To Die For (14 page)

He said he just couldn’t get excited about sitting in a chair talking. And you know, given what I know about education, it made some sense to me. You have to reach them on their wavelength, you know? It’s like how certain teachers might play a Bruce Springsteen song in English class. Just to draw the kids in with something they can relate to. And that’s what I was trying to do too.

So I said to him, “OK, what would interest you then?”

He had no response of course. Everything you get from these kids, you’ve got to really work to get it out of them. Which I have to add is certainly what the police must have done. He’s not what you could call a talkative individual.

But I didn’t give up either. “What do you like to do in your spare time?” I asked him. “Where did you go on Saturday? Tell me some of your favorite extracurricular activities.” Of course I understood it wasn’t going to be the debating society or anything. I was ready to take whatever little scrap he gave me, and run with that.

“I went to Little Paradise Beach and got a tattoo,” he said. He said he had one already, but on Saturday he went and got another. And then he showed me. A snake on one arm. A skull on the other. I mean by this point he was flexing his muscles and so forth to impress me. Anybody could see what was going through his head, but I was strictly ignoring it. I was just trying to reach him on a teacher-student basis. See what made him tick, so to speak, so I could help him.

So I told him that was very interesting, and I thought it was the perfect subject for a segment on our news broadcast. An expose of the tattoo industry, you know? You could talk to people that got tattoos about why they did it, and talk to the tattoo artist or whatever you want to call it, as to his method. Does it hurt? Is it dangerous? What’s the most interesting tattoo request he ever had? Really, the more you thought about it, it was a great subject.

James was still off on this other track. He’d say things like did tattoos turn me on? Did my husband have a good body? If I made any mistake, it was just caring too much about his welfare, instead of being more careful about protecting my husband and myself. But you know I was very idealistic. These kids come from a really rough background. And I felt, if I can just use my talent to save one of them, then that’s reason enough for being put on this earth. So I just pretended not to understand what he was trying to do. I kept my focus on the video aspect.

I said, “Listen. Why don’t you and I go over to Little Paradise some afternoon and check out the scene ourselves? We don’t even have to bring a camera or anything.” This would be strictly research, initially. And then just to get him to agree I said I’d take him out for a hamburger while we were down there. I mean I’m hardly the only reporter who ever took a kid out for a burger.

That clearly got him interested. All right, he said. He was free that very afternoon. And as it happened, Larry was out of town at a restaurant equipment show. So I said fine. We could take my car. And that’s how it got started.

Once we got to the beach he kept wanting to stop at these game booths and things. Didn’t I want to throw some darts? How about playing a couple of video games. He even tried to get me to buy this fringed T-shirt with some Harley-Davidson slogan on it. But I just paid no attention to what he was doing. And finally we got to this little burger joint. He got a cheeseburger. I ordered a salad and a beer. That’s where I got into trouble.

I should’ve known better. I don’t drink. I don’t even like beer. One glass and I can get sick to my stomach practically. But I was just trying to make him feel like I was, you know, a regular person. Someone he could relate to on his level.

I guess I ended up having two or three beers with him, and they must’ve hit me like a ton of bricks, especially since I hardly ate anything. In any event, I can barely remember what happened after that, except to say that clearly I got drunk. I’m not proud of this. But you know, I only weigh 103. It doesn’t take much to knock me flat. The next thing I knew I was walking out of the tattoo parlor and to my horror I had a tattoo. On my chest. It’s the most ridiculous thing that could’ve happened to me. But there you have it. I suppose I should at least be grateful it’s a rose and not a skull like his.

I guess he drove me home. I don’t remember much about that either, except that I recall saying good-bye to him and telling him he’d have to figure out his own way home from our place. I didn’t let him in our condo of course. I was just sick at this point. Sick about what had happened, and sick period. It was the worst night of my life. Up until, you know, finding Larry I mean.

But as a matter of fact the worst part came later. Not simply explaining the tattoo to Larry. He was really sweet about that. He knew of course that he had no reason to mistrust me. We were so much in love. To him it was just a funny story. “My wife the tattooed lady,” he kidded me. He said if I ever quit my job at the station I could always join the carnival.

