Chapter Twenty-Two
Lou leaned on the bar and wondered what those loose ends of the series were he was to pick up and close. He turned and looked for Tina. The place was packed and it was almost midnight when she flashed by almost bumping him. He reached out and held her arm. She stared coldly at him.
"Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Newspaperman in the flesh," she said sarcastically. "Where's your lady bard?" he said.
He smiled. "Oh, Marilyn. She had to leave town for a few days."
Tina's eyes smiled mischievously. "Oh, indeed, I wonder why? It's a bit unusual, don't you think, for a reporter to quit in the middle of a series, isn't it?" she asked.
"Yes, I thought so too."
Her eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me you're finishing up for her?"
"I'm doing her a favor, Tina. As I told you before I had nothing to do with the articles except to provide background-not details. This time it's different. I'm supplying both."
Suddenly there was a strange look of pleasure in her eyes. "Would you like to come up to my place, Lou? It's still early," she said, a reservoir of deceit deeper than an ocean in her flaming eyes.
He felt a familiar urge pass through him. She did look so utterly attractive this evening. Maybe one last fling before he got married and settled down to a nice little home and wife.
"No conditions this time, Tina?" he asked.
A pulsating rhythm of noise clanged furiously. He strained to hear her.
"Not this time, Lou," she said, taking his arm.
He was plagued by doubts but he moved with her toward the street. Then at the door-she remembered she had to run down the hall and give one of the girls an important message. She asked him to wait for her inside.
He walked inside. He gave a sign of recognition with his eyes; but his body remained immobile near the door. Then he shut the door and looked for an uncluttered chair. There were none. The light had been left on and dim shadows bent lines on the walls from the open Venetian blinds. He drew the strings and closed them.
Empty beer cans were piled beneath a sink filled with dirty dishes. Menacing breeds of flies pecked softly at the bag of garbage filled to overflowing. The place stank. It would take a cast-iron posture towards the world for him to partake of Tina in these surroundings. Or an armory of guts. How had he stooped so low before? Crazy Lou. Curious Lou. Playing sexual patsy with a girl steeped in the ways of hustling a cheap dollar.
Down the hall in Leslie's room Tina was rushing a plan. Like Marilyn, Lou had to be stopped from completing the series. Where to begin? With the camera. The same camera with which Marilyn had been stilled. Tina would provide the scene, the layout, the production.
"We'll catch him with his pose down," Tina said, giggling.
Leslie's face became eager and thoughtful. "I guess that's the only thing to do," she agreed. "How much time do you need?"
"Give me fifteen minutes-then barge in and start popping those flashlight bulbs over the place. I'll have my head turned so I won't be recognized."
Her cheerful breasts surged as she saw Lou standing in the room waiting for her. She spread her arms with a smile. "Oh, no-I thought you'd be stripped and ready for me," she exclaimed, her voice carrying to overtones of camouflaged falseness.
What he secretly longed for was to disengage himself completely and quickly from this situation. About her-Tina-he experienced a sudden fallout of her sex appeal.
"Tina," he said slowly, "I've had a change of mind. I think I've been touched." He snapped his fingers. "Suddenly-girl-I don't need you and I want you even less. Do you mind if I blow?" He made a move toward the door.
She blocked his path, eyeing him carefully with a forced sweet smile. "Why, Lou," she said aloud, "you've been meditating with all the wrong people-that's what's the matter with you. Please, now, come out, come out, wherever you are. Can't you see I need you? Lou, look-please...." She began undressing rapidly and wildly. When she was stripped, the clothes piled at her feet, she tripped lightly toward him.
He stepped backward lightly-as cautious as a moose on thin ice. "Tina, get out of the way," he said not quite firmly.
She laughed wildly and her eyes rolled. She rubbed the palms of her hands wantonly along the soft and warm fleshy sides of her nudity.
"Snap out of it, Lou, I'm all here ... for you."
She began to close the distance between them. Then she was upon him-pressing her lips warmly against his. When she felt no response she tugged at his belt. She could suddenly feel him springing to life. He moaned helplessly for a moment-then began kissing her mouth, her nose, her ears, her throat. Over and over again. Against his open mouth she clamped hers and thrust savagely toward him. In a stupor she led him to the bed. Soon her body melted against his but he was still fully clothed.
She felt like a bucketful of cold water on hot stones. Steam was rising from Lou. Then he stood up and undressed with slow deliberation. She could see some strange thing troubling him. She wondered what it was.
Then his hands were on her hips, holding her close to him. She fought within herself to prolong the moment-to give Leslie time. In a moment she would burst through the door. Everything should happen just as she planned. One had to make plans to survive.
