Authors: Richard Laymon
Cuts (15 page)
THE ADVENTURES OF CHARLES
Raskolnikov was about to dispatch the old woman when the doorbell rang through the silence of Ian’s house. He jumped, let
out a laugh, then shut
Crime and Punishment
and looked across the cluttered study at the wall clock.
Ten past midnight.
The bell rang again.
He set his book on the chair and headed for the front door. The granite floor of the foyer was cold under his bare feet. He
flicked a switch to turn on the porch light, then pulled the door wide open.
“He almost got me,” Charles Perris muttered. “He almost…can I come in?”
“Sure.”
Charles was wearing good slacks and a blue sport shirt. The shirt was untucked. Its front looked damp. The sour smell of vomit
followed him into the house.
“I threw up,” he explained.
“Nothing to be ashamed of.”
“You ever throw up? From drinking?”
“Sure I have.”
“Yeah?”
“More times than I care to remember.”
“No kidding?”
“I never kid about drinking, Charles. It’s a trifling sin and a major solace.” Those words sounded familiar. He wondered where
he’d picked them up. “Have a seat. Could you use some coffee?”
“Great.”
In the kitchen, Ian took two mugs out of the cupboard. He touched the side of the percolator to make sure the coffee was still
hot enough. Then he filled them. “Cream and sugar?” he called.
“Yes, please.”
He added the cream but decided to let Charles handle the sugar. “There you go,” he said, setting the coffee cup and sugar
bowl in front of the boy.
“Thanks. I can really use this. I just woke up. I passed out after I threw up.”
“How did you manage to find my house? I thought it was a well-kept secret?”
“The faculty directory.”
“How’d you get your hands on that?”
“He brought it home with him. I was hiding in the utility closet. I saw him drop it by the phone as he came in. That’s what
gave me the idea. I couldn’t go home…not shit-faced like this. So I grabbed it and left.”
“Left where?
Who
came home?”
“Mr. Bryant.”
“
Lester
Bryant?”
Charles nodded. He dumped a spoonful of sugar into his coffee. Another.
“You’re…?” For a moment, Ian felt as if reality were dissolving. He watched Charles empty a third spoonful of sugar
into the coffee. Then a fourth. He saw the spoon dip into the tan liquid and stir. Finally, he muttered, “Man, oh man. The
woman you were telling me about the other day—the married one—is Helen Bryant?”
“She thinks I’m a wonderful poet,” he said as if that explained it.
“Oh, man.” Ian took a drink of his coffee. It tasted bitter. Maybe Charles had the right idea with all that sugar. “How did
it happen?”
“What?”
“The whole thing. How did you happen to end up in the sack with one of your teachers?”
It’d make a lot more sense, he thought, if the teacher was someone like Mary Goodwin. Mary wasn’t that much older than the
kids. Plus she was beautiful, stacked, and wild. But
Helen Bryant?
How could a good-looking kid like Charles fall for
that
piece of work? The ice queen.
She’s not even pretty!
Must be those sexy outfits she wears, Ian thought.
“She liked me,” Charles said.
“You’re good with understatement.”
“She said my poetry shows sensitivity and loneliness. We talked about it one day after school. Last Friday? She asked me to
read some of it to her, and when I did she started to cry. My God, she actually cried about my poetry and said it was lovely
…and then she kissed me.”
“In her
classroom?
”
“Yeah. But it was after three and nobody was around.”
“What did you think when she kissed you?”
“It sort of scared me at first. I mean, she’s not just a woman, she’s a teacher, you know? But then…I guess I liked
it.”
“Did anything else happen?”
“Yeah. She…we kind of felt each other up. We didn’t take off any clothes—nothing like that—but, you know. And then she
asked if I’d like to see her sometime, see her at night. By that time I was feeling really…you know, excited? So I said,
‘Sure,’ and we decided we’d see each other Monday night.”
“That’s when you had intercourse in the van?” Ian asked.
“Yeah. And then the next night, too. You know the funny thing? I’ve got her for second-period English, you know? Well, she
used to treat me special. Like the teacher’s pet. But now she ignores me. She acts like I’m not even in the classroom. Funny,
isn’t it?”
“Understandable. She’s just being careful. What happened tonight?”
