Heat of Night (8 page)

He drove along the shell road and pulled over at Juan’s house. It was dark. “You better run,” he told her. “Once this rain starts, it may never stop.”

She clung to him, mouth parted and hot. She was breathless. “I never loved anybody but you,” he said.

“I don’t care if you did.”

“But I didn’t.”

“It won’t matter. It won’t be the same anyhow. You’ll see.”

“It already isn’t the same.”

But she’d slipped out of the car and was running across the yard. Lightning sent sheets of white fire dancing around her. Paralyzed, he sat watching until she disappeared around a corner of the house. He turned the car then, driving slowly away, chilled without her. The storm was almost upon them.

Dolores ran up the steps. She would never go to sleep but how pleasant it was going to be to snuggle under her covers in this storm and dream of what had happened, of what was ahead.

She heard movement on the darkened porch and she paused, catching her breath.

“Dolores.”

His voice was flat with his misery. It was Ric.

R
IC.
“ D
OLORES WAS BREATHLESS
, feeling the night wind at her back, riffling her hair, chilling her. “What are you doing here?”

A sudden flare of lightning showed his face an ash gray. Whether she wanted to or not, she saw into his tormented eyes. She clenched her own eyes tightly shut and only partly because of the glare of lightning. She did not want to see what was in Ric’s face.

“I was waiting for you.”

“I’m sorry, Ric.”

She saw him straighten in the shadows. “It’s all right…. I haven’t been here long.” His tone implied a meaning to these words but she missed it. They were hard and sarcastic, flung at her but she didn’t understand anything except that he wanted to hurt her because he was hurt.

“I am sorry, Ric.”

“I want to talk to you.”

She bit her lip, flung her gaze about the porch helplessly, feeling trapped. “Oh, Ric. It’s so late.”

“I know how late it is. I still want to talk to you.”

She protested even when it was fruitless to protest. “Everybody is asleep.”

“Nobody is asleep around here. They’re all awake. Don’t think they’re not. All awake — all worried about you and that old man.”

She felt empty and futile, it pleased Ric to call Mal
old man
— it was the easiest way to express his bitter hatred: cursing him wouldn’t do half as well. Nothing could point up the differences between Mal and herself better than the difference in age. This made Mal a fool to pursue her, made of her something worse and lower to allow it.

She exhaled. “Oh, Ric.”

“I want to talk to you. You hear?”

She shook her head. “It’s late, Ric. So chilly out here. It’s going to rain. Besides, we’ll only keep everybody awake.”

He stared down at her. “We can talk in my car. It’s out back of the house.”

She frowned. “I didn’t see it.”

“You didn’t see anything but that guy. That boss.”

“Ric. I don’t want to fight with you.”

“Too tired to fight, eh?” His voice was bitter but misery made it quiver.

“I just don’t want to fight with you.”

“We won’t fight…. I want to talk. Come on.”

She glanced about helplessly. What was there to talk about? Anything to say between them had already been said a thousand summers ago — those faraway lost autumn evenings when he was the school hero and she was his love — when they were children. Oh, why couldn’t Ric see that? What was there to say to him? She was sorry for him but he didn’t want her pity. She didn’t love him any more — she hadn’t truly loved him, ever. A schoolgirl crush on the high school hero. It was as though it had happened to somebody else. She wasn’t even that same person — any more than he was what he had been then. They were both different people. Why didn’t he leave her alone? She didn’t want to say this to him, either. She didn’t want to hurt him any more.

“Oh, Ric. Please. Not tonight.”

“Tonight.” He growled it at her. “I know you’re all tired out. I know why. God help me, I know why. But this you better know. Either you talk to me — or I go talk to your fine boss. You make up your mind. Which you want?”

“He’s nothing to you, Ric.”

“He’s something to me, all right. He’s twice your age. A rotten old man, playing around with the girl I love. You’re too good for him, too decent … I’d think of something to say, all right.”

“Please, Ric. Stop.”

“Come on out to the car.”

She sighed and nodded. He went ahead of her down the steps, shoulders braced, hands shoved into slack pockets. She glanced toward the bay. The rain was somehow held suspended, a few raindrops were blown in on gusts and then there was only the charged silence.

They went around the house and across the yard, Ric striding ahead and Dolores trotting to stay at his heels. As she moved she tried to think of something that would send him away for good, but she could think of nothing. Even if she told him that she didn’t love him, had never loved him, he wouldn’t believe her. People never believed that truth. It would only rouse his anger more.

Ric pulled open the door of his three-year-old Ford. She glanced at him but his face was cold, set against her. She got in the car, struck by pungent odors of gun oil and whisky.

