Chapter 1
She'd always wanted a powder-blue convertible. As far back as she could remember, the sight of shiny-new fenders glaring in the sunlight had held a magnetic appeal. Success. Comfort. Smiling, carefree faces. Even before she was old enough to drive, she'd watched them speed through the dingy neighborhood of her childhood on their way to the clean, open highway. She'd promised herself then, that someday one of those big, expensive cars would be her very own.
It was finally happening. She knew she should be happy, even though ten years had passed since she'd made herself that promise. But now, as the salesman approached with two sets of keys and the unwrinkled ownership papers, Toni accepted all in unsmiling silence. It had taken too long. Somehow, it wasn't the same any more. Today, the big car just wasn't enough.
Toni slid onto the spotless white leather seat, grasped the steering wheel firmly and tried not to think about Stan. She knew her husband would come to appreciate the aesthetic lines of the car if he ever recovered from the price. But dinner tonight was guaranteed to turn into a ten-rounder. To hell with it, Toni decided as she pulled out of the car lot and into the late afternoon traffic. She knew how to handle Stan.
Besides, it was her money anyhow. Toni felt obliged to quiet the voice of a weakening but still irritating conscience. And the last of her money, at that. She had the right to spend it on any luxury she damned pleased. It was Stan's place to provide the necessities.
Some provider! She fought to keep the fury from eroding her insides as she drove swiftly along the Long Island Expressway. Stan was still in debt up to his ears. If not for the ten thousand dollars from her dad's life insurance, they would have been over their heads long ago. And now, the ten thousand was all gone. God help them both.
Still, it was her money, Toni repeated silently for courage. Stan had no right to complain. She'd given him plenty during the seven years of their marriage. First, while he painted his stupid little canvasses. And then, for the down payment on their house....
The thought of Stan's painting added to her discomfort. How could she have been such a dope? Where were her brains at the age of twenty-one?
She knew where they were and she blushed to admit it. The picture of Stan Arlen as he used to look, back in his college days, returned to her mind's eye. Any girl would have fallen for him. Any girl would have believed that with a guy like Stan, love was more than enough to live on. Any girl that had ever been in his bed....
Toni reached into her bag and closed her fingers around a pair of pearl-rimmed sunglasses. Without taking her eyes from the road, she slipped them on. Then she removed her kerchief and pushed her long black hair up into the wind.
The awareness of having been duped threatened to dull her enjoyment of the weather and the powerful motor beneath her right foot. Resolutely, Toni pressed the accelerator down, passed the car in front of her and tried to console herself that at least now she knew better. For the first two years of her marriage, she'd been content to go to work while Stan sweated to sell a few lousy paintings every month. But five years ago, when she'd gotten that insurance check, she'd wised up. And fast.
In his whole lifetime her father had never seen ten thousand dollars compiled into one sum. It took his death to make it possible for Tom to have that money. And she had no intentions of throwing it away on what Stan called creativity.
That's why she'd found a house and moved them out of that crummy Manhattan flat that Stan had been so fond of. Then Toni went out to make friends. Useful friends. Friends that she could never have known in her old neighborhood, where one person was poorer than the next. Friends like Irma....
The loud insistence of a car horn jolted Toni from her memories. Rather than give the man the satisfaction of intimidating her into the right lane, Toni sped up and left him far behind her. Then when his car had vanished from her rear view mirror, she pulled over and diminished her speed to one that didn't require all her attention.
The day was warm and she didn't particularly feel like going back to the house yet. She wanted desperately to show off her car to somebody. Somebody who could admire it enviously and say all the right things-things that would make Toni feel like she'd finally accomplished something.
But there was no one. All the people she socialized with had big cars too. And those who didn't weren't worth knowing.
The signs along the side of the road told her that she was getting close to home. Toni flipped on the radio and purposely" drove past her exit. She had to show that car to somebody. Even if it was only Irma.
Two exits later, Toni turned off the expressway and on to a wide, tree-lined boulevard. This side of town, she knew, was only five minutes from where she lived. But the difference was like day and night. Big houses with gently sloping lawns towered above the roadway. Old oaks arched their leafy green arms on either side and stone gates denoted property lines. There wasn't a house worth less than forty thousand bucks in the whole neighborhood. Toni wondered if it had been wise to come there at all.
She pulled into a circular gravel driveway and sneered at the view. Irma's house was clean, bright and refreshing. Everything that Irma wasn't. There, Toni decided, was the perfect example of a woman who'd be lost without a maid.