“I didn’t think I’d be seeing her. We hadn’t been out since Tuesday, you know. I figured she wasn’t interested anymore, so
I made plans to go to a movie with a couple of the guys. But she called me at home.”
“Who answered the phone?”
“Me. Good thing, huh? What if Mom or Dad had picked it up?”
“Knowing Helen, she probably had a story ready.”
“God, that woman’s crazy.”
Mighty good likelihood, Ian thought.
“What did she say on the phone?” he asked.
“That her husband had gone to the movies without her. The way she sounded, it was like he’d deserted her or something. Anyway,
she wanted to see me. So I phoned my friends and told them I couldn’t make the movie. Then I drove over to Helen’s. I parked
at the end of the block, just in case. I mean, I was awfully nervous about actually going to her house. I’d never done that
before. It was like, I don’t know, going into enemy territory or something.”
“The enemy being her husband?”
“I guess so. I mean, if he caught me making it with his wife, it’d be my ass, you know? So I was really scared shit-less about
the whole thing.”
“If you were so frightened, why did you go?”
“I was thinking about what you said, Mr. Collins. About wanting out? So I figured this’d be a good chance to break up with
her. I thought I’d be really nice about it and tell her how she’s such a cool woman and everything, but how it was really
messing with my head and I’d better stop seeing her. And I thought I might ask about transferring out of her class. But the
minute she opened the door, she threw her arms around me and kissed me. I mean, this was a
real
kiss, too. And she was rubbing herself against me.” He shook his head and sighed. “That went on for a long time,” he said.
“Then she got me a drink.”
“Did you
ever
get around to breaking off the relationship?” Ian asked.
“I was planning to. I kept waiting for the right time, you know? And we kept drinking. Then she went to fill our glasses for,
I don’t know, the fourth or fifth time, I guess. She took a little longer than usual. When she came back, she had the drinks,
all right. But she was wearing this black nightgown.”
“Holy smoke,” Ian muttered.
“God, it hardly covered anything. I mean, you could see right through it. I could see
everything
. I nearly…” Charles shook his head.
“The next thing I knew,” he continued, “we were in her bedroom. Right on the same bed where she sleeps with her husband. And
we were
doing
it. I don’t know how long we were at it. Seemed like a long time. An hour or so. Then we heard the garage door open and she
said, ‘That’s Lester.’ So I just grabbed my clothes and ran. I should’ve run out the front, I guess. Or out to the patio.
But I didn’t know which end was up. I mean, I was scared shitless and half-smashed, so I just ran for the kitchen—which was
the way Mr. Bryant was coming in.”
“But he didn’t see you?”
“I hid in the utility closet with the clothes washer. I mean, the goddamn door was opening right in front of my nose! But I ducked into the closet just in time. I didn’t get the door shut all the way, so I looked out and that’s when
I saw him put down the faculty directory. Then he left. Went to bed, I guess. I didn’t hear anything from the bedroom. Helen
must’ve pretended to be asleep or something.”
“You didn’t vomit while you were at their place, did you?”
“No. Man, that would’ve really…I didn’t puke till I was driving over here. There were some stale cigarette butts in
the ashtray, and…I guess the smell of them…” He suddenly looked as if talking about the odor might bring back his
nausea.
After a few seconds, he went on. “I pulled over and hung my head out the door and barfed my guts out.”
“An auspicious way to end your adventure,” Ian said. “How are you feeling now?”
“Not very drunk, anyway. The sleeping must’ve…” He trailed off and stared at his empty coffee mug.
“Why don’t you take a shower?” Ian suggested.
“Here?”
“Yeah. Right here, right now. While you’re at it, I’ll throw your shirt in the washing machine. By the time you’re ready to
go home, nobody’ll be the wiser.”
“Just me,” Charles said.
“We can hope for that.”
KAREN’S HOMECOMING
Albert spent Sunday the same way he’d spent Saturday: sleeping, eating food from the well-stocked kitchen, watching television,
never leaving the apartment.
Twice each day, he’d dumped four trays of ice cubes into the bathtub water. The technique seemed to be working; Tess’s body
hardly smelled at all by the time on Sunday night when he heard footsteps in the hallway.
He hurried into the bathroom and waited behind the closed door.
