Cuts (13 page)

TWENTY-TWO

THE GRAY GHOST

When the doorbell rang, Janet’s hand jumped. The lipstick gave her a rakish, one-sided mustache.

“Want me to get it?” Meg called.

“Thanks, would you?” She wiped the mustache off, finished putting on her lipstick, and gave herself a once-over in the bathroom
mirror. The polyester blouse was cheerful with red and blue swirls, but it hung against her skin in a way that showed more
than she really liked. Especially her bra.

Well, better that than a couple of nipples sticking out. Dave used to be at them constantly when she wore this blouse.

The thought of Dave made her sad and angry.

He’s gone, she told herself. He might as well be dead, the bastard.

Except part of him would always be with her.

Forget it. Pretend he’s dead. Better for the kid to have no dad
at all than a creep like Dave.

She slipped into a pale blue jacket that matched her slacks, flipped a brush through her hair, and left the bathroom.

“Hey-de-
hey!
”

“Hi, Moses.”

“
Mosby.
What I lack in speed and brains, I make up in numbers.”

“Do you know what he’s talking about?” Meg asked.

“Who, me?” Janet looked at Mosby’s skinny, grinning face. “Do
you
know what you’re talking about?”

“The Gray Ghost. John Singleton Mosby.
General
John Singleton Mosby, a Johnny Reb whose band of guerrillas wrought havoc on the Yanks. My friends started calling me Mosby
because…”

“You like to monkey around?” Meg suggested.

“Ha! Sharp! Guerrilla, monkey, sharp! You’re a character, Meg.”

“My friends started calling me Meg because I’m a nut.”

“A nut?” For a moment, Mosby looked puzzled. Then his face lit up. “Hey, sure! Nutmeg!” He flapped an elbow sideways toward
Janet. “Hope you’re as spicy as your roommate.”

“We’ll see,” Janet said and picked up her purse.

“Looks like we’re off, Meg. Nice meeting you. Don’t wait up.”

When they were outside in the cool, foggy night, Mosby put his hand on Janet’s shoulder and said, “I’m a sucker for enchiladas,
how about you?”

“Fine by me.”

He opened the car door for her. She climbed in and leaned across the front seat to open his door.

“Thank you, thank you. My mother thanks you, my father thanks you…”

“They’re all welcome.”

Mosby talked nonstop while he drove. Janet listened and sometimes answered. She smiled and laughed when it seemed appropriate.

After twenty mintues, he pulled into the driveway of
Casa del Toro
. A parking valet in a white jacket opened the car door for Janet.

“Best margaritas in town,” Mosby said. He took her hand. “You always go first-class when you travel with the Gray Ghost.”

“That’s the spirit.”

TWENTY-THREE

THE MESS

Tess died with a scream in her eyes.

Albert climbed off her.

He found her gray sweatshirt on the floor beside the bed.

She’d looked so cute and cuddly in it. The bulky thing had made her seem tubbier than she really was.

It had hidden her breasts, too. But they’d been there, all right, when he cut the sweatshirt open. No bra, just bare skin.

She’d been out cold but still in her chair at the time, so her breasts sat on her chest like a couple of small scoops of ice
cream. Later, when he put her down on her back, they’d flattened out and almost disappeared. Except for her nipples, which
were huge.

Fabulous
nipples.

Albert started getting hard again as he remembered how they’d looked—and how large and springy they’d felt in his mouth.

He wished he hadn’t killed Tess right away like that. Would’ve been nice to keep her alive for a couple more days—have some
fun with her while he waited for Karen.

“That’s the way it goes,” he muttered.

He hadn’t
meant
to kill her like that. He’d had every intention of enjoying her a little bit at a time, making shallow cuts and bandaging
them after he got done, making her last.

That’s how he’d handled Charlene and it had been
fabulous
.
Fabulous, right. She got away and I never got to do the best part.

The best part.

So maybe he
had
gotten too excited with Tess, but she wouldn’t be escaping from him and he wouldn’t be missing out on anything.

He’d gotten to the best part a little sooner than planned, that’s all.

Closing his eyes, Albert moaned with pleasure at the memory of those final thrusts.

