“No, Dick, to be honest . . . she didn’t,” I answered as I walked over to close the kitchen door. The evening breeze was bringing in a chill. Dick’s depression was quite a contrast to the cheerful-looking kitchen, with brightly colored, orange-flowered wallpaper, and a hutch filled with pictures of smiling faces.
Elbows on the table, he cupped his face in his large hands as he whined, “I don’t know what to do, Georgia. I miss her so much.” He looked up and connected with my eyes once again. “Do you think she’ll ever come back?”
Feeling uncomfortable, I tried to ease his pain but was careful not to give false hopes. “I don’t mean to hurt you, Dick, but maybe you should start thinking about what you’re going to do if she doesn’t come back. She seems like she may have really made up her mind this—”
“If she’d just talk to me, I know I could convince her to give me another chance,” he interrupted, refusing to hear the reality of it.
“I don’t know. . . .” I answered in a doubtful voice.
“What am I gonna do, Georgia? I love her so much. . . .” he answered defeatedly.
“Keep your mind busy,” I answered, running my fingers through my long blond hair, trying to think of some solution. “Start going out with your friends; that’ll help.”
“Yeah, but my friends are her friends. All we do is talk about Sharon.”
That was true. Neither of them had ever left this little town. Their friends were people they’d both grown up with. Avoiding each other was almost impossible.
“So make new friends,” I said. “Go out in the city. You can’t hang around in this town and not expect to run into people who’ll remind you of Sharon. There’s another world out there besides East Rochester, you know.”
He shook his head. “Yeah, but I’d feel funny walking into a bar where I didn’t know anybody. I’m not like you, Georgia. You make friends easily. I’m not like that.”
“You could make friends—if you tried,” I replied sternly.
“Will you help me, Georgia? Take me to the city and introduce me to some of your friends?”
“I would, but Tom’s coming home tonight.”
“Oh,” he said with downcast eyes.
I was such a sucker for people in pain. Even though I knew Sharon would be much happier without him, I still couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. As I tried to console him, the phone rang.
“Hi, honey,” Tom said. “I have some bad news. I couldn’t get a pass.”
“Oh, Tom, I’m so disappointed. Susie and Ralph are having a party tomorrow night; it’s a farewell party. Ralph got drafted too.”
“You’ll have to go without me, I guess. What’re you gonna do tonight?”
“I’ll just make an early night of it. I have a six-o’clock call tomorrow anyway.”
“I’m sure I’ll be able to make it next week. . . .” He paused for a moment. “Uh, we got our orders today.” We were both silent for a long moment. “They’re shipping us out to Vietnam as soon as we finish boot camp.”
“So soon?” I wrapped the telephone cord around my index finger. My stomach churned.
“War doesn’t wait, Georgia. I’ve gotta go. There’s a line here for the phone. I love you, honey.”
“I love you, too, Tom. See you next week.” I set the receiver softly in its cradle.
“He’s not coming home tonight?” Dick asked.
“No, I guess not,” I answered.
“Georgia?” Dick said, interrupting my thoughts. “As long as Tom’s not coming, why don’t you take me to the city tonight?”
The thought of Vietnam depressed me. Four of my friends had already lost their lives in Vietnam. They were dropping like flies over there. Maybe going out would get my mind off it. A few hours wouldn’t hurt, and Dick looked like he really needed some cheering up.
“Well, all right, but we’ll have to take two cars. I can’t stay too long.”
“Nah, I really don’t plan on having a good time. Let’s just take one car. I’ll leave whenever you’re ready.”
“Are you sure about that? I have to be up by four o’clock tomorrow, and I really need to get to bed at a decent hour.”
“I’m very sure. I could use a drink and a change of scenery, but I doubt I’ll be having such a great time I won’t want to leave. Whenever you say—we’re gone.”
“Well, okay . . .” I answered, half sure I’d made the right decision. I changed out of my jeans and into the black cocktail dress I’d planned on wearing for Tom and off we went.
