Coven (15 page)

“
I saw him leaving earlier,
couple of hours ago, I guess.”

Great,
Wade thought.
I’ll be drinking alone
tonight.
“Later.”

“
Hey, Wade…don’t worry
about me, okay?”

Wade stopped and turned at the door.

“
I’m not cracking up. It’s
just that I’ve got something going right now. A quest, a cleansing.
Like the Sartre novel.”

Not that Sartre shit
again,
Wade fretted.
The fucker’s been dead ten years and he’s still fucking up
people’s lives.

Jervis gulped smoke and continued. “Don’t
worry about me. You and Tom are my best friends. Just trust me on
this, okay?”

“
Sure, Jerv. We’re always
around if you want to talk.”

Wade went back to his own room. He didn’t
like any of this. It was bad enough to lose a friend to outside
forces, but inside forces were worse. They were the ones that tore
you apart.

He felt depressed. The whole day had been
depressing, cleaning toilets, mopping floors. Being shit on by
Officer Prentiss hadn’t exactly livened him up either. He was
getting himself a bottle of Adams when he heard footsteps in the
hall.

He ducked out and saw Tom disappear into his
room.

“
Hey! Hey, Tom! Are
we…”

Tom’s door closed. Had he been carrying
something under his arm? It looked like a briefcase or
something.

Wade strode down the hall, pushed open Tom’s
door. “You must need a hearing aid. Are we going downtown tonight
or what?”

Tom wasn’t in the room. Wade looked around
slowly. He was sure he’d seen Tom enter, or at least he thought he
was sure. He checked the bathroom, the closet. Tom wasn’t here.

Wade sputtered back to his room. The hall
was dark; maybe Tom had gone to the exit stairs at the end of the
hall, or maybe it had been someone else, a new student coming on.
Or maybe—

Or maybe Lysol fumes are
making me see things,
he
finished.

He had to find something to
do tonight—there were only a few more days before classes
started.
Call up an old flame,
he decided. Shit, he had enough old flames to
start the Chicago fire. There were lots of girls who’d drop
everything this minute to go out with him. He called Melissa over
on the Hill, a gal who really knew her stuff. “Melissa, baby! This
is Wade. Sorry I didn’t return your call the other day, but you
know how it is.”

“
No, Wade, I don’t. So tell
me. How is it?”

“
Well, you know, babe. I’ve
been busy.”

“
Yeah, I heard. Sorry, I
don’t go out with toilet cleaners.”

“
I—I—”

Click.

Next number. Wendy.
Yeah.
Real
hot
stuff. “Wendy, baby! This is Wade. You want to go out tonight?
Dinner, a few drinks, a little cruising around in the
Vette?”

“
Well,” she said. “How
about…
no?”

“
What do you mean
no?
We went out a lot
last semester.”

“
You didn’t clean toilets
last semester either. What
gall!”

Wade hung up. Don’t get discouraged, he
thought slowly.

Wade got discouraged. Quickly.

He tried six more girls and struck out six
more times. Nobody wanted to go out with guys who cleaned
toilets—they’d all read the paper. In one day he’d gone from status
symbol to comedy symbol.

The phone rang, a further mocking shrill.
“Toilet Cleaners, Inc.,” he answered. “You flub ’em, we scrub
’em.”

Silence like reluctance stretched across the
line. Then a dryly sexy woman’s voice inquired, “Is this Wade St.
John?”

“
Yes, it is, or what’s left
of him.”

A long pause. Then: “This is Lydia
Prentiss.”

Now it was Wade’s turn to
pause.
Hang up! Hang up!
his thoughts barked.
Don’t talk to the bitch! Hang up!

But he couldn’t. Somehow, he
simply…couldn’t.

“
You’re lucky you caught
me,” he said. “I was just about to go out for some ‘joyriding
through life on a silver platter.’ You know, a ‘spoiled rotten
rich brat’ like me tends to keep active. Must be all that ‘family
money and bullshit’ keeps a guy slick. This is quite a surprise,
though. I didn’t know the ‘bottom of the barrel’ had a listing in
the phone book. What can I do for you?”

Her voice faltered in snatches. “Mr. St.
John, I’m calling to…” She sighed, almost forlornly. “I feel
terrible about the things I said to you this morning.”

“
Is that so?”

“
Yes, I really do.” She
actually sounded choked up. “I don’t know what got into me. I had a
really bad day in the first place. I got in an argument with my
boss, then you walked in and I took it all out on you. I’m really
sorry.”

“
In other words,
you’re…apologizing?”

“
Yes,” she said.

Hmm.
This could be interesting. “Well, it just so happens that I’m
a very forgiving kind of guy, and, yes, I accept your
apology.”

“
Thank you,” she
uttered.

“
But of course apologies
are just rhetoric, just talk, and talk lacks meaning. Don’t you
agree?”

“
Well—”

“
And the best way for you
to
prove
the
meaning of your apology is to go out with me. Tonight. So what time
do I pick you up?”

Now her pause raced for an exit. “I don’t
think that would be a very good idea.”

“
Oh, I see,” Wade said.
“You’re just apologizing to clear your conscience.”

“
It’s not that.
It’s—”

“
I know. You’d sooner drink
your own urine than go out with me. Who writes your stuff, by the
way? Rickles?”

“
No, please. I…”

“
That’s all right, I accept
your apology anyway. Good night.”

Wade calmly hung up. He dropped his empty
Adams bottle into the trash compactor and got himself another. When
the phone rang again, he answered, “Joe’s Used Silver Platters. May
I help you?”

“
I’ll go out with you,”
Lydia Prentiss said.

“
Smart girl. Where do you
live?”

“
I’ll just meet you
someplace.”

“
All right. The Exham Inn?
Nine o’clock?”

