‘Shouldn’t be necessary. Ten minutes oughta be plenty of time.’
‘Okay. Get going. And watch out.’
‘Okay. Thanks.’
‘Bye.’ She hung up.
Neal hung up and smiled at Sue. ‘That worked out nicely. She invited us over.’
‘Yer a tricky fella.’
‘She just assumed I was calling her from my own apartment, and I . . . chose not to disabuse her of the notion. Anyway, we’re now her official guests. She’s going to call back in a while to make sure we arrived safely.’
‘Hope we do.’
Thirty-Nine
Exactly ten minutes after hanging up, Marta called back.
‘You made it,’ she said.
‘No problem.’
‘Thank God. I was afraid he might . . . you know, jump you on the way to your car.’
‘No sign of him so far.’
‘Thank God,’ she said, her voice breaking.
Neal suddenly felt a hot flood of guilt. ‘Everything’s fine,’ he told her.
Sounding shaky, Marta said, ‘Anyway. Be careful. There’s no guarantee that he won’t show up at my place. I mean, who knows? So keep your eyes open.’
‘I will.’
‘I’ll be back around nine in the morning.’
‘Fine.’
‘You guys . . .’ She sniffed. ‘Just make yourselves at home. Plenty of food and stuff to drink. Have yourself a party, or whatever.’
‘I think we’ll probably turn in. It’s been a long day.’
Marta sniffed again, then said, ‘Okay. Well. There’re clean towels and washcloths in the linen closet. Blankets,’ she added. ‘Sheets.’
‘Thanks. And don’t worry, okay? About anything.’
‘Easier said than done, buddy.’
‘See you later.’
‘Night.’ She hung up.
Neal hung up and looked at Sue. ‘She was scared to death we wouldn’t get here in one piece.’
‘That’s ’cause she loves ya.’
‘I know.’ He sat down on the sofa. ‘I don’t want to hurt her, Sue.’
‘Well, maybe ya can have the both of us.’
He gave her the smirk that she seemed to expect.
‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘y’aren’t gettin me anymore. Not while we’re stayin here. Wouldn’t be right.’
Neal sighed, then nodded and muttered, ‘That’s probably for the best.’
‘Yep. I’ll take the sofa. You can have her bed.’
‘You should sleep in the bed,’ Neal protested.
‘No way. It’s Marta’s, and she isn’t gonna want a stranger in it. You get the bed, and I’ll sleep on the sofa here.’
‘We’d be in different rooms.’
‘Ya want her walkin in and findin us in the same room?’
‘What if Rasputin shows up?’
Sue grinned. ‘I’ll scream. You run in and shoot him.’
‘I mean it.’
‘Me, too.’
‘I’ve got a better idea,’ he said. ‘You take the sofa, and I’ll take the chair.’ He nodded at Marta’s big, stuffed recliner.
Sue frowned at it. Then she smiled and said, ‘That’s a good place for ya.’
‘I’ll sleep in my clothes, too,’ he said. ‘Just in case.’
‘In case of Rasputin or Marta?’
‘Both.’
When he came out of the bathroom, the living room was dark except for a single, dim lamp beside the padded chair. Sue was stretched out on the sofa, her head on a pillow, a powder-blue blanket covering her almost to the shoulders.
‘Okay if I kiss you goodnight?’ Neal asked. ‘Marta will never have to know.’
‘C’mon over here.’
He went to her. In the vague light from the lamp across the room, he could see that her shoulders were bare. He knelt beside the sofa. ‘What’re you wearing?’ he asked.
‘What I got on.’
‘What’s that?’
‘My blanket.’
‘And that’s all?’
‘What else I need?’
‘What about Marta?’
‘Yer keepin yer duds on. We don’t both gotta.’ Smiling, she slipped a bare arm out from under the blanket and caressed his cheek.
‘What about Rasputin?’
‘He the jealous sort?’
‘Do you want to be naked if he breaks in?’