Friday night in the city and the Living Room lounge was hopping. I was glad I had decided to go out. As I walked through the door a Four Tops tune was blasting from the stage.
“Georgia!” someone called out cheerily above the music.
Jimmy Cristo, the Living Room’s proprietor, stood at the corner of the bar, motioning me over. With him were Sammy G and Joey Tiraborelli.
Joey was the stepson of Red Russotti, a big-shot mobster, and was Sammy G’s best friend. They were never apart. Joey was a funny man with a crooked smile and an infectious laugh. His nose, just prominent enough to get him into trouble with a fast-closing door, put a measure of Roman history in his face. He thought he was Rochester’s answer to John Dillinger, shooting his mouth off way too often. He was always either insulting or throwing a punch at men who were to be respected in their world. If he had been anyone else, he’d have been found facedown somewhere in a ditch with a bullet in his head. But there was safety in being Sammy G’s favorite sidekick, and he knew it. Dumber than shit—he’d have to take his shoes off to count past ten.
Jimmy Cristo stood out in the crowd. He did have a brain. Besides owning the Living Room, he had one of the most successful auto body shops in the city. He’d made a lot of money at a young age—legally—and he knew how to spend it. Without hearing him speak, you could tell he was a class act. Quiet and cautious, he spoke more with his eyes than his mouth. Dressed to perfection with a flirtatious glint in his eyes, he beckoned me over.
Jimmy gave me my very first car on my sixteenth birthday. A Studebaker, of all things, but it was a car, and I was grateful for the wheels. It was one he had hanging around the lot. Not long after, it mysteriously burned up. He’d felt so bad about it, he gave me a really neat metallic gold 1964 Buick. That car I really liked.
Both Joey Tiraborelli and Jimmy Cristo were on the Bahamas trip. Jimmy had broken up with his steady girlfriend, Gail, just before the trip. Attracted to each other, we hung out together the whole time, but he was ten years older than I was and he wanted an adult relationship. I wasn’t even close. Besides, I was still jailbait. He was smarter than that, but the fact was, there was a strong attraction.
As I approached the bar with Dick trailing behind I thought of walking barefoot on the beach with Jimmy. The full moon, the warm sand between our toes, the island music playing in the distance. Those soft eyes of his—God, did he have gorgeous eyes. But I was engaged now, and Jimmy was back with Gail, getting what he needed from her. So it had ended before it had really begun.
After the cheek-kissing ritual, I introduced Dick to the trio. He was obviously out of his element. The Living Room catered to the city crowd. Anything other than gabardine pants and patent-leather shoes was pathetically out of place. Dick’s casual cream-colored pants and plaid shirt screamed to them, “I’m an asshole!” Obviously a little intimidated, Dick looked awkwardly around the bar, avoiding eye contact with my friends.
Sammy G sized up Dick—revealing his disapproval in his mannerisms, studying Dick with a sidelong look and shaking his head. He neither liked nor trusted outsiders. Behind him, Jimmy Cristo appeared equally unimpressed.
Sammy shot me a smirk that said, Who the fuck is this mayonnaise face? I shrugged and grinned, leaving my eyes to say the rest.
“We’re all going to Skinny’s later, kid. Want us to save you a table?” Sammy asked, ignoring Dick.
“No, thanks, Sam. I’ll be long gone by that time.”
The band slowed down the pace, playing a great Mo town tune, and Sammy dragged me off to the dance floor.
“I think Jimmy Cristo still has a crush on you. He’s been eyeballin’ you since you walked in,” he said, shifting his gaze toward the bar.
I glanced over at Jimmy standing in his corner, looking as cool as a long drink of water. “Yeah, well, don’t let Gail get wind of it. Remember what happened to the car Jimmy gave me last year? You can’t convince me she wasn’t the one who set it on fire.”
“She did finally admit to that, ya know,” he said.
“Actually, Sam, she did me a favor. The replacement car is a lot nicer.”
“Just don’t park it in the gas station again. If we hadn’t pushed it out into the street before it blew up, it would’ve taken out the whole fuckin’ block!” He paused and looked down at me with a lazy smile. “Did anyone ever tell you that you have an explosive personality?”
