Weekend (36 page)

After he acclimated himself, he scooted into the lot. Now he had a new set of problems. How to locate his own car among the rows and rows of other parked vehicles. His certainly wasn’t the only blue Chevy there and in the darkness, there was no way to read the license plates. Suddenly he thought of Flo and for the first time, blessed her for using the front seat as her personal beauty parlor. That was it! When he found a car that resembled his, he’d check the windshield area. If there were lots of hair rollers and eye makeup scattered about, he’d know he’d hit pay dirt.

He was only halfway down the first row when he heard a deep male voice shout “Hey!” His heart nearly stopped as he debated whether to simply ignore it, hide or run. There was no time for a decision. A uniformed patrolman opened the door of a car in the second row and walked toward him. He couldn’t believe it. Had they actually stationed a man or men in parked cars in the lot?

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Just taking a stroll. Thought I’d get some fresh air.”

“It’s a curious place to take a stroll. Are you a registered guest?”

Manny hesitated. What was he supposed to say?

“Listen, buddy, I gotta get outta here. It’s worth a great deal to me.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his money clip.

“What you’re trying to do is a serious thing,” the patrolman said.

“And I’m offering serious money.” Manny peeled off five twenty-dollar bills but the cop ignored him completely. He raised his right hand to his mouth and blew down hard on a whistle. The piercing sound made Manny shake. Once again he considered the possibility of running, but the patrol car at the main gate had already responded to the whistle and quickly pulled up beside them. Two state policemen got out. To Manny, they looked enormous.

“Got a live one,” the patrolman said. Manny quickly shoved his money back into his pocket.

“Sorry sir,” the nearest state policeman said. “We must enforce this quarantine until otherwise advised. You’ll have to go back with us.”

“Do you mind telling us how you got out of the hotel proper?” the other state trooper asked.

“I flew over the fence.”

The trooper stared at his mudstained face. “You’re the first angel I ever met with a dirty face.” He managed to smile. “Right this way, sir.” The patrol car’s back door was opened for him. When he sat inside, he noticed there were no handles on the inside of the door. The only way he could get out was if the door was opened from the outside. He was trapped again, just as he was trapped in that damn hotel. The state patrolmen congratulated the uniformed cop and then got into their car.

No one spoke as they ran Manny back through the main gate and drove him to the front entrance of the hotel. One of the officers got out and opened the back door for him, as guests standing nearby looked on with interest.

“We hope you understand that we’re serious about the quarantine, sir, and that you won’t make another attempt.” Manny simply grunted, gave them the finger, and scowled back at the people who had stopped to stare. Then he walked back into the hotel and headed for the bar. He was furious, frustrated and angry. He had blown all the money he had in the world and right now all he wanted to do was to strike out at someone, anyone. He thought about having to face Flo again and swore to himself that if she bugged him even a little bit, he’d haul off and belt her right in the mouth. That image was the only thing that brought the slightest degree of consolation. Otherwise, he was just plain miserable.

For a reason she couldn’t quite fathom for the moment, the basement had suddenly taken on new and ominous vibrations. The shadows loomed darker and longer, the hum of the motors was threatening, and the muffled conversations of distant custodians scared her. She lingered at the entrance as though standing on the brink of disaster. It was as if she had crossed an abyss into the setting of a recurring nightmare lingering in the deepest crypt of her memory. It was all there in her mind’s eye … her father’s shrunken face, the stiff and bony fingers, his glassy eyes staring up into space. The funeral cortege was winding its way slowly through the hotel with hundreds of people following the coffin. It ended up here in the basement. They were going to dump the body in her hideaway. Someone patted her on the head and said she was going to have a nice new playmate. She was about to scream at the images when Grant’s voice shook her back to reality.

“Thought you’d never show,” he said. He stepped out from behind a column, both hands in his pockets. A toothpick dangled from his mouth.

“You scared me. What were you doing behind there?”

“Playing tiddleywinks with manhole covers.” He laughed and came closer to her. “What do you think I was doing? I was waiting for you. Everyone else is running around the place like it’s the end of the world.”

