Cuts

by Richard Laymon

  Ian had him by the shirt collar. Lifted him. Dragged him to the bed and threw him onto it.

  “Stay there.”

  The bed felt good. Lester knew he’d been defeated: tricked and humiliated.

  Not by Ian.

  By Helen.

  Doesn’t matter. I’m done with her. The hell with her. Fuck her. Never want to see her again, the filthy slut.

  Then he rolled onto his side and threw up.

  FIFTY-NINE

  THE PARTY’S OVER

  Turning, Ian saw Helen staring down at the revolver on the bedroom floor.

  “You can leave, now,” he told her.

  “He tried to kill me,” she said, her voice quiet as if she were talking to herself, trying to understand a twisted puzzle. “He really tried to kill me.”

  Ian picked up the pistol. With his thumb, he lowered the hammer to half cock. Then he flipped open the side port and gave the cylinder a spin.

  “It isn’t loaded,” he said. “Lester didn’t want to kill anyone. No ammo. See?”

  Helen stepped closer. She pulled the weapon toward her, turning Ian’s hand, and scowled at the empty holes as Ian spun the cylinder.

  “No bullets,” she muttered.

  Ian watched her step toward the bed. She moved slowly like someone in a trance. For a long time, she stared down at her husband. She shook her head slowly. “You miserable piece of shit,” she said. “Didn’t even have the balls to load the fucking gun. You worthless…”

  “Take off, Helen.”

  She snapped her head toward Ian and fixed him with fierce eyes.

  “Take off,” he repeated. “I’ll take care of Lester. Don’t you even think about calling the police. If they get in on this, I’ll tell them all about you and Charles.”

  For a moment, he thought Helen might try to attack him. Then the rage seemed to pass from her. She walked to the door and left.

  When she was gone, Ian knelt beside Janet.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  “Not too bad, I don’t think.”

  “Sorry about all that. Something always hits the fan at these parties. Usually nothing like this, though. Cat fights and gun-toting cowboys…”

  “Cat fights?” Janet asked.

  “Bad choice of words. Sorry about that.”

  “I didn’t start it, you know.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t.”

  Janet sat up, holding the washcloth to her face. “I’ll be black and blue for a month.” She wanted to smile, but knew it would hurt.

  “Anything feel wrong inside?” Ian asked.

  “I don’t think so. I was afraid…she’d do something to make me miscarry.”

  “You’re pregnant?”

  Janet nodded. She could feel his concern for her.

  “That crazy bitch,” he muttered.

  “What’d she think,” Janet asked, “I was horning in on Ronald?”

  “Guess so.”

  “He’s not my type.”

  “But it did look like you were with him,” Ian said. “He had his hand on you. I was starting to feel a little jealous, myself.”

  Her heart speeded up. She felt heat rush through her body.

  “You going with Ronald, too?” she asked, trying to smile. “He’s a popular fella.”

  “I don’t care for him much,” Ian said.

  “Oh.”

  “But I care about you, which is pretty weird.”

  Oh, my God!

  “Not that weird,” she told him, staring into his eyes. Her lips felt dry. She licked them.

  “We just met,” Ian said.

  “How long is it supposed to take?”

  Ian’s face turned crimson. “I guess first sight can do it,” he said.

  Did he just say what I think he said?

  Heart racing, Janet said, “Looks that way.”

  Ian grimaced, smiled, shook his head. “Anyway,” he said, “maybe we’d better get out of here and take you to an emergency room.”

  “Yeah as to getting out of here,” she said. “No as to the emergency room. I’m okay. Just a few scratches and bumps.”

  “But if you’re pregnant…”

  “I feel fine. Really. Except for my face. Why don’t we just get out of here?”

  Ian helped her to stand. After she was up, he still held on to her arm.

  On the bed, the man named Lester groaned.

  “What about him?” Janet asked.

  “I’m not sure. My Jaguar only holds two.”

  “I’ve got a Maverick.”

  Ian hesitated.

  “I wouldn’t mind,” she said. “Really.”