‘Won’t matter. Yer gonna shoot him dead.’
‘Then what about me?’
‘What about you?’
‘How am I supposed to fall asleep in the chair over there when I know you’re right here naked?’
‘Just put it outa yer mind,’ she said. Her smile faded a little.
‘Thing is, I can’t sleep at night if I’m wearin stuff.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘Nope. I toss and turn too much. If I got somethin on, first thing ya know I’m all wrapped up and gettin twisted half to death. Can’t stand it.’
‘Really.’
‘Yup.’
‘I think you made that up.’
‘Nope. Ya gonna give me a kiss?’
‘Mmm-hmm.’ Bending over, he kissed her on the mouth. Her hand curled over the back of his head and stroked him through his hair.
She made no protest when he crept a hand beneath the blanket. He glided his hand over the rises of her breasts, down her ribcage and belly. Hand sliding lower, he felt her bare skin against the whole length of his arm. She was long and smooth and warm. She moaned a little and squirmed.
Turning her head to break away from his mouth, she whispered, ‘Whatcha tryin ta do?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Coulda fooled me.’
He brought his arm up and out from under the blanket.
‘Sure felt good, though,’ Sue said, and kissed him again.
After the kiss, Neal whispered, ‘Guess I’d better return to my corner.’
‘Reckon so.’
He left her and went to his chair. Standing in the lamplight, he pulled off his shoes and removed everything from his trouser pockets. He set the bracelet and pistol on the lamp table, then turned off the light and sat down. After covering himself with a blanket, he tilted back the chair. Its footrest popped up, lifting his feet off the carpet.
‘How’s the chair?’ Sue asked through the darkness.
‘Comfy. How’s the sofa?’
‘Lonely. Only don’t get no ideas ’bout comin back over, okay? I’d love to have ya, but it wouldn’t be right.’
‘I know. I agree.’
‘Night,’ she said.
‘Night.’
He shut his eyes, took a deep breath and tried to relax. But he couldn’t get Sue out of his mind. He thought about how she was stretched out beneath the blanket, all bare and warm. And how it would feel to be under the blanket with her.
Forget about it.
We should’ve stayed at my place, he thought. If we’d stayed there, this wouldn’t be happening.
But then we’d be scared of Rasputin busting in on us. Better this way, he told himself.
Not that Marta would find out if we . . .
‘Neal?’ Sue said from across the room.
The sound of her voice made his heart quicken.
She’s changed her mind. She’s gonna invite me over.
‘Yeah?’ he asked.
‘Wanta come here with the bracelet?’
‘You want the bracelet?’ he asked.
‘I don’t mean that. You wanta use it? C’mon over here and get in me?’
‘A bracelet ride?’
‘Yeah. Be glad to have ya.’
‘I’d much rather ride you in person.’
He heard a soft huff of laughter. Then Sue said, ‘Smarty.’
Reaching out, he fingered the tabletop until he found the bracelet. He picked it up and slipped it onto his right wrist. Then he raised it above his face and stared at it in the vague, faint glow that came through the curtains.
‘You’re not supposed to use it on someone you love,’ Neal said.
After a moment, Sue said, ‘That’s nice.’
‘What?’
‘Sayin ya love me.’
‘Well . . . you already knew that.’
‘Nice to hear it, anyhow. I love you, too. So how ’bout comin on over here?’
‘In the flesh?’
‘Keep yer flesh in the chair.’
‘I’d . . . I really don’t want to do it with the bracelet.’
‘It’ll be great. Just wait and see what . . .’
‘It’s against the rules.’
‘’Cause ya love me.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Well, I use it on you.’
‘You also carry a fake i.d. That doesn’t mean I should do it.’
‘Chicken?’
‘No. I just don’t think it would be such a good idea.’ He knew that she would want a reason. After giving the problem a few moments of thought, he said, ‘What if I get in, and find out I don’t like you?’
‘That ain’t likely.’
