“Right.”
“They both went up in smoke.”
Jack managed to swallow his mouthful of wine in time to avoid spraying it across the table when the laughter burst out.
Vicki found out later that he’d been married to an attorney who’d decided that having children would put a crimp in her career, only to become pregnant due to a faulty IUD. She terminated the pregnancy against Jack’s protests, and Jack had divorced her. Which explained a lot.
“You haven’t told me much about yourself,” Jack said as he drove out of the restaurant’s parking lot.
“What would you like to know?”
“Have you ever been in jail?”
“Would my ten years on a chain-gang count?”
“What were you in for?”
“Manslaughter.”
He looked at her through the darkness. “Have you been married?”
“Not yet.”
“How many proposals have you turned down?”
“What makes you think there were any?”
“You’re fishing for compliments.”
“Three proposals,” Vicki said.
“But you were determined to finish your schooling and embark on your career…”
She snapped her head toward him. “Hey, now.”
“Perfectly understandable.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions.”
“I know how it is. Marriage and children, if any, were relegated to the good old ‘back burner.’ Certainly in the future, you told yourself. Before the good old ‘biological clock’ ran out of time. Thirty—there’s a fine age to start thinking about a family. By thirty, you’d be settled in your career and might be able to find time for such secondary matters.”
He sounded a little malicious, mostly disappointed. He had her all figured out, and he didn’t like what he’d found.
“Thanks,” Vicki muttered. She felt cold and hard inside.
What did you think, she asked herself, you’d found Mr. Right?
This guy must be one hell of a lawyer. Doesn’t know a single goddamn thing about it and decides I’m some kind of super-bitch career broad because I didn’t marry the first guy that popped the question.
Well, screw him.
When hell freezes over.
Her eyes burned and the taillights of the car ahead went blurry. Her breath suddenly hitched. She turned her face to the side window. She gritted her teeth and willed herself not to sob.
The car slowed. It swung to the curb, and stopped. Vicki wiped her eyes. The houses on the block weren’t familiar.
“What’d you stop here for?” she asked.
“You’re crying.”
“No, I’m not.”
He put a hand on her shoulder.
“Don’t touch me.”
He took the hand away.
“Vicki.”
“Go to hell.”
“Why are you acting this way? For God’s sake, all I said…”
“Yeah, I sure want to hear it again.”
“I’m delighted that you turned down those guys.”
“Delighted, my ass.”
“If you hadn’t, you’d be married now, and…”
“Would you please take me home?”
“Not until…”
She opened the door.
“Okay, okay.”
She closed it, and Jack started the car moving again.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he muttered.
She turned and stared at him. “Thought I’d laugh it off? Ha ha? The girl who doesn’t take herself seriously? I’m supposed to just write it off as another episode in the Adventures of Doc Chandler? Only I’m not an adventurer, am I? I don’t fit into that flattering category anymore. Now I’m the warrior. The ball-chopping Amazon. Well, you and the horse you rode in on, buddy.”
Jack shook his head as if he couldn’t believe she was throwing such a fit.
Vicki slugged him in the shoulder.
“Ow! Hey!”
“Amazons like to do that.”
Jack held his shoulder and kept glancing at her as he drove. He said nothing. Neither did Vicki. At last, he stopped the car in front of Ace’s house.
Vicki opened her door.
“Wait.”
“What?” she asked.
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I. But that doesn’t make it go away. You don’t stick a knife in someone and say you’re sorry and presto the wound’s gone. It doesn’t work that way.”
“It hurt, Vicki.”
“Good. It was supposed to. That’s what a punch is all about.”
“Not that. I wanted to believe you were different. I didn’t want you to be one of them. But…”
“You don’t know what I am.” She climbed out and slammed the door and ran to the house. As she took out her keys, she heard the car speed away.
She turned around. Jack’s car vanished around a corner. She leaned against the door, sank down feeling the cool painted wood slide on her back, came to rest on the stiff prickly brush of the doormat, raised her knees and hugged them.
“Bastard,” she muttered.
She’d really liked him.
How could he do that, just suddenly lump me in with his ex-wife and all the bitches of the world because I’d turned down those three proposals?
Shouldn’t have told him.
Screw that. I’m not going to lie. If he can’t handle it, that’s his problem.
I could’ve explained.
Who gave me a chance? The creep. He didn’t wait for any explanation, didn’t need any, because he knew. Right, he knew. Career comes first, guys, tough luck.
Who needs him, anyway?
Didn’t even give me the benefit of the doubt. Didn’t even ask why I turned them down.
The bristles of the doormat made her rump itch. With a sigh, she stood up. She rubbed her buttocks, then unlocked the door and entered the house.
Ace, on the couch, looked at her and turned off the television with the remote. “What went wrong?”
The plan had been for Jack to be asked in for drinks—if they didn’t go to his place instead—and Vicki would introduce him to Ace, and then Ace would make herself scarce.
