by Gahan Hanmer
Guy Hawke was not your average hulking bully. He was tall and lean and almost graceful in the way he slowly turned and walked back to where I stood. But when he shoved his face right down into mine, I could see how impatient he was for an opportunity to hurt someone.
"What did you say?"
"You heard me."
"You want to make something of it?"
"Yeah, I do."
"Meet me behind the studio in fifteen minutes."
"I'll be there."
Guy Hawke seemed pleased. Giving me one last baleful stare, he walked away. It was a frightening look, very powerful and predatory; it made me sorry once again that I'd gotten myself into this mess. But there was nothing to do now but go through with it, so I went back to my dorm to change out of my good clothes.
Albert followed me upstairs. "You're not going to fight with him, are you?"
"Sure, I am."
"Why?"
"Why? What do you mean why?"
"Don't you know why?"
"Get out of here, Albert. I have to get ready."
"Is it a matter of principle?"
"I don't know, Albert. I hate people like that. I always wind up fighting with people like that. It doesn't matter why."
"Do you think you have to save me from him?"
"Huh?" I was looking for my high-top sneakers.
"You told him to quit shoving me."
I had forgotten about that. "It isn't about you. A person like that, he's . . . Let's talk about it tomorrow, okay?"
"Tomorrow may be too late. Everything we do, Jack, spreads out in ripples to the edge of the universe, and then comes back to touch us with good or ill."
That made me bark with laughter. "Albert, will you give me a break?" I had broken my shoelace. "You're going to make me late for this fight. I don't want to be late. I want to be early so I can get myself set."
"You don't have to go through with this."
"Are you crazy? Of course I do."
"You can inform him that you've decided not to stoop to his level."
"If I did that, he'd be lifting his leg on me all year!"
"There's no need to be vulgar. We could go to him together as a united front. We could embarrass him with the smallness of his behavior."
"Albert, I've got to hand it to you. You are a real maniac."
Grabbing my sweatshirt, I bounded down the stairs.
The studio, where art and music classes were held, was off by itself between the quad and the gym. There were strict rules about fighting in the buildings or on the quad, but hey, boys will be boys, and there was a tacit understanding that the disciplinary machinery would overlook a fight behind the studio if nobody got seriously hurt.
When I got there, a lot of boys had already gathered to watch the fight. In a dull place like a boys' prep school where life is mostly classes and studying, news of anything interesting spreads fast. Guy Hawke wasn't there yet, so I had a chance to catch my breath and look over the killing ground. It was just a bit of lawn covered with dry autumn grass, a couple of big trees at both ends of the studio, and a hedge of blackberry bushes running below the windows in between. The lights were off in the studio but there was some spill from the lights in the gym. Coupled with a bright moon, there was plenty of light for me to get my ass kicked that evening.
I felt good. I was a little afraid of getting hurt, but I was excited too. This would be my first serious fight at that school, and I wanted to make a good showing while I lasted. One good fight with someone bigger than you fixes you right up with a reputation even if you lose; then in the future, anybody who might think to give you a hard time is more likely to pass you by for someone who won't fight back.
Boys kept arriving but they all kept pretty quiet, because if they attracted the attention of the teachers, the fight would be broken up before it started, and nobody wanted that. Now I couldn't wait for Guy to get there, because I'd decided to give them all a surprise. Instead of the usual preliminaries with insults and shoving, I was going to go at him with everything I had the second he stepped onto the grass. I could still remember that strange and awful look he had given me outside the study hall, and I wanted to get right into it before I lost my nerve.
Well, there he was, in jeans and sneakers just like me, and walking between some of the boys he liked to hang out with, big boys who were on the football team. My body gave a little hop in the air, and then I was charging. Guy crouched with his fists up to meet me and his friends jumped to either side; and suddenly, there was Albert. Damn him! I don't know where he came from, but he was right in my way and I had to pull up short or else run him down.
"Albert, get out of the way, I mean it! You're going to get hurt if you keep this up."
"Don't do it, Jack. You'll only regret it, I assure you. And as for you," he said, turning to Guy Hawke, and moving right up under the point of Guy's beaky nose, "you may think you can intimidate people with your size and strength. But I'm warning you in your best interest that God is watching."
That made all the boys laugh. Still, there was a certain hesitancy in the laughter, I suppose because nobody was completely sure that God wasn't watching. Whether we believed in God or not, nobody wanted to get into trouble.
Guy Hawke was furious. It was frightening to see the veins swell up in his neck, the insane look that came into his eyes. What he was thinking I have no idea, but he brought his arm back across his body and dealt Albert a hell of a backhand crack that sent him sprawling flat on the grass. A little gasp went up from the crowd at the viciousness of it; a split second later there was another gasp because I had moved in on Guy while he was distracted and nearly dropped him with a solid punch right under the left eyebrow.
I went right in after him, trying to land a few more, but he got his guard up and was suddenly charging me in his fury. I jumped back and then started to circle him, looking for another opening.