They were worth it! Shit, you can’t always hold back. Sometimes,
you just gotta go for it.

But try to do better with Karen, he told himself. Try to take it easy on her so she’ll last a while.

Gotta wait till Sunday! How’ll I stand it?

Who knows? he thought. Maybe I won’t have to wait that long. Tess said they get into fights sometimes and Karen comes home
early. Maybe that’ll happen this weekend.

Sure hope so.

Just don’t show up
now
, he thought. Give me a couple of hours to clean up.

Using Tess’s sweatshirt, he wiped some of the blood and semen and feces off his naked body so he wouldn’t drip on his way
to the bathroom.

He walked backward to see whether he was leaving any mess on the carpet.

It looked fine.

In the bathroom, he shut and locked the door.

Who you trying to keep out, Norman Bates?

He laughed.

But his laughter died as he imagined Tess’s gashed body rising off the bed and stumbling toward the bathroom like a zombie
from
Night of the Living Dead
.

Like
that’s
gonna happen, he thought.

He imagined her pounding on the bathroom door and goose bumps scurried up his back.

“Get real,” he muttered, stepping over to the tub. There was no shower curtain. He’d used it to protect the bed before starting in on Tess. Good thing, too. The bed would’ve been ruined.

He pictured her staggering toward the bathroom door, wearing the shower curtain like a pale, see-through toga.

“Just try it,” he said, “and I’ll do you again.”

Laughing softly, he started the water. When it felt good and hot, he turned on the shower and stepped into the tub.

Water sprayed him
and
the bathroom floor.

Another mess to clean up.

It was only water, though. It would be a cinch compared to the mess in the bedroom. He wished there was a way to avoid cleaning
that
up. But this was only Friday night. No way could he stick around until Sunday without taking care of it.

What if I leave?

It’d sure be safer that way.

And miss out on Karen?

Not a chance, he told himself. No way. He would just have to resign himself to cleaning up all the messes.

He turned off the faucets and climbed out of the tub, done with his first shower of the night.

TWENTY-FOUR

SNEAK ATTACKS

During the first ten minutes of the film, Mosby’s hands were busy with popcorn. Once the popcorn was gone, however, he began
on Janet’s hand. He held it, pressed it, squeezed it, interlaced its fingers with his, and used it to transport his hand up
her thigh until she put on the brakes.

Then he moved her hand over to
his
leg. He let it rest near his knee, but soon began to slide it so slowly up his leg that Janet didn’t recognize his plan until
she felt the hard bulge.

That’s when she took back her hand.

And Mosby started on her shoulder.

Janet knew what he was after: her right breast.

Arm stretched across her back, he tried to disguise his intention by holding her right shoulder for a while. Soon, however,
he reached around the outside of her arm and went for it.

Too far away.

So he tried for a shortcut by prying into her armpit from behind. This would’ve taken several inches off the route, giving
him a clear shot at her breast.

Janet foiled the attempt by keeping her arm clamped tight against her side.

By the time he quit, her arm was trembling from the effort.

He gave up on the breast only to resume working on her leg. He started at the knee. As the film progressed, so did his hand.
It was warm through her slacks. She didn’t mind so much, at first. But it steadily crept higher.

Just as she was ready to reach down and stop it, Mosby’s hand quickly moved the final distance and pressed against her inseam.
She caught her breath.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

His fingers pressed harder and rubbed.

“Stop it, Mosby.”

“It’s all right,” he whispered.

“Don’t,” Janet said. “Please.” But she didn’t try to move his hand away.

It felt good.

She gasped a loud, excited breath.

Heads turned.

She knocked Mosby’s hand away and sat up straight, heat pulsing into her face.

A few seconds later, Mosby’s hand returned to her knee.

“No,” she said.

He began moving it higher, so she picked it up and placed it firmly on his own knee.

“And keep it there!”

During the rest of the film, he kept his hand to himself.

The film ended. The lights came on. “Are we off?” Mosby asked. He grinned as if he were quite pleased with himself.

Janet resisted an urge to make a crack.

They left the theater. The night was chilly. Though Janet was wearing a light jacket, Mosby put his arm across her shoulders.
She decided not to complain.

