Of course she didn’t want it; made a face. So he slapped her, hard, and when she looked up at him, startled and then scared, he said, “Drink it. Don’t gimme any shit. Drink it.” Then when she took a sip he eased off and said with a grin, “I’m gonna make you smile if it kills you.”
She yawned instead. He acted nice with her, sympathetic, said come on, what’s the matter?
She told him about this man with the eyes of a snake from Colombia who made her take her clothes off in front of everybody and then rubbed the dice in her cocha to bring him luck.
Teddy said, “ ‘Ey, yeah? Did it?”
She said it was the worst experience of her life. He was so angry when he lost he was rough with her in the bed, he was an animal and punished her with his bicho, the way he would push it into her and make her cry out.
Teddy said, “Yeah?” interested. He said, “I’m getting a Spanish lesson. How do you say titties?”
She said she came here to be as a hostess with gentlemen, not an indio who should be in a field. Teddy asked her if she felt like going to bed, her story getting him in the mood. She said no, she was too sore. He made her finish her drink and said, well, let’s keep it in mind. He made them each another drink, came back in and asked her if she felt like going home to San Juan. She said, sometimes.
“You miss Vincent?”
“That guy? Why would I?”
“He’d protect you, wouldn’t he?”
“If I want him to.”
She was yawning and sounded sleepy, her eyes closing. Maybe he shouldn’t have given her the whole street lude. He believed he’d better hurry.
“ ‘Ey, why don’t you write Vincent a letter? Ask him to come up here and see you.”
“Why would he?”
“Tell him you miss him.”
“You think he do it?”
“Tell him you’re in terrible danger, you need him,” Teddy said, pulling her panties out and peeking in.
“Yeah? You think?… Man, I’m so tire.”
Shit, he didn’t bring any paper. He said, “ ‘Ey, don’t go to sleep on me.” There was a desk in the room. He went over to it and found a writing pad, envelopes, a pen… What he needed to do was pep her up. He went back to her and said, “Here, get started,” putting an envelope on the cocktail table in front of her. “Write his name and address on there. I’ll be right back.”
Teddy took her glass out to the kitchen and poured rum in it. Maybe it would give her a kick. He should’ve brought meth-she needed to get up, not down. He’d wanted to be able to control her, but should’ve remembered how she moved, like it was an effort. One of those girls, his mom would say was so slow she couldn’t get out of her own way.
With his help, dictating, she got the envelope addressed, but that was it. At this point Iris lay back in her chair and konked out on him. He could slap her face all he wanted, throw water in it, hold her under the shower-he could see she wasn’t about to come around for the rest of the night.
Well, he wasn’t coming around here either, anymore. He’d had enough of playing private eye in his mom’s car staring out the window, then getting a chance like this that might not ever come again. He thought about printing a note that would say COME QUICK I NEED YOU. I AM IN DANGER and put it in the envelope. But the cop, come to think of it, would get the note and probably phone her. If he bothered at all.
When Teddy thought of how to do it he knew it would work because the cop wouldn’t have a choice anymore. They’d make him come. It was exciting thinking about it. Jeez, he wanted to lay her on the floor right here.
He did, he pulled her out of the chair, her eyes coming open a little, but closing again when he got her stretched out on the carpet. He raised her up to unhook her bra, pulled it free and laid her down again. She would have to have her panties on…
Another kind of feeling came over him, that he’d better leave them on and get out of here. What if somebody was coming upstairs this minute?
Teddy folded the addressed envelope once, twice, and slipped it into the front of her panties. He pulled her up, got underneath to let her body fall across his shoulder and carried her out to the balcony this way, into the overcast night. A wind came up as he sat her on the rail in front of him and held her tight under her arms, standing between her bare legs.
Iris moaned, cold, but didn’t open her eyes.
Teddy brought his hands away slowly. Her head lowered. As her body came toward him he placed his hands against her shoulders to push her upright, to let her tilt back just a speck, there. Then took his hands away and watched her go off the balcony without a sound, her body turning over as it dropped into the night.
An eight-point-five, Teddy thought. Nice execution, but ‘ey, she didn’t keep her feet together.
They were coming out of the house now. The cop and a woman in a dark coat. It looked like the woman from the funeral home, Linda.
Teddy saw himself slipping the car into gear, creeping up the street silently toward the Datsun. Time it, get almost there and pop the lights on and as the cop came around to the street side of the Datsun and stood close to it as he saw the headlights coming, shoot him going by.
Except that he wasn’t ready. He’d have to have his gun out, the window open on the passenger side… He should’ve thought of it sooner. Except what if the cop had a gun and had time to shoot back and hit his mom’s car? How would he explain it?
No, it seemed like a good idea and it was a good place, dark and lonely. But it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted to see the cop’s eyes again just before and wanted the cop to see his. Hi. Remember me?
TURNING ONTO ATLANTIC AVENUE Vincent said, “I’ve tailed cars for a living, but I’ve never been tailed myself, that I know of.” He glanced at the rearview mirror.
Linda turned in the front seat to look back. “All I see are headlights. Are you sure?”
“When the same car turns the same corners you do, it’s a good bet.”
“I thought you were lost. Which one is it?”
“It’s three back. Looks like a Chevy, light color, maybe yellow.”
“Do you know who it is?”
“I think it’s a guy who usually drives an Eldorado, but somebody broke his window so he borrowed a friend’s car. Or else it’s a friend of the guy who drives the Eldorado.”
Linda said, “Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?”
Vincent drove straight to Spade’s Boardwalk now; he left the Datsun with the valet parking attendant. It seemed to surprise Linda. And when he brought the blue canvas carry-on into the hotel with them she said, “I thought we were just having dinner. Are we spending the night?”
Vincent smiled. It had crossed his mind. He checked the bag with the bell captain, La Tuna sounds coming from the lounge across the lobby. He asked Linda if she’d like to go in and mambo and she asked if he’d like a kick in the balls. Was she touchy or being funny? Sometimes it was hard to tell when she was serious. Up a gold elevator to a dining room of crystal chandeliers and scenes of Versailles on the walls, heavy silverware, gold linen, candlelight… Was she impressed? Vincent was. They drank scotch and looked at menus, silent, but it was okay; he was comfortable with her and in no hurry. He felt a glow; he believed it might be fun to have a lot of money. Linda could be wealthy, she had the right look in the navy-blue dress. The pale skin and dark hair, fine bones, a $500-an-hour model. Cosmetics, shampoo…
“What’re you looking at?”
“Nothing.”
She brought her napkin up. “Do I have lipstick on my teeth?”
“You get cleaned up you’re a knockout.”
She narrowed her eyes in those long lashes, said, “Thanks,” gazed at him another moment, suspicious, and returned to her menu. “What’re you going to have?”