Phantom Waltz

by Catherine Anderson

  “I really didn’t feel that tense until the last when I started worrying about how it would feel. Or, more precisely, if I’d be able to feel it at all. I don’t think tension was the problem.” She took another long pull of beer. “Afterward—” She passed a shaky hand over her eyes. “I could tell he knew it didn’t happen for me, and he was upset. I’m so afraid I’ll lose him, Kate. That he won’t want to be with me anymore if it isn’t good for me at the last.”

  Kate nodded. “Yeah, that’ll do it. Like I said, they got big egos. Most of them can’t handle doing a gal who doesn’t hit the finish rope. Not for a steady diet, anyway, and that’s your aim. Right? To keep him hanging around.”

  “Right. Oh, Kate, thank you so much for talking to me. You’re so real. Most people take one look at my wheelchair and freeze up. Sex? The word doesn’t cross their lips. They immediately assume I’m a head.”

  “A what?”

  “A head.” Bethany waggled her fingers beside her ears. “I talk, I smile, I laugh. Anything below the collarbone is distasteful as a topic of conversation.”

  Kate grinned. “Maybe it’s because you never asked them out for coffee to talk about sex. Hell, babe, sex is most people’s favorite subject.”

  Bethany raised her mug. “Here, here. I love you.”

  Kate’s brows drew together. “You drink much?”

  “Not a lot. More than I ever have just recently.” Bethany swung her mug back to her mouth.

  “Well, hell. Who do you talk to?”

  “Since moving here, no one. Occasionally with Jake, but not about anything like this. He’d have a coronary.”

  Kate winked. “I have a feelin’ he packs a wallop when he lets the starch out of his collar, but it ain’t happenin’ around you.”

  “Exactly. My whole world is starched. With creases.” Bethany sighed woefully. “I should have asked you out for coffee a long time ago. Now, here I am with this man. Oh, God. He’s all my dreams, stuffed into chambray and denim. Just looking at him almost gets me there. Almost. That’s the story of my life, Kate, a long history of ‘almosts.’”

  Kate chuckled. “What’s his name?”

  “Ryan Kendrick.”

  Kate’s eyes widened. “Good Christ. Repeat that. You’ve slept with the Ryan Kendrick?”

  Bethany nodded mutely. Apparently, even Kate found it unbelievable that someone like Ryan was interested in her.

  Kate grinned and then laughed. “Holy shit. You don’t mess around, sweetie. Ryan Kendrick? As in so good-lookin’, women fall over on their backs like bowling pins and cock up their toes? That Ryan Kendrick? The to-die-for rich hunk nobody can nail?”

  “I never thought I’d be lucky enough to have someone like him fall in love with me. He’s wonderful. If he isn’t happy with me, I’ll die.”

  Kate cupped a hand over her eyes, propped her elbow on the table, and laughed so hard her beer slopped. “No wonder you’re so hooked. He’s like—well, dynamite.”

  “Yeah.” Bethany swallowed, fixed Kate with an imploring look, and said, “Only with no big bang at the end.”

  Kate rocked back in her chair and shook her head. “Well, we gotta get a leash on his collar, no question. Isn’t just everybody that gets a crack at him.” Her smile softened. “You got stars in your eyes, sweetie.”

  Bethany envisioned Ryan’s face and nodded. “I love him so much. I don’t care if it’s all that fantastic in bed at the end. You know? The first part was a lot of fun. Like, wow.”

  “Been there a couple of times.” Kate grew pensive and gave the ten spot another turn. “Bethany, another real personal question. I know the guy’s got a reputation for having been around, but that isn’t always an indication. You sure he knows what he’s doing?”

  “Oh, yes.” Bethany drank more beer. “He’s followed a hundred dead ends. A hundred. Can you imagine?”

  “Ryan Kendrick? Oh, yeah. I can imagine. Poor man. He’s like one of them targets at a shooting range. Everybody wants to take a crack. Poor guy has probably had a lot of nasty surprises halfway into relationships when women finally let their true selves shine through.”

  “Probably. No consolation to me. I about fainted when he told me he’d dated so many women. They all had to be better than me. Just the thought scares me half to death. Being compared and all. You know what I’m saying?”