In the vacant Safeway lot where his car was parked, he pulled her against him. He kissed her, and she didn’t fight it.

At least we’re not in the middle of a crowded movie theater.

Not such a bad kiss, either. It seemed eager, but also tender.

He can’t be such a bad guy, she thought, if he kisses like this.

When his tongue touched her lips, she opened her mouth to accept it. She sucked it and tongued it and when she felt his hand
gently curl over her breast, she thrust her own tongue into his mouth.

Then his hand moved under her blouse.

She clutched his wrist and took her mouth away. “No you don’t,” she said.

“Let’s go to my place,” he said.

“No.”

“Come on. Why not?”

“We might end up in bed.”

“That’s the whole idea. No pun intended.”

Janet pushed him away. “Take me home, okay?”

“But Meg’s there.”

“I know she is. It’s her house. You’re very nice, Mosby, and I’ve had a good time tonight, but this is as far as it goes. Seriously.
I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“Who said anything about sleep?”

“Don’t be so lame.”

The words seemed to deflate him. “Oh,” he muttered. “Okay. Sorry.” He smiled a little sadly and opened the car door for her.

On the way to Meg’s house, he looked over at Janet and said, “I guess you don’t like me much.”

“I like you fine.” She didn’t sound convincing even to herself.

“Then why won’t you sleep with me?”

“Don’t give me a hard time, Mose.”

“No pun intended?”

“You’d be a lot more attractive if you’d stop being so jerky about stuff.”

“Jerky?”

“Sorry.”

“I’m a
jerk?
God, you must really despise me.”

“Nobody despises you.”

“You do. Hell, who am I kidding?
Everyone
does. I’m pushy, obnoxious, boring…”

“But I think there’s a pretty good guy underneath the pushy, obnoxious, boring jerk.”

He let out a single, sad laugh and said, “Sure.”

“A good guy trying to get out.”

“Maybe I don’t
want
to let him out,” Mosby said. “Maybe if I let him out, he’ll get dumped on.”

“Everybody gets dumped on,” Janet said. “You can’t let a thing like that slow you down.”

“Easy for you to say.”

She looked at him and saw that his face was shiny with tears.

“Life’s shit,” he said. “You know that? Life’s nothing but a stinking pile of shit.”

“Hey, Mose, cut it out, okay?” She said it gently and reached out and wiped the tears off his cheek.

He stopped the car in front of Meg’s house.

“Why don’t you come in and have some coffee?” Janet asked.

Sniffing, he wiped his eyes again. “That isn’t necessary.”

“Of course not. We’d be a mess if we only did what’s necessary. But I’ll feel better if we can get you perked up a bit. Okay?”

“Perk up the jerk.”

“I’m
not
going to let you drive home crying, pal. Not after a date with
me
. I
never
leave ’em in tears. It’s my policy.”

He laughed softly.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go in.”

She climbed out and waited by the curb until Mosby came around to her side of the car. Then she took his hand and led him
to the front door.

It was locked, but Meg had given her a key. She opened the door and let Mosby into the living room.

Meg, in a sheer nightgown, was sitting on the couch. “You’re back early,” she said. Oddly, her voice was calm. And oddly,
her fingers continued to comb through the hair of the man who lay with his head on her lap.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Dave said. He yawned and casually stroked Meg’s calf. He wore only his briefs.

“Meg? My God, Meg, what’s…?”

“He’s staying the night.”

“
Staying?
Oh. Okay. God, Meg. You’re…okay, bye. Let’s go, Mosby. How about taking me to your place after all?”

“How are you feeling?” Mosby asked.

Janet didn’t look up from her coffee cup. “Better. Thanks.” She leaned back. Mosby’s couch was soft and comfortable.

“I thought you were going to faint,” he said.

“So did I.”

“Who was he?”

Janet lifted the cup to her mouth and looked at Mosby. “A guy I used to know.” She drank some of the coffee. “Former boyfriend.”

Mosby sat forward and folded his hands between his knees. “What was he doing at Meg’s?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to know. Meg always thought he was a creep. She really did despise him.”

“Maybe she just
claimed
to despise him.”

“No, she really did. I’m sure.”

