Cuts

  “He was with that Mary,” Janet said.

  “Indeed he was. I noticed. Shows what good taste he has, whoever he might be.”

  “Excuse me, ladies,” he said. He did have a nice voice.

  But that godawful mask!

  Dale suddenly smiled. “You cad!”

  “Incognito can be fun, but it can also get a guy into trouble.”

  “Well, you’re certainly not in trouble with me. You fiend! Where did you get that terrible mask?”

  “A gift from a friend. She works in films…a special-effects makeup artist.”

  “And a good one, obviously. I’m so relieved it’s you under there. Not some creepy boyfriend of Mary’s. And I was starting to think you weren’t going to show up.”

  “Been here all along.”

  “Janet,” Dale said, “I want you to meet this beastly excuse for a friend, Ian Collins.”

  “Very nice to meet you,” Janet said. Smiling, she tried to see his eyes but the mask sent shivers up her spine so she looked at his chest instead.

  “It’s very nice to meet you,” he said. “I’d like to apologize for the way Mary acted. It was inexcuseable. I have no idea what made her say those things.”

  “She’s half-stewed,” Dale suggested.

  “Probably,” Ian said.

  “It wasn’t your fault,” Janet told him.

  “Oh, I know. This is in the nature of a group apology. It shouldn’t have happened. Is there some way I can make it up to you?”

  “You already have.”

  “You seem to be out of wine. I’d be glad to get you a refill.”

  “Okay. Thanks. I brought a bottle of Almaden Burgundy. It’s in a bag under the table.”

  When he took her glass, his hand touched hers. The touch seemed intentional, but she found that she liked it.

  She watched him walk away. He moved with the control of an athlete, stepping around clusters of people without breaking his smooth forward motion.

  “Ian teaches English,” Dale told her. “He keeps pretty much to himself, but he’s…quite a fellow.”

  “He seems very nice. Is he married?”

  “Widowed. I’ve known him quite a while. He seems to be a very straight-arrow guy. Very intelligent, sweet. But I’ve never seen him with a date.”

  “What does he look like under the mask?”

  “He’s breathtaking.”

  “Maybe I’ll get to find out for myself before the night is out.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me at all, Janet. Just a guess, but he seems to be somewhat taken with you.”

  “He does?” Janet felt the heat of a blush on her skin.

  “You could do a lot worse than…” The doorbell rang. “Excuse me for a moment while I get that.”

  As Dale left her, Janet looked toward the patio door. She couldn’t see Ian. But Mary was there in her see-through nightgown, nodding her head in response to something Ronald was telling her. She looked terribly angry.

  “Alone at last.” The smooth voice of Brian Baker.

  Janet turned around to face him. “Do you know where the bathroom is?” she asked.

  “Allow me to show you the way.”

  “Just tell me. That’ll be fine.”

  “Certainly.” He put a hand on her back and spoke softly. “There are two restrooms, actually. One is halfway down that hall.” He pointed. “The first door on your right. If it should be occupied, there’s one in the master bedroom at the end of the hall.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Do hurry back, now.”

  As she walked away from Baker, she glanced toward the patio. Still no sign of Ian. She hurried to the hall, hoping he would take a long time at the bar, maybe get distracted for a couple of minutes by someone out there; she didn’t want him to return too quickly and think she’d run off.

  The door of the first bathroom was shut, so she continued down the hall to the master bedroom. A lamp was on. The king-sized bed was littered with purses and coats. The bathroom door stood open.

  She went in, turned on the light, locked the door and used the toilet. Then she checked herself in the mirror.

  Not bad.

  Except that her skin seemed unusually flushed and she had a strange, rather frantic look in her eyes.

  Thanks to Mary, more than likely.

  When she applied fresh lipstick, she found that her hand was trembling.

  Man, I’m a nervous wreck.

  That gal really must’ve shaken me up, she thought.

  What is it, my fault Ronald latched on to me? They having an affair or something? What is this, Grand Beach or Peyton Place?

