“Guess not,” Albert said, though he suspected there might be a flaw in her reasoning. “So, okay. How about twenty bucks?”
“Do you know what I’ll do for twenty bucks? I’ll drive back to my motel and watch Johnny Carson. Alone. You want me, you’ll have to do a lot better than that.”
“How about forty?”
“Let’s see it.”
He opened his billfold. It was thick with cash.
“Make it a hundred,” she said, “and I’ll stay all night.”
“That’s a lot.”
She looked him in the eyes. “You’ve probably never even talked to a gal as pretty as me, much less fucked one.”
His legs felt weak.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll give you a hundred.”
“Then we’ve got a deal.” She held out her hand.
Albert shook it.
Smirking, May Beth pulled her hand back and said, “The money,Willard. The money.”
“You want it now?”
“That’s the idea.”
“I don’t know. What if I give it to you and you split?”
“Where’s your house?” May Beth asked.
“It’s a few miles from here.”
“I’ll follow you in my bug. It’s just over there.” She pointed down the road, and Albert saw a yellow Volkswagen parked at the curb. “If you’re afraid I’ll run away with your money, you can keep an eye on me in your rearview mirror.”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Albert said. “Let’s leave your car where it is and I’ll drive you in mine. Then I’ll bring you back here when we’re done in the morning.”
She stared at her car for a while. “Do you think it’ll be all right there?”
“It’ll be fine. This is a really safe neighborhood.”
“Is it?”
Who knows?
“Are you from around here?” Albert asked.
She shook her head. “I live in California.”
“Well,” he said, “there’s hardly any crime anywhere in Denver.”
She turned to him and nodded. “Okay, I guess we can go in your car. Soon as you’ve paid up.” She held out her hand again.
This time, Albert filled it with three twenties, three tens, a five and five ones.
May Beth folded the money and stuffed it into her purse. Then she took hold of Albert’s hand. “You’ve got yourself a date,” she said.
THIRTY-NINE
RED HOT
Albert touched a control button on the dashboard and the garage door began to rise.
“Those things are really cool,” May Beth said. “I’ve been trying to talk my mother into getting one for our place.”
“You live with your mother?”
“Something wrong with that?”
“No. I’m just curious. No reason not to live with your mother. Not if you get along with her okay.”
“We get along fine,” May Beth said.
She didn’t sound as if she meant it.
“In California, right?”
“Right. Grand Beach. That’s west of L. A., over near Santa Monica. It’s a pretty nice area.”
Albert pulled the car into the garage and stopped it beside a red Buick.
“Are you sure nobody’s home?” May Beth asked.
“Oh, this other car?” He shrugged. The Buick was registered to Karen Winters. Its trunk contained the body of Willard P. Andricci, owner of this house, tightly wrapped in plastic garbage bags. “I drove Mom and Dad to the airport,” Albert said, “so they wouldn’t have to pay for parking.”
“Yeah, those airport parking fees are ridiculous.”
“I don’t have to pick them up till Sunday.” He climbed out of the car. Over by the door to the kitchen, he pressed the remote button. The garage door began rumbling down. As May Beth came toward him, he unlocked the kitchen door and opened it.
They stepped inside.
May Beth took off her jacket and draped it over a kitchen cha ir. She ha d on a white T-shirt an d no bra. The dark tint of her nipples showed through the fabric.
Albert took off his coat and draped it beside hers.
“How about those drinks you were mentioning?” May Beth asked.
“You get a hundred bucks and drinks?”
Smiling, she raised her red eyebrows. “I could use a martini, Willard. Do you have a problem with that?”
“Guess not.”
“I’ll bet you could use a nice drink, yourself.” Reaching out, she rubbed the side of his neck.
“I’m not too sure how to make a martini.”
“I’ll show you.” She brought a hand up between his legs and gently squeezed him through his trousers.
He moaned. Her hand stayed there as she said, “I’ll need glasses, a shaker, ice, gin, dry vermouth, and olives if you have any.”
“Oh, okay,” he muttered.
She took her hand away.
Feeling disoriented, Albert started to gather the ingredients. What’s going on? he wondered.
This sort of thing had never happened to him before.
Well, Betty had been something like this. She had touched and teased him and made him hard. It was exciting but…difficult.
A knife would make it easy again.
He searched the refrigerator for olives.
The knife can always come later, he thought.
He might as well let May Beth run things for a while. After all, he’d paid her. He was the boss.
“Here they are,” he said.
She laughed. “You do have a lot to learn, Willard. Nobody uses black olives in a martini.”
“Oh, you want green olives?”
She nodded, grinning at him as if he were an idiot.
She wouldn’t be acting this way, Albert thought, if I had a knife in her belly.
He shut the refrigerator door. “I guess there aren’t any green ones.”
“Well then, we’ll have to do without.”
After Albert had gathered everything she needed, May Beth poured the ingredients over ice inside a silver shaker. She twirled a spoon through the mixture, then filled the two glasses.
“Let’s go someplace comfortable,” she said, handing one of the martinis to Albert.
He saw that the ice cubes were still inside the shaker. He took out two and put them into his glass. “Want ice?” he asked.
