‘Donna, listen to me.’ Again he fought the urge to touch her, to lay his hand on her arm. ‘I know you’re mad. And scared. I’m scared. This is bad news. But we can make it work, if we just keep our heads.’ He stared at as much of her eyes as he could see behind the shades, which wasn’t a lot. Under her T-shirt her breasts heaved. For a moment Kyle thought she was going to start yelling, or even slap him. But she didn’t.
‘Okay. Here’s what we do.’ He took a deep breath. ‘You tell everybody you’re going away for awhile. Taking time out to be alone. Traveling somewhere. People will understand. Then we disappear together. I’ll bring along the painting, and we take it to this contact of yours, this… fence. Dispose of it, convert it into money. After that, who knows? You might need to come back for a time. Resume your normal life. I’ll have to lie low. But one day, once the coast is as clear as it’s likely to get, we can meet up again. Start a new life together.’
Donna looked away, down the street. Kyle felt a maddening itch to start walking again and pull her along with him, as though by standing still they were allowing the cops to pinpoint his location.
Finally she said, ‘All right.’
‘Great. I’ll pick you up –’
‘No. I’ll pick you up. I’m the one going away, remember?’ Kyle nodded. ‘Also,’ she went on, ‘now that your picture has been on TV, the cops want to interview me again. They’re coming to visit this afternoon. I’m going to have to tell them your full name, Kyle. Other people are going to identify you as Kyle Cantrell, the pool guy, and I can’t pretend I don’t know who you are.’
‘Yeah.’ He felt a returning stab of panic, which he dismissed.
‘We need to leave tonight,’ Donna said.
‘Okay.’
‘We can’t go near your motel.’
‘No.’
‘You know the National Infantry Museum?’
‘Yeah.’ Kyle hadn’t been there but it was in the southern district of the city, he knew. He’d find it.
‘I’ll meet you there at ten o’clock tonight.’
‘Okay, Donna.’
‘With the painting.’
‘Of course.’
She nodded, seemed to be about to say something – or maybe she too was holding back from making physical contact with him – and turned to go.
‘Donna.’
She looked back.
‘I love you,’ he said.
‘Love you too.’
‘Good luck.’
And she was gone.
Nine
Even at this late hour the heat hung over the city like a canvas shroud. Donna pulled the Mercedes, its roof open, in at the curb at three minutes to ten by the dashboard clock, and saw Kyle peel out of the shadows by the wall of the museum. He was as always casually dressed, and he carried a new-looking rucksack on his back.
He walked over and glanced around him before opening the door and dropping into the seat beside Donna. Lowering the rucksack into the footwell between his knees, he opened it and pulled out a two- by three-feet object, wrapped in an oilskin sack.
‘See?’
She nodded and took off. Kyle put the sack back in his backpack and laid it on the backseat behind him.
They drove in silence for a few minutes, the breeze ruffling their hair, the atmosphere between them tense with things they needed to talk about once they were clear of the city.
At last Kyle said, ‘Where are we headed?’
‘Alabama.’
He didn’t ask for any more details, so Donna didn’t offer any.
After a time he said, ‘How did it go with the cops?’
‘It was hard, Kyle.’ And it had been. She’d had to summon every last ounce of her acting ability to feign outraged wonder – it was the pool guy? – while remaining acutely conscious of the two detectives’ eyes on her, trying to probe into her soul. One slip of her composure and everything would fall apart. Donna had been asked to hand over the pool-cleaning tools so the police could sample them for DNA to compare against what they’d found in Blair’s study.
Donna turned onto Veterans’ Parkway. It was a ninety-minute drive to Montgomery, Alabama. Crossing the state line wouldn’t give them any real additional security, but there was a symbolism about the action that was reassuring.
A surge of hope filled her chest. This time Donna spoke first. ‘We’re going to do this, Kyle. We’re going to pull it off.’
‘I know, babe.’ He laid a hand on her jean-clad thigh, shyly, like they were teenagers on an early date. Immediately Donna felt a tingle up her thigh. She shifted her butt in the seat.