“Doesn’t look like it from the farmhouse. From there it looks like everything’s about normal.” She was so happy to see him she began to relax. “I was just listening to some records. I got a new Elvis album.”

“Yeah, I like him.”

“C’mon,” she said. “Let’s go to the hideaway before someone spots us.”

“What did you do with Alison Tits?” he asked as she unlocked the door.

“She hasn’t spoken to me since this morning. I think she’s mad at both of us.”

“No loss.”

She closed the door and put on the light. He went behind the mattress leaning against the side wall and pulled out what remained of another bottle that Sandi had hidden. There was barely a quarter of it left.

“I think that’s the last one I have. I shoulda gotten another one but I was afraid …”

“That’s okay. There’s enough.”

“Gimme a cigarette,” she said. She sat herself down comfortably and leaned against the wall. He took out his pack and pounded one out. “Light it,” she said when he handed it to her. He smiled and put it in his mouth. The he took out his matches and lit it, taking two long puffs. He passed it over. She inhaled sharply and nearly choked. He laughed sarcastically, took a drink from the bottle and offered it to her.

“You’re not going to get drunk again, are you?”

“On this little? Never happen.”

“Whaddya want to do?”

“What do you want to do?” Even his response was loaded with sarcasm.

“Play strip poker,” she said, half to reply in kind.

“You wouldn’t have the guts.”

“Would too.”

“Big talker with no cards.” He took another drink. She looked around for something she could substitute for playing cards but then got a better idea.

“Got any money on you?”

“Money? Sure. Why?”

“I mean change.”

“Yep.” He reached into his pocket and came out with a handful of nickels, dimes and quarters. “Got it for those dumb pinball machines in the Teen Room.”

“We’ll use a quarter.” She reached over and took one out of his hand. He looked at her with curiosity, a half smile on his face.

“I don’t get it,” he said, putting the rest of the change back.

“It’s very simple. I’m heads and you’re tails. We’ll take turns flipping. If I win, you take something off. If you win, I do.”

He held the bottle in his hand frozen near his face and looked to see if she was serious. It was obvious she was. He thought about her supple body under all those clothes and then about his own nudity.

“What if someone comes along?”

“No problem. The door’s easy to lock.” She got up and turned the latch. He felt a curious anxiety building from within, but he wasn’t sure whether it stemmed from excitement or fear. When she returned, she kneeled directly across from him, her buttocks leaning down on her ankles for support. “We’ll flip to see who flips first.” He still hadn’t said anything or moved. “Well, are you game or not?”

“Sure I’m game,” he said. “What do you think I am, a baby? Go ahead.” She tossed the coin in the air. It fell with a dull thud on the mattress. It was tails.

“You win. You start.” She picked up the quarter and placed it in his free hand. He took another swig from the wine bottle and put it down on the floor. Her eyes were intense and staring at him. He tossed the coin in the air and it fell heads up. She clapped her hands and looked at him expectantly.

“Big deal,” he said and took off a shoe. Then she took it and flipped it quickly. It was heads up again. He smirked and took off his other shoe.

The next flip was tails up. He expected her to take off one of her shoes, just as he had done, but she surprised him. Instead of reaching for her foot she stood up, put her hands under her skirt, and pulled down her panties, taking great care to step out of them neatly. Then she tossed them to the side with mock bravado.

“Coin please,” she said, lowering herself back to the mattress. She kept her skirt close to her body. “I said coin.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah.”

A half dozen flips resulted in his removing his socks and shirt and her removing both shoes and a sock. He drained the wine bottle empty and lit a cigarette. They had both grown strangely quiet. He thought his hand shook when he flipped the coin again, but she pretended not to notice. He won the next toss and she removed her second sock.

“Down to the nitty gritty,” she said. The coin came up tails. She stared down at it. He waited a moment and reached out and put his hand over it.

“If you wanna quit, we’ll quit,” he said.

“No, that’s not fair. Besides, it was my idea.” She reached down and pulled her cotton blouse up and over her head without unbuttoning the middle or lower buttons. She held it in front of her for a moment, then draped it dramatically over the wine bottle. He stared at the cups of her bra, noting how tight it was fastened. It looked as though it pinched her body. He wondered if it hurt.

