by Sue Grafton
He’d parked facing south on New Cut Road, halfway between Highway 166 and the point at which the road construction ended. The Tanner house was dead-center in his line of vision. To his immediate left was a gravel road leading back to the old Aldrich packing plant. The swing-arm gate across the entrance was padlocked and had been for years, so the spot was the perfect place to unwind. The midsummer air was humid. In his rearview mirror, he could see a breeze undulating across the fields, ruffling the dark green leaves of the sugar beets. A tractor trundled by hauling a bulldozer on a low-boy flatbed, the only traffic he’d seen for the past hour. While he watched, the driver did a clumsy K-turn and positioned his rig in preparation for unloading. Chet took another slug of vodka, dwelling on the trivial while he tried to assimilate the grand.
Wednesday seemed like a lifetime ago, though it was only two days. He hadn’t known how depressed he was until Violet cracked through his life like a lightning bolt. She’d been dazzling, and for the first time in his life he’d been engulfed by desire. He felt like she’d doused him with gasoline and set him afire. The minute she’d proposed a drink, he’d seen where she was headed. Dazed, he’d followed her out to his car, tossing an explanation to Kathy as he left. He couldn’t remember now what he’d said to her, some lame excuse she’d accepted with a shrug. For once, he’d been grateful his daughter was such a dunce. Despite her moony crushes on movie stars, she was sexually backward, too naive to recognize the chemistry that had flashed so suddenly between Violet and him.
After leaving the dealership, Violet abandoned all talk of his buying her a drink. They got in his car and she directed him to the Sandman Motel, which was two blocks away. He hadn’t noticed it before, but Violet was clearly well acquainted with the place. She’d instructed him to check in as a single, under an assumed name. She waited outside while he registered as William Durant, which was actually the name of the man who founded General Motors back in 1908. He was afraid the desk clerk would catch the joke, but she didn’t bat an eye. Having deceived her to that extent, he invented a fictitious home address and a detailed explanation of why he needed a room. He was more imaginative than he’d thought. He went on lying through his teeth, flirting with the girl until she blushed a becoming pink. He paid for the room, took the key, and returned to his car.
Violet was gone, but he spotted her at the far end of the parking lot, leaning against the wire fence that surrounded the swimming pool. She waited until he’d parked outside the room, and then she stepped on her cigarette and ambled in his direction, taking her sweet time. She must have known what a picture she made—sunlight shining on her red hair, her figure fully defined by the tight purple sundress. He was trembling at the prospect of having her.
When she reached him, she held out her hand. He dropped the key in her palm and watched as she unlocked the door. He followed her in, marveling at his calm. He had no idea what she expected of him. She set the key on the bed table and turned to him. “I bought you a bottle of vodka, but then forgot the damn thing and left it at home. Sorry ’bout that. I thought you might need a couple of belts to soothe your nerves.”
“You planned this?”
“Sweetie, do I look like an idiot? I’ve seen you watching me. You think I don’t know what’s been going through your head?”
“Our paths hardly cross.”
“No fault of mine. If you weren’t so straightlaced, I’d have done this ages ago. I got tired of waiting for you to make a move. So here we are—surprise, surprise.”
“But why?”
She laughed. “Don’t underestimate yourself. You’re a good-looking guy and you’re sexy as hell. I’ll tell you something else. You’ve been working too hard. I can see it in your face. When’s the last time you cut loose and had fun, for god’s sake?”
“I’m…I don’t know what to say.”
“Who asked you to talk? Did I say anything about chatting, Chet?” She was making a little joke of his name, but he found he didn’t mind. She sat down on the bed, patting the place beside her. “Look at you. All tense. Come over here and I’ll help you relax.”
He crossed to the bed, moving as though drugged. When he reached her, she rubbed the palm of one hand against the front of his pants. “My, oh my. This is going to be good.”
She’d been gentle and sweet, guiding him through a process so highly charged and novel he felt his heart would stop. Nothing with Livia had ever prepared him for such heat. Violet thought his shyness was a riot after all the bullshit he’d laid on her earlier. She’d said, “Big tough guy” in a way that made him laugh. How could she mock him and make him feel good at the same time?
Later, under her patient tutelage, she’d murmured. “Right there, Sweetie. Oh, that’s nice. Keep doing that.”
She seemed to enjoy bossing him around, inflicting occasional tiny jolts of pain that sent his pleasure soaring into the stratosphere. She liked being in charge, liked making him groan at certain little tricks she had. They made love for an hour, and at the end of it she pulled away from him, laughing and out of breath. “That’s it for you, Stud.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong. I gotta scoot, that’s all. Daisy’s parked with a neighbor and I can’t be late picking her up. Foley’s a psycho when it comes to how I spend my days. Plus, my neighbor’s a bitch and I wouldn’t put it past her to mention it to him. How’re you doing?”
He laughed. “Fine. I can’t move.”
“Good. I’m glad. Shows I treated you right.”
