“My Mabel, she wants you.”
“Well…”
“I like to see her get what she wants.”
“She won’t get me,” Tag said.
“Don’t go counting on that.” She laughed. “Shoot, maybe we’ll both get you. Good-looking hunk like you. Young and strong. We could make ourselves a cop sandwich, with you in the middle… yeah.” She gave him a long looking over. “I bet you could make us both plenty happy.”
“Give her my message, please.”
“I guess she’ll get back any minute now. How about you wait, tell her yourself? Beer in the cooler?”
“No, thanks.”
A mean look slit her eyes. “Don’t then. Who wants you anyhow?” She flicked her cigarette butt at his face.
Tag flinched away. The burning stub nicked his ear.
“Good-bye, Mrs. Rudge,” he said. “Please remember to pass on what I’ve told you to Mabel.”
On his way out he noticed the cigarette smoldering a black hole in the carpet. He mashed it dead with his heel, then walked away without looking back.
CHAPTER TEN
“How did it go?” Susan asked.
“Not so good. Old Mother Rudge thinks Mabel and I would make a handsome couple.”
Susan grinned. The bruised side of her face felt stiff, but didn’t hurt much.
“You could simplify things by pressing charges,” Tag said.
“I know, I know.” She bounced Geoffrey on her knee. He grinned and giggled.
“You shouldn’t feel sorry for Mabel.”
“I can’t help it.”
Maria came into the room, beaming and carrying a margarita. She handed it to Tag. “You make the best in the world,” he told her.
“The best! Sí. Gracias, Señor Tag.”
When she left, Susan said, “Can you imagine what it must be like being Mabel?”
“I’d rather not.”
“What does a woman like that have to look forward to?”
“Prison, more than likely.”
“I mean it. She hasn’t got a thing going for her. I had a friend like that in college. She wasn’t mean like Mabel, but she looked exactly like her. We were roommates my first year at Weston and I got a pretty good idea what it must be like. Everybody stared at her all the time. She was the butt of a thousand awful jokes, mostly behind her back, but she knew what was going on. When it came time to rush, she gave it a try, but none of the sororities would touch her. That’s the main reason I didn’t pledge. If they could be that cruel, I wanted nothing to do with them.
“She never had a boyfriend. Guys dated her sometimes.” Susan shook her head. Anger and sadness. “It was just like a big joke to them, though. None of them gave a damn about her. They just knew she was an easy screw. They didn’t care how ugly she was, as long as she put out. They treated her horribly. One night, some guys got her drunk and passed her around. When she came back to the room she could hardly walk. She was bleeding. She couldn’t stop crying. I stayed up with her the whole night because I was afraid she might do something. You know, slash her wrists or something?
“The next day, I helped take her things to the railroad station. She got on the train and she never came back.”
Tag frowned, staring at the drink. “What happened to her?”
“I don’t know. I never heard from her again. But Mabel makes me think of her, you know? I figure her life is tough enough without me trying to get her locked up.”
“Know something, Susan?”
“What?”
“You’re a pretty nice lady.”
“Am I?”
“I want to take the nice lady out to dinner.”
“Sounds good.”
“I’ll go upstairs and get into a suit.”
“Ah, a dinner dinner.”
“Right. Complete with necktie.”
“A necktie party! How exciting. I’d better make myself spiffy then.”
“I’ll give you fifteen minutes.”
“Half an hour.”
“Twenty minutes.”
“You’re driving a hard bargain, Parker.”
A red-coated teenager was waiting in the restaurant’s driveway. “He’s not gonna get his hands on my car,” Tag said, and kept driving. He found an empty stretch of curb a block away.
In the restaurant, the maître d’ led them to a corner table.
“A libation?” Tag asked. “Pepsi, Perrier, Mountain Dew?”
“I think I’ll break down and have a real drink.”
“Don’t break down at my table.”
A waiter came. Susan ordered a vodka gimlet, Tag a margarita. The waiter returned quickly with the drinks.
“To the most beautiful mummy in town,” Tag said.
“Amara?”
“You.”
They sipped their drinks. It was a good gimlet: strong, and easy on the Rose’s lime. “Hmmm, this’s my first in over a year,” Susan admitted.
“See what you’ve missed?”
“It’ll probably go straight to my head, and I’ll get giggly.”
“I’ve never seen you giggly.”
“Not a pretty sight.”
“I can’t believe that.”
“Shameless flatterer.”
“I don’t want this going to your head, but I think you’re the most beautiful, charming, intelligent, and sensitive woman I’ve known since my childhood sweetheart, Gretchen Stump.”
“Gretchen, heh? You always keep throwing her in my face.”
“She’s hard to forget. You run a close second, though. Really. And you do have an advantage over her.”
“I’m honored you should think so.”
“She had one flaw.”
“You never let on.”
“Yes. Gretchen had a backwards eye. Looked in, not out. She was always fond of it, said it helped her see what was on her mind. Hideous to look at, though. Looked like a peeled tomato with a piece of spaghetti dangling down.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“You should see what we had to do to keep it moist.”
“That’s really disgusting.”