“What are you going to do if you lose again?”

“You’ll find out. Whatever I have to.”

He shook his head and turned the coin over and over in his sweaty hand. Then he rested it on the nail of his thumb. “Here goes,” he said and flicked it up in the air. This time it fell on its side and landed tails up. Sandi lost again. She hesitated only a second, then reached behind her back and unfastened her bra. It fell away from her body instantly. Her tiny bosom quivered as though she had gotten a chill. Slightly embarrassed, she folded her arms across her chest and her face turned beet red.

“You flip,” he said, not sure whether he should smile or not. She reached for the coin. Her tits looked so tiny, not at all like his mother’s. She tossed the coin quickly and won. He unfastened his pants without looking at her.

“It’s neck and neck,” she said. She looked for the fullness in his crotch and was surprised that it wasn’t there. Odd, she thought. From everything she had read, he should be having an erection by now. That was what she wanted to see, why she had suggested playing this stupid game in the first place. More than anything in the world, right now she wanted to see his loose, smooth underwear tighten and strain—his thing, pushing against it with all its strength in its eagerness to get out and be near a girl, near Sandi, near her. She recalled a description in one of those cheap paperbacks a maid once left behind. A man’s erection was pictured like an independent animal, its head rising toward the stars, its neck thickening like a bull. But none of this was happening with Grant and she wondered what was wrong.

“Wanna call it a draw?” he asked.

“Do you?’”

“I don’t care.”

“Well, it’s not exactly a draw no matter what we do. I mean, I never let a boy see me like this before,” she said.

He shrugged and leaned back against the mattress behind him. “I’ll bet.”

“No, honest.” For a moment she wondered what it would be like to kiss him, her naked breasts rubbing against his naked chest. She wondered why he didn’t have that same urge. He still seemed so disinterested, so removed from what was going on between them. Was it because she kept her arms folded across her chest? She thought about it and let them drop slowly to her side. Grant continued to stare at her, but it was as though he was looking through, rather than at, her body.

Her naked bosom had created a series of images in his mind, flashbacks moving in record speed, like a series of old-time movie cards being flipped. In each scene, he resurrected a picture of his mother—the time a few years ago when she had come into the kitchen with only a towel pressed against her chest. She reached across for something at the table and one of her naked breasts caressed his forehead. He was surprised and pleased at the softness. She didn’t seem to notice his reaction … or the time he was nine and had a sore on his penis and she bent down to kiss it and make it better.

“Well,” Sandi said, “are you just going to sit there staring?”

“You’re asking for it.”

“I think you’re scared.”

“Bullshit.”

“There’s the coin.” She gestured toward it with her head. He remained immobile. “If you want, I’ll flip it for you.”

“Relax,” he said, unaware of the sharpness in his voice. “I don’t need your help.” He grabbed it up in a quick action and squeezed it against his palm. Then he flung it against the far wall. It bounced off and landed a few feet away from them. She walked over to it and looked down. A smile formed across her face. “You lose,” she said. He didn’t move. “Come and see if you don’t believe me.”

His hand involuntarily went down to cover the fly of his shorts. “This is stupid.”

“It wasn’t so stupid when I had to take off my bra. I always knew you were chicken.” He still didn’t move. “If it was me who had to take something off again, you wouldn’t think it’s so stupid.” He pretended not to hear. She leaned over and picked up her bra.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going to pay up.”

“Sure,” she said with disgust. He watched her slip her panties up her legs and reach out for her socks. When she put on her first shoe, he stood up.

“All right,” he said. “Hold your horses.”

“Chicken,” she mumbled again. He felt himself blush with anger.

“I’M NOT CHICKEN!”

She stopped with her second shoe and stared at him. He looked straight ahead, took a deep breath, and jerked his underpants down below his knees. His member peeked out from a patch of dark black pubic hair. It looked to be the size of a big toe. Contrasted with the enormity of Caesar Jiminez’s cock, as far as Sandi was concerned it looked tiny. He could see the look of disappointment on her face.