“Tess must’ve gone to bed early,” he heard Karen say. “How’s about one for the road?”
“Can’t get enough of me, can you?”
“Shhh, she’ll hear you.”
“Okay, okay. Mmmm.”
“Stop that. Wait a minute and I’ll make sure her door’s shut.”
Albert held his breath as Karen walked past the bathroom and down the hall. He heard a door bump quietly shut. “It’s okay,”
she said on her way back.
“Okay!”
“Not so loud!”
“Sorry, sorry.”
Albert heard nothing for a few seconds. Then, “Mmmm, what’s this?”
“You oughta know, Tiger.”
“Mmmmm. Aw, shit. Time out, okay?”
“The beer again,” Karen said. “Can I give you a hand?”
“Wait’ll I get back.”
“I don’t know, honey. You could probably use a little help in there. Your aim’s so piss-poor.”
“I can handle this myself.”
“Won’t be half the fun.”
Albert heard quick footsteps. He pressed himself against the bathroom wall, shivering. The light came on. The door shut. Heart
thudding wildly, Albert stared at Steve’s back.
If he turns around…?
Albert clamped a hand across Steve’s mouth, lurched against him and rammed the knife into his back.
The point hardly went in at all.
Hit his spine?
Steve grunted and went up on tiptoes.
Albert tried again, this time stabbing to the right. The blade punched in deep. Jerking and shuddering, Steve sank to his
knees.
Albert grabbed him by the hair, tugged his head back and cut his throat.
He held him up for a while, letting him bleed out.
When Steve seemed to be unconsious or dead, Albert eased him down to the floor.
He stepped over the body, being careful not to slip on the bloody tiles, and flushed the toilet. His robe was bloody. He took
it off and wiped the butcher knife on a towel. Then he turned off the bathroom light. He waited, naked and shaking.
Soon, he heard the quiet thumping of feet. Karen must’ve taken off her shoes.
He pressed his ear to the door and wondered what else she might’ve taken off. Maybe everything.
No, that’s not what I want.
He liked the green dress she’d been wearing Friday night.
That’s what she oughta be wearing.
The footsteps stopped. Albert shifted the knife to his left hand and stepped far to the side.
She knocked on the bathroom door. “You gonna take all night?”
Albert reached out and knocked twice on the door. Then he crouched.
Karen opened the door.
Albert sprang, his shoulder catching her in the belly, driving her backward through the doorway and across the hall. She slammed
the wall hard. His fist got her five times in the belly before he let her drop to the floor.
He moved back and looked down at her.
She was curled on her side, clutching her belly, loudly sucking air. She still wore the backless green dress.
All right!
Reaching down, Albert sliced the strap behind her neck. Then he jerked the dress front down. Karen hugged her loose breasts.
“Move your arms,” he said, and slashed one.
She yelped and moved her arms.
“Fantastic,” Albert said. “God, what knockers. Fantastic, fantastic.”
Now be careful with this one, he told himself. Don’t get carried away. Make her last.
He did his best.
She spent the next five hours tied to her bed with panty hose, a pair of underwear stuffed in her mouth.
After she died, Albert returned to the bathroom and hauled Tess out of the tub. He put her on the bed with Karen. Then he
took a long shower.
He slept, that night, on the living room couch.
THE FIX-UP
“Now,” Janet said after supper Monday night, “if somebody’ll just oblige me by getting sick, I’ll be in the chips.” She finished
drying a plate and picked up another.
“Colds should start knocking them down pretty soon,” Meg said.
“I sure hope so.”
“They can’t escape it. Not a chance. With at least a hundred and fifty students breathing germs on them, they’re sitting ducks.
Before you know it, they’ll be dropping like flies.”
“You’re mixing your metaphors.”
“There! You
already
sound like a teacher. Just a matter of time.” Meg rinsed a glass and set it on the drain board.
“What do you think my chances are of working into a full-time position?”
“A hell of a lot better than they were,” Meg said. “Thing is, you are now an official employee of the district and they like
to hire from within their ranks. Trouble is, not many teachers are leaving. A few years ago, they’d replace maybe seventy
or eighty teachers every fall. Last year, it was down to only sixteen.”
“That’s not very encouraging. And this fork’s not very clean.” She handed back a fork with egg yellow crusted between its
tines.