  “Every place is Peyton Place,” she muttered.

  Look on the bright side, she told herself. Mary’s probably the reason Ian noticed me. Maybe I should be glad she caused all that trouble.

  She smiled at her reflection.

  I wonder what he does look like, she thought. If his face is as nice as his bod…

  Maybe he’s why I’m flushed and shaking.

  I’d better go out and find him.

  She checked her hair in the mirror. It looked fine, kept in place by the red bandana tied around her head.

  Maybe I should lose the headband. Makes me look like Willie Nelson.

  Nah, leave it on.

  She turned away from the mirror and opened the bathroom door.

  Mary’s snarling face was streaked with tears and mascara.

  “Fucking whore!” A red arm lashed out.

  Janet staggered back and the fingernails missed her eye. They raked her cheek instead, leaving hot trails as if she’d been burnt.

  “Stop it! Christ, what’s…?”

  Mary grabbed the front of her doeskin shirt, swung her around and slammed her back against the door frame.

  Mouth close to Janet’s lips, she whispered, “Fuckin’ bitch, yer gonna get yours now.”

  FIFTY-SIX

  THE GUNSLINGER

  “Lester, how nice that you could make it. Helen told us you weren’t feeling well.”

  “I took a nap after she left. Felt a lot better when I woke up, so I figured I might as well come on over.”

  “Can’t keep a good man down,” Dale said.

  Lester smiled.

  Good man, my ass. Who does she think she’s kidding? She hates my guts.

  “Helen’s around here someplace,” Dale said. “She’ll be so surprised to see you.”

  “Won’t she, though?”

  His sarcasm seemed to anger Dale. Her mouth tightened. He smiled.

  Who’s she, anyway? Helen’s friend. An enemy.

  Probably knows all about Helen and Ian.

  Everyone probably knows, he thought. They probably encouraged it, too.

  Lester’s such a loser, after all.

  “The bar is out on the patio,” Dale said, her voice cold.

  “Thanks.”

  In the living room, Lester scanned the crowd. He saw a man dressed like a seaman, a couple of hobos, a guy in armor with the visor down, and many others.

  There! There she is! Wearing her goddamn poodle skirt!

  He made his way toward Helen and bumped into someone with a glass in each hand. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  “No harm down.” A hideous mask muffled the man’s voice. “Nothing spilled.”

  Helen saw him. At first, she looked shocked. Then angry.

  She broke away from a small group and came toward him, her eyes narrow, her lips pressed together in a tight line.

  Lester smiled. “Surprise,” he said.

  “What in God’s name are you doing here?”

  “You know how I love these faculty parties.”

  “I know how you hate them. What’re you doing in that stupid tie?”

  “I know how much you like it.”

  “You look like an idiot.”

  “So what?”

  “You’re embarrassing me. Why don’t you just leave now, okay?”

  “Can’t leave yet.”

&
nbsp; “Need to humiliate me a little more? These are my coyou moron.”

  “Before I go, I want to finish things between us.” Grinning, he patted his holster.

  She looked down at it.

  And at the revolver it held.

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Helen said. “You brought your real gun?”

  He smiled. “Can’t be a cowboy ‘less’n I got the pig iron on my hip.”

  “That thing had better not be loaded.”

  “How will I shoot Ian if it isn’t loaded?”

  She sneered at him. “You’re not going to shoot anyone and you know it. You haven’t got the balls. You’re a gutless wonder. You always have been, always will be. That’s the problem with you. You’re a fucking wimp.”

  “Think so, huh? Well, we’ll see about that. Where’s lover-boy?”

  “For God’s sake, Lester. You’d better cut this out and leave before you get yourself into some real trouble. You want to end up in prison?”

  “Where’s Ian?”

  “He’s not here.”

  “You’re lying. I saw his Jaguar out on the street.”

  “He’s not here,” she repeated, this time using her firm tone, her teacher voice.