‘Feels good.’
He rested his palm more heavily on her leg. Slowly his hand began to slide up and inward, toward the junction of her thighs.
‘Not… while I’m driving,’ she said with difficulty.
‘Then pull over.’ His voice was low, hoarse.
‘In a little while.’
‘Soon.’ He leaned closer and Donna could feel the musky heat of his body coming off him in waves.
She let go the wheel with one hand and pushed his hand away, laughing for the first time in almost two weeks. ‘Kyle, I’m serious. You’ll make us crash.’
‘I’m going to explode here soon anyhow. Same result.’
‘We’ll get a motel room at Montgomery.’
‘It’s too far, Donna. You need to pull over, soon.’
Somehow she made it through the next half-hour until the road entered the Tuskegee National Forest. Donna slowed as side roads began to appear. She took a desolate-looking exit, then turned down a rutted dirt track, the sudden absence of streetlights disorientating.
A mile down the track she pulled the Mercedes in at the side. All around was dead quiet. Overhead a half-moon shed a pale silver light.
Kyle was already grabbing at her, his hands roving across her breasts, round her waist. Donna leaned in and pressed her mouth against his, her lips and tongue writhing greedily against his. Still kissing him, she clambered across so that she was straddling him in his seat. Under her crotch she could feel the huge bulge in the front of his own jeans.
Donna broke the kiss long enough to pull her T-shirt off over her head. The night air was cool against her bare skin. Immediately Kyle’s hands found her breasts, cupping them roughly through her bra. She reached behind her and unclasped the bra and threw it to one side, her breasts shaking free. Kyle’s palms and fingers kneaded them, before he bent forward to take her nipples in his mouth in turn.
Mentally cursing the fact that she was wearing jeans rather than a dress or a skirt, Donna rose up on her knees, unfastened the button of her jeans and worked them down her hips, wiggling her ass. Awkwardly she pulled them off and kicked them into the footwell as Kyle fumbled with his own jeans. He got them down as far as his knees. His shorts were tented hugely in the front and Donna pulled them down. Kyle’s cock sprang free, fully erect and flicking, the head glistening in the moonlight.
Whimpering softly, urgently, Donna tugged her panties down her thighs and peeled them off, smelling her own arousal and feeling the deliciousness of cool air against her wetness. Kyle’s hand moved between her legs and she arched her back and moaned, his fingers probing at the folds, the tip of his finger slipping inside her. She began to rub herself against his hand in little jerks of her hips but he took his hand away.
‘Can’t wait,’ he said gutturally, sliding his hands round to the cheeks of her ass and pulling her toward him.
Donna braced one knee on the seat on either side of Kyle and tilted her pelvis so that her slick pussy touched the underside of the shaft of his penis. Slowly she raised herself so that her vulva caressed his length. He gasped, trying to pull her harder against him. Smiling in the dark, she slid back down, then repeated the movement, rocking so that she stroked the entire length of him from balls to tip.
But it was too much for her as well as him. Grasping her ass firmly with one hand, Kyle took hold of his cock with the other and angled it fo
rward so that the glans was at her entrance, its engorged width nudging her labia apart. Arching his back he thrust up into her as she sank down to meet him.
It took just three juddering thrusts for them both to explode, almost three weeks of enforced celibacy having left them way at the top of the curve from the outset. Donna threw her head back and cried out into the dark, her voice echoing away across the forest like the scream of a primal beast. Kyle filled her with his cock and his come so that she overflowed almost immediately.
Fully fifteen minutes later Donna lifted herself off Kyle where she’d been slumped, and rolled back on to the driver’s seat. Still nude, she propped one foot on the dashboard, revelling in the luxurious sensation of being spread naked out under the open sky. She took a package of Marlboros from the side pocket of the door and lit one, feeling the first nicotine hit, sending a stream of smoke straight up into the night.
Beside her Kyle too made no attempt to cover himself. His semi-soft penis flopped lazily on his thigh.