The plan had made Vicki nervous and excited all through dinner. She’d imagined how it would go. The tentative first touches, the first kiss, the inevitable moment when Jack would press a hand to a breast. While they ate, while they talked and laughed, the living room scene played in a back corner of her mind. She saw him sliding the straps of her dress down her arms. She worried about Ace coming into the room. Ace wouldn’t do that, but still she was reluctant to go on with this in the living room. Did she have the nerve to suggest they move to her bedroom? Maybe she should call a halt before it came to that.
Was she sure that she actually wanted to sleep with this man? Yes, she had decided about the time the chocolate mousse arrived at the table. Yes, but it’d be better to hold off. All the more exciting to build up toward it slowly—see him again and again, moving closer each time as if they were taking a long, romantic trip, stopping here and there to enjoy the sights, growing all the time more eager to reach the final destination but savoring each moment along the way.
That’s how it should be. Not from first dinner to bed all in the space of a couple of hours, missing out on the small but wonderful joys of journey.
Jack might not look at it that way, though. Most men didn’t. They felt cheated if you didn’t go straight to bed with them. Vicki wondered how persistent Jack would be. She wondered if even she would have the willpower to hold off.
As he placed his Mastercard on the small plastic tray with the bill, she wondered if he had a condom. If not, that would settle the problem. She didn’t have any (no need, since she hadn’t been seeing anyone), and though Ace undoubtedly had a trunk-load somewhere, Vicki certainly had no intention of asking her for one.
She had a diaphragm. She could put it in. But she wouldn’t.
It wasn
’t pregnancy that worried her.
Might get a little embarrassing, but he certainly couldn’t accuse her of being a prig or a tease if she called a halt to things for lack of a rubber. Not with AIDS rolling through the country like a plague.
Maybe he carried one, just in case he got lucky.
Well, he didn’t get lucky.
Neither did I, Vicki thought.
“We had a disagreement,” she told Ace.
“You’re kidding.”
“You don’t see him, do you?”
“Well, shit, how’d you manage that?”
“It was easy.”
“He turn out to be an asshole?”
“Not exactly.” Vicki sat down on the couch. She kicked her shoes off, stretched out her legs and rested her feet on the corner of the coffee table.
“Let me guess,” Ace said. “He’s married.”
“Divorced.”
“Ah-ha. And therefore bitter, resentful, suspicious, wary of any involvement because he doesn’t want to get hurt again. Who’s to say you’re not his ex, cleverly disguised?”
Vicki smiled. “How’d you get so smart?”
“The school of soft knocks, hon.”
“Beneath my clown suit beats the heart of an Amazon career bitch baby-killer.”
“Baby-killer?”
“His ex had an abortion because she decided a kid would mess up her law practice.”
“And Jack wanted the kid?”
“Yeah. So now he assumes I must be the type to pull a stunt like that.”
“Naturally.”
“The bastard.”
“So how was he otherwise?”
“What does it matter?”
“You must’ve thought he was pretty nifty, or you wouldn’t be so upset about this little development.”
“He was okay, I guess.”
“You were crazy about him.”
“Maybe. But…”
“Facts of life, hon. Fact one, you’re pushing thirty. Fact two, I don’t think you’re into pimply, vapid teenagers. Fact three, there are no guys out there of a suitable age who aren’t carrying some kind of garbage.”
“The good ones are all taken?” Vicki muttered.
“Or were. And we know damn well you wouldn’t want to mess with the others. You find a guy over about twenty-five who hasn’t been married, or at least had a long-term relationship with some gal, he’s gotta be totally fucked. One way or another. Take our friend Melvin, for instance.”
“Thanks, I’d rather not.”
“He’s available, hasn’t been divorced.”
“And I thought I was depressed before.”
“I’m trying to cheer you up.”
“And doing a good job of it, too.”
“What I’m getting at, you just aren’t going to find a guy who doesn’t have a certain load of garbage. If he’s available—and isn’t totally fucked that he never had a relationship—there has to be a woman in his past who either messed him up or died on him. Either way, you inherit the shit she dumped on him. It goes with the territory.”
“You’re so full of understanding, you should go out with him. I’m sure he’d classify you as an adventurer. Just watch out if he asks how many proposals you’ve turned down.”
“That’s the trick question, huh?”
“Was for me.”
“What’d you tell him?”
“Three.”
“Where’s the problem? That just shows you’re picky.”
“Not to him. The way he sees it, I laid waste to the guys because marriage would conflict with my career goals.”
“Was he right?”
“Good question. Excellent question. He didn’t bother to ask it. That’s the whole damn reason…” Her voice slipped upward. Her eyes flooded.
Here I go again, she thought.
Ace scooted across the couch and put an arm across Vicki’s shoulders. Vicki turned to her, held her, wept against her neck. She felt Ace stroking her hair.
She should’ve been here on the couch in Jack’s arms. That was the plan. It was supposed to be Jack, not Ace. They’d be here right now, and she’d be wondering about condoms, and…she cried all the harder.
“It’s all right,” Ace murmured. “It’s all right.”
“I…wanted him,” she blurted.
“I know.”
“What’s…wrong…with me?”