  Kate smiled. “You’re not exactly dog meat. Not a guy in the store who hasn’t looked your way and rubbed his fly a few times.”

  “Pardon?”

  “Christ. Never mind. Like you’d know if Kendrick knows his stuff? I can’t believe I asked.” She stubbed out her cigarette and immediately lit another one. “You’re a sweet kid. Funny. I figured you for being stuck-up.”

  “You did?”

  “Jake acts like you shit golden eggs. Never saw a man so protective of his sister. Must be nice.”

  “Nice?” Bethany groaned and finished off her beer. She stared at the empty mug, feeling mildly surprised at how easily it had gone down. “You know—I think maybe I just found my poison.”

  “Holy mother. I can’t drive that rig of yours. We’ll have to call a cab.”

  Bethany giggled. “What are you saying?”

  “That you’re getting a buzz.” Kate pushed to her feet, grabbed the ten, and said, “What the hell. We may as well. Only go around once.”

  When she returned with the beers, she said, “Okay, now we’re both relaxed. Got all the starch out of our collars. Let’s get down to the dirty.”

  Bethany took a huge gulp of beer and smiled when she came up with a mustache, just like Kate’s. “Go for it. I’m all ears.”

  “Before we talk more about what guys like, let’s talk a few minutes about you. I’ve got a question. Did he try to get you both ways?”

  “Both ways? I’m not following.”

  Kate leaned closer. “You know. Some women can’t get off the conventional way. Did he try your hot line?”

  Bethany pictured a huge, red phone and burst into giggles. “No, mine’s probably been disconnected.”

  Kate sighed. “Your love button, sweetie. Did he try that?”

  “I’ve never heard it called that before.” Bethany sighed and shook her head. “In answer to your question, yes, he tried it. To be honest, I found it very—well, not really painful, but uncomfortable, like all my nerves were exposed. It’s hard to describe. The same sort of feeling you get when you bite down on a piece of tinfoil. It made me want to clench my teeth and shudder.”

  “It can feel that way if you’re not into it.” Kate got a knowing gleam in her eyes. “The important thing is, you have feeling there.”

  “That doesn’t mean it works properly. Trust me, it didn’t.”

  “It could be that he didn’t have the magic touch. Ever think of that?”

  Bethany remembered the magic in his touch everywhere else and shook her head. “No. It’s more a case of damaged nerves, I think. That isn’t his fault, and—”

  Before Bethany could finish what she meant to say, the man behind her turned on his chair and said, “If he doesn’t know his way around a love button, honey, trade him in for a new model.”

  “Butt out, Dave,” Kate said. “Who invited you into this conversation?”

  The man draped his arm over the back of his chair and twisted farther around to give Bethany a long, hard look. “Well, now, if you ain’t purdy as a picture.”

  “Jack off,” Kate said.

  The man ignored her. He scooted back his chair and pressed his face closer to Bethany’s. “Hi, honey. I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. My heart’s breaking. Sounds like you’ve got yourself one hell of a problem.”

  Bethany blinked and inched her face back. “I’m a little distressed.”

  He nodded. “What you need is a real man to grease your gears. I’m packin’.”

  Kate came up off her chair. “Hey, asshole, get out your dictionary. I said, ‘Jack off!’ Leave the lady alone.”

  “
I’m surprised you recognize one, Kate.”

  “Stuff it where it’ll never again see sunlight.” Kate planted her hands on the table and glared daggers at him. “Leave her alone. She’s with me.”

  He gave Kate a long, hard look. “You can’t help her. This little gal needs a real man to get her motor running.” He returned his bleary gaze to Bethany. “How ‘bout it, honey? I’ll get you perkin’, then you can go back to lover boy.”

  Bethany inched farther away. All she could think of to say was, “I need to use the bathroom.”

  That seemed to cool his jets. Bethany rolled her chair back and fumbled for her purse. She glanced at Kate as she returned her wallet to the side pocket. “Excuse me.” The man blocked her path. “Please. I really need to go.”

  He sighed and said, “I’ll be waiting. Give me an hour. Problem solved.”

  Bethany’s heart was pounding. The effects of the beer had done a vanishing act. That man wasn’t taking no for an answer. She cut right, following the signs. She found herself in a long, dark hallway with warped paneling. The ladies’ room was the last door on the left.

