Chapter 9

Bob straightened the knot in his tie and looked across the bedroom at his wife. She sat primly on the vanity stool running a brush carefully around the edges of her eyes, darkening the outline of them. She put the eyeliner away and patted her hair again, for the hundredth time. A fogging spray of lacquer around her head, and she looked into the mirror again. She turned around and faced him, unsmiling.

"There," she said. "I think I'm ready. Do I suit you?"

"Immaculate," he said. "As always." "Why do you say it that way?" "I thought we covered that pretty well the other night."

She stood up. Her dress was heavy and cut straight. To look at her, he'd have no idea what her figure was like underneath it. He scarcely had an idea of that, anyway.

"I resent that, Bob," she said belligerently. "I go to a lot of work to fix myself up and make myself look attractive. And all you ever do is tell me that you want me to look like a trollop. A common one, at that."

He watched her go across the room for her purse with brusque movements. The word common stuck in his mind. It reminded him of stocks.

"Does the name Bartollo mean anything to you?"

She yanked her purse open, her lips drawn tight with annoyance. She began changing items in it with another purse and didn't look up. "No. Why should it?" "Stop doing that and listen!" he snapped. "Listen to what?" she asked snapping it shut loudly. At least she was paying attention to him now.

"Bartollo. It's very important." She scowled, wrinkling her immaculate forehead. "Not a thing. Why should it?"

"I don't know." He turned back to the mirror and fiddled with his tie again. "I heard it some place. Vince Bartollo. I thought maybe I'd heard it from you."

"Who is he? Why is he of any importance?" "Oh ... it has to do with the merger report," he said. "Forget it. I don't want to think about business any more."

"Bob ... what is this party about?" "Just a party," he shrugged, trying to sound casual. He was looking at her in the mirror and could see her fingers clutching nervously around the purse.

"Well, I wish you'd tell me. I don't know why I ever agreed to go to it. I don't know how they're dressing; I don't know the purpose; I don't know who's going to be there ... I don't think it's very thoughtful of you to treat me this way."

He turned to face her again. "Look, Barbara, it's just a goddamn party! Why do you have to make a State function out of everything with engraved invitations and the whole bit!"

"I want to know who's going to be there, that's all! Do I know any of them?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe. I don't know who you know. We've been moving in different circles for five years. How the hell should I know whether you know any of them!"

"If you're going to act this way about it, I won't go, darling."

"Yes you will, darling."

Their eyes locked. It reminded him of the other night. Once again, she looked away first, and he suddenly knew why. She was afraid he'd drop her.

"All right," she said. "If you insist."

"I insist." He paused a moment, tasting the sweet savor of victory again. She liked playing her game too well. She liked the security he afforded her. the clothes she could buy, the house they lived in. She wouldn't risk that by refusing to go with him. But it was so inconsistent with the way she treated him sexually. She didn't make sense. Neither one of them made sense, punishing each other the way they did.

"God, I hope this solves something," he muttered to himself.

"What?"

"I said it's just a bunch of people-a new crowd. Maybe there'll be somebody there we both like for once."

"I hadn't noticed that was any kind of problem," she said nastily. "I know you don't like my friends, but some of yours are all right."

"Yeah," he said, moving away from the mirror. It was another old wound he didn't want to pick open just then. He went toward her and put his hands on her shoulders, looking straight at her.

"Barbara," he said. "Let's not fight tonight. I want to have fun. I've got enough pressures at work, and I don't need them at home, too, all right?"

She smiled at him. She thought it was a smile. It was the same cold grimace on her picture that he looked at every day.

"All right, darling," she said, her eyes glinting foxily. "I won't fight if you can tell me the name of just one person who's going to be there."

He drew back. "Huh? What the hell's this game!"

She twisted her shoulders from his grasp. "It's no game. I told you, I just want to know. Besides, I'm curious."

"About what?"

"To see whether you know any of them yourself."

He looked at her sideways, trying to puzzle her out. Christ, did she have wind of it already? Maybe she'd been out following him last night! "Well?"

He thought fast. If she did follow him, then she'd know where he was, who he was with. And she would know his secretary's name--Janice Walters.

"Do you mean that if I tell you the name of one couple who's going to be there, you won't bug me all night?"

"Yes. Isn't that a fair deal?"

He shook his head, at a loss. "I guess so."

"Well?"

"Sue and Rod will be there. I don't think you know them." It was the only other couple he could possibly know. She smiled maliciously. "I don't think you know them, either, darling."

"Oh, horseshit!" he blurted. "Why not! Rod and Sue! What the hell else do you want!"

"Their last names. I know a Rod and Sue. Wouldn't it be exciting if it was the same couple?"

He searched his memory frantically. "Banner!" he said. "Rod and Sue Banner! There, damn it, do you know them? Of all the stupid, pointless, goddamn stinking...."

He looked at her. She was a decided shade of green. Her mouth was open, breaking the smooth lines of her artificial face.

"No!" she said quickly. "No, of course not! How would you expect me to know your friends!"

"You promised, darling," he said cattily. "No more fighting, remember?" He looked at her again.

"What's the matter, do you want a drink or something?"

She turned quickly and headed for the door. Her fingers shook as she reached for the handle. She drew her arm back, stood unsurely.

"Darling, really, I ... I don't feel well. Couldn't you give our regrets? Or you go on ahead without me."

He walked toward her, trying to look at her face, but she kept turning away with her head down.

"No," he said. "No, I won't call. We're going to the party. You agreed to go, and now I'm going to make you hold to it."

"Please, Bob!"

He shook his head silently. Something was wrong. Did she know Sue or her husband? Did she suddenly know what kind of party it was? Had she been going to them herself-with another man for her husband, perhaps? Was that why she was so cold-she was giving her pussy to somebody else?

His mind raced with thoughts. What a stupid dolt! It had never entered his mind to suspect her of cheating on him!

"Who are the Banners?" he asked her with a steely voice.

She whipped around, and he was stunned at her composure. Another mask.

"I told you, darling, I don't know them." She searched his face quickly, seeing the questions piling up. "I feel better now--shall we go?"

Again, his balloon popped. He felt terribly frustrated. He yanked open the bedroom door.

"Yes!" he growled.