Suddenly the door was banged open-thrust almost from its ancient hinges. Tina "turned her head as she threw her arms and pressed her nudity against Lou. He started to raise his head. Then he saw-saw the girl and recognized her instantly-a wild stare in her face and the flashbulbs popped ... 1-2-3. For a second his eyes were without sight but in a flash he got the urgent idea. The whole thing had been rigged. To compromise him.
Leslie was angling for another photo when he hit her hard with his shoulders-sending her sprawling. Tina made a frantic dash for the camera on the floor. He reached it first. Both girls were now attacking him-desperately trying to get possession of the camera.
It was like trying to get the right of way in a brothel. He made a dive to the floor. His hand grabbed the camera. Two girls were on his back yanking his hair. His nostrils flared-his hair flew. He was determined. He tightened his grip on the camera. With an incredible force he heaved his body upward sending the girls flying through the room. He reached back like a catcher and heaved the camera violently against the wall. It shattered into a hundred futile pieces. He gasped. He ran to breathe with a surge of new life. He turned toward the girls. They stared at him incredibly. They looked ugly and confused. He moved rapidly into his clothes. He had brought the eagle to earth with his fist.
As he went through the door he threw them a smile of amusement. "So long, suckers," he said. He made a wide, sweeping gesture that took in everyone in the room. He grinned like an imp as he bounded down the stairs.
He could see the street sinking, fading out as he drove past the neighborhood. He felt like lead evaporating, collapsing. He had had a close call. When he was finished with the series a new race of girls would walk this earth, if it was at all possible. In the crevices of his mind he could feel filthy bugs crawling, clinging stubbornly to him. It was Tina and her group. They could never survive the historical smash-up that was headed their way. He glanced at his watch. He was excited but tired. He had almost been caught in a fiery flux.
He drove as in a dream. Then he was conscious of stopping at Marilyn's house. He didn't know why. He could see her image as if it were in a slot machine-tightly racked up with gum. It was late. He thought he could discern a light in her room. He was jittery as he rang her bell.
"Who is there?" she called.
He tapped the door. "Lou-Marilyn, let me in."
When he saw her it was as though he were arising from a reverie. He walked in and closed the door behind him. She stood back and observed him gravely.
"You look messed up, Lou. What happened?" she asked.
It was his turn to look surprised. "Get me a drink and I'll fill you in," he said.
He took a deep gulp and leaned back, sighing loudly as at a sorrowful memory. "Tonight I saw the tail of a comet, Marilyn," he said.
"Meaning what, Lou?" she asked.
"I think I know why you're quitting the story," he said.
She stared cautiously at him. How much did he know? "Then suppose you tell me," she said firmly.
He brightened at her words. "Did Tina and her bunch compromise you and get some photos for blackmail purposes?" he asked.
She reflected for a moment-then nodded. "You hit it on the head, Lou," she said sadly. "I guess I was too...."
Lou threw her a strange look. "Too weak to yell, huh, Marilyn?"
"I guess that's it."
He stood up and shrugged. "Well, don't be shocked. They almost made it with me tonight."
"You went back to that girl?"
A dark look flashed across his face. "Yes, but I got out in time when I gazed at my own image. Now the seizure is gone and I've passed beyond her. I'm glad for the experience." He toyed with his glass. "I'm finishing the series for you, Marilyn, but I'm hitting them hard."
Her mouth wrinkled. "I'm glad."
"Not under my name-under yours, Marilyn," he said solemnly, setting the glass down on the table beside the chair.
Her eyes lit up like the Vegas strip. She jumped up. "You can't, Lou, you know what they'll do to me?" she begged.
"I doubt it-but you'll have to take your chances." He walked toward the door. She clutched his jacket.
"Please, Lou, please." Her throat was dry sandpaper. She began to suffocate. "Don't let it happen to me-I beg of you!"
He turned to her. "I don't think anything is going to happen, Marilyn. Now this bomb is a dud," he said. "I've got them stewing in their stinking shit. Don't worry."
It was getting light in the street and everything appeared gray and normal. A new element of self-awareness was manifesting itself and he felt the portentious significance of it. He suddenly felt, with joyous surprise, that he could manipulate the controls of his life once more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Lora stared at Lou. She sought her tongue. "You're sure, Lou?" she asked. His eyebrows climbed. "About what?"
"About us."
He walked over to the window, stared a moment at the street below. Then he drew the drapes a little. "With my whole body, Lora, and with my head too," he said firmly.
Her eyelids drooped lazily from the couch. "Everything is centered in the head. But does your head fit your body? Could you take colored children?" she asked.
His stare was fixed on her like buttons. He was leisurely undressing her doubts.