  She was about to reach for the knob when a big hand closed over her shoulder. “My name’s Dave, by the way,” he said in a slimy voice. Then he leaned down, grabbed the arms of her chair, and turned her to face him. “No one will bother us back here. Let me have a go at that love button of yours.”

  Bethany stared up at him. His eyes were glassy and hard. He was breathing funny. The smell of his sweat filmed her nostrils, making her fell as if she was breathing olive oil. “Let go of me.”

  “Ain’t touchin’ you,” he pointed out. “Just your chair. So, arrest me. You want to get off. I want to get off. Let’s make some music together.”

  Before Bethany guessed what he meant to do, he clamped his foul-tasting mouth over hers and shoved a hand down the front of her blouse. She pushed frantically at his shoulders, taking him so off guard that he lost his balance and staggered back, ripping her blouse at the shoulder in the process.

  “Fine by me,” he said with a laugh. “You want rough? I’ll deliver.”

  A loud, shattering sound of glass startled them both. Dave swung around, as surprised as Bethany. There stood Kate, holding the jagged end of a broken beer bottle in her right hand.

  “Take your paws off that girl, you son of a bitch, or I’ll make you sing soprano.”

  Bethany tried to dart into the bathroom, but her chair was just a little too wide to fit. The man’s full attention was fixed on the broken bottle now, allowing her the time to get unstuck, back up, and try again. With the second advance, she hit the doorway going faster, and the force of her momentum pushed the chair on through. She swung the door shut, then backed up against it so no one could easily enter. She was shaking so badly that she could barely dig her cell phone out of her purse. She imagined Kate murdering good old Dave, with blood splattered all over the warped paneling. Oh, God, oh, God. She shakily punched in the number to the store.

  Jake opened a thick parts manual. “I don’t know where she went. If she isn’t at home, no telling. Have you tried my folks?”

  Ryan rested his arms on the parts counter. “I just—hell, I don’t know. I figured she’d want to spend the evening with me. How long has she been off work?”

  Jake ran a finger down the small print, muttering numbers under his breath. When he found what he was seeking, he glanced up. “About an hour, maybe an hour and a half. You been by her house?”

  “I called there.” Ryan sighed, unable to shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. “I can’t figure her just taking off somewhere.”

  Jake chuckled. “Maybe you weren’t as good as you thought.”

  “Shut up.” Ryan rubbed beside his nose. The jibe struck a little too close to home.

  The phone rang just then. Without glancing up from the parts catalog, Jake snaked out a hand to answer it. “The Works. Jake Coulter speaking. How may I help you?” He lost his place in the catalog. “What? Where are you?”

  Ryan heard a faint voice coming over the line. Shrill, hysterical. He would have recognized it anywhere. He jerked erect, pulse racing. “What’s wrong?”

  Jake held up a hand. “You’re what?” He listened for a second. “You stay right there. Do you understand me, Bethany? No matter what happens. Get in a stall and lock the door if you have to. I’ll be right over.”

  Jake slammed the phone back into its cradle and came around the counter at a run. “Bethany’s in a bar. Some bastard has her cornered in the bathroom, and Kate’s about to rip his guts out with a broken beer bottle.”

  Ryan hit the door of the place called Suds two steps ahead of Jake. As he staggered into the dim interior he scanned the room for any sign of Bethany. The bartender, a potbellied, sandy-haired guy in a white apron, jerked his thumb toward the rear. “Back there. I done called the cops.”

  Ryan and Jake scrambled for the rest room sign. It was a toss-up which of them made better time, the only certainty being that they didn’t fit abreast when they started down the hallway. Ryan took the lead with an elbow in Jake’s gut. If some creep had Bethany cornered, he wanted the honor of killing him.

  When Ryan reached the end of the hallway, the scene that greeted him was worse than he imagined. Some woman who looked as if she’d been used hard and smacked for her trouble had a man backed against the wall with a broken bottle shoved against his crotch. She looked prepared to castrate him.

  Ryan didn’t really give a shit if the guy came out of this with his balls. He tried the ladies’ room door, but the damned thing wouldn’t open. Jake arrived at almost the same instant. Breathing hard, he flattened his hands on the door.