I had gotten very lucky with that first punch, for his eye began immediately to swell, and in no time at all it was closed completely over. Now I was circling, circling to the right, into his blind side. At first he tried to rush me, but I was fast in those days. I hopped back and came right in on his blind side again. He was roaring now in his frustration, and the crowd of boys had forgotten how to be quiet in their excitement. Guy Hawke had made enemies. There were plenty of people there who would be glad to see him lose. On the other hand, I was not particularly popular myself. So anybody's blood would be welcome in that fight, and the boys cheered us on.
He charged me again, but this time I dodged wrong and circled right into the blackberry bushes. That was a bad mistake, for suddenly he was on me, punching with all his strength, knocking the wind out of me, splitting my lip. The best I could do was to grab him by the shirt and yank him into the thornbush with me, and a mighty thorough scratching we got trying to get to one another after that!
A sharp command from one of the teachers brought the fight to a halt. He looked us both over in the beam of his flashlight, and then took us both to the infirmary where a doctor was called in to look at Guy's eye. Then we were sent to our rooms and told to stay there until they decided what to do with us. The fight had been too bloody to overlook.
"Well, you are an amazing sight," said Albert when I walked into my room. There was a mirror on my dresser and I went to look at myself. My lip was split and puffy. It would be tender for a while but it would heal up fine. My face was scratched from the thorns, but that was nothing. My sweatshirt was flecked and smeared with blood. That was kind of neat.
"You should see Guy Hawke," I said.
"So what do you think that proved?"
"Look, Albert, I feel pretty good right now, so if you're going to start up again with that faggy crap, why don't you just get out of here."
To my surprise he got up and left. In the doorway he stopped and said, "I suppose a fight now and then isn't so bad. But there's no excuse for that kind of language."
A few seconds later he came back in. "
I think we should wait a few weeks before we go to my house. I can't introduce you to my parents looking like that. It wouldn't make a good impression."
"Okay, Albert, whatever you say." What a maniac! I hadn't even said I wanted to go. Did I want to be associated with a fruitcake like Albert Keane? Could I go out to some big estate and take tea on the knee with the super-rich? Wouldn't that be some kind of a betrayal to my parents and the things we believed? On the other hand, I was really itching to get out of that school for a couple of days, and the idea of having a horse to ride was very tempting. I could go once, I thought, just to say I'd done it.
At that moment I felt like I could do anything I wanted. I had just gotten the best of someone who was a lot bigger than I was; he even had to see the doctor! I was high as a kite. While we had been sitting on opposite benches in the infirmary, with me holding a guaze pad against my lip, and he with a great bag of ice over one eye, Hawke had whispered hoarsely, "You hit me when I wasn't looking, you little runt. And I'm going to get even with you if it takes me the rest of my life." I gave him my best puffy-lipped smile as if to say I was ready anytime. Anytime at all.
"Okay, Rudy, here's the scoop. You get back in the Rolls and go back to the old homestead, and tell Albert that I'm very touched he was thinking of me, and I'll give him a call in a few weeks. You can leave me his number." I was actually feeling something akin to nausea from all those old memories. I was looking forward to getting Rudy and the Rolls back on the road, and then treating myself to a nice long nap.
Rudy looked a little put out. "Oh, come on, Mr. Darcey, don't be like that. Why don't you just get a few things together and let me drive you out there? Mr. Keane is going to be very disappointed if you don't show up."
The last thing I wanted was an argument about it, and I was trying to be polite to this man who had driven all the way from Massachusetts for nothing. "Look, Rudy, just tell Albert it's square business, okay? That means I promise to call him soon. Going with you today is just out of the question, that's all."
He reached into his coat again and handed me an envelope. I opened it, and on some expensive stationery was a note from Albert.
Dear Jack,
I would like you to be a part of something that is happening. Please do not be stubborn and balky. Be guided by our long friendship and not by any subsequent separation, and please come right away because time is a factor. I will explain it all when you arrive.
Your dear friend,
Albert
"Do you know what this is about?"
Rudy gave me a long look and shook his head.
"Is it important?"
He gave me a shrug.
"I think you know what this is about."
"If I did know, I couldn't tell you."
"Well, leave me Albert's number, and tell him what I said." I went over to the stairs, and gestured with my head toward the open road. We walked together to the Rolls, and he opened the door but didn't get in. Instead he got a pair of gloves from the pocket of the door and started to draw them on. I remember they seemed kind of thick for driving, but I wasn't paying much attention. I was thinking instead about how much I was going to enjoy my afternoon nap.
"Mr. Darcey, can I tell you something?"
"Sure, Rudy, lay it on me." Anything so long as the next thing is goodbye.
"You're not doing so well. You lost your theater. You lost all your money and then some. You're living in a dump in the boondocks, and you don't have the slightest idea what to do next. Am I right?"
I just looked at him.
"Okay, well, somebody is trying to do you a big favor, and I am also trying to do you a favor by telling you that you are being very stubborn and foolish. Now why don't you do yourself a favor, and go lock up the house, and get in this car. You don't even need a toothbrush."
"Thanks for telling me that, Rudy," I said, stifling a yawn. "I'm sure it's very good advice, and I promise I'll get in touch with Albert in a week or two. Now please just get the hell out of here and give me a break."
