Chapter 6

To call or not to call. That was the question.

Jo Ann paced back and forth across her hotel room waiting for the telephone to ring. She'd questioned the housekeeper three times since she'd returned from Laura's apartment last night, but the answer was always the same. No, Mister Wyatt hadn't called. No word. No message. No encouragement.

Running her fingers over the clinging lastex of her new slacks, Jo Ann smiled and thought about yesterday. Funny, she told herself, how a miserable experience like that incident in the park could lead to a pleasant afternoon. Laura was right. Jo Ann should have visited sooner. It didn't matter, though. From now on she would know better. She had a good friend in Laura. And now, she would enjoy that friendship often.

The other problem returned to mind to sour Jo Ann's mood and compel her attention back to the matter at hand. Whether or not she wanted to, she knew she must speak with Stan. He deserved some kind of explanation for her actions. But what explanation could possibly make him understand? And more important, what could she say to make him forgive her?

Jo Ann's instinctive reaction was simply to tell the truth.

Yet, even as she formed the words in her mind, she knew that it was the wrong approach to use on Stan. He wasn't the type to really understand and sympathize with a woman. His kind of man preferred few words and lots of action. But the type of action he wanted Jo Ann knew she couldn't give.

Strange that he hadn't called, Jo Ann thought. He should have at least been concerned about her arriving home safely. She could have been killed out there in that park and Stan still wouldn't know.

The awareness chilled Jo Ann and made her hug herself in frightened recollection. Timidly, warily, she allowed herself to think about what had happened for the first time since she had been alone. The scene was clear enough and her memory served her well. But even though she knew it to be fact, Jo Ann found it difficult to fully accept that such a monstrous thing had been done to her.

There was no denying the truth, though, agreeable or otherwise. She wasn't a virgin anymore and Jo Ann knew that sooner or later she was going to have to face up to that hard, cold fact. Her days as a girl were over. It shouldn't really matter anymore whether or not she slept with a man. The first time could only happen once, she reminded herself. And that first time in her life, revolting though it was, had come and gone.

And what was she going to do about it now, Jo Ann wondered. No answer came to mind to set her at ease.

Call, damn you ... call!

It would be so much easier if Stan broke the ice, Jo Ann thought. If only he could be like the other men she had known. Then he'd be on the wire, apologizing and begging her forgiveness for getting her so upset. But Stan wasn't like the others, Jo Ann knew. Undoubtedly that was what had attracted her to him. But now, for the first time, she felt sorry for that specific difference she had always loved before.

No sense in stalling any longer, Jo Ann told herself, walking toward the door. She had to face him sooner or later, so it might as well be sooner. The longer she stalled, the harder it was going to be.

The telephone at the other end of the line rang several times without being answered. Jo Ann stood in the hotel lobby biting her fingernails and glancing back and forth across the room to make sure nobody was within hearing distance. What would she say to him, she asked herself again. She still hadn't the slightest idea. Best to play it by ear, according to his attitude and receptiveness, Jo Ann decided.

"Hello." The familiar voice was crisp and impersonal.

"Hello, Stan. This is Jo Ann. How are you?" She knew the words sounded as forced as they felt, but there was nothing she could do to hide her discomfort.

"I'm fine." Stan sounded unmoved by Jo Ann's call. "What do you want?"

Jo Ann shuddered at the coolness of his tone and manner and tried not to let Stan's attitude intimidate her. "I phoned because I didn't hear from you."

"What did you expect, after the way you carried on?" Stan's voice sounded suspended at the edge of a derisive laugh.

"Oh." Jo Ann's voice was hardly more than an astonished whisper. She hadn't counted oh his being insulted in the light of what had happened to her. But, she reminded herself, Stan had no way of knowing about that. As far as he was concerned, she had just run out and that was that.

"You still there?" Stan asked.

"Yes ... yes, I'm here," Jo Ann answered quickly. "There's something I have to talk to you about, Stan," she whispered, cupping her hand over the mouthpiece.

"And what's that?" Stan sounded bored.

"Not on the telephone." Jo Ann smiled at the girl who walked past and hoped she hadn't heard any of the conversation. "Can I come over?"

"You mean to my place?"

"Yes." Jo Ann preferred to ignore the obvious implication in favor of the urgent need to settle things with him as best she could. Once Stan knew what had happened, he couldn't stay mad at her. And that confidence was already beginning to make her feel better about seeing him.

"I'll be home for another hour or so," Stan continued in his indifferent tone. "If you can make it before I leave, come on ahead."

"I'll be there." Jo Ann hung up without saying goodbye and before she had the chance to ask if he had a date with another girl. The mere thought of that possibility was enough to hurry her back to her room to dress. No, Stan wasn't getting away from her as easy as that, Jo Ann decided. She still needed him. And as long as she felt that way, she would do everything in her power to hold onto him ... maybe even more now than she was able to do before.

An early sunset bathed the streets of Manhattan as Jo Ann stepped out onto the sidewalk and looked down the street for a taxi. Confident that she looked well in the new outfit she was wearing, Jo Ann held her head high and walked erect. The bruises on her face had conveniently disappeared beneath her make up and the bruises on the rest of her body were only for herself to know about. The tight slacks hugged her body and made her feel exceptionally thin and alluring. No need to go creeping hopefully into Stan's apartment with her tail between her legs, Jo Ann assured herself. The combination of the way she looked with what she was about to tell him would soon have Stan Wyatt on the defensive. And then, she'd be in delightful control of the situation ... and the man.

