Chapter 16
It was noon when he awoke. The hangover was a killer. Edie brought him black coffee, helped him off the bedroom floor, assisted him into bed. He discovered he was wearing the teenager's panties, her bra. He tore them off.
"Do you enjoy wearing girl's clothes, Bill?"
He was in no mood for silly questions. Angrily, he glared at her. "Just gimme the coffee."
She shook her head sadly, handed him the coffee, then sat on his bed and slowly filled in the missing links. Alice and Tom Bradford had gone home during the onset of dawn; she wasn't certain of the time. Sinclair awoke soon after; he had apologized, dressed hurriedly, and left just before the milkman arrived. "What about Harrigan?"
She explained that he and his son were still asleep. She had led them to Karen's bedroom. "And I drove Darla home myself," she said.
"Her parents p.o'ed?"
"They weren't happy. Said I should've phoned if she was gonna be all night."
Bill swirled down some more of the black coffee. He was going to become ill; there was no way of preventing it.
"How was she, Bill? Nice."
He shot her an angry glance. She had her nerve with that question. "Did I ask you how you made out?"
"You didn't have to. All you did was watch."
Hotly, he flung back the covers. "I didn't watch," he snapped.
"Well, don't get mad about it. But I know how you like to watch ... it gets you in the groove, doesn't it, Bill?"
"Go to hell!" He stumbled to the bathroom and vomited.
During the afternoon, he and Harrigan finished off their quotes and blueprint problems. He invited Harrigan to spend another night with them, but Harrigan was anxious to get back to Chicago, called the airport and made reservations. Bill drove them to the field, then he phoned Sinclair and gave him the good news. They made a killing; Harrigan had been most generous with the cost approvals. Sinclair was elated. He promised Bill a fat bonus. "And you can have another week off. How does that sound?"
Emptily, Bill told him that was fine. He didn't feel like coming back to the office for a few days; there were things to work out. Edie was one of them; Nuzzo was the other. Strangely, he felt neither victorious, nor happy. And Edie didn't help the cause, either. Since they'd had words, she had been cool, detached, coming and going from the apartment as though he didn't even exist.
When he returned from the airport, the apartment was empty. He found a note on the kitchen table saying that she was at the Bradfords'; he started to go over and then changed his mind. Edie was probably sitting on Bradford's lap; Bill had had enough of that last night.
He slept poorly that night, and the following morning Edie was even colder toward him. He ignored her finally; she would get over it; she always did.
He was mistaken, however. During the afternoon she went out, leaving him to watch Karen. She didn't say where she was going, and he didn't ask. Probably to see her secret lover, he thought, and the bitterness welled up inside him. When Nuzzo phoned, Bill's bitterness had reached the point of unreasonable anger.
"I'm not waiting forever, chum," Nuzzo said. "I want those five minutes."
"I told you I'd fix it."
"When?"
"Tonight."
"This on the level?"
"I said I would, didn't I?"
"What time?"
"About eight. I'll tell her you're a business associate. Then I'll take a powder."
"Don't cross me up," Nuzzo warned. Bill hung up. And now to fix it. He'd have to get on the good side of her again, butter her up, even if it killed him.
She returned at about five o'clock, and he immediately swept her into his arms and kissed her. She fought the embrace, but the affection took hold, she let the kiss linger, and suddenly she flung her arms around him and held him close.
"Oh, honey," she sighed.
He kissed her again. Tears stained her eyes. Her lips quivered. "I thought we were through, Bill. That's why I went out. To think."
He gave her a warm hug. Con her, he thought. She had conned him, hadn't she?
"Bill," she said suddenly, "could we go away somewhere? Just the two of us."
"Where?"
"Just away. A drive, maybe a day at the beach. Could we?"
He told her about Nuzzo. "He's an important customer, honey. He's coming up here tonight. At eight." He watched her eyes lower. "But tomorrow ... tomorrow we'll go anywhere you want." He paused, then rushed on. "Honey, this Nuzzo is damn important. We've got to treat him nice and...."
"How nice, Bill?" Her eyes were cold, empty. Her skin seemed gray.
"Aw, honey."
"How nice?" she repeated.
"Just show him a good time," Bill said casually. He told her about the fat bonus Sinclair had already promised him. "And now with this Nuzzo, there might be another bonus."
"Bill, I'm not a whore. I wouldn't care if you were given a million dollars, but I wouldn't go through another night like that one. I just won't."
"Aw, honey."
"I'm serious, Bill."
He squeezed her, drew her close. "Did anybody get hurt?" he asked. "Honey, you've got to go modern. Everybody has."