“I would’ve married her, except for the eye. Yours look fine, though.”
“Thanks.”
“So…” He shook his head. Even though he was still smiling, the glint of mischief left his eyes.
“So?” Susan asked.
“Have you decided what to order?”
“What were you about to say?”
“Well, it would’ve been tacky under the circumstances. I mean… I shouldn’t have brought Gretchen into it.”
“Into what?”
“Susan, how would you like to marry me?”
She sat back, stunned. She stared at him. “You mean, you want…”
Tag nodded. “Since you don’t have a backwards eye…”
She laughed, but the laughter sounded strange and far away in her ears, and then Tag was blurry and she realized she was crying.
He started to talk. “Of course, we’ll have to wait for your divorce to become final, but that shouldn’t be more than a few weeks. What do you think?”
“I… I… Well, it’s such a… Are you sure?”
“I’m sure I want to spend my life with you.”
“Oh, Tag.” She grabbed her napkin. “I’m sorry. I… here I am, falling apart… and you… you told me not to break down at your table.”
“I’ll forgive you this time.”
“What… what about Geoffrey?”
“I’ll be the best father I can.”
“Tag, geez…”
“How about it?”
“Are you sure? I mean you… do you know what you’re getting into?”
“Does that mean your answer is yes?”
“I suppose it does, huh? Yes. My God! I can’t… Wow! I don’t know what to say.”
“I think you’ve already said it.” He picked up his margarita. “To us.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Taggart Parker.”
> They drank. Then Susan set down her gimlet and wiped her eyes. “I must look a fright.”
“You look fine. Ready to order?”
“Not till I’ve… Sheesh, my hands won’t stop shaking. Why don’t you get us another round of drinks? I’ll go freshen up.”
During dinner they made plans. Both wanted a simple wedding. Both wanted only family and a few close friends attending. They decided to move into Susan’s apartment, since it was larger than Tag’s. They would keep his bed; it was larger. Her chest of drawers; his was decrepit. His stereo system; her CD skipped tracks all of its own accord. Both TV sets, both VCRs, both cars; neither microwave oven (both were glitchy as hell). They pretended to argue about Tag’s favorite chair, a maroon monster that dropped stuffing from its tattered cushion.
“I won’t let it inside till it’s housebroken,” she said.
“We can put newspapers under it.”
“You have to promise to clean up after it.”
Susan finished her last bite of prime rib and excused herself.
“Going to freshen up again?” Tag asked.
She nodded. Instead of freshening up, however, she went to the cashier. Through the glass of the display case, she studied an array of cigars. She decided on an Anthony and Cleopatra because of its romantic name.
Back at the table, she presented it to Tag. “To go with your coffee,” she said.
He turned the cigar slowly in his fingers, smelt it appreciatively, then looked at Susan and beamed. “I think we’ll get along just fine,” he said.
They took the elevator to the third floor of the Marina Towers. Holding hands, they walked down the narrow corridor to Susan’s room.
A dead cat was hanging from her doorknob by a hind leg. Blood still trickled from its neck. It had no head.
Crooked words on the door dripped like wet paint:
THIS PUSSY STANK
YOU DO TOO
SEE YOU DED PITUNYA
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Such a bitch! And what a bitch. A Grade-A bitch. A gold-medal bitch. An Oscar-winning bitch… He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“Wait a minute, Janey. Let me get this straight.”
“There’s nothing to get straight, Ed!”
“But—”
“No buts, no excuses.”
“Janey, I never even touched her, never mind—”
“Screwed her?”
“Yes.”
“So you admit it?”
“No, of course not.”
“Liar.”
“Listen, Janey, someone’s been lying to you. I love you. I—”
“Yeah, some way to show it.”
“It’s true.”
“The moment my back’s turned—”
“Janey.”
“—you screw my best friend.”
“She’s making it up.”
“Yeah, as if.”
“She is. Listen, Janey, she’s been trying to break us up.”
“Why would she do a thing like that?”
“Because she’s jealous.”
“Oh, right.”
“She was always hanging out with you. Now we are together, she’s been pushed out. At least that’s what she thinks.”
“The phrase is ‘were together,’ Ed.”
“So you are dumping me?”
“See, you are smarter than you look.”
“But out here?”
“Yep.”
“Aw come on, Janey. We’re miles out of town.”
“Should have thought of that before you got all sticky-dicky with Pamela.”
“Jesus, I’ve told you. I never.”
“Like she made up that mole on your inner thigh?”
“Hell, Janey. She could have seen that in the pool.”
“Yeah, like she’d stare at your legs through binoculars when you go swimming.”
“Might’ve done.”
“Might’ve nothing, you two-timing rat.”
“Janey?”
“Enjoy the walk, rat boy.”
“Janey, this is insane—you can’t just dump me out here. Janey! Janey!”
Ed Lake was conversing with dust. Janey slammed the gas in her open-top 4×4; she was gone. Dust showed as a white billowing cloud in the moonlight, and all Ed could see of the car were its lights traveling like a fireball down the canyon.
Great, oh, great. Not only does she dump me, she dumps me here.
And here’s a barren hillside road ten miles from home.