“Then what was she doing with him on the couch?”

Janet shook her head. “I don’t know. Except if you’re lonely enough, I guess maybe you’ll do just about anything. You take
what you can get.”

He laughed once and said, “That explains it.”

Janet set down her coffee cup and frowned at him, puzzled.

“Explains why you went out with
me
tonight.”

“You mean I’m desperately lonely?”

“Well?” he asked. “Why else would you go out with someone like me?”

“Hey, Mose, I don’t need this. I don’t need this at all, I really don’t. Maybe you enjoy putting yourself down, but don’t use
me for it. If I hadn’t wanted to go out with you, I would’ve told you so.”

“If you’re lonely enough, you take what you can get.” He made a crooked smile.

“I said that about Meg, not me. Okay? So lay off.”

“I’d rather lay
on
.” His smile twitched. “I’ve got a nice double bed.”

“Knock it off.”

“I’d rather knock it up.”

“
Stop it!
If you want me to leave, just say so. You don’t have to drive me off by acting like a shit. Just tell me to go and I will.”

He blinked at her, his face crimson.

Please, don’t start crying again.

“I don’t want you to go,” he muttered. “Don’t go, please. I’m sorry. It’s just that, I don’t know, I never should’ve asked
you out in the first place. Big mistake. But I didn’t really think you’d say yes. Girls like you
never
go out with guys like me. I figured you’d just tell me to take a flying leap.”

“Why would I do that?”

“We’re not in the same league.” He made a grim smile. “In that great baseball game of life, you’re in the majors and I’m in
the bush league.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“Believe it. I said it.”

“Well, thanks for putting me in the majors, anyway.” She shook her head. “The whole idea’s full of crap, but thanks. Seems
to me, we’re all in the same ballpark. We’re all trying to hit homers and usually striking out.”

“I never even get to first base,” Mosby said.

Smiling, Janet reached out her hand. Mosby took it. He helped her up. “Thank you for dinner and the movie,” she said. “You
made it to third base tonight.”

“Only second.”

“I’d call it third.” She kissed him and stepped back. His hands stayed on her shoulders. “Go off to bed now,” she said. “I’ll
be fine on the couch.”

“You’d be fine anywhere.” Mosby’s voice was shaky. He suddenly pulled Janet forward. His arms wrapped her tightly.

His mouth pressed hard against her lips.

She pushed him away.

“No, Mose.”

“Come on.” He tried to pull her against him.

Janet kept her hands flat against his chest, holding him back. “No,” she said.

His hands felt good stroking her hair. They gently rubbed the sides of her neck. “You’re so beautiful,” he said.

“I’m not going to sleep with you.”

“Why?” He massaged her shoulders. She let her arms fall.

“Because…”

His palms moved smoothly down the front of her blouse and cupped her breasts.

“Don’t, Mosby.”

“You don’t want me to stop.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Doesn’t it feel good?”

“Sure it does. But stop. Please? I’m not going to sleep with you, Mosby. I mean it.”

“You want to,” he said. He began to unbutton her blouse.

“No,” she murmured.

“When was the last time you had a man?”

“Stop it, Mosby.”

He opened her blouse, then slipped his arms underneath it and caressed her back and sides and belly as if his hands were starved
for the feel of skin. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Mosby, don’t do this.”

“Why not?” He unfastened a hook between the cups of her bra, opened the bra and sank down slightly and kissed her right breast.

She sucked a quick, trembling breath.

“Don’t. Please, Mosby.”

He flicked the nipple with his tongue.

“Stop it. Please.”

“Okay.” He stood up straight again and kissed her mouth.

She turned her head away.

As he kissed her cheek, his hand pressed flat against her belly, then slid down inside her pants. His fingers knew just where
to go.

“Mosby.”

“It feels good. You love it.”

“But I don’t love
you!
”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It
does!
”

“NO!”
She dropped to her knees and the hand jerked out, fingers tracing slick wet paths up her belly. Hunching over, she pressed
her hands to her face. “Go away,” she murmured. “Leave me alone. Just go. Please.”

“
That
was third base,” Mosby said. He turned away and walked into his bedroom and shut the door.