"You're talking about varieties of flesh, Lora. I'm talking of love. What are you trying to ask me with that loaded question? Are you asking me to turn around?" he wanted to know.
"Tell me the truth," she demanded.
"It's love, Lora, nothing more." He pounded his heart.
A dark look flashed across her sharp, pretty face and she leaned forward-her elbows on her knees.
"Tell me while it's light, Lou. I don't want to wait until it gets dark," she said.
"You're trying to isolate children by color, Lora. It won't do. You should know better than that."
"I want to be sure, Lou."
"Don't poison yourself, Lora, please?"
He stared at her ... an irresistible black creature trying to spool off assurances by the roll. He couldn't blame her. He had no secret to bury from her. He looked foggily past her.
"Let's dismiss this turn of thought, Lora," he said. "This is exactly as I want things to be. I love you exclusively, only you, and nothing on earth can swerve me. Not even you."
She made it toward him in two rapid strides and his arms opened to her instantaneously. For a second they thrived in a twilight and they spun their own web in a silent talk that evolves from spinning and weaving.
"Let those who do not approve fly a kite, Lora."
Everything was rising like vapor as he kissed her hard.
He placed the paper on the editor's desk and sat down. "There's the end of the series, Gene. It blasts the truth out of Garden Street."
Gene leaned forward and fondled the batch of papers.
"I'm glad you did it for us, Lou," he said. "Only I'm sorry to lose you. Sure you won't stay?"
It was a loaded question. Answering it was like trying to hold smoke under water. "I think Lora and I would be happier in a big city. Not too many people swooping down on you. We want to make us a thoroughly complete and fresh start together. I thought you might understand."
His eyes observed Lou meditatively.
"I do-I do, Lou, you know that," he said. "I remember an age when men were gullotined for doing less."
"That's exactly what I mean, Gene. It's harder in a little town like this. Sort of like a baptism by sticking your pinky in a goldfish bowl," Lou replied with a warm smile.
"I'm happy for you and Lora. She's a great girl, Lou."
He lit a cigarette and exhaled deeply. "I'm glad you like her, Gene. I think she's great, too. I'll try to get my joys on earth. Some have patience and wait until they get theirs in heaven."
Gene reached into a desk drawer and pulled out an envelope. "Take it, Lou, it's the paper's way of saying good luck to a couple of nice people. I've already peeked inside. There's a thousand bucks there for you both," he smiled.
Lou squeezed the envelope into his pocket.
"Thanks, Gene, this is a built-in advantage to my marriage that I'll never forget," Lou said solemnly.
He walked out feeling miraculous. The slate had been wiped clean. Everything that had to be said was explained. He stared aloft at the azure-tinted sky and thought how providence always puts opportunities in your path. In a quiet part of him there was a legend which he had nourished-of a tree and a woman beneath it called Eve-and she was holding an apple for him.
Linda had passionately withdrawn from the scene. Marilyn had departed with a mysterious smile from his life. An earlier elixir of his life had been drained and inexplicably gone. When the cup becomes too full it runneth over. All of the past had been finally extinguished. He couldn't remember in how long the dream of life had been so sweet. They had tried to move him around like a chess piece-to fit snugly into their individual inner sanctum. Women were like that.
They had everything geared up to function smoothly with a bon fire behind the urinal in the event of malfunction. Women. Absolutely guileless. Self-imposed drill masters. Whatever he had been, he had floundered and recovered. From the world about him he had nothing to fear. He was in it-part of it-and of it, totally. And so was Lora. Her vision to him was always like a fatal flower caught in the darkness, mellowing in its own glow.
He would have her forever-an exotic plant lashing and writhing in the night in an endless search to seal off time and space. She was waiting for him breathlessly when he rang the bell.
"I was afraid you would forget," she cried, opening her arms for him.
He enveloped her warm, small frame. "You were afraid I'd change my mind, weren't you, Lora?" he chided.
She shut the door. She looked radiant in a new fashion world outfit in monochromatic shades of beige. He saw her suitcases near the window. He withdrew the envelope from his pocket. He put it in her hand. She stared at it. "What's this, Lou?" she asked.
He bit his lips and shook his head. "I don't know. Gene told me to give it to you. Go ahead, open it."
Eagerly she tore at the corner of the envelope. When she opened it and extracted the thick green contents she had the look in her eyes of a woman who has loved and won.
"Oh, Lou," she cried, "what a wonderful gesture. How much is it?"
"I believe Gene said there was a thousand dollars there."
The color of her skin was heightened by a marble glow. Their kiss drowned the memory of all previous pains. Their eyes were joined and welded by an electric current of deep recognition. When they parted their lips were bruised and swollen.
If it were dream it would end.
If it were not a dream....