  “Bethany, honey? Open up. It’s Jake and Ryan. You okay?”

  “Ryan?” she cried from the other side of the door. “Why’d you bring him?”

  Ryan fell back. If that wasn’t a fine how-do-you-do. He was here to save her. She was his. Not Jake’s. Certainly not that creep’s, who was about to lose his reason for being alive. Any man worth his salt looked out for his lady.

  Ryan rapped his knuckles on the wood. “Bethany? Open the damn door.”

  “Is that awful man gone yet?” she asked shrilly. “He ripped my blouse.”

  Ryan glanced over his shoulder. His gaze connected with bleary brown vulture eyes, and he suddenly wondered why the hell he was messing with a door. He turned, advanced, and said to the woman, “I’ll handle him from here.”

  Kate moved back, and Ryan stepped up to take her place.

  He might not have laid hands on the man. His mama had raised him civilized, after all. But the son of a bitch looked Ryan up and down, grinned cockily, and said, “Are you the pussy who couldn’t get the little lady’s rocks off?”

  Ryan never remembered exactly what happened after that. Witnesses claimed he grabbed the jerk by his shirt, picked him up, and proceeded to ring his bell by repeatedly slamming him against the wall.

  The next thing Ryan clearly recalled, he was in handcuffs. He wasn’t sure why he was in handcuffs. His knuckles burned, and there was a man in custody holding his face, but Ryan had no recollection of hitting him.

  It was all pretty much confusing, actually. The cops brought Bethany out of the bathroom, and every time she looked at Ryan, she wailed, “Oh, God! Oh, God! All I wanted to do was to talk. I never meant for this to happen.”

  Kate put an arm around her. “Calm down, sweetie. You’re twenty-six years old. If you wanna go have a beer now and again, I guess you can.”

  Ryan decided he didn’t like Kate. She was a bad influence. He knew all about bad influences. Over the years he’d gotten into a lot of sticky situations he never saw coming with his brother Rafe. It always started with, “You know what I’m thinking?” And it went downhill from there. Oh, yeah. Ryan knew how easily you could find yourself in a hell of a mess, just because of the company you kept. Not that his brother was bad company. Rafe had just been one of those kids whose nose led him straight into tr
ouble, and being the younger brother, Ryan had always been tagging along right behind him.

  Ryan was thinking about that, albeit a little fuzzily, when Jake, who was in no real trouble with the cops, stepped over to the bar. He gave the bartender a long, narrow-eyed look that Ryan immediately recognized as bad news.

  In a low, sort of friendly voice, Jake said, “Are you the man who called the cops when he realized a girl in a wheelchair was trapped in the ladies’ room with an amorous, unruly drunk trying to bust down the door?”

  The bartender might have said yes and gotten away with it. Instead, he puffed out his chest. “What do you think I am, buster, a bouncer? The lady came in, started complainin’ to her friend about her sex life, and some guy half my age offered to show her a good time. I ain’t touchin’ that with a ten-foot pole. Like she wasn’t askin’ for trouble? My wife likes my face just the way it is.”

  “She won’t now,” Jake said conversationally.

  And then he hit him.

  Shortly after that, Ryan was getting cozier with Jake Coulter than he’d ever wanted to be—in the back of a cop car.

  The Crystal Falls city jail had never seen such a ruckus. Ryan could hear his dad yelling clear in the back cell block.

  Clinging to the bars like a convicted felon, Jake gazed across the aisle at Ryan. “You think your dad’s gonna spring us or join us?”

  Ryan pressed his brow against one of the bars and rolled his head back and forth on the coolness. As a substitute for an ice pack, it totally sucked, but it was as close as he was going to get in this place. “My father’s jailbird days are over. He hasn’t had any brushes with the law since he married my mom.”

  Jake listened for a moment. “He sounds a little hot under the collar.”

  Jake no sooner stopped speaking than Ryan heard his father yell, “What the hell is this country comin’ to? A girl gets accosted by a drunk, and you arrest her menfolk for takin’ up for her? Explain that to me. Used to be, when a man defended a woman, people patted him on the back!”

  A low-pitched voice replied, the sound a murmur Ryan couldn’t make out.