She gave him a patient look. “No thanks.”
“Why not?”
“It melts and ruins the drink. Let’s go in the living room.”
“Okay,” he muttered.
As they left the kitchen, Albert felt weak and vulnerable.
It doesn’t have to be this way, he told himself. I can take control any time. All I’ve gotta do is get out my switchblade.
But this isn’t so bad, he thought. This is okay for now.
He followed May Beth into the living room. They sat close together on the sofa.
“Is this your first time?” she asked, and took a sip of her drink.
“First time I’ve paid for it.”
“If it’s not your first time, I can assure you that you have paid for it. In other ways. It never comes free.”
Does when you have a knife.
“Maybe not,” Albert said. “Anyway, you’re sure right about one thing—I’ve never done anything with a girl as pretty as you.”
She finished her martini in several quick swallows and shuddered. “Oooo, that was delicious.” She leaned forward and set her glass on the coffee table. “We’ll have another later,” she said. Then she turned to Albert and kissed him. For a moment, her lips were cool from the drink.
Albert still held his glass. He reached out blindly behind him and set it on the arm of the sofa. Then he embraced May Beth. His hands roamed over her back. He wanted to touch one of her breasts, but was afraid to try.
I’d better get my knife.
Before he could go for it, she was above him, straddling him, pulling off her T-shirt. Reaching down, she took both his ha
nds. She lifted them to her breasts. The firm tips of her nipples prodded Albert’s palms. She moved his hands in slow circles.
For a while, she seemed to be in a trance, concentrating only on the feel of his hands against her breasts. Then she pulled his hands away, leaned low over him and touched a nipple to his lips. He stuck out his tongue and licked it.
Just as he was about to suck it, the breast went away from his mouth. Lips took its place. Her tongue slid in.
The kiss went on for a long time, Albert fondling her breasts and squirming under her.
When her mouth went away, she eased herself down on top of him. She licked and kissed each of his nipples and pulled at them gently with her teeth.
Kneeling over him, she unfastened his trousers. She tugged them down to his ankles, then hunched over him. As her cool fingers encircled him, he moaned and shut his eyes. Then he felt her tongue. Then her lips. The tight, slick ring of her lips slid down him, then up.
Then they went away.
Albert opened his eyes.
May Beth was off the sofa, standing, taking off her jeans. Her face was strange: vacant but intense. Though she saw him staring, her expression didn’t change. She stepped out of her panties and dropped them to the floor.
Albert stared at her thatch of curly red pubic hair.
I’ll shave that off…
She came back to the sofa. Bending over, she removed Albert’s shoes, his socks. She pulled the trousers off his ankles and tossed them to the floor.
“Here?” Albert asked. His throat was tight, his mouth parched.
May Beth didn’t answer. She climbed onto the sofa and knelt over him. Her fingertips took hold of him. They pulled gently, guiding him to a wet place between soft and yielding folds.
“No!” he gasped. Rolling sideways, he threw her to the floor. His glass fell, splashing her face. An ice cube hit her forehead and slid off.
“Jesus!” May Beth cried out. “What’s the matter with you!” Her eyes were wide with shock. She started to get up but Albert dropped onto her. He pinned her arms. “What’s going on? Did I hurt you? What’s wrong?”
“You.”
“Get off! Let me up!”
“Not till I’ve fucked you!” he shouted and smashed his fist against her temple. He struck her again and again until she went limp. Then he climbed off and crawled over to his trousers. He grabbed them by the belt, picked them up and shoved a hand down the right front pocket.
Car keys.
Where’s my knife?
He tried the left pocket. A hanky. A comb.
His switchblade must’ve fallen out, maybe when May Beth pulled the trousers off him. He tossed them out of the way and looked around on the carpet.
Where is it?
He dropped low and peered under the coffee table.
Not there, either.
Shit!
He glanced back at May Beth. Still down.
So he ran into the kitchen. He slipped a knife out of the rack. It was a carving knife with a serrated, nine-inch blade. Though he’d never touched it before, the sleek wooden handle felt familiar to his grip. He rushed into the living room.
Now May Beth was on her hands and knees, struggling to get up. She saw the knife in his hand. A low moan escaped from her. She swayed to her feet.
Something in her hand.
An empty martini glass. She hurled it at Albert. It glanced off his shoulder and broke against the wall behind him.
Her pale, sweaty belly heaved as she gasped for air. He would put it in right there, just below her navel, where she was smooth and flat and shiny.
She grabbed a lamp, yanked its cord so the plug leaped from the wall socket, and threw it with both hands. Albert tried to dodge it, but the lamp caught his shins. As he yelped with pain, May Beth dodged to the left.
Raced for a window.
But the window was shut.
She didn’t seem to care. She made a running dive. Her fists broke through the glass and the rest of her naked body followed. Albert glimpsed her pale buttocks, the backs of her legs, the bottoms of her feet. Then she disappeared into the night.
He ran to the window. Hands on the sill, he leaned out. He expected to see her sprawled motionless on the grass.
But she was on her feet.
Blood streamed down her back and legs, but she was running. Running across the backyard and screaming, screaming her head off.