The worst part was from that night on, James wouldn’t leave me alone. He’d gotten this crazy idea that I was interested in him, and he just wouldn’t take a hint. In his twisted mind we hadn’t gone to Little Paradise Beach to research a project. We’d gone on a date, if you can imagine. He kept coming round our condo, trying to see me, and leaving me these notes when I wasn’t around. I wouldn’t even want to repeat what some of them said. He’d call me up at home, late at night even. I’d see him and Russell driving past at all hours. Mornings, when I got to work, he’d be waiting for me out in the parking lot with some obscene comment to make, naturally. And of course the worst part was his knowing about the tattoo, and where I’d gotten it and so forth. And knowing that if I went to the authorities about it—which I really wanted to do—then it would come out that I had the tattoo. Which would look bad.

I was in a terrible bind. And of course the person I confided in was Larry, who was not only my husband but also my best friend. And being the way he was, I can imagine now what he must have done about it, although he never told me. I think he must have called James up and told him to stay away from his wife. That would be so like Larry.

But by that time, James must have just been obsessed with me. He couldn’t stop. He got the idea that the only thing standing in his way, the only thing preventing him from being with me was Larry. So naturally, as a person accustomed to using violence as the solution to problems, it wasn’t a very big leap to the next idea. Kill Larry. And make it look like a burglary. And then when he got caught, tell the police that the whole thing was my idea, because he had this fantasy that we were lovers.

Let’s face it. What would I want with someone like him? I came from a good family. I had a good job. I had Larry. We had our whole lives ahead of us. A golden future.

Have you ever been up close to James? He might be a cute enough kid, but do you know what he smells like? Dead clams.

I
NEVER TOLD NO
one this. People all thought I was so tough. Hanging out with Russell and shit. Him that had a kid before he was fifteen. So people figured I had to be the same way. Like I was Mr. Fuck. But she was the first one I ever did it with. The only one.

You think about it all the time. Everyplace you go, it’s on your mind. Russ and me, we’d sit on the beach smoking and watching tail, and we’d talk like, “Maybe I’ll go stick it in that one.” “Yeah,” I’d say. “I sure could go for some wet pussy right now.” You talk big. Sometimes I’d even point to one and say I think I done her one time, over at Little Paradise, behind the pier. Should’ve heard her screaming for more. And Russ says yeah, he might’ve fucked her too, her and her girlfriend there together. It’s hard to remember. Now I’m wondering how much of it he made up. But at the time it never hit me he might be shitting me same as I was shitting him.

Christ, it gets to where you been saying you’re doing it so long, when you’re not doing it, you get freaked it’s never going to happen. You’re jerking off twenty times a day and alls you can think about is I got to get it or I’ll bust. You can’t concentrate. Sit in shop class and just putting a nut in a bolt’s enough to give you a boner. You get where you think maybe you’ll go crazy, end up in the state hospital. “What you in for?” they ask you. “Incurable hard-on.” “You abusing any substances?” “Yeah. My right hand.”

I was thinking Lydia might be the one. I mean, the girl didn’t have to be no Miss America. Only once you got this reputation that you know what you’re doing, you got to live up to it. Truth is, I wasn’t sure where to start. Do I kiss her or go straight for the tits? What if I get so freaked I can’t get it up? What if I come all over the place before she wants it? And then you wonder what you’re supposed to do after. Do you lie there on top of her or what? Are you supposed to kiss her, hand her her bra or something? Then next time she sees you do you just act like you never fucked or do you grab her ass and jump her again? Man, once you start asking questions it can drive you crazy.

That’s where I was at the night Mrs. Maretto showed me her tattoo. When it happened I was thinking maybe this is my brain going soft from wanting it so bad. Maybe I’m having these hallucinations like what happens to my uncle when he gets drunk. But then I thought, well if I’m dreaming, at least I’m going to make it a good dream. That’s when I unzipped my pants and nailed her.

Christ, all the times I thought about what it would be like, but it was better. Her skin’s so soft. Her hair fans out on the sand like she’s in a shampoo commercial. I put my tongue in her mouth, and I can taste the Tic Tac she was sucking on. We’re so connected, I taste her Tic Tac.