I burst out laughing.
“So who’s this guy you’re with?” Sammy asked as he swung me around to the music. He was an excellent dancer.
“He’s my sister’s husband,” I answered, resting my head on his neck, taking in the musky scent of his cologne.
“So that’s the jerk.”
“Not for much longer, Sam. I think she’s really going to go through with it this time. Hopefully he’ll meet someone tonight and fall madly in love. That would solve a lot of problems,” I said as the song finished and we walked back toward the lounge.
Dick had found a home at the bar. He was talking to Joey, who was going out of his way to introduce him to as many women as possible. Joey was crazy about my sister, and had been ever since the trip to the Bahamas. He would like nothing better than to see the two of them end it for good. Not that he’d ever have a chance with her—she thought he was a kick, but that was all. Dick was doing fine on his own, so I went table hopping.
About eleven o’clock I found Dick on the same bar stool where I’d left him, talking to a bottle blonde.
“I think we should be going now, Dick.”
“I just ordered another beer. We’ll leave as soon as I drink it, okay?”
“Okay, but make it quick,” I said with a hint of an edge. I left them to resume their conversation and danced twice more with a couple of the familiar guys before going back to the bar.
“Ready?” I asked.
Another full bottle of beer sat in front of him.
“Let me just finish this one,” he answered, looking as if he’d had one too many already.
I blew up. “Dick! This is why I wanted to take my own car. You said you would take me home early. If I don’t get to bed soon, I’ll look like crap for my job.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll finish this one and we’ll leave.”
Frustrated, I bumped into Joey on my way to the ladies’ room. “What’s the matter?” Joey asked, his dark eyes filled with concern.
“I can’t get Dick to leave. Did you have to do such a good job, Joey? He’s like a kid in a candy store!” Joey laughed. “It’s not funny, Joey. I have to get up early tomorrow.”
“All right, I’ll see what I can do,” he offered. “Meet ya back at the bar.”
I came out of the ladies’ room and returned to the bar. At my annoying persistence, Dick reluctantly drank his beer down and we finally got up to leave.
Sammy G huddled in the corner of the bar with some mobster types. The conversation looked serious. He looked up as I was walking out the door and I waved. He didn’t smile; he just nodded. As we pulled away I saw Sammy standing at the window watching us. I smiled and waved again. He waved back, but still no smile. Oh, boy. I wonder what’s going on now?
As we entered the expressway and headed toward East Rochester, Dick had difficulty keeping the car between the lines.
“Why don’t you let me drive, Dick?” I asked, becoming concerned.
“No, I’m okay,” he protested.
He passed the Linden Avenue off-ramp. “Dick, where are you going? You just passed my exit.”
“Oh, I wasn’t thinking. I was heading home. Since we’re almost to my house anyway, would you do me a big favor? Sharon’s coming back Sunday. I had the guys over last night to play cards and the house is a mess. Would you help me clean it up? It won’t take long. I just want to show her I’m trying,” he said in a pleading voice.
I really understood his panic about the condition of the house. My sister was a nut for cleanliness. Once we got in a terrible fight when she came at me like an animal because she had just finished cleaning and I had messed up the kitchen making myself something to eat. I almost put out her eye when I threw an ashtray at her in self-defense, which landed her in the hospital with fourteen stitches from her eyebrow down the side of her nose.
“I can’t, Dick; it’s late. If you’d left when I wanted to, I would have, but I’ve got to get some sleep.”
“Please, Georgia, it’s important to me. Look at all the times I’ve helped you out. Can’t you just do this one little thing? Fifteen minutes. That’s all it’ll take if we do it together.”
He exited on Fairport Road, the street where he lived, which was about a mile past my house. I let out a disgruntled sigh, realizing “no” wasn’t an option. He’d been drinking and was focused only on what was important to him. The little house sat about one hundred yards off the road, quite secluded, with the water department to the right and an empty lot to the left.