  “Okay.” Ian stepped to the bedside. He put a hand on Lester’s shoulder and gently shook him. The shut eyes squeezed tight. Then one opened.

  Lester groaned. “Huh?” he murmured. “What?”

  “Let’s get you out of here,” Ian said.

  “Huh?”

  “We’ll drive you home.”

  “Home? No. Haven’t got one.”

  “Somewhere else? A motel? A friend’s place?”

  “Emily Jean’s.”

  “What?”

  “Take me to Emily Jean’s house.”

  “Mrs. Bonner?” Janet asked.

  Lester nodded.

  The teacher I’m subbing for? The one whose daughter got attacked?

  “Maybe we’d better phone her first,” Ian said. “She was absent today, so she might not feel up to…”

  “S’okay. I gotta key. I’m staying at her place. Take me there, okay?”

  Ian helped Lester to sit up. Then he turned to Janet. “That all right with you? Emily Jean’s house is only a couple of miles from here.”

  “Fine. Let’s go.”

  SIXTY

  THE VIGIL

  Albert sat by the window of an upstairs bedroom and watched the street. Every so often, a car went by, headlights pushing through the fog and darkness.

  One slowed down as it approached. Albert stopped chewing his mouthful of Swiss cheese until the car turned and pulled into a driveway across the street. Then he continued chewing, though his mouth was suddenly dry. The cheese became a tasteless wad and he had trouble swallowing it. He set the remaining block of cheese on the windowsill beside his knife.

  A cat trotted silently across the street and disappeared under a parked Toyota.

  An old man with a cane and a cigar walked by. He wore a beret like a Frenchman and swung his cane in a jaunty way.

  Later, a woman in a bathrobe came out of a house across the street to let her poodle squat. The tiny dog got too close to the Toyota and the cat sprang out. Headlights lit its side as it scampered into the street. One of its eyes flashed an eerie yellow. Then the cat was out of danger.

  The car slowed and began its turn.

  Albert grabbed the cheese and knife, straightened his chair, and left the room. He hurried down the hallway to the other bedroom, the bedroom with the poster of a rock star on its wall. The daughter’s bedroom, he supposed.

  May Beth’s.

  He dropped the cheese into a dresser drawer. Then he stepped between the open bedroom door and the wall.

  And waited.

  SIXTY-ONE

  EMILY JEAN’S HOUSE

  In the driveway, Janet stopped her car, shut off its lights and killed the engine. “Guess we’re here,” she said.

  “Let’s make sure Lester gets inside okay,” Ian said from the passenger seat. Then he opened the door and climbed out.

  “Who are you?” Lester asked from the backseat.

  “Janet.”

  “I don’t think I know you.”

  “I’m a substitute teacher,” she said. “This was my first day.”

  “A substitute?”

  “For Mrs. Bonner.”

  “Emily Jean?”

  “Yeah.”

  Ian, now on her side of the car, opened the door for her. As she climbed out, the back door swung open.

  The three of them followed a walk
way toward the house’s front porch.

  “Do you know Emily Jean?” Lester asked Janet.

  “No.”

  “I do. We’re very close. I’m house-sitting for her while she’s away.”

  “Where’d she go?” Ian asked.

  “Denver.”

  “To see May Beth?”

  “How’d you know about that?”

  “May Beth’s making a movie in Denver, isn’t she?”

  “Was,” Lester said. “But not anymore, I guess.”

  “She’s not?” Ian sounded upset. “What happened?”

  “She got hurt, somehow. Cut up. The doctor told Emily Jean that she’s in critical condition.”

  Ian looked stunned.

  “She’s going to be all right,” Janet quickly added. “Emily Jean called Harrison today. The daughter’s going to be fine, but I’m supposed to sub for Emily Jean all next week. I guess she’s planning to stay away for a while.”

  Making no comment, Lester unlocked the front door.

  “How did it happen?” Ian asked. He followed Lester into the dark foyer. Janet stayed close beside him.