“Ric, you’ve been drinking.”

“I been waiting for you. What should I do?”

“Oh, Ric, you’ve got to stop this.”

He laughed, a savage sound in the closed car. “Stop what? Stop loving you? How do I stop loving you, Dolores? How do I turn it off?”

She shook her head, knotting her fists in her lap. “Ric. This is no good.”

“What’s no good? You mean I got no right to wait here for you when you’re out laying with that fine boss?”

“Ric!”

“Well, it’s the truth, ain’t it?” He spoke in helpless savagery; before he’d always been so careful with her. Now he’d lost her, he knew he’d lost her, it didn’t matter what he said, what he did: he was lost anyhow.

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Her voice was cold. “Ric, I wouldn’t lie to you about anything. I would tell you the truth. About this, I certainly would. But it’s not true.”

He wasn’t tortured enough, he had to twist the knife in himself. “Do you love him?”

“Stop tormenting yourself.”

“Do you?” He crushed her arms in his hands, hurting.

“I think so. All right. Yes. I love him.”

“Oh my God.”

“Ric, I didn’t want to hurt you. But you’ve got to know the truth.”

“The truth. That you love that stinking rich bastard? Jesus, Dolores. I don’t know how to tell you, you’re all I got left. The last thing in Christ’s world. They’ve taken everything else from me. He can’t have you. I won’t let him.”

“Ric. He didn’t. I don’t love you.”

He didn’t even hear her. “If I ain’t got you, I got nothing.”

“Ric, it would be better if we stopped seeing each other. So much better. For both of us.”

“For both of us?” He heard this, and snarled at her. “You don’t care about both of us — you just want me out of the way for a while so you can play around with this guy — and then come back when you’re tired of him — ”

“No, Ric. No.”

“You want me to stay away so you can lay that old guy — ” He laughed at her, a choked sound. “He’s been married once — a dame he couldn’t satisfy, couldn’t keep. God knows, I know plenty about her. If he was no good for her, what does he want with another one? He couldn’t keep her — so now he comes smelling around, messing you up.”

“Ric, this isn’t helping anything.”

“What’s the matter? Can’t you take the truth? That son-of-a-bitch cattin’ around! And what does that make you?”

“I don’t know.”

“I can tell you what it makes you.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Well, you might as well get used to hearing it. It makes you his slut.”

She reached for the doorhandle. “Goodbye, Ric.”

He caught her shoulders and jerked her around to face him. “Where you think you’re going, slut?”

“Ric.” She shook her head, eyes brimmed with tears. “You got no right to talk to me like this.”

“Why not? What else are you? Catting around with a man old enough to be your father. What about us?”

“I told you, Ric. Oh, I tried to tell you.”

His fingers closed on her shoulders, bruising her. He shook her. He didn’t want to hear the truth. He closed his ears and his mind against it.

He pressed his face close to hers. She was aware of the heat and smell of whisky on his breath. She felt nauseated and tried to pull away. He wouldn’t let her move. Lightning snapped, thunder rattled outside the closed car. They were not aware of it. Gusts of wind shook the car on its frame and they didn’t notice. Sudden rain slapped at the windows. Dolores could think only that she had to get away from him. She’d tried to be nice to him, that didn’t help, wasn’t any good. If she got away from him now she’d never see him again. She owed him nothing, she’d tried to tell him but until now, tonight, she’d never actually hated and despised him.

And Ric could think only that he could not let her go. She was the last thing he had in the world and he could not lose her. If he lost her he wouldn’t even want to go on living. He wouldn’t lose her, he wouldn’t let her go. Somehow, he’d make her come to her senses, if he had to beat some sense into her. She loved him, she’d always loved him, she was all he had left.

His face was twisted. His voice shook. “What’s he got, Dolores? What’s he got that’s so wonderful?”

“I don’t know.”

“What makes you so sure you love him then?”

“I don’t know. Nobody knows
why
they love someone — ”

“You just do? He’s got a big house, a big car, lots of bucks to spend on you … or does he buy it from you?”

She caught her breath, straightened, but saw the ugly words he hurled at her tormented him even more than they injured her pride.

“Stop it, Ric. I won’t stay here and listen to this.”

“You’ll stay here. And you’ll listen, slut.”

“Ric, shut up.”

“He’s not going to have you. You’re the last thing I got on the face of God’s earth, and that son-of-a-bitch ain’t going to take you away from me.”

She stared at him, moved her gaze about his car, about the darkened cage of night. “Listen, Ric. I don’t love you. I don’t.”

“Sure, you don’t. You can’t see anything but that old rich character. He’s got nothing I haven’t got — and by Jesus, tonight you’re going to find it out.”