The ride across town seemed exceptionally long, but Jo Ann took advantage of the time to form her story and structure it to her own best advantage. No need to remind him or emphasize the fact that she was drunk, Jo Ann decided. It would be enough to tell Stan that she had been attacked. If Stan was any sort of a gentleman, he would realize that if it hadn't been for his upsetting her, Jo Ann wouldn't have been out on the street alone in the first place. And then the guilt should take over and block out any hard feelings he might have been harboring about her actions. It was all very pat. She couldn't miss.

But she did.

As Jo Ann came to the end of her story, she looked in vain for some kind of expression on Stan's face to tell her that she had evoked the desired reaction. There was none. He sat dead pan and smoking while she talked. And then, when she had finished, there was only silence between them.

"Well, don't you have anything to say?" Jo Ann asked finally, when the lull in conversation threatened to smother the last of her self-control.

"What am I supposed to say?" Stan's voice was flat and unsympathetic. "That I'm sorry? Okay, I am. But that doesn't change what's happened."

"Thanks loads." Jo Ann felt the anger rising inside her and fought not to lose her temper. What was the matter with that man, she wondered from behind narrowed eyes. Didn't he have any feelings? Didn't he care anymore?

"Look, this is pretty much all your fault, you know," Stan snapped. "Who told you to go tearing out of here anyway? None of this would have happened if you had stayed..."

"No, not in the park, anyway." Jo Ann felt the words fly from her lips before she could stop them. "You could have performed your own private little rape in the comfort of your own apartment."

"Well, if that's the way you feel, the hell with you." Stan ground out his cigarette and stormed over to the bar.

Jo Ann fumed silently in her chair and looked for the excuse that would mitigate what she had just said. There was none. She had meant every word.

"Would you fix me one, too?" Jo Ann heard the meekness in her tone and hated herself for it. Yet she knew that, despite all her other feelings, she had to make up with Stan. Her original approach had failed. She must come up with another one ... and fast.

Stan pulled a second glass from the cabinet without saying anything. From where she sat, Jo Ann could see the tight set of his jaw ... the thin line of his mouth. He was mad. Very mad. And only one thing, she knew, could alter his mood.

"Can't you even understand a little?" Jo Ann pleaded, hoping desperately that she wouldn't have to make that one sacrifice to get him back.

"I understand that I've wasted a hell of a lot of time on you," Stan growled, turning back toward Jo Ann with a glass in each hand. "Frankly, I don't think it was worth the effort."

Jo Ann accepted the drink with trembling fingers and tried not to shudder at the first taste of the liquor. She was getting no place fast, she knew. Everything she wanted to say was coming out wrong and making the situation worse between them. Better just to shut up, until she knew she would say the right thing.

The silence lengthened into an uncomfortable barrier between them. Jo Ann drank faster as the feeling of desperation intensified within her. She felt trapped. Helpless. And totally unable to correct the damage she had done.

"Maybe you'd prefer that I just left," Jo Ann said, desperate to open the channels of communication between them again. Even at the risk of another argument ... or worse, Stan's agreement. , "You can do whatever you want," Stan said without looking at her.

"I don't see what you're so angry about," Jo Ann seized the opportunity to keep him talking. "I'm the one who got all messed up."

"And I'm the one who's been taken for one large sucker," Stan yelled, slamming his glass down on the table and storming across the room to the window.

"The least you could do is offer a little sympathy," Jo Ann's voice came out hoarse. On the surface she was still fighting, but deep down inside, she knew she had already lost the battle. It was too late. Stan just didn't give a damn anymore.

"What good would sympathy do?" Stan continued to stare down at the street. "Besides, I didn't think I was dealing with an immature kid."

Jo Ann jumped up out of the chair and hurried over to stand in back of him. "And you expect me to sleep with you?" she hissed. "You can't even make it as a friend, let alone as a lover."

"What would you know about friends?" Stan's voice was equally venomous. "All you think of is your precious virginity. like yours was the only one left."

"Thank goodness I found out what you're really like now," Jo Ann turned on her heel and headed toward the door. "Even Laura was more understanding about the whole thing than you are."

"That figures." Stan's tone suddenly changed to one of cruel amusement.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Jo Ann sensed the presence of a meaning that apparently had escaped her.

"How close are you and Laura?" Stan asked. "Close enough." Jo Ann waited to hear what else he had to say.

"Then you should know what I'm talking about." Stan didn't bother to hide his smile as he turned around and walked back to the sofa.

"Well, I don't know," Jo Ann said. "And I'm not sure I really care to."

"Maybe you've found out already." Stan's voice was baiting, mocking. "Maybe that's even the real reason why you didn't want to go to bed with me."

Jo Ann stared at him for a few moments without answering, as the realization of what Stan was implying occurred to her. "You bastard," she yelled, suddenly despising him. That Stan could sink to such a rotten tactic to soothe his wounded ego was less than she had expected of him. Much less. And suddenly, the alienation of his affections didn't seem like so much of a loss.

The slam of the apartment door resounded behind her. Jo Ann didn't bother to wait for the elevator, but hurried toward the staircase and ran all the way down to the first floor.

It had become dark by the time she returned to the street. Jo Ann turned the corner and moved quickly, anxious to get as far away from Stanley Wyatt as she possibly could. Far away from his lack of understanding, from his lack of ethics, and from his lack of love.

By the time she reached the corner, her pace had slowed and her anger had mellowed to hurt. Tonight, she was sober. Tonight, she felt the cold.

And tonight, she didn't want to be alone.