“You’ve got to know the right people,” Meg explained. “Having a guy like John Lawrence in your corner’s a major step in the
right direction. So how did you get along with him this morning?”
“I don’t know. He seemed very impressed by the fact that you recommended me.”
“Ah, but of course.”
“You must carry a lot of weight.”
“Unfortunately, it’s mostly in my ass.”
“I wish you’d stop putting yourself down like that. You’re as bad as Mosby.”
“Does Mosby do that?”
“All the time. You two could get together and have a regular marathon of self-abuse.” Even before Meg could grin, Janet realized
what she’d said.
“Hell! If he’ll cooperate, we could forget the
self
-abuse and do it to each other.”
“I’ll phone him right now,” Janet said.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Sure! You fixed me up with a job. The least I can do is fix you up with a man.”
“Oh, no you don’t!”
“We’ll ask him over for supper tomorrow night so the two of you can get better acquainted.”
“No. Now really…” She was shaking her head, but smiling.
“We’ll have your special flank-steak recipe. And French fries. He’ll go berserk. Absolutely berserk, just wait and see. After
dinner, I’ll scoot on outta here and you’ll have him all to yourself. He’ll be all
over
you, I guarantee it.”
“You’re out of your tree.”
“Hang on a second. I’ve got his phone number in my purse.” She draped the dish towel over an open drawer and started across
the kitchen.
“Wait,” Meg said. “If you’re serious about going through with this, we’d better make it f or Wednesday. Tomorrow’s too soon.
We’ll have to buy the food and I’ll want to get my hair done and…”
“Wednesday’s fine.”
Janet went into the living room and found her purse on a chair. Mosby’s phone number was tucked into the wallet. She took
it out and returned to the kitchen.
Meg had turned off the faucet. She was drying her hands and watching Janet. Her face was red. “I don’t know about this,” she
said.
“What’s the problem?”
“What if he doesn’t like me?”
“What’s not to like?”
“My face, for starters. Moving on down from there…”
“You look fine,” Janet told her.
“Oh, sure.”
“But if you don’t want me to call him, I won’t. We can just forget about it.”
Meg grimaced, showing her pink gums. “Not to mention, he saw me in that
nightgown
. How embarrassing is
that?
”
“I didn’t hear him complaining. Knowing Mosby, he probably
loved
it. He’s one very horny guy.”
Meg snorted. “Get him over here.”
Janet grinned. “Are you sure?”
“What’ve I got to lose but my virginity…if that?”
Janet dialed the number. After a couple of rings, she heard someone pick up.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mosby.” She winked at Meg.
“Janet?”
“Yeah. How’ve you been?”
For a moment, the phone was silent. Then Mosby said, “Okay, and you?”
“Just fine. Say, Meg and I thought you might like to come over here for supper. How about Wednesday night?”
“This Wednesday?”
“Right. Day after tomorrow.”
“Gee, I don’t know.”
“What’s not to know?”
“I’d like to, but…I don’t know, it’s pretty short notice and…”
“You can get your hair done tomorrow.”
“What?”
“Just a little joke, Mose. Hey, are you okay? How come you’re not overwhelming me with your wit and charm?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is something the matter?”
“No. Everything’s fine.”
“You sure?”
“Everything’s hunky-dory. I’m tired, is all. Work was a drag today and I stayed up till about three o’clock last night watching
Casablanca
.”
“Did Rick get her this time?”
“Huh?”
“He didn’t send her off with Lazlo again, did he?”
“Yeah. What do you think, it
changes?
”
“I keep hoping.”
Mosby huffed out a laugh. “You’re nuts.”
“So, you’ll be coming, won’t you? We’re having steak, French fries and booze. Just the three of us: you, me and Meg.”
“What time?”
“What time’s good for you?”
“I don’t care.”
“How’s seven?”
“Fine, but…”
“See you then?”
“I don’t know. I
shouldn’t
, but I guess I will. How can I pass up an invitation like that, huh?”
“You can’t. It’s impossible. See you Wednesday.”
“See you.”
She hung up and turned to Meg. “He’s coming.”
“Sounded like you had to twist his arm.”
“Something seemed to be bothering him. He’s probably embarrassed about seeing us again after what happened last time.”
“Can’t imagine why.”