“Y’know, Dick, you really piss me off! If you’d planned all along to ask me to help you, then why the hell did you sit there guzzling down all those beers when you knew it was getting late? I’ve been telling you all night how early I have to get up!” I spouted.
“It won’t take long, I promise,” he said, ignoring my irritation as he pulled into his driveway.
He was right. The house was a mess. I took off my coat and immediately started to pick up the beer cans strewn everywhere. The faster I did this, the quicker I’d get home. I started on the dishes and Dick picked up a dish towel and began to dry. He was wiping a butcher knife when suddenly he was behind me with the knife at my throat.
“Kiss me,” he said in a voice that was unfamiliar to me.
“Dick, what are you doing?” I screamed.
“Just kiss me. That’s all I want.”
“Dick, think about what you’re doing! I’m your wife’s sister! Are you crazy?”
“Just one kiss—”
He yanked on my dress, and in one single motion it was ripped from my body. I tried to run for the door. He caught me and dragged me back. I kicked and screamed wildly, trying to free myself from his grip. He pinned me against the refrigerator. His slobbery mouth was all over mine. I turned my head from side to side in disgust.
“Just kiss me. That’s all I want.”
“Do you think you’ll ever have a chance with my sister when she finds out about this?” I screamed.
“All I want is one little kiss,” he said, as he bent his head to my breast and practically ripped my bra off with his teeth. His powerful hands yanked at the garment until it came loose from my body.
I kicked him between his legs. It didn’t hurt him, as I was always told it would. It excited him even more. He pulled me into the living room and pushed me onto the couch. Pinning my arms over my head, he tore off my underwear.
The thought of what was coming gave me a surge of strength. I twisted violently and knocked him off balance. As he fell to the floor he hit his head on the coffee table, momentarily stunning him. I jumped from the couch and started to run. He grabbed my leg as I tried to dart past him and I fell to the floor. Kicking his face, I struggled to free myself.
“All I wanted was one little kiss!” he yelled over and over as he began hitting me with a wooden hanger.
Now I understood what my sister meant by Dick’s appetite for sex. Grabbing my hair, he dragged me into the bedroom. The struggle exhilarated him. With his weight on top of me, he bit my breast viciously, leaving teeth impressions on my sk
in. I screamed in excruciating pain. He really enjoyed that. He tried to force himself inside me, but my legs were tightly crossed. With both his hands he persistently tried to pry my legs apart.
I grabbed a large jar of Noxzema that sat on the nightstand and smashed it into his head as hard as I could. I thought it would kill him, but I didn’t care. To my amazement, he looked at me and—smiled. A sick, twisted smile. He held my arms down as he used his knee to separate my legs. Feeling his penis against me, I knew I’d been defeated.
“Oh, God. Please don’t!” I screamed.
No! Not like this, please! This can’t really be happening. Please, God. Help me.
But God did not hear my pleas, and neither could Dick. He was in a world of his own.
I screamed in pain as he violently entered me, savagely biting me at the same time. When it was over, he lay panting on top of me. I wanted to throw up. The weight of his body was crushing. Disgusted and feeling dirty, I continued to cry.
“Sharon can’t find out about this,” he said as he rolled off me.
“If you think no one is going to know about this, you’re crazy, you bastard!” I screamed.
“You can’t tell. She’ll never come back,” he said in a panic, suddenly feeling remorseful.
“It’s a little late to think about that, isn’t it? You’re going to pay for what you did to me! You’re not going to get away with this!” I screamed, as though I were actually talking to a rational person.
“I know, I know!” he said, as if he had just had a brilliant idea. “I’ll kill you and bury you in the backyard. That’s what I’ll do.”
At first I thought he was trying to scare me into keeping my mouth shut, but I looked into his eyes and had no recognition of the man I thought I knew. My sister had told me how he was two different people when he drank, but I had no idea what she meant until now.
He yanked me off the bed and pulled me outside, grabbing a shovel from the garage as we passed.
“Start digging!” he demanded, as he forced the shovel into my hands.
The Company She Keeps Page 5