  “Don’t worry,” Lester said. “We’ll find him. Then we’ll all have a quiet little talk. Then I’ll put a bullet in his head. See how much you wanta fuck him when his brains are blown out.”

  “Are you out of your mind?”

  “If I am, you made me that way. Let’s go find him. And don’t try to cause any trouble or the first bullet’ll be for you.”

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  THE FIGHT

  Walking through the living room with a drink in each hand, Ian couldn’t find Janet. Lester, in a big hurry to get somewhere, bumped into him, but Ian managed not to spill the drinks. Curious, though, he watched Lester rush across the crowded room and confront Helen.

  Who didn’t look very happy to see him.

  She seemed to be giving him a rough time about something.

  On your high horse with your husband? You’re the one sleeping with one of your students, you bitch.

  Shaking his head, Ian turned away and saw Dale sitting alone near the door. He went over to her.

  “I don’t know how she puts up with him,” she told Ian. “Insufferable.…brat. He’s a brat. A cowardly, whimpering brat.”

  “Lester?”

  Dale smirked. “Who else?”

  “Ah. Well, maybe he has his reasons.”

  “I expect behavior of his sort from a child in a classroom, but heavens, Ian, from an adult?”

  “Have you seen Janet anywhere?”

  “Janet? Oh, she must be around here someplace. I’mcer-tain she isn’t the type to go sneaking off. Besides, I’ve been at the door the whole time. I just can’t get over that man,” she muttered.

  I feel sorry for the poor bastard, Ian thought.

  But he kept silent, knowing such a comment wouldn’t be appreciated by Dale—or by just about anyone else on the faculty, for that matter. They all considered Helen to be a highly talented professional married to a guy who just couldn’t get it together.

  “Guess I’ll go look for Janet,” Ian said.

  “She might be in one of the restrooms.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Somebody!”

  Ian jerked his head toward the hallway. Susan Parsons was rushing forward, the cardboard chimney jumping around her.

  “Somebody help! A fight! In the bedroom!” She flapped an arm behind her, pointing down the hall.

  Ian ran. Susan was blocking the way. He turned his shoulders to leap between her and the wall and got by without knocking her down. Then he was in the master bedroom.

  It was Janet on the floor, arms up, trying to ward off blows from the growling, half-naked woman straddling her hips. Tangled hair hid the face of the woman, but Ian knew it had to be Mary. Her nightgown was torn from one shoulder. A breast, dislodged from its bra, swayed and jumped as she swung her fists.

  Ian grabbed one of the red-stained arms and twisted it behind Mary’s back. Using her arm for leverage, he forced her to her feet.

  “Somebody take her,” he snapped, and shoved her away.

  Ronald Harvey stepped out of the group in the doorway, his visor up, a look of shock on his face.

  Mary ran to him, her loose breast leaping. She threw her arms around him and blurted, “Take me home! Take me home right now! It’s all your fault! You had no right to dump me for that skinny bitch!”

  Ian pulled off his mask. Wiping the sweat off his face, he knelt beside Janet. She was sprawled on her back, crying.

  “Get out of here!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Everyone out!”

  A few people turned away. Others stayed, peering in through the doorway. Ian sprang up, rushed to the door and shut it. Then he returned to Janet.

  Her cheek was scratched and bloody. Her nose and lips were bleeding, too. She sniffed.

  “You,” she said.

  “Me?”

  “The guy from the football game.” She sniffed again and licked some blood off her upper lip. Then smiled.

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  SHOWDOWN

  Lester knocked lightly on the bedroom door.

  “Who is it?” The voice sounded angry.

  Lester didn’t answer. He opened the door, pulled Helen inside by her elbow, and took a final look down the hall. Nobody seemed to be watching. He shut the door.

  Ian was coming from the bathroom with a dripping washcloth in one hand. He glanced at Helen and Lester, then knelt over the girl.

  “I have a few things to say to you,” Lester said.