"Well, I'm not everybody. I don't like to do those things, and the only reason I did them was for you."
He concealed his anger. She could play around behind his back, slip out of the apartment to have sex with other men, entertain a secret lover in her own home; yet she could play the prude. He forced a smile. "Look, all I'm asking is that you be a good hostess. Is that asking so much?"
Some of her brightness returned. "No funny stuff?" she asked timidly.
"No," he lied.
"And tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow, a picnic. Anything you want."
She was satisfied, nestled herself in his arms. Oh, she'd have a few drinks, she promised; maybe even wear something a little revealing that was smart business, wasn't it? but there would be no hanky-panky.
He spelled out his promises for her, and then he took her to the bedroom and made love. Strangely, it was an effort.
Nuzzo arrived promptly at eight. Bill led the introductions and they sat down to a tray of bourbon stingers. The conversation was thin, strained; Nuzzo insisted on retaining his raincoat, constantly shot Bill short glances that said: "Move, man. Lake take a walk. Get some air."
Bill waited briefly, then remembered that he was out of cigarettes, something he had carefully arranged to happen.
"I could run down for some," Edie offered.
"Naw, I can go. You can keep Mr. Nuzzo company. Maybe he'd like another drink."
Edie sent him a short frightened glance. "I'll go if you want me to."
Again, he told her no. Then without looking back, he turned and fled from the apartment. His walk through downtown New York was aimless. But kill time, he thought. Give Nuzzo a chance to get his kicks, and suddenly he hoped that Nuzzo wouldn't be too rough on her. He'd probably just slap her around a little; he wouldn't dare inflict serious harm to her; it would jeopardize his position on the force. The bastard.
Bill fell into the stream of traffic and crowds. Ten minutes now. Give him five more. But how would he explain this to Edie? What if she wanted to call the police? How would he tell her?
He entered a drug store and purchased two packs of cigarettes. Let the mind alone, he thought. Don't strain. He'd think of something, and tomorrow well, tomorrow they'd go to the beach just as he had promised.
Suddenly, he was seized with an idea. Buy her a gift. A remembrance. Something she might like. And instantly, he thought of lingerie. She loved silly little lace panties, imported underwear. Maybe he could find something with a monogrammed initial.
He hurried to a department store that was still open, went straight to the lingerie department. He stood at the counter, absently fingering a pair of silk panties. His hand slipped inside the panties, and suddenly his mind ran away with him.
The material ... the wonderful warm silk. Christ! And then he saw himself parading before a mirror, wearing the pink panties, exciting not only himself, but an obscure face in the background: his boyhood pal.
He remembered days long ago when he and his pal was it Ronnie? had stole into his sister's bedroom while she was taking a bath. They peeped though the adjoining bathroom door and saw her loll in the tub. It was the first time he had ever witnessed a naked girl. Remembering it now, he saw them huddled close to the peephole, each of them squirming for another look. A warmness spread through him. The boy had reached down and touched him in his secret spot. It felt crazy good, and then Bill was doing the same thing to his friend; and later, when they had moved away from the keyhole, they brought exciting relief to one another's growing curiosity.
He had stolen the girl's panties that day, taken them secretly to his room, slept with them on that night and many others.
Frequently, when everyone else was asleep, he would remove the soft silk panties from their hiding place, and rub them against his body. It drew wild thrills from him, a crazy kind of feeling that had followed him into adulthood.
Yes, even when Edie was out of the apartment, just for kicks, he'd sometimes dressed in her clothes, felt the wild abandon of youth returning with fresh vigor. Then when Edie came back, they would make love again and again. And fortunately, she had never discovered this fetish. "May I help you?"
Dumbfounded, he stared at the elderly sales clerk. Then he turned and fled. She called after him, but he kept running. He never stopped until he reached the apartment and let himself into the enveloping darkness. He switched on the light and heard Edie groan. She was in a back bedroom, naked, sprawled out on the floor. Karen was in her crib, crying.
He bent down and lifted her gently onto the bed. She began to sob. Her left eye was black and swollen; there was a nasty gash on her lower lip, ugly dark bruises over most of her buttocks and thighs. He felt sick inside and fell close to her, held her, comforted her.
She sobbed for nearly an hour, then she was still. He thought she was asleep, but when he raised up to look at her, he became the immediate target of her blank stare. "You knew, didn't you, Bill? You arranged it, didn't you?"
"Honey...."
"I'm leaving you, Bill."
"Honey, you don't know what you're saying."
"Yes," she said softly, "I do. I'm going away and I'm not coming back."
"Honey?"
"We're through, Bill."