“Nothing. Nothing, honey. You’re just lonely. It’s been too long and you had too many hopes pinned on this guy.”
“The bastard.”
“Look on the bright side.”
“What…bright side?”
“You’ve got me.”
“I know. I know.”
“That was supposed to be a joke, hon.”
“Even so…”
Ace squeezed her, gently kissed the side of her head. “We’ve got each other,” she whispered. “No joke.”
“I know. God, Ace…”
“Just keep your hands off my tits.”
Vicki laughed and choked on a sob.
“Poor thing, you’ve struck out twice in one night.”
“Bitch.”
Ace eased her away. Her eyes were red and wet. Her fingertips stroked the tears off Vicki’s cheeks. “Better?”
Vicki sniffled. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“So what are you going to do now?”
“Go out and buy a vibrator?”
“Other than that.”
“I don’t know.”
“Guess what? Jack’s probably not overjoyed by the way things turned out tonight, either.”
“I’m sure.”
“He’s probably home alone right now, crying out his own little eyes.”
“I bet.”
“Being a guy, of course, he’s more likely getting drunk and crushing beer cans on his face.”
Vicki laughed and wiped her nose.
“Why don’t you give him a call?”
“Are you kidding?”
Ace shook her head.
“I don’t know.”
“What’ve you got to lose?”
“What’s the point?”
“He’s a man. You’re crazy about him, or were, till you had this misunderstanding. He’s probably breaking a leg trying to kick his ass about all this.”
“Or just grateful he ‘found me out’ and got while the getting was good.”
“So call him up, find out which it is.”
“No. Huh-uh. It’s his problem. Let him do the phoning if he wants. I’m going to bed.”
Vicki stood up.
“Sure you don’t want to wait up for his call?”
“There won’t be one.”
“Right. He’ll probably drop by, instead. Maybe I’ll slip into my nightie, just in case.”
“My friend.”
Later, lying in bed, Vicki stared at the dark ceiling. She heard quiet voices and background music from the television. She heard no ring of the telephone, no doorbell. But she stayed awake for a long time, listening.
Chapter Twenty
“Okay,” Melvin said, “stop the car.”
Charlie stepped on the brake. The car jerked to a halt, throwing Melvin forward. He slapped a hand against the dashboard to brace himself. Then he opened the passenger door.
“Where y’goin?’ Charlie asked, his words slurred by the martinis he’d been gulping for the past hour.
“Nowhere,” Melvin said. “Sit tight.” The gasoline inside the doctor’s medical bag sloshed as he lifted it off the floor and placed it on the seat. He climbed from the car, shut the door, and stepped around to the driver’s side. “Take off your seat belt,” he said.
Charlie unlatched the safety harness and reached for the door handle.
“No, don’t get out.”
“Huh?”
“When I say ‘go,’ I want you to push the accelerator all the way to the floor. Drive around the bend as fast as you can, and run into the bridge over the creek.”
“Wha’ y’mean, run into it?” He sounded confused.
“Crash against it. As hard as you can. That wall on the side of the bridge.”
“The parapuh?”
“The parapet, right. I want you to hit it full speed.”
The man frowned up at Melvin through the open window and scratched the side of his head. “Y’wan’ me t’crash?”
“That’s right.”
“That’d ligely kill me.”
“Nah. Don’t be an idiot. You’re already dead.”
“Well, yes’n no.”
“Do it!”
“Wha’ for?”
“Because I told you to. I brought you back to life, I could make you dead again if I want. So do what I tell you.”
Charlie sniffed and rubbed a hand under his nose. “I don’ wanna make you mad.”
Melvin patted his shoulder. “I’m not mad. I just want you to crash into the bridge. I promise you won’t get hurt. I have a real good reason for wanting the car smashed, and I’ll tell you all about it on the way home.”
“How’ll we ge’ home, I wreck my car?”
“We’ll walk back to my station, and take the tow truck.”
“Oh. Ogay.” Charlie shrugged, then drew the safety harness across his body.
“You don’t need that,” Melvin told him.
“Y’wan’ me t’jump clear?”
Melvin sighed. Though he heard no cars approaching, he glanced up and down River Road. “If you jump out, the car will slow down. I want it to hit full-speed.”
“How y’know I won’ get hurt?”
“Trust me, Charlie. You’re my pal. Besides, I’ve got big plans for you.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll need your help getting me some more gals. And I’ll let you take your pick. You can have one all for yourself.”
“Yeah?”
“Right.” Melvin squeezed his shoulder.
Charlie nodded.
Melvin stepped back. “Ready, set…go!”
The engine roared. The Mercedes shot forward. It was powered by gas, not diesel fuel, so it had great pick-up. It rushed around the bend, out of sight beyond the trees. “Go go go!” Melvin yelled. He clapped his hands, winced at the pain from his bite, and waited for the night to shake with the noise of the collision.
The crash, when it came, didn’t shake the night.
Melvin raced around the bend. The car wasn’t a ball of flames, as he’d hoped. It just sat there.
He muttered, “Shit.”