  “Fine.” Ian didn’t look up. He continued to clean blood from the girl’s face.

  “Look at me when I talk to you!”

  “I’m busy right now, Lester. Why don’t you save your talk for another time?”

  “Ian,” Helen said, “you’d better listen to him. He has a gun. He’s planning to shoot you.”

  This time, Ian looked up.

  Lester drew the revolver from his holster and pointed it at Ian’s face.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Ian asked.

  “He knows about you and me,” Helen said.

  “You and me?”

  “He knows the whole thing. I’m sorry, Ian. I…I told him last night. I was angry and upset and I told him.”

  Ian began to stand up, face calm, eyes steady.

  Lester felt fear crawl into his stomach. “Stay down!” He thumbed back the hammer. “Stay down!”

  Ian stood up straight. “What is all this, Lester?”

  “He knows you’ve been screwing me,” Helen blurted.

  “Is that what she told you, Lester?”

  “That’s it.”

  “I’m screwing her?”

  He nodded.

  “And you believe her?”

  “Ian, for God’s sake, be man enough to admit…”

  “Shut up!” Lester snapped at her. To Ian, he said, “Yeah, I believe her. I guess I do. Why shouldn’t I?”

  “Why should you?” Ian asked.

  “It figures, that’s why. She sure as hell isn’t interested in me, and you’re the most likely candidate. Besides, she confessed. Why should she lie?”

  “You’d better ask her about that.”

  “Don’t listen to him, honey.”

  Lester glared at her. “Shut up.”

  She called me honey? Man, I must really have her scared.

  “Ian’s trying to trick you,” she said.

  “And I said to shut up.”

  “He’s making a fool out of you.”

  “I’m not interested in Helen,” Ian said. “I never have been. I think she’s a cold and arrogant bitch, her career has gone to her head and she has weaknesses of character that make her unfit to be either a teacher or a wife. She’s barely fit to be a human being.”

  “You fucking bastard!” Helen spat at him.

  “He sounds prett
y sensible to me,” Lester said.

  “Don’t be such an asshole!”

  Lester turned the pistol on Helen.

  Her face blanched. She began to shake her head in tight, trembling nods, but her eyes looked scornful. “Don’t you point that thing at me,” she whispered.

  “Tell me the truth,” he demanded. “Have you been doing it with Ian?”

  “Stop pointing that gun at me.”

  He shoved the muzzle closer to her face. “Have you?”

  Looking him hard in the eyes, she said, “No. I haven’t beeen ‘doing it’ with Ian. Okay?”

  “Who then?”

  “No one. I made it all up.”

  “Lying bitch! I want truth! Who’s fucking you?”

  “Nobody.”

  “I happen to know different.”

  “Oh, yeah? How?”

  “Stains.”

  Her face went scarlet.

  “Tell me whose,” Lester said, “or I’ll blow a hole through your face!”

  “We only…we hardly…”

  “Who?”

  “Charles. You know. Charles Perris.”

  “Your student? The poet?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ve been making it with one of your students?”

  “Yes! Okay? Damn it, I needed someone. I had to have someone.”

  “And that was the best you could do, huh?” Lester pointed the pistol at the bridge of her nose. “Say your prayers, Helen, you’re about to meet your maker.”

  “Please!”

  An arm swung up. Ian’s. It struck Lester’s wrist with a hard, numbing blow. The pistol jumped free and dropped to the floor.

  Lester started to reach down for it, but Ian stepped on the barrel. “Just leave it.”

  Lester rammed his shoulder into Ian. The tall man staggered, his foot coming off the pistol.

  “Don’t!” Ian warned.

  Crouching, Lester reached for it. His hand closed around its grips.

  Then he cried out as Ian stomped on the revolver, mashing his fingers against the floor.

  “Get off!” he cried out. He looked up at Ian in time to see a fist swing down at his face. The blow knocked him to his knees. The crushing pressure left his fingers. He pulled his hand out from under the pistol.