  In the living room, Lester turned on a light. “I don’t know,” he said, and dropped heavily onto the couch. “Emily Jean got a call yesterday. They didn’t say what happened. Just that May Beth had been cut. I don’t know.”

  “It was a sexual assault,” Janet explained.

  Ian looked sick.

  “Maybe you can call the hospital,” Janet suggested. “She’d probably like to hear from you.”

  “Anybody know which hospital?” he asked.

  Janet shook her head.

  Lester nodded and rubbed his forehead. “General…County General, I think.”

  Ian picked up the phone near the couch.

  “Excuse me,” Lester said. He got up. “I’ll be right back.”

  As Ian dialed for directory assistance, Lester walked to the stairway.

  SIXTY-TWO

  PUNISHMENT

  At the foot of the stairs, Lester flicked a wall switch. A light came on at the top. His legs felt heavy as he climbed.

  Terrible night, he thought. But it’s over now. I’ll never have to see any of those people again.

  Helen, maybe.

  Not necessarily. Maybe I’ll just disappear.

  I can stay here for at least a week, anyway. That’ll be nice.

  He stopped at the door toMay Beth’s bedroom. His heart quickened, making blood throb through his aching head.

  May Beth.

  A patch of pale glow from the hallway light fell on a corner of her bed.

  He had made love on that bed, but not with her.

  Maybe it’s a punishment.

  Punishment for Emily Jean, for doing the daughter act.

  Punishment for me.

  My fault she got cut up.

  He muttered, “I’m sorry, May Beth,” into the dark of the room.

  Then he crossed the hallway and entered the bathroom. He turned on the light and shut the door. In the medicine-cabinet mirror, he saw his own reflection.

  Mussed hair, sallow face, eyes that looked tired and sad…and the bolo tie.

  It does look silly, he thought. No wonder everyone thinks I’m such a loser.

  “Fuck ’em all,” he muttered.

  I should’ve taken ammo and blasted everyone.

  But I didn’t, he thought. Because I’m a gutless, nutless wonder just like Helen says.

  Worthless.

  He looked down at the holster below his right hip. It was empty.

  Who’s got my gun? he wondered.

  Who cares. Who needs it? Wherever it is, the fucking thing isn’t loaded, anyway.

  Story of my life, he thought. I’m no better than an empty gun.

  His image slid away when he opened the medicine cabinet. Inside, he found a green plastic bottle of Excedrin. He shook two tablets into his palm, but decided that wasn’t enough. Not for a headache this bad. He dumped out two more tablets, then washed them down with water cupped in his hand.

  He turned off the faucet. He dried his mouth on a towel.

  Then he stepped over to the toilet and urinated.

  As he held his penis between his thumb and forefinger, Emily Jean came into his mind.

  The feel of her fingers, of her mouth, of her slippery snug vagina.

  He started to grow stiff.

  Things could be a lot worse, he told himself. At least I’ve got Emily Jean. If I want her.

  Maybe May Beth, too, if I get real lucky.

  He managed to push his erection back inside his underwear, then zipped up his jeans and flushed the toilet. At the sink, he washed his hands.

  Maybe tonight I’ll sleep in May Beth’s bed.

  He opened the bathroom door.

  A naked man stood there. A boy, really. His face was distorted by a crooked grin.

  Lester saw the blade for an instant before it went into his belly. A very long, wide blade.

  He tried to get his hands there in time to stop it, but he wasn’t fast enough.

  It disappeared completely into him and he couldn’t believe it even when he felt its white-hot stiffness inside, even when he saw it slide out dark with his own blood.

  He couldn’t believe it.

  Impossible.

  This isn’t happening.

  He reached out to stop the floor from smashing into his face, but his arms didn’t work.

  SIXTY-THREE

  FALLING

  “Thank you.” Ian hung up.

  Janet, sitting beside him on the couch, had taken hold of his hand and leaned against him so he could feel her warmth against his arm.

  Now she turned her head and met his eyes. “Sounded like good news,” she said.