‘But who knows? Maybe your head’s such a jumble of crazy thoughts and atrocious language that I’d want to scream and run for the hills and never see you again.’
Sue laughed softly from her sofa.
‘Anyway,’ Neal said, ‘we won’t stand a chance of pulling off this abstinence thing if I get into your head. So . . . we’d better forget it, okay? Maybe tomorrow night we’ll be back in my own place. Then we can do whatever we want.’
‘Well, it’s up to you.’
‘I think we’d better try to sleep,’ he said.
‘All right. Night.’
‘Night.’
‘Sleep tight,’ she said.
‘You, too.’
‘Don’t let the bedbugs bite.’
Neal couldn’t sleep. The chair felt soft and comfortable, but he kept thinking about Sue on the sofa. He was tempted to go to her. He was also tempted to break Elise’s rule and visit Sue with the bracelet.
He imagined how it might be.
Many times, he thought about Marta.
Had he stopped loving her? He didn’t think so. Then how could he fall in love with Sue?
Did he want to lose Marta?
She’ll hate me – the minute she figures out about me and Sue.
He pictured her raging – ‘You bastard! How could you do this to me?’
Of course, she had never behaved that way before.
No telling how she might react: betrayed, outraged, pleading, snide, martyred, indifferent, brave, forgiving . . .
No matter what, Neal thought, it’ll be bad.
I could keep her if I dump Sue.
I’m not dumping Sue.
He thought about her sleeping only a few yards away. He wanted to go to her.
He knew that he wouldn’t, though.
He also knew that, with his mind in such turmoil, he would probably remain awake most of the night.
Finally, to escape, he kissed the bracelet.
As he touched his lips to the serpent’s head, he had no idea where he wanted to go. But somewhere. Away from here. Away from the temptations and guilt and worries.
A moment after his lips met the warm gold of the bracelet, he floated up out of his body. As he rose toward the ceiling, he saw Sue’s head and bare shoulders – gray in the gloomy light that seeped through the curtains above the sofa.
If I try going out that way, I’ll end up inside her.
To avoid her, he aimed himself in the opposite direction. He passed through Marta’s special framed print of a bayou scene, signed by the artist, Robert Malcolm Rucker; through the wall; through a kitchen cupboard stacked with plates and bowls. Drifting below the kitchen ceiling, he saw horizontal stripes of black and light across the room. He rushed at them, raced through the open wooden blinds and glass and found himself outside.
Suddenly high above an alley, he panicked for a moment, expecting to drop.
Too long since I’ve done this, he thought. Thanks to Sue. Haven’t used the thing since she got her hands on it.
When was the last time? The trip to Karen’s? Was that really the last? Monday night?
That didn’t seem right.
Then he remembered sitting on the men’s room floor at Sunny’s Café, kissing the bracelet with every intention of checking Sue, then slamming smack into the Highway Patrol officer on the other side of the door. The guy with the trots.
That was the last time. Such a miserable failure that it almost shouldn’t count.
Why am I even doing this? he wondered.
Thinking back, it seemed that all of his bracelet trips had been disasters of one kind or another.
Except the first.
The experimental trip into Elise.
That had been wonderful, spectacular.
But they’d been lousy ever since.
Maybe I should go back to Marta’s place and . . .
He felt a sudden pull, a tug of the invisible connection, as if the controller of such things was starting to pull him back.
No! I didn’t mean it! This is fine!
He resisted the pull, and found himself gliding forward again through the night. Uncertain where he was, he studied the layout of the buildings and streets below him.
Familiar territory.
Without making any conscious choice about his destination, he must’ve headed straight for his own neighborhood.
Let’s just make sure I don’t end up at Karen’s, he told himself.
Why not? As long as I’m not there in the flesh . . . It was a kick being in her.
‘Forget it.’ He heard his comment in his mind, but not in his ears.
Back in Marta’s living room, had he muttered ‘Forget it’ in his chair?