‘Made a mess of your beautiful car’s seats,’ he murmured.
Donna grinned across at him. ‘Soon I’ll have plenty of money to get them professionally cleaned.’
He sighed. ‘God, I missed that. I missed you.’ He reached for her hand. ‘Let’s go find that motel.’
They took their time getting dressed. When they were neatened up Donna leaned over and gave Kyle a long, heartfelt kiss on the mouth.
‘Sorry I was such a bad-tempered bitch this afternoon.’
He hugged her. ‘No need to apologize, hon. Everything’s good.’
She turned the Mercedes and headed back up the rutted track to the main road.
‘So we stay overnight on the outskirts of Montgomery,’ Donna said, ‘and in the morning this guy I know calls me and we set up a meeting. He’ll check out the painting – he’s an art expert – and if he’s satisfied it’s kosher, he’ll contact his money guy. The cash will be released to us later that day.’
‘And then?’
‘Then, we start depositing it. A little at a time, here and there. It’ll have to be in my accounts. You can’t open any new accounts at the moment, Kyle. Your face is going to become too well known around the southern states.’
‘Okay.’
She looked at him. ‘We need to change your appearance. You’re too conspicuous. Too good-looking. Not a lot we can do about that, but I need to give you a shitty haircut. And you need to grow a mustache.’
‘Not a beard? A goatee, maybe?’
‘No, too trendy. Just a mustache.’
‘Jesus. Never had one before.’
‘I’ll still think you’re hot.’
‘Promise?’
‘Promise.’ Donna grinned.
*
The motel was a large, corporate-looking one, a world apart from the fleapit Kyle had been staying at. It appeared to cater mainly for travelling salesmen or businessmen who’d taken a trip to Montgomery at the last minute and couldn’t get a place in one of the city’s hotels.
Donna checked them in at the front desk while Kyle hung back in the car. She emerged and he joined her, carrying his rucksack as well as the small suitcase Donna had packed herself. They went along to the room. It was clean if drab, didn’t smell, and the bedsheets looked like they were changed frequently.
Kyle sat on the bed, bounced up and down a few times, glanced at donna suggestively. She gave his shoulder a playful slap.
‘First things first. I need to get a few things for you. Hair dye, some scissors. You hungry?’
Kyle stood. ‘I’ll get the stuff. Plus something for us to eat.’
‘No, Kyle. I should go.’
‘Donna, I can’t stay cooped up. I’ll go stir crazy. Plus, there are things I need to get myself.’ He went to the door as if to consider no further argument. ‘There was a n all-night grocery store down the road. I’ll walk. A half-hour tops, okay?’
And he was gone.
Donna sat on the bed and stared at Kyle’s rucksack on the chair opposite her. She wondered why she’d let him go, in spite of the risk they ran of somebody recognizing him from the TV.
Then she wondered why he’d been so insistent on going himself.
Dona stood and went over to the window. She peered out between the drapes. Nobody in the forecourt. In the distance she saw Kyle, heading along the road toward the store.
She went back over to the bed and sat down again. Stared at the rucksack.
It would be the easiest thing in the world.
Donna reached over and lifted the rucksack. She unzipped it and slowly drew out the two-by-three-feet package in its oilskin sack.
She sat hefting the sack, looking at it.
The easiest thing in the world. Walk out, get in the Mercedes and drive away.
But something didn’t feel right.
Why had Kyle been so eager to go to the store himself?
Donna turned the package over. She’d never held the Allevi painting but this felt just about the right weight. The sack was held closed by string wrapped tightly around the height and width of the painting.
With a final glance out the window, Donna sat back down and began to pick at the knots in the string.
Her nails broke, one by one, and she grimaced. The knots were so tight it would have been far easier just to cut the string with a pair of nail scissors. But she didn’t want to do that.
Time passed. Donna wished she’d made a note of the time Kyle had left. The green display on the digital bedside clock said it was twelve forty-five a.m. She estimated ten minutes had gone by.