I was very relieved when Rudy suddenly relaxed and grinned at me; all the energy had gone out of him. He shrugged and said, "Well, that's that. You can't say I didn't try." He winked at me, and I smiled back, glad that it was finally settled.
Then he did a curious thing. He bent down as though he wanted to pick something up from the ground; and at the same time he made a beckoning gesture with his finger as though he wanted to show me something. So I started to bend over also—like a chump—and the last thing I saw was his fist in that heavy leather glove coming up at me all the way from the ground.
Chapter Two
When I came to, I had no idea where I was. There was a pillow under my head, and I was tucked up in a soft blanket. There was a soothing, vibrating sensation but no noise. Very faintly I could hear a clock ticking. Otherwise it was silent.
My jaw ached. There was something I wanted to remember that seemed vaguely important, but I was quite comfortable and a little groggy. I just wanted to sleep a little longer.
Suddenly I sat up. I was in the back of the Rolls-Royce. That little bastard had coldcocked me, and now he was hauling me off to Albert's! There he was behind the wheel, cool as a breeze. I would wring his head off like a chicken!
But the thick glass partition did not respond to my tugging at it; and when I rapped sharply on it with my knuckles, Rudy didn't even bother to turn around. It was just a quarter inch of glass and I was sure he could hear me rapping. If he thought he was going to get away with this, he didn't know Jack Darcey! I looked around for something solid to bash the glass with, but there was nothing. I didn't even have a good shoe to work with. I was still in my old beat-up sneakers.
I sat back against the seat. It felt ridiculous to keep tapping at the window. What time was it? I found the clock by its gentle ticking, a lovely and expensive timepiece set into the armrest. It was early afternoon, and the best I could figure was that I'd been out for about an hour. That little rooster had put me out for an hour with one punch? I thought about those gloves he had slipped on. Now I could see them clearly in my mind’s eye, padded across the knuckles with a little pillow of lead sand. Sap gloves they were called. What a sap I was not to have noticed! And the way he set me up, smiling and winking. What a chump I was! It should have given me a good laugh at myself, but I didn't feel like laughing.
Where were we? We were humming down some turnpike that could have been anywhere. From the position of the sun I guessed we were headed east. This was kidnapping, wasn't it? I was being kidnapped, a federal offense! It didn't feel very much like a federal offense, with me sitting in the back of a Rolls-Royce with a pillow and a comfortable blanket. But it was, goddammit!
This time I pounded on the partition with the side of my fist and shouted, "Rudy, you better listen to me, buddy, if you know what's good for you!"
"No need to shout, Mr. Darcey, I can hear you just fine." The voice came from a little speaker above the partition.
"Turn this car around, Rudy. Take me back home."
"Aw, Mr. Darcey, why don't you make yourself a cocktail and have a nice snooze. We'll be there in a couple of hours. You'll have a good time, I guarantee it. You like to ride horses, don't you? Mr. Keane said to tell you he has a really fine horse for you that is the spittin' image of Phoenix."
Phoenix was the horse the Keane family used to keep especially for me to ride, as though it was my own horse. Of course I'd like to ride a fine horse; how could I say otherwise? And that wasn't the point.
"Listen," I said. "Horse or no horse, you have no right to do this. This is kidnapping, understand? A very serious offense. You take me back home, or I will see you sitting in a cell!"
"Be a sport, Mr. Darcey. How would you like it if Marya Randall had put you in a cell?"
Marya Randall? I couldn't believe my ears! What did he know about Marya? She was an old lover I hadn't seen in ever so many years. He had to be referring to that time back in college when I kidnapped her and took
her off to the mountains to have sex with her. It had all been very playful and as much her idea as it was mine; a novel and exciting way for us to begin our relationship. But what was I supposed to say now?
I was starting to feel very confused. Leaning back in the seat, I closed my eyes. Was I being stupid? A spoilsport? Maybe so, but I still wanted to have some say over what I was going to do or not do.
Then it occurred to me. We would have to stop somewhere. There had to be a traffic light or something between there and the old homestead. I could just open the door and jump out and then I could make my way back home. It wasn't a very heroic plan, but it gave me some feeling of being back in control. Isn't that what we all want, the feeling that we have at least a little control over what happens to us in our lives?
So I relaxed a bit, and started to enjoy the lush summer landscape dotted with farms and little towns, waiting for some kind of delay that would give me the chance I needed. But when I began to look for the door handle, just to be ready when the time came, I couldn't find one. There was no handle, no lever, no button, nothing that would open the door or even the window. Maybe it was very cleverly disguised to blend in with the decor, or maybe it was all controlled from the front. Now I was fuming again, and my mind was filling up with dark thoughts about what I would do to that little bantam when I got my hands on him.
On the outskirts of some little burg, we picked up a cop who jumped on his motorcycle and took off after us. I put my nose against the partition and tried to see the speedometer. Eighty-five miles an hour! It certainly didn't seem so fast in that smooth-rolling Rolls. Anyway, it would get Rudy pulled over, and perfect timing too, because that little town was sure to have at least a bus station. Once again I relaxed. I decided I really didn't care about the whole kidnapping business and trying to get Rudy in trouble. Best just to think of it as a joke and forget about it.