Maybe. Tuesday night at the Apache Inn, when Sue had been inside him, her body had squirmed, moaned, gasped, groaned and sighed. She hadn’t spoken, though.
Maybe words can’t make it through.
Or maybe they can.
Hope I didn’t wake her up.
Seeing his own apartment building below him, Neal wondered what to do. Visit one of his neighbors?
How about Miss Universe?
That’s just what I’d need, he thought. I’ve got problems enough without jumping inside some gorgeous bimbo. She’s probably asleep, anyway.
Everyone’s probably asleep.
Not everyone.
From high above the building, Neal could see a lot of activity: a helicopter in the sky near Century City; some airliners heading into L.A.X., probably ten miles away, their landing lights pushing beams into the darkness ahead of them; cars and delivery trucks here and there, gliding silently along pale, uncrowded streets; a black-and-white police car stopped on Pico, swirling the area with blue-and-red flashes as two officers climbed out and walked toward a pale van. He saw a few people, widely scattered, walking dogs. He saw a cat scurry across a road and vanish beneath a parked car. In various directions, he saw lighted windows, some with moving shapes behind them: possibly janitors cleaning offices in high-rise buildings; people in upper stories of homes, condos and apartment houses who were still up and around for whatever reasons, and hadn’t bothered to shut their curtains. From some windows came the glow of televisions.
No shortage of people to choose from, Neal thought.
Go on a hunt for someone interesting?
You’d better make it good, he warned himself. You only get one shot per trip. Don’t want to end up in a dud.
Why not? Why not experiment? I’ve got all night – at least what’s left of it. I could hop back and forth, try out half a dozen people. . .
Below him, the courtyard and swimming pool of his own building looked deserted.
He wondered if he should make a quick pass through his rooms.
And realized that he had to, now that he’d thought about it. Otherwise, the failure to check would gnaw at him.
So he swooped down, passed through the balco
ny railing and through the stucco wall into his bedroom. He whipped like a gust of wind beneath his bed, rushed into the closet and through its wall to the bathroom. Nobody in the tub, nothing in the toilet bowl.
On he went, curling around corners, seeping through walls and furniture, searching the darkness everywhere for signs of an intruder.
Nothing.
Coast is clear.
He flew out through the front door and softly crashed into a man and screamed.
Forty
Rasputin!
He stood just outside the door to Neal’s apartment, hunched over and working with a couple of slender steel tools buried deep in the keyhole of the lock.
Neal had no chance to see him.
Simply collided with a dark mass on the other side of his door and shrieked with fright.
Inside him, Neal knew him at once.
He felt the hot aches of bullet wounds.
And he felt a trembling tightness in the man – part fear, mostly excitement.
An icy tremor in the bowels.
A stiffness in the penis that made it push against the front of his trousers.
A wild, raging strangeness in his mind.
‘Come on, come on. Baby. Come. Open up for Papa.’
The fucker better be here this time. Ooo, it’s gonna be sweet. Better be here this time.
‘Come on baby.’
As the silent monologue went on, his mind played a memory-scene of a stranger, a dark and undefined shape standing yards away in the darkness of the trees, aiming at him and shooting. Even as fire spat from the muzzle and the booms crashed through the stillness, his mind flipped to a new scene – a naked man nailed to a floor, screaming and writhing. Rasputin pictured himself kneeling between the man’s spread legs, reaching forward with pliers . . .
Is that supposed to be me? Neal wondered.
The guy in the dark with the gun was definitely Neal shooting at Rasputin on Sunday night. The guy on the floor about to get worked on with pliers, well lighted in Rasputin’s fantasy, was Neal’s size but the hair and face were wrong.
It’s me. They’re both me. He just doesn’t really know what I look like.
That’s what he wants to do to me.
Neal didn’t want to watch what was about to happen with the pliers.
Get the hell out of here!
No! Bug out and I might lose him. Who’s to say he’ll still be here by the time I can get back . . .
Back with my body and my gun . . .