A knot proved too much for her nails, and she began to nibble at it with her teeth to loosen it. While doing so she glanced at the clock display. Twelve fifty-one.
Her scrabbling at the knots became increasingly frantic and she started to struggle more. Donna forced herself to stop, take deep breaths, try again.
When, at twelve fifty-six, one end of the latticework of string was free enough that she could pull the sack out, she darted over to the window again. The humid heat had broken and a light drizzle had started. Through the skein of rain Donna saw a figure in the distance. Kyle, heading back from the store, his arms laden with bags.
Quickly she pulled the sack free, found the opening and reached in, feeling wood. A corner got stuck on the material of the sack and she tugged it free, taking care not to tear it.
What she pulled out was no painting. Instead, it was an empty frame, not the one that usually housed the Allevi.
She’d been set up.
Feeling the thrill of panic, Donna shoved the frame back into the sack and replaced the string and began to tie it tight with trembling fingers. Just as she’d secured it she heard a rapping on the door.
‘Donna, it’s me,’ came Kyle’s voice softly.
Hoping against hope he couldn’t see in between the drapes, Donna pushed the wrapped package back into the rucksack and zipped it shut. She replaced it on the chair, then hurried over to the door and unlocked it.
Kyle stood there, dripping with rain, holding several paper bags with groceries.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I was in the john.’
His smile was bedraggled but affectionate. She helped him with the bags.
‘Got hair dye, scissors, Slim Jims, corn chips, Diet Coke, Marlboros – oh, and a couple six packs.’ He looked round at her. ‘Thought we’d have a little celebration.’
Donna forced a smile onto her face. ‘Sounds romantic,’ she said wryly.
She cut Kyle’s hair using the paper bags from the store to collect the trimmings, catching her breath as the first blond ropes fell to the floor. By the time she’d finished he had an approximate crew-cut. It didn’t suit him, but it also didn’t look so stupid that he’d stand out. Donna thought it gave him an almost military look, quite different from the grungy surfer image he’d had before.
The dye he’d chosen was a good one, a light brown which suited his skin tone and once again made him look very differen
t but not outlandishly so. When they were finished Donna stared over his shoulder at his reflection in the dressing mirror.
‘Very Alabama,’ she remarked.
‘I look like an asshole,’ Kyle said.
‘But a handsome asshole.’ Still holding his gaze in the mirror, Donna reached up and poked her tongue into his ear. He put his hand to the side of her face, pressed her head against his.
‘Let’s eat.’
‘Did you bring plates?’
‘I don’t mean food.’
What followed was more intense, more prolonged, than any time before. They coupled on the bed, on the floor, seated on the chair by the dresser, changing position and sometimes location in mid-fuck before resuming with increased urgency. The first time was violent, almost as fast as it had been in the car out under the stars; the second slower and more relaxed; the third, after a break for beer and food and languid stroking, forceful and rough again.
Two hours in, Donna was on her hands and knees on the floor. Beneath her was the full-length mirror from inside the closet, which Kyle had prized off the door. Kyle knelt behind her, thrusting into her with long, steady strokes. Their bodies were slick and sheened with sweat. Reflected below Donna, her heavy breasts bounced with each thrust, and at the apex of her trimmed pubic triangle Kyle’s thick, shining erection appeared and disappeared between the lips of her vulva like a piston rod.
Over her shoulder Kyle gazed down at the mirror, his expression rapt, his face flushed with exertion and animal lust. Donna studied his face, the youthfulness of it, the somehow innocent strength.
Where’s the picture, Kyle? she asked him silently. Where’ve you hidden it? And how much longer are you going to hold out on me?
*
Dawn crept in through the thin drapes of the motel room, and Donna lifted her head, blinking.
A dull throbbing in her skull reminded her of the beers she’d consumed with Kyle the night before. Correction: just a few hours before. She peered fuzzily at the clock display by the side of the bed. Six thirty-five.
Drifter's Blues (Erotic Noir) Page 10