"Is Missus Barnes at home, Susan?" Toni kept her tone aloof, trying to appear as if she was used to having servants around.
"Yes, Missus Arlen." The girl smiled courteously and stepped back. "I'll tell her you're here."
Toni nodded coolly and ran her fingers through her wind-blown hair. How gauche, she thought, glancing at the gilt-framed mirrors in the entrance hall. To think that a woman with Irma's money could....
"Toni dear, what a pleasant surprise." Irma's voice soared through the air and seemed to bounce around up near the high ceiling. "I've been dying for some good company all day." .
"You've got it now." Toni turned her cheek to the proffered kiss and realized immediately that Irma's only other company for the day had been a bottle of gin. As usual.
"Come on in and have a chugalug with me," Irma commanded, taking Toni's hand and pulling her toward the living room.
"First, I want you to see something." Toni was determined to have her moment first. A small price to ask for an hour of listening to Irma feel sorry for herself. "Look out in your driveway."
Irma's forehead wrinkled with puzzlement, before she shrugged and walked to the front door. "A brand new car!" Her tone was too enthusiastic for Toni to believe sincere. "It's just beautiful." She turned back toward Toni and smiled knowingly. "What did you have to do to get Stan to buy it for you?"
Toni grinned smugly and shook her head. That was one area where she had Irma beat. And probably the only one. "Absolutely nothing." Toni paused to let her meaning sink in. "I bought it myself. As a matter-of-fact Stan doesn't know yet."
"What'll he say when he finds out?" Irma closed the door and giggled softly.
"Does it really matter?" Toni hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. "I've bought it. That's the most important thing."
"You're right, honey. You're so right." Irma winked and started back into the house. "Now, tell me what you'd like to drink."
"Oh, anything." Toni heard the letdown in her voice. She'd hoped that showing the car to Irma would make her feel just the least bit superior. But it hadn't worked. And now, she'd have to pass a dull afternoon in Irma's company with no reward to look forward to except a headache.
Irma brushed a teased lock of brightly-bleached hair from her forehead and took a long swallow from her Tom Collins. "Best thing for a lonesome afternoon," she said, watching Toni do the same. "Beats cold showers any day."
"That's for sure." Toni tried to keep the revulsion out of her voice. One thing she never needed with Stan was cold showers. No matter what else might have happened during his day, Stan was always anxious for a roll in the hay. Irma's husband, on the other hand, was probably different.
"How's Elliot?" Toni asked in a bland tone.
"The same." Irma sighed and finished her drink.
Toni knew what that meant and could figure out its implications. The only person she knew that drank more than Irma did, was her husband, Elliot. That much liquor just had to affect the sex drive, Toni decided. No wonder Irma took cold showers. The woman simply didn't know when she was well off.
"And how is Stan?" Irma's question sounded more polite than curious.
"All right, I guess." Toni searched her mind for something she could brag about concerning her husband, but there was nothing. To put on airs in front of Irma, she knew, would be pointless. After all, Toni remembered, it was Irma who had arranged for Stan's present job with Stillwell Cosmetics, where Elliot was Advertising Manager. She knew exactly what Stan earned, what he did, and probably, what they spent. There were no pretentions possible.
"Dull, aren't they?" Irma said.
"What?" Toni wasn't sure she understood.
"The boys, I mean. You know, Elliot and Stan." Irma reached toward a silver tray for a refill and glanced over to see if Toni's glass was empty yet. "They're really so much alike, despite their incomes."
Irma seemed to be reading Toni's mind and rubbing her nose a little harder in the dirt. Toni couldn't stand it.
"Every day it's the same thing," Irma continued, seemingly unaware of Toni's anger. "They say the same things, and do the same things, and think the same things. Sort of makes a girl wonder if she's got anything left to look forward to."
Toni nodded dully and wished she could get out of there. She knew for certain now that she shouldn't have come. The surroundings were growing more oppressive with each passing moment. But it was her own fault. She'd trapped herself again.
"Oh, they can be interesting sometimes." Toni watched her double entendre bore a hole through Irma's pretended nonchalance. She wanted to hurt-to shatter that blonde bitch who was lording wealth in front of her eyes. Irma didn't deserve such luck. What had that tramp ever done? All the woman had on her side was a lucky marriage. The kind of marriage that Toni rightfully deserved.
"Maybe we ought to trade men, some time?" Irma chuckled nervously. "You can use the income and I can use the fun."
Toni caught the glint in her friend's eye and knew that Irma wasn't really joking. She had her on the defensive though. Unknowingly, Irma had just admitted that. Now Toni felt a little better.