  He nodded. “May Beth’s off the critical list. She’s been upgraded to serious.”

  “That is good news.”

  He nodded and settled against the back of the couch. Janet eased back against it with him. “They wouldn’t let me talk to her. Understandable, of course. It’s about midnight there. They said I should try again in the morning.”

  “She must be very special to you.”

  “Who? May Beth?”

  Janet nodded.

  “Never met her.”

  “You’ve never met her?”

  “Her mother’s a good friend. Emily Jean.”

  “Ah.” Janet smiled and looked relieved.

  Ian lifted her hand onto his leg and looked down at it. A small hand compared to his. Smooth and delicate. “May Beth’s an actress. Stage, mostly. Anyway, they’re filming one of my books out in Denver, so I pulled a few strings and helped her get a role in a film. That’s what she was doing there.” He shook his head slowly. “I almost got the girl killed.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “She’ll live, anyway. Apparently. No thanks to me.”

  “You shouldn’t feel guilty, Ian.”

  “It’s not guilt, really. I just feel sorry. Hell, you can’t live without making decisions and every time you make one you start a chain reaction. You affect lives. In ways you never figured. Or wanted.”

  “Some of the effects aren’t so bad,” Janet said.

  He looked at her. Her face was very close to his. He put his arm around her shoulders and she tucked her face into the curve of his neck.

  “Those strings you pulled,” she said. Her breath was warm against him. “They’re why I’m here right now, you know.”

  “I guess so,” Ian said.

  Janet lifted her face away from his neck and looked up at him.

  With a fingertip, he traced the curves of her lips, her chin. Then he kissed her. Her mouth was moist and yielding and she clutched him as if she wanted the kiss never to end.

  He glided his hand over her doeskin shirt, found the rise of her left breast, and cupped it gently.

  She untucked the back of his shirt. Then her hand went underneath it and roamed his skin.

  He let go of her. “We’d bette
r not…uh, I’ll tell Lester we’re leaving.”

  “Okay.”

  “Then we’ll go…I don’t know, someplace. My place?”

  “That’d be great.”

  As Ian got to his feet, so did Janet. “One more kiss,” she said and stepped into his arms.

  Ian held her tightly, kissing her, feeling the curves of her back, feeling the urgent press of her body against his. Then he eased her gently away. “Back in a minute,” he said.

  “Hurry.”

  Smiling, he went to the stairs. He climbed them two at a time until he reached the top.

  There, he saw fresh wet bloodstains on the carpet.

  He went cold inside.

  Beyond the soggy patch of carpet was a shut door.

  Ian stepped over the blood and knocked. “Lester? Lester, you in there?”

  He gripped the knob.

  It wouldn’t turn.

  “Lester!” He pounded the door with his fist.

  “What’s wrong?” Janet called.

  Ian stepped away from the door and looked down the stairs at her. “I don’t know. There’s blood up here and a locked door.”

  “Oh, no. You think he might be trying to…hurt himself?”

  “Wouldn’t surprise…”

  He turned at the sound of an opening door.

  A naked, blood-soaked boy rushed out with a butcher knife.

  As Ian lurched away, his foot swept empty air. He reached for the banister and missed.

  He seemed to fall a long time before a stair pounded the back of his head.

  SIXTY-FOUR

  DOC

  With a sudden shock of fear, Janet watched Ian stumble backward. She dashed up the stairs hoping to stop his fall, but she’d hardly begun when his head slammed one of the carpeted steps. He twisted sideways, legs against the wall. His left arm, caught between two upright bars of the railing, snapped.

  Dropping to her knees, Janet fell across Ian and stopped him from falling farther. As she tried to free his broken arm, she heard a squeak of wood above her.

  She looked up.

  The boy’s bare skin was splattered and smeared with blood. He grinned as he stepped silently onto the stairs. Down low at his side, next to his erect penis, he held a butcher knife upright.

  Janet felt as if her breath had been kicked out.

  “Ian!” She shook him.

  He didn’t react, just lay motionless on his back.

  The boy came slowly down the stairs.