The Lord Won't Mind (The Peter & Charlie Trilogy) (35 page)

Suddenly Hattie was upon him, a clanking blaze of indignation in the middle of the living room. “Great. Really great. I can see you’re going to have a brilliant career.”

“Oh, forget it,” he growled.

“Jack Dempsey himself. I talked Andy out of taking it to Equity, but a fat lot of good that’s going to do. We mustn’t speak rudely to the great Mr. Mills. We mustn’t criticize the great Mr. Mills. If the great Mr. Mills is displeased he walks out.” She was a mocking clown’s face, looming over him, grimacing obscenely.

“Can it, will you? I’m not interested.”

“Of course not. You can go to bed with Peter, but you can’t go to bed with Meyer Rapper when you have a chance at the biggest break you’ll ever get.”

“No, I can’t,” he shouted.

“Andy’s right. You are a faggot. Not a plain, ordinary faggot, but a dedicated faggot. You can’t have a roll in the hay for fun or profit. You’ve got to have the boy of your dreams. Any real man would’ve let Rapper have him and gotten on with the job.”

“You slut. You filthy slut.” He reared up out of the chair.

Hattie stood her ground. “Fine. Now I suppose you’re going to knock
me
out. Why don’t you take up prizefighting?”

“You’d let yourself get laid by anybody, wouldn’t you, if you thought it might help you get a job.”

“Considering what most of the men in the theater are like, I don’t think it’s apt to be a problem. But yes, goddamn it, I would. I’m going to be a success. I’m not afraid to work at it in any way I can.”

“You’re nothing but a whore. A dirty goddamn whore. Maybe I
will
give you a good sock.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” she crowed at him. “At least I’ve got you out of that pitiful little commuter’s job. You’ll have time now to get out and do something. If it means sleeping with somebody, you’d better think twice before you turn it down. Your fancy boy’s not going to be much help to you.”

“You’re really dirty, aren’t you? Dirty and stupid. You’d like to turn me into a whore, too, wouldn’t you? We’d make a fine pair. Well, you’re not going to, you understand? I’m going to take every penny I can get my hands on, including your parents’ wedding present, and pay off the bills. I should’ve done it weeks ago. I may even sell a few of your more valuable trinkets. Once we’ve got all that cleared up, we can sit back and starve together.”

“You shit. You try any tricks like that, and you’ll really be in trouble. It’s my money, remember.”

“I hear a lot about your money, but it never seems to pay for anything. Anyway, your father gave it to me to take care of, so you can kiss it good-bye.”

“I warn you, Charlie Mills. I have my own plans for that money. God, you’ve got such a dull conventional little mind. Paying bills!”

“Ridiculous, isn’t it? Like trying to live on the money you really have. I can’t wait for you to see what it’s like. Sure, quit your job. Be an actor. Christ, I’ll bet you don’t make one full week’s salary out of this great production. You’re not even a well-paid whore.”

“Oh, God, deliver me. If you go on screaming about money, you’re going to be sorry.”

“Am I? What’re you going to do about it?”

“Don’t you wish you knew. Just don’t try anything smart with my money, that’s all. I’m warning you.”

“All right, you’ve warned me. Now run along, will you? You make me sick.” He slumped back into his chair and poured himself another drink.

She stood in front of him, breathing hard. With studied deliberation she removed a great deal of jewelry and dropped it in a clattering pile on the desk. He could feel the animosity running hard and strong between them. All his drinks had put him at a disadvantage; he hadn’t quite succeeded in gaining the upper hand.

She left the room. He interpreted it as a retreat. She couldn’t stand up to him for long, but circumstances had given her a new weapon. He thought of the weeks to come, of her going off triumphantly to work every day, of her inevitable endless taunts as he fruitlessly went the rounds of the theatrical offices. By God, he wouldn’t take it. He really would use her wedding present. That would drive her wild. He’d fix it so that she was thrown out of the damn play, too. Faggot. She would pay for that.

She returned, bringing the animosity with her, and lolled before him, wearing a loose dressing gown. “Still sulking? Oh, well, don’t let me interrupt you. You’re too drunk to be worth much as a fuck.”

“Am I? We’ll see about that.” He heaved himself out the chair and staggered slightly and began pulling off his clothes. “God knows, a fuck is all you’re good for.” He grappled with his shoes and peeled off his socks and brushed past her as he dropped his trousers. He careened into the bathroom and began to fling her cosmetics about as he searched for the lubricant. He hadn’t used it with her a second time, but he had to have it now. He’d make her grovel. He wanted to see her writhing beneath him, grunting and panting like a little beast. He felt his sex stiffen and lift with a lust for hurting her. He found the tube and lunged out of the bathroom. She was naked in bed. He stood swaying over her.

“All right. Turn over,” he ordered.

She looked up at him with a mocking smile. Her eyes dropped to his sex. “The great Mr. Mills. When all else fails, he always has that to wave around.” She lifted herself into a kneeling position and sat back on her heels. “If this is going to be one of our fun nights, why don’t we try something new? A blow job, I believe it’s called.”

“Sure. Go ahead. I thought you’d get around to it sooner or later.”

“Yes, we mustn’t let Peter have all the fun.”

“I just hope you do it half as well.”

She glanced up at him, and her eyes went blank and steely. She leaned forward and took the sex in one hand and opened her mouth and clamped her teeth into it.

He roared with rage and pain. “Stop,” he shouted.