"No thanks." Toni reached for a cigarette and shook her head. "One's about all I can take." Let the bitch suffer, she thought. Just because Irma had arranged for Stan's job didn't give her the right to treat Toni like a poor relation.
"Lucky girl." Irma seemed to pale slightly as she raised the refilled glass to her lips and drank hungrily.
"I guess I'd better be running along now." Toni couldn't stand the cat and mouse game any more.
"So soon?" Irma looked genuinely wounded.
"I have to fix Stan's supper and prepare myself for a fight."
"Oh, you mean the car." Irma nodded understandingly. "Thank goodness I don't have such problems," she smiled. "A new car would never upset Elliot."
"What would?" Toni couldn't resist sticking the knife in a little deeper.
"I beg your pardon?" Irma blinked stupidly.
"Never mind." Toni knew better than to think Irma hadn't caught the barb. Better to let it drop, though. She never knew when she might need the woman's help again. "I'll call you during the week."
"That's a good idea." Irma seemed to be happy again. "Maybe we can go for a ride in my car. The foreign models never seem to use much gas."
That was the last straw. Toni left without saying goodbye.
The ride home was much too short for Toni's liking. But before she had a chance to entertain thoughts of stalling, she found herself pulling into her own block.
A wave of despair seemed to stiffen her limbs as she looked at the houses there. One was the same as the next, Toni told herself again. Living in a development was almost as bad as living in army barracks. It would be a cinch to wander into the wrong house on a dark night.
As she pushed the power button and raised the convertible top, Toni smiled proudly. At least there was a slight difference now, she encouraged herself. No doubt about it. Hers was the flashiest car in the neighborhood. At least she had something to set her apart from the rest of those struggling dopes on the block.
The house was sticky and Toni cursed herself for not forcing Stan to buy her an air-conditioner. Hurrying through the small living room, she glanced at the clock above the fake fireplace. Four-thirty. She'd better make up her mind fast.
A slight trembling of her hands told her that she wasn't nearly as calm as she'd like to be. Toni plugged in the coffeepot and sat down next to the telephone. It would be better to tell him in the privacy of their cheap little house, she decided. At least that way, Stan couldn't make a scene in front of a hundred people at the railroad station-just because she'd traded in his car to buy the new one.
But why should he make a scene at all? Toni pouted, knowing in advance that all her conjecture wouldn't affect reality in the slightest. Hadn't she been good to Stan? Hadn't she gotten him out of that little hole in New York and helped him get a steady job? Hadn't she let him lean on her and borrow strength long after she'd stopped thinking of him as a man in more than a purely physical sense? Hadn't she put up with his pawing hands and hot, breathy love, night after night for seven years?
The tension knotted painfully in her stomach and Toni knew she was scared. Of what, she asked herself irritably. Of a spineless, groveling little man? Of an overgrown child who hadn't the gumption to go out and provide for her the comforts that ungrateful lushes like Irma took for granted? Of a six-foot-two inch washout that she could crush in a moment by simply locking the bedroom door?
The reheated coffee tasted like mud. Toni forced herself to drink it all, despite the hatred that was souring her stomach. Hatred for Irma. Hatred for Stan. Hatred for herself.
The doorbell rang. Toni jumped up from her chair, grateful for any distraction from her unhappy thoughts.
"Missus Arlen?" The freckle-faced boy smiled, and pushed the bouquet of roses into Toni's arms.
An icy shroud of sudden awareness made her shudder. "Just a minute," Toni muttered, and fled to the kitchen to find a quarter to give the boy.
She didn't want to read the card. She didn't have to. Toni knew what it would say without looking. Yet, an undeniable sense of duty forced her to unwrap the flowers gently and hunt for a little white envelope.
It sat in the palm of her hand, defying Toni to open it and face the truth in black and white. Slowly, miserably, she pulled apart the paper and extracted the card.
Happy Anniversary. Love, Stan.
The anguished cry ripped from her throat as Toni heaved the flowers against the living room wall. Sobbing, uncontrollably, she ran to the kitchen and sank down onto a chair.
Her life with Stan felt like a vise, closing painfully around her. She stared, unseeing, across the empty kitchen and bit her lower lip. She had to do something. Anything, to save herself from feeling the way Irma felt-like there was nothing left to look forward to. And one thing, she knew for sure. Whatever it was, she'd have to do it by herself. And soon.
Slowly, very slowly, she dialed Stan's number....