He remained stretched out naked on the bed as she pulled on her underwear and slipped her dress over her head. She crossed to him and sat down on the edge, holding her hair off her neck so he could run the zipper up the back of her dress. Once her dress was zipped, she continued to sit with her back turned to him. “I know people think I’m cheap, but this is not about that. What happened this afternoon is just between us, something both of us want. I know I could have gone about it some other way, but you wouldn’t have agreed. You’d have been worried about Livia, worried about Foley, worried we’d get caught. I don’t want you to think badly of me. I knew if I didn’t push, we’d never get here.”
She turned to look at him and he could have sworn she was on the verge of tears. He reached up and touched her face. She laughed self-consciously, dashing moisture from her cheeks. She pulled the sheet over him. “Gotta cover you up or next thing you know you’ll get me going again.”
He started to rise, but she put a hand on his chest. “No, no. You stay there. I like your hair all tussled and standing up on end. It looks cute. You ought to wear it like that all the time.”
“Don’t leave.”
“I have to.”
“Give me ten minutes more. An hour. Better yet, let’s just stay here together for the rest of our lives.”
She thought about it briefly. “Thirty seconds, but that’s it.” She sat down again. She took out a cigarette and lit it, passing it to him. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”
He touched her bare arm, marveling at the silky feel of her skin. “You’re beautiful.”
“I feel beautiful with you.”
“When can I see you again?”
“That’s not such a hot idea. You know it’s dangerous.”
“I like risk. I never knew that about myself until you came along.”
“That’s enough out of you, Stud. I’m out of here.”
She kissed her index finger and pressed it to his lips. She put on her sandals and got up, tucking her purse under her arm. “How about tomorrow at noon? I’ll have less than an hour, but that’s the best I can do.”
“Don’t you want me to drive you to your truck?”
“I can walk. It’s not far and it’s better this way.”
She left, closing the door behind her. He could hear her footsteps fading on the pavement. He wasn’t sure how he’d survive the hours until he saw her again.
When he arrived home late in the day—after his usu
al meditation out on New Cut Road—he thought he’d be weighted with guilt, but just the opposite was true. He was happy. Something akin to affection resurfaced, and he sat at the dinner table glowing with goodwill. Livia had made jellied salmon for supper, possibly the most disgusting thing he’d ever eaten except for her chicken livers. Nonetheless, he found himself watching her with a kindness rare for him of late. Where had that gone? He thought of himself as a good man, but he realized that as far back as he could remember, he’d been angry and cheerless. Now that had been erased. Even Kathy didn’t seem as tedious. He was secretly amused, knowing she’d never dream what her old dad had been up to. He could hardly believe it himself—the transformation from dead to half-dead to reborn. If she happened to mention his leaving with Violet, he’d invent something on the spot and he knew he’d get away with it. His was a whole new world. That it included lying, adultery, and certain acts that were biblically forbidden only made it all the more titillating. He asked for a second helping of canned lima beans, hoping he wouldn’t laugh out loud at the images still floating through his head.
He endured Thursday morning with his eye on the clock. At 11:50 he left the dealership, saying he was going out to lunch. When Kathy asked where, he said he hadn’t decided yet, but he’d be back in a bit. Feeling worldly, he checked into the same room at the Sandman. It was all so easy now. Violet arrived and moments later, in a flurry of discarded clothes, feverish kisses, agonizing groans, and grabbing at each other, they were both naked and lying on the bed. Her breath smelled of red wine and cigarettes, but he knew better than to ask what she’d been doing at the Moon so early in the day. What difference did it make?
The sex was even better this time, which he hadn’t believed possible. Already he felt comfortable in his skin, sure of himself. This wasn’t the lovemaking of strangers, but the intimacy of two adults. Violet could be rough, and she brought out the bawdiness in him. She was also outrageous, using language that sometimes shocked his staid sensibilities. She could be tender as well, in ways that made him want to weep.
Afterward, they shared a cigarette like lovers in a movie. He couldn’t get over this new sense he had of himself. Violet was tucked up under his arm, her head on his shoulder, face tilted back slightly so she could look at him. He looked down at her, saying, “What?”
She laughed. “How did you know I had something on my mind?”
“You’re not the only one with telepathic powers.”
“That’s good. I like that.” She was quiet, smile fading.
He gave her shoulder a shake. “Come on. Out with it.”
“I was thinking about what you said yesterday. You know, spending the rest of our lives in this room. That was sweet. That made me feel I was special to you, not just a cheap piece of ass.”
“Hey! Enough. Don’t say shit like that about yourself.”
“Well, it’s the truth. You know my reputation. I’m a wild child. I live fast and loose, but you know what it’s about? Under all the trashy talk and screwing around, I’m completely numb, like I’m already dead inside. So at least when I’m crazy drunk and out of control, I feel like I’m alive. Does that make any sense?”
“Jesus, you’ve just described my life. I don’t show it the way you do, but it’s exactly the same with me. You think I’m happy because I make a lot of money and live in a nice house? Doesn’t work that way. All my life I’ve been busy taking care of other people. This is the first thing I’ve done for myself. When I said that about spending the rest of my life with you, I meant it.”
