restrictions ' he said. 'Ratification is the first item on today's agenda.'
He handed Barry a book. It weighed a ton and was the! size of the oversized family Bible that his grandmother| used to keep on her dining room table. 'We're supposed to read through this entire thing in,|
what, five or ten minutes?' Barry asked. 'It's just a formality,' the man said.
'How can we make an informed decision if we don't know what's in there?'
The man laughed. 'That's a good one.' The laugh was genuine, and it made Barry uneasy. The idea that the votes of the homeowners were important and actually meant I something struck this man as legitimately funny. An ominous sign.
Liz was seated near the closest aisle, and she waved j them over. She'd saved the two seats next to her, and he and Maureen exchanged a glance as they walked up.
It was as if nothing unusual had ever happened, as if she had not been a paranoid recluse for the better part of two months, and her normality was disconcerting. Liz smiled as they sat down and said she was glad they'd come, she hadn't been sure they would. She spoke in whispers, and though Barry wanted to talk in a normal tone of voice, wanted to demonstrate that he was unintimidated and unafraid, he found himself whispering back, daunted by the silence of everyone around him.
'There's no way we'd miss this,' he said. 'I finally have an opportunity to give that board a piece of my mind.'
'Please pick up your revised copy of The Bonita Vista Homeowners'
Association Declaration of Covenants, Conditions, and Restrictions,''
the man in livery said from his post near the table as someone new walked in. His voice sounded absurdly loud in the stillness.
'Ratification is the first item on today's agenda.'
Barry placed the massive volume on his lap and opened it up. Liz's copy, he noticed, was on the floor next to her. Several of the people around them had also laid their books on the floor, though some were attempting to read through the amended regulations.
He turned pages randomly. There was a rule disallowing the cooking of Asian food at any residence, another stating that all homeowners must own an American flag, although the flag could not be displayed either in or outside the house. He flipped quickly through the book. The regulations grew wackier and wackier. Only Number 2 pencils could be used to write grocery lists; residents were required to wash their hair daily and use conditioner; baldness was not acceptable in public, and homeowners who were losing their hair had to wear toupees outside the privacy of their homes. He was certain that there were dangerous edicts hidden among the frivolous ridiculous ordinances, but there was no time to find them, and he was glad that he'd prepared a speech ahead of time. If