Another Charlene.
Another goddamn Charlene!
How come the best ones always get away?
Oh, my God! I’ve gotta get outta here!
He started putting on his clothes.
Where’ll I go? he wondered.
Anywhere. Doesn’t matter. Just get out of here fast.
She knows my car. I won’t get five miles.
Maybe drive it one mile, take another house and stash it in the garage?
Hurrying through the kitchen, he saw May Beth’s purse on the table. He grabbed it, rushed through the door to the garage and tossed it onto the car seat.
As it hit, something inside made a metallic tinkle.
Her keys?
Albert jerked open the purse and saw a big brass ring. He pulled it out. Half a dozen keys hung from it. Two of them looked like car keys.
Volkswagen keys.
I’ll use her car for the getaway?
It was several miles away, over where they’d been shooting the film.
I’ll drive over and switch. She’ll think her stupid little bug is still safe and sound where she left it. Might be hours before she finds out it’s gone.
FORTY
AFTERNOON DELIGHT
Parked at the curb across the street from Emily Jean’s house, Lester watched a car pull into her driveway. It stopped and Emily Jean climbed out. She raised the garage door, then returned to her car and drove into the garage. After she pulled the door shut, Lester waited for two minutes before climbing from his own car. He walked to the front door and rang the bell.
Quick footsteps. The door opened.
“Why, Mr. Bryant! How nice of you to drop by. You certainly arrived early.”
“I couldn’t think of a good excuse to leave work early, so I took the whole day off.”
She pressed her face against his chest. “I do wish I’d known. I would’ve phoned in sick, myself, and we might’ve spent the entire day together. Wouldn’t that have been lovely?”
He felt the loss like a sharp pain. “It occurred to me,” he said, “but I thought you might have qualms about missing work.”
“Heavens, no. I make it a point, every year, to be absent several days whether I’m ill or not. I see it as a reward for my hard labors and dedication. Besides, substitutes too must eat.”
“Why don’t we pick a day next week and both call in sick?”
“Do you dare?”
“Sure. I’ll say it’s a relapse. It’ll be fine. Today’s my first absence in six months.”
“Well, then, shall we p lan on n ext Tuesday?”
“What’s wrong with Monday?” Lester asked.
“Monday illnesses arouse too much suspicion.”
“Okay then, Tuesday it is.” He kissed the side of her neck. The mild scent of perfume excited him.
“Would you care for a drink?” she asked.
“Why not?”
“No reason. I’ll just whip up a batch of margaritas.”
“Great. Don’t you drink martinis, though?”
“I’ll be quite happy with margaritas, I’m sure.” With a lazy, contented smile, she hugged him and they kissed again. “I shall return in two shakes of a lamb’s tail.”
“Okay. Oh, and don’t bother salting the rim of my glass, okay? It’s too much trouble and I don’t go much for all that salt.”
“As you like it. My, wouldn’t that make a clever title for something?”
“As you like it? It does have a nice ring to it.”
“Alas, it has probably been used. There is nothing new under the sun, M
r. Bryant.”
“Aren’t we?”
“New?” She frowned as if thinking very hard. “We’re certainly rather new to each other, aren’t we?”
“New and improved,” Lester said.
“Indeed we are,” she said, then went into the kitchen.
Lester wandered around the living room, waiting. He glanced into the fireplace. Three split logs were stacked on the grate with kindling and paper wads underneath, waiting for a chilly night. On the mantle, a pewter ashtray held a single, mashed cigarette. There was lipstick on the filter.
“I do hope you like Camembert,” Emily Jean said, coming from the kitchen with a tray of cheese and crackers. The margaritas were balanced precariously.
“Once inside my mouth, it’s great. The trick is to get it there without smelling it.”
“Why, you must smell it or you’ll miss half the flavor.” She set the tray on the table in front of the couch. “Do sit down.”
He sat, and then Emily Jean was sitting beside him, against him, and he put his arm around her and squeezed her shoulder.
“A toast would be appropriate, don’t you think?”
“I guess so,” Lester agreed.
“To all brave hearts an d lovers.”
They gently clinked their glasses and drank. “That was a nice toast,” Lester said.
Emily Jean smiled. “It did have a nice ring to it.”
“Like ‘as you like it,’ ” he said, and sipped the cloudy drink.
“Exactly.”
“Or ‘all’s well that ends well.’ ”
“I don’t care much for the ring of that one,” said Emily Jean. “It may sound a trifle pessimistic to you, but I suspect that nothing ends well. Not a thing.”
Lester’s stomach tightened. He took a long drink and a deep breath. “That’s an awful way to look at things.”
“Awful, perhaps. But accurate, I’m afraid. Things always start out so dazzling bright and full of promise. Like the first snowfall of the year. Have you ever lived where it snows?”
“I grew up in Chicago.”
“Then you know. It falls so lovely white and melts on your eyelashes and covers the lawns and roofs and the tops of cars and it’s simply beautiful. Then young men have heart attacks shoveling it and cars skid into each other and trees. And after the snow has been on the ground for a short time, it’s gray and ugly.”
Cuts Page 19