“Thanks. That makes me feel good.” She seemed hesitant. “What happened yesterday, with the car? I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have taken it. I know I was wrong putting all those miles on it, but something came over me. It was like I’d just gotten out of prison and the world could be anything. The sunshine and the ocean. It was just so beautiful, flying down the road. I had all the windows cranked down and my hair was whipping across my face. I took it all the way up to forty miles an hour—”
“Shit, Violet. Don’t tell me that. You’ll give me a heart attack.”
“Well, it was an amazing experience and I have you to thank.”
“And for this.”
“Yes, for this.”
He was quiet for a moment. “You know I can make it happen.”
“Make what happen?”
“The car. I can set it up so it’s yours.”
She laughed. “Oh come on. Bullshit. You can’t do that. Are you nuts?”
“I’m serious. Tell Foley to come talk to me. If he shows up tomorrow morning, I can make him a deal.”
“Foley doesn’t have a dime.”
“I know, but we’ll work something out.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Yes.”
“You’re not just pulling my leg?”
“I’d do anything for you. I mean it. I’m crazy about you.”
“You don’t have to say that just because we ended up in bed.”
“You don’t know what you’ve done for me. Everything’s different now. I’ve changed.”
“Not changed at all. You’re finally yourself.”
“Tell me you’ll see me tomorrow,” he said. “Otherwise, I’ll never make it to next week.”
She was quiet again, making a study of his face before she formulated her reply. “All right. Tomorrow at four. I’ve got something to take care of first so you gotta promise you won’t get your undies in a wad if I’m late.”
Friday at 3:45, he checked into the Sandman. On Wednesday afternoon when he’d registered the first time, he’d told the desk clerk a pipe had broken in his house, badly flooding the downstairs. He spun the story off the top of his head, never realizing he’d be checking in again the very next day. Thursday, he told her he expected the repairs to be under way, but the contractor stood him up. She’d been sympathetic on the first day and skeptical the second. Today, she was snippy, saying if he was going to check in again, why not just keep the room instead of using it for an hour, checking out, and coming back the next day? He hadn’t realized she was keeping track. He felt compelled to elaborate, talking about the smell of mildew, having to put all his furniture in storage. The phone rang in the midst of his recital. She picked up and turned her back to him. She went on chattering with some friend until he realized she didn’t intend to listen to another word. He took his key and left. What a bitch. He was a respectable businessman. It was no concern of hers what he did or didn’t do, or with whom. He wasn’t sure why he’d even bothered to explain himself. There were other motels. Next time around he and Violet could find someplace else.
He returned to his car and drove the length of the parking lot and parked outside the room. On the way over, he’d stopped at the florist’s and bought Violet an armload of flowers that he wanted her to see the minute she entered the room. He took the bouquet with him and let himself in. They’d twice been in room 14. This was room 12, and he noticed it was quite a bit shabbier. Not that she’d care. He knew the car was already in her possession, because Foley had driven it off the lot at 10:30 that morning. He’d come into the dealership at 8:45, and Chet had made him a better deal than he had any reason to expect. He’d been jovial through the process, knowing he’d be bedding the guy’s wife by 4:15. He’d despised Foley previously, but now he pitied him as well. He was too doltish and too much the brute to appreciate what a rare and precious woman he had. She was clearly more than he could handle—young, sensual, beautiful, spirited. Foley’d tried controlling her with his fists, and all he’d done was drive her away. Chet knew how to treat a lady and he had the wherewithal to do it right. He’d already formulated half a dozen plans for getting her out of Foley’s house and stashing her somewhere close. At first he thought he’d have to leave Livia, which he was perfectly willing to do. A divorce would be messy and painful, but he was forty-seven years old and entitled to happiness. Of course, his daughter would be upset, but kids were resilient—everybody said so. Ki
ds sensed when their parents were unhappy, and you didn’t do them any favors papering it all over and pretending everything was okay. Better to have it out in the open.
On further reflection, he wondered if his initial impulse was wrong. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how cruel it would be to put Livia through that—the public humiliation, the vituperative shouting matches, not to mention the reduced circumstances divorce would entail. After fifteen years of marriage, she’d be devastated. Better to take the high road and spare her the stigma of divorce and abandonment. His relationship with Violet was his to bear and he’d shoulder it like a man.
He’d checked the classified ads for apartments in Santa Teresa and spotted a rental he thought would serve. Clean and attractive, with an ocean view, it said. He could drive down to see Violet every chance he got. He’d fill her life with riches—clothes, travel, anything she wanted. She might resist at first, not wanting to be beholden, but now that the Bel Air was hers, she’d realize how far he was willing to go.
He filled the ice bucket with water and arranged the flowers, already fantasizing what was coming next. Compared to Violet, he was inexperienced and that was humbling. At the dealership, he was always on top—figuratively speaking—but here he yielded, allowing her to do with him as she would. Violet was the boss and he found himself giving up all power to her. The change was restful, a possibility that had never occurred to him. With Livia, he sometimes had to talk himself into making love. He had his physical needs, but it was just as easy to take care of them himself. With Violet, he was charged, half out of his mind in anticipation of her.