“
That’s fine,” she said.
“I’ll see you then.”

Confidence returned. He busied to get ready.
Who knew? Perhaps the day wouldn’t be a complete catastrophe after
all.

««—»»

The dark office tingled in the Supremate’s
influence. Tom liked that. He liked the dark and its dim silver
edge.

Hope this is the right
stuff.
Botching his first assignment was no
way to begin an eternal relationship.
Eternal.
The word seemed to glow. I
give you strength, the Supremate had promised. Wisdom.
Eternal
life.

Besser hadn’t been pleased with Tom’s
methods. “Sloppy,” he complained. “We can’t afford that, not this
early.” He grumbled further, flipping through the folders. “Be more
careful in the future. At this stage, an influx of police would
cause problems.”

Tom didn’t understand. “Who cares about the
police? The Supremate has made us immortal.”

“
You, yes. But not Winnie
and me.”

Tom gave that one some thought. It didn’t
add up.

“
You’re one to talk,
Dudley, about being careful.” Winnifred Saltenstall sat back in a
chair. She looked bored. Her hand moved idly beneath her
dress.
Is that all she ever does?
Tom wondered.

Besser’s hog jowls tensed. “What do you mean
by that?”

Winnie laughed. “Look at
the mess you left at the agro site. Talk about
sloppy
. You left footprints,
bloodstains. You didn’t even pick up the empty bullets. I heard my
husband talking to White about it. He’s got that new police officer
working on it. She used to be an evidence technician.”

“
White’s just pacifying the
dean,” Besser argued. “He’s a brownnose; the police have nothing,
and even if they did, White would bury it. He knows a campus murder
would jeopardize his job.”

“
You better hope so,
Dudley—”

Tom smiled at their silly bickering.

“—
and would you please send
that thing away,” she was saying.

It took Tom a moment to
catch on.
She means me, doesn’t she? Send
that
thing
away.
Me.

“
Don’t be unkind, Winnie.
Tom’s part of the family now.”

“
I’m sorry, but it’s
unnerving,” she fussed. “Tell it to go.”

Tom didn’t like being
called an
it
or
a
thing.
He looked
at her very blankly. He wondered. He just wondered.

Besser was pretending not to be on the spot,
the fat, no balls wimp. Tom knew who wore the real pants in
that relationship. Besser just said: “Winnie and I, and the
sisters, of course, have to get Penelope ready. Things didn’t work
out, the poor girl. It couldn’t be helped, so there’s no reason to
feel bad about it.”

I could care less,
Tom thought.

“
Meet us back here in an
hour,” Besser instructed.

“
Yes, sir, an hour. No
problem.”

“
Oh, and Tom?”

“
Yes, sir?”

Besser’s bald spot gleamed. “Bring a
shovel.”

—

CHAPTER
14

She’s not going to
show,
Wade felt convinced. The Mitchell’s
Brewery clock over the mantel showed 9:15. He should’ve
known.

He sat sipping an Adams at the upstairs
rail. Several girls sauntered in. They looked at him and
immediately burst into laughter. “Hey, Wade!” one called out.
“How’s the new job—”

“—
cleaning toilets!” added
a second.

“—
for minimum wage!”
finished a third.

“
Laugh it up,” he muttered.
He didn’t even care anymore; there was no more face left to save.
His depression rose to new peaks.

When Lydia Prentiss walked
in, Wade didn’t even notice her—that is, he noticed the
full tilt blonde who stood scanning the bar, he just didn’t
realize it was
her.
She stood skintight in stone washed black jeans and
scarlet high heels, and a bright yellow tube top which her breasts
filled to its physical limit. Then she spotted him and walked
up.

“
Hello, Mr. St.
John.”

“
Woe ah!” Wade
said.

“
Sorry I’m late. I don’t
have a car so I took a cab.”

“
Hemmina, hemmina, uh,”
Wade said. “Let’s get a booth. It’s more private.”

“
Okay.”

On the way to the rear booths, Wade stepped
on his shoelace, tripped, and fell. Heads turned, some chuckles
rose up. Suddenly Wade was the town fool.

“
Are you drunk?” she
asked.

“
No, I swear. I draven’t
hunk—I mean I haven’t drunk a thing all day.”

She just shook her head,
faintly smiling. He felt much better in the booth. Stationary now,
he thought.
Back in control. Go get her,
King of Charisma.
“What would you
like?”

She relaxed in the padded booth. “I think
I’ll have a beer.”

But all Wade could see was her—her beautiful
body, her beautiful face. She was radiant. “Kut bind of weer?” he
asked.

“
Huh?”

Idiot!
“I mean, what kind of beer?”

She scanned the beer list with interest. As
a rule, women always ordered either Michelob Light or Corona. Wade
saw no point in the existence of light beers, and as for Corona, he
refused to drink anything with the same name as the end of a
penis.

“
Surprise me,” she
said.

He ordered an Adams for himself and an Old
Nick for her, neglecting to mention that Old Nick had more alcohol
than any beer in the house.

He was grinning at her,
enraptured. He felt charged with nervous current. Her beauty was
too much to perceive at once.
Say
something!
a voice like an alarm
ordered.
Make conversation!

Brilliantly he inquired, “So, tell me about
yourself.”

“
I think I’d be more
interested in hearing about you first.”

“
Ask anything you want. My
life’s an open book.”

“
An open
comic
book, by the looks
of you now.”

“
What do you
mean?”

“
Well, for one thing,
you’re grinning like Alfred E. Newman. You’ve asked me kut bind of
weer I want, and sworn you draven’t hunk a thing all day. And to
top it off, you tripped over your own two feet. Are you this smooth
with all the girls?”

At that moment, the beers came. When Wade
went to pour, he knocked his over. Half the bottle emptied into his
lap.