That first time, alls I wanted was to get inside her. I don’t have time to look at her tits. She’s so warm and tight all around me, it’s like I’m in this underground tunnel, and there’s diamonds sparkling all around, and, I don’t know, waterfalls, stars. I’m pumping her, and she’s digging her fingers into my back, and I guess most likely there’s noise from over at the boardwalk and the bars and that, but I don’t hear none of it, I’m in this other world that just has two people, her and me. Partly I’m afraid I’m going to hurt her, I’m pounding so hard, and she’s so little and delicate, but I can’t stop, I just got to do it. Then all of a sudden I know it’s about to happen and for a second I think, What if I’m not supposed to do it now? but it’s too late, I can’t hold back. Man, I just explode all over the place, like someone pulled the pin on a goddam grenade. I black out, see this white light, the works. And then I just fall on top of her. Can’t move.

I guess it’s different with girls. When it’s over, she wants me to get off her, and I’m just wishing I could climb back on top of her and do it again. But her, she’s wired. Hopping up, pulling up her pants, hooking her bra, checking she’s got both her earrings.

“Mrs. Maretto—” I say. It’s funny. I just finished fucking her, and she’s still Mrs. Maretto to me. I don’t even know what I want to say after that, I just got to tell her something that’s big enough for the way I’m feeling. Now I get it why people say “I love you” and “Will you marry me.” Maybe there’s words in the dictionary to go with how you feel at a moment like that, but I sure as hell don’t know them.

But she always knows what to say. She’s still buttoning up her blouse and she’s telling me these, like she calls it, rules. Number one being, I can’t tell anyone. Or it’s over.

This makes me happy, because what that means is, long as I don’t tell we get to do it again. “Sure,” I say. “You got it. Absolutely. You think I’m crazy?” Of course in the end I did tell Russell, but like I said, when you’ve just finished doing it you’ll say anything. You don’t know what you’re doing. It was just later that I lost it there and had to blab.

The next rule is, don’t ever call her up. No problem I say. I don’t have no phone anyways.

She says her husband is a big problem. She don’t know what she’s going to do about him. He could be a very violent guy she says, and he’s Italian. You know how they are. I say don’t worry, I can take care of myself. Her too. She don’t have to worry. Whatever she says, I’m ready.

The last rule was you got to take a shower every morning, and use deodorant and mouthwash. A person should brush their teeth after every meal and have a clean shave every day.

I only have to shave like, every three or four days, but I don’t tell her that. I just say you got it. Then we get up and walk back to her car. I want to have my hands all over her, just touch her hair. But she walks in front.

W
E’RE OUTSIDE HAVING A
smoke as usual, and Jimmy’s not saying nothing. Along comes Susie Q in her Datsun, with this look on her face like she never shits, and only pisses perfume.

“Think she ever spreads her legs?” I say. Tight bitch like that. Freeze your dick off if you try sticking it in that one.

Jimmy don’t say nothing. “I’ve had enough of this TV shit,” I tell him. I mean, it seemed like we might have some fun with old Lydia there, but why bother, you know? It didn’t seem worth the trouble no more.

Jimmy still don’t say nothing. So I say, let’s just bug off her old project there. Just blow this place.

He says no. He don’t want to blow. He wants to finish the video. He’s into it.

“You’ve got to be shitting me, man,” I tell him. “What’ve you been smoking? You turning into some altar boy on me?”

“It’s not like that,” he says. “I just like her. I don’t think we should let her down.” Can you believe it?

“Man,” I say. “Am I losing my mind? Is this Jimmy Emmet I’m talking to or did I walk into the national honor society by mistake?”

“It’s not like you think,” he says. That’s when he tells me he balled her the night before. “You don’t know what it’s like,” he tells me. “I feel like I got let into heaven.” I kid you not. Like they let him into heaven.

At first I thought he was fucking with my mind or something. “Yeah, right,” I say. “And I was balling Paula Abdul.”

“No,” he says. “I mean it. She wanted me to take her to Little Paradise and we had our picture took and she got a tattoo and then she balled me. You don’t know what it was like. This isn’t some cunt you jerk off with. This is like a movie star or a ballerina. Married and everything.” And she chooses him.