Got to do some walking, Eddie boy.
“Don’t call me Eddie,” Ed grunted under his breath. “Whatever you do, don’t call me Eddie.”
The moon lit the blacktop in front of him. At least he could see.
His sense of direction should get him home before sunup.
But, hell, there was some walking to do.
No time like the present, Eddie boy.
He set off. With the time close to midnight, it was silent. There were no cars. No houses that he could make out. Just road, dusty hillside, stars, a moon. And Eddie Lake. Just been dumped by the girl he loved.
Ouch. Just thinking that made him hurt inside.
Don’t it sting, Eddie boy? Rejection? Being dumped?
“Don’t call me Eddie,” he grunted to himself.
And walked.
Walked fast. Angry. Angry at being dumped. Angry at Pamela, Janey’s so-called best friend, who’d been spoon-feeding the lies. Those damn lies that Janey had swallowed so easily.
Damn.
Ouch—being dumped hurt. And so unfair. He couldn’t believe it.
Janey had been nice earlier, so sexily nice. Whispering into his ear that they drive out here where it was quiet. She’d suggested that before. They’d made out in her open-topped car, her long legs wrapped around his back. Her soft lips finding his in the dark and pressing passionately, her tongue working, while he stroked bare breasts, running his fingertips over her nipples, feeling her body encircle his…
No, don’t think that now. Concentrate on following the road home. He walked angrily again. She’d lured him out here just to dump him out in the wilds.
Ed Lake had just finished his sophomore year at Riverside High. He was sixteen. The proud owner of a VW Bug that he was carefully resurrecting nut by bolt in his parents’ garage. And yes: deeply in love for the first time, now the bitch had gone and… hell, the bitch had dumped right there in the…
Uh, hullo. What’s that?
He stopped. Stared.
That didn’t make sense. The hillside was strewn with big boulders. Now two of the boulders were moving.
He strained his eyes at the pale bumps and shaded hollows. He tried to make the most of the moonlight, but apart from the straight man-made lines of the road, everything at either side of it was a random jumble of shapes.
But he’d swear to it. Two of those boulders were moving. They weren’t rolling either like in a landslide, but sliding along… almost creeping.
Boulders? Boulders don’t creep.
People creep. Murderers creep.
Eddie, don’t let your imagination fool with you.
“Don’t call me Eddie.” He tried to sound flippant enough to stop the shivers, but it didn’t work.
The shivers came. His stomach felt as if it had shriveled in on itself.
Janey didn’t seem that important anymore.
All of a sudden he realized it was more than just annoying to be dumped out in the wilderness.
Heck, it might be dangerous too. He wore expensive clothes. The watch on his wrist flashed in the moonlight.
A mugger might just want to check out whether or not it was a Rolex.
Ed walked.
The hunched boulder-shapes moved too. Now he convinced himself that they were a pair of muggers.
But muggers don’t hang around out on barren mountainsides, do they? They lurk in city alleyways or haunt multiplex parking lots where there are people to prey on.
Here, there’s
nothing to mug apart from rabbits.
He walked faster… worked hard to stop running. Once you run they know they’ve spooked you. That’s when they start running too. Running to pounce on their victim.
And you’re the victim, Eddie boy. That was the voice inside his head reinforcing the obvious.
The hill road angled downward now. Ahead, the barren hillside gave way to lower-lying land filled with scrub; beyond that were trees, the beginning of woods.
He walked, feeling perspiration roll across his skin beneath his shirt. He loosened a couple of buttons. But the night was too hot to cool him.
Hell, I’m gonna give Janey a piece of my mind. Pamela’s not going to get away scot-free either. I’m gonna get my own back for this one.
If I ever get the opportunity.
He glanced to his right up the hill as the two hunched figures moved toward him. They moved faster now, aiming to cut him off.
Probably gonna cut you up too.
Now he did start to run, his feet slapping down against the blacktop, his arms flailing. Breath came in spurts through his throat.
He looked up at the jumble of shadows. He couldn’t make out details, but the two shapes sped down at him. They were too fast. He couldn’t outrun them. Jesus, he couldn’t even scream to anyone nearby for help. He’d be at their mercy.
Jesus H. I’m only sixteen. Sixteen! I only lost my cherry three months ago. They’re gonna bury my bones in the dirt at the side of the road, I’m never gonna—
“Leave me alone!” he yelled as the figures broke out of the shadow.
He stopped as the pair ran in front of him, cutting off his escape route.
He stared.
Rubbed his eyes.
Then laughed out loud.
A pair of goats ran across the road, hooves clattering, their horns glinting in the moonlight.
Christ, he really was out in the wilderness. Wild goats! They were as scared as he was. They ran kicking their back legs, stirring up puffs of dust as they vanished under the bushes.
Now, when you’re sixteen, there are certain things you don’t want people to see. One is what you do in the bath. Another is blushing when a girl speaks to you. Another is the diary you keep hidden under the bed. And then there’s this one. Running in terror from a couple of runty little goats.
Geez. He could just imagine his friends falling around laughing if they ever heard about this.
TO WAKE THE DEAD Page 7