“Ric!” His hands were mauling at her body, pulling at her clothes, rough, angered, crude. She fought at his hands, trying to escape him.

“Lay still! Lay still or I’ll kill you! I know what you did up at his place, slut. Hell, you think I didn’t see you?”

She whispered it. “You followed us.”

“You’re goddamn right to hell I followed you. You ought to tell your old stud you can see in those big windows just as good as you can see out of them. Quite a show. God damn you, you slut. Quite a show.”

“Ric, you disgust me.”

“Don’t give me that! I watched you. Music. A servant bringing dinner. Stupid son-of-a-bitch. Can’t make you on his own, so he turns on money like water in a tap. Did that do it, slut? That why you sprawled out on the couch with your legs open?”

“Ric. You’re drunk. Disgusting.” Her eyes blazed. She broke free and struggled with the doorhandle.

He yelled at her, breath hot with whisky, thick with hate. “I told you, damn you. Stay here or I’ll kill you.” He caught her, thrust her down on the seat, pressed himself against her. “I saw you. Showing it to him. Well, you’re going to show it to me. I’m going to have it, like he had it, all of it. I’m going to look at it, and touch it, and have it — ”

“Ric. Let me out of here.”

“All these years, I tried to be somebody big for you. Boy. That’s a laugh. Thought it mattered to you. You didn’t give a damn. All you could think was to run up there and slut for that old stud.”

She could hardly breathe. She tried to writhe free. He twisted her body, thrusting her lower on the seat. She felt her head reeling.

“Why didn’t you give him that old song and dance you used to give me, slut? You had to wait, you couldn’t do it until you married — had to be the right man — you’d die if it wasn’t the right man. Had to be like Juan and Rosa, had to stay a virgin, most important thing in your life. Crap. And I fell for it. But he didn’t fall for it, did he?”

She thrust upward and he struck her across the face. “Did he?” Ric yelled at her.

She toppled back, stunned, staring up at him, eyes distended. “You’re crazy, Ric. Crazy and drunk.”

“Sure. I went crazy when I saw that bastard pulling those drapes closed up at that whorehouse of his. I got drunk waiting for you to get out of there.”

“Oh, Ric,” she whispered. “You’ve no right.”

“I got every right. I fell for that virginity gag. I waited but you’re mine. You always been mine. Ask anybody. They’ll tell you. Dolores Venzino and Ric Suarez. Ask ‘em, damn you. Ask ‘em.”

“Ric, I don’t love you.”

“Sure. You love him, the fine big stud. Well, baby, you’re going to know whether I’m better than he is or not.”

His hands caught at her dress front, ripping it. His hands moved and he no longer knew what he did, no longer cared. Blood throbbed in his temples. His eyes felt as though they were being pressured from his head. He could no longer see her beneath him. Before his eyes was only this white sick splash of failure. Bum. Coward. Drunk. A nothing. Without Dolores, he was less than nothing, when he lost her he lost every reason for living. But he wouldn’t lose her, he couldn’t lose her. He tore away her clothes, she was no longer the girl he’d loved with tender, and hesitant passion, almost afraid to touch her because he might offend and lose her. Now he saw nothing but those drapes closing across the windows up on the hill.

“Oh my God,” he moaned aloud.

His hands moved on her, pressing her, touching her, squeezing her. He saw himself on a muddy field, bowl empty in the practice afternoon, grass spotted and cleat-torn, chilled; they beat him down and made a fool of him, taking away his scholarship and his feeling of accomplishment, and they didn’t even care. And Dolores didn’t care, and he hated them and he hated her. He wasn’t going to let her. go. Couldn’t she see this? Why did she fight him? Why did she gouge at his face? Why was she screaming at him? She belonged to him, didn’t she? He had to have her. He had to keep her.

“Stop fighting, damn you. You want me to kill you?”

She screamed but even in the car the scream was lost, unheard in the thick hatred.

“Ric. For God’s sake. Don’t. Please don’t.”

He laughed at her, weeping at the same time. “Save the waltz, tramp. Save it. This is in two-time. By God, you might want Hollister after this — but you’ll know about Ric Suarez, about a man wantin’ you. Is this what he did, baby? Hold you like this? Like this? Is this what he did to you? This? This? This?”

His head rolled back and forth on the seat. She scratched at him, kicked at him. “Don’t. God, please don’t.”

She began to wail, rolling her head, wild. “I won’t see him again, Ric. I promise. Anything. I won’t see him. Please, Ric. God knows, I can’t stand it! I’ll die, Ric. It’s all I am, Ric. All I have. Don’t Ric. I won’t want to live …”