She ground her teeth into him. He felt as if he were being ripped to shreds. The pain became a ravaging instant of hate. His fists doubled. He tried to pull away but he was gripped in a vice of pain. He seized her hair and yanked. Her teeth tore him. A sob of pain caught in his throat. “Oh Christ—” He lifted his fist and smashed it into the side of her face. Instinct tempered the force of the first blow, but as her teeth continued to tear into him he struck again and yet again, his muscles driving with all his strength. It became a frenzied intoxication of destruction. Destroy her. Destroy their life together. Recapture the happiness she had destroyed. For an instant, Peter flashed into his mind like a beacon lighting the way out of black horror.

He went on hitting her after her teeth had lost their grip. He was on the bed, straddling her, beating her with both fists. His chest heaved. His breath came in wheezing gasps. When the veil of rage lifted from his eyes, he saw blood everywhere. There was blood on her face and breasts, blood on his sex and thighs. His hands were bloody. He remained poised over her for a stunned instant and then scrambled out of the bed. He backed away from it. She lay inert and motionless. The room was filled with a thin muted scream. He realized that the noise was coming from his own throat. He turned and ran into the bathroom and turned on water. He couldn’t look at his torn and throbbing sex. He swabbed at himself with a washcloth and wrapped himself in a small towel. He stumbled back into the living room, without looking toward the bed, and gathered up clothes from where he had thrown them. He pulled them on, looking only at his hands as they performed their necessary chores.

The trousers chafed his sex. Every move hurt. He adopted a slight crouch and sidled to the door with a hand in his pocket to hold his sex immobile. He opened the door with care and slipped out and closed it gently behind him, as if he were afraid of waking her. Walking as fast and straight as he could, he went up Lexington Avenue till he found a drugstore and entered the telephone booth. He had to see C. B. She would take charge of everything. But he couldn’t see her or call her in the state he was in now. He called Tommy Whitethorne.

“Tommy? Listen, do you know where Peter is?” He spoke in a mumbled undertone as if he might be overheard.

“What’s the matter? Speak up. Did you say Peter? What’s going on?”

“Please. I can’t talk now. Do you know where he is? It’s important.”

“Sure. I’ve got his number here. Just a second. I might as well warn you he’s shacked up in fairly ornate style.”

Charlie waited only to get the number and hung up. His hands were shaking as he dialed again. In a moment, he heard the familiar voice.

“Oh, Jesus, thank God,” he almost sobbed into the phone. “Listen, I’ve got to see you. Can I come right away?”

There was a pause and then Peter’s voice seemed to come from very far away. “Charlie?”

“Yes. I’ve got to see you right away.”

“You sound funny. Is something the matter?”

“Yes. Everything. Listen, don’t make me talk now. Just give me your address.”

“Sure, but—well, it just isn’t convenient now. Can’t we make it tomorrow?”

“No. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Oh, God, baby, you’ve got to help me.”

“Well, in that case. Can’t I come meet you some place?”

“No, it’s got to be there. You’ll see why. This is serious. You’ve got to believe me.”

“I see. Just give me a little time to think. No. All right. Of course you can come. Only, I couldn’t do this for anybody but you. Understand? You really mean it’s serious? It’d be a hell of a lot better for me to meet you out some place.”

“It just isn’t possible. Please, baby. Please believe me.”

“Sure. I do. OK.” He gave him the address and hung up slowly. He had been taking off his jacket when the telephone rang, and he had it with him on his lap. He put it on again as he went back to the bedroom where Tim was just hanging up his. Tim turned and glanced at him questioningly. Peter went to him and stood looking up into his deep-set eyes. “Damn. Oh, damn. This is rotten. I can’t stand it. I’m going to have to ask you to leave, big boy.”

“Leave? Now?”

Peter nodded. “It was Charlie. He sounded awful. He has to see me right away.”

“Can’t you go meet him somewhere?”

“That’s what I wanted to do. He said it had to be here. I can’t imagine what it is. He really scared me.”

Tim laid his hand on Peter’s cheek and looked at him. “Don’t you think maybe I should stay?”

“I thought of that. I certainly don’t want any secrets. But from the way he sounded, I think it may be something pretty bad. It wouldn’t be fair to him until I’ve found out what it’s all about.”

“I see.” He turned back to the closet and took the jacket off the hanger and put it on. He put both hands on Peter’s shoulders and grinned. “I’ll go quietly.” The grin faded, and his eyes looked gravely into Peter’s. “There’s just one thing I want you to tell me. Is there any chance of this leading to bed?”

“With Charlie? Good lord, no. No. I’m yours, big boy. You know that.”

The big hands gripped Peter’s shoulders hard. “You’re mine, all right. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. I love you, squirt.”

“I love you. So damn much.”

Tim leaned over and kissed his mouth. He straightened and looked down at him with smiling eyes. “You never say you’re
in
love with me, do you? I’m on to your tricks, but I don’t mind. I’m sure as hell in love with you. If you only knew how much I wanted to lock you in and not let you see him. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

Peter moved in close to him and dropped his forehead against his shoulder. “I have to see him. He asked me to help him. You do understand, don’t you?”

“Sure. I trust you, Skeezix. I know anything you feel you have to do is right. You’re so damned straight.” He put his arms around Peter and held him close.

“It’s lousy. This is the first time I’ve ever done anything that’s kept us apart for a night. Or even five minutes, as far as that goes. It really bothers me.”

“And I do it all the time, don’t I? I’m going to have to do it again tomorrow. That damned Chrysler thing. How about a quickie if I can get away from the office early? We’ve never done that.”

Peter lifted his head, and they looked at each other and laughed. “That’d be pretty racey. I’ll be lying around in something sexy waiting for you.”

“OK. We’ll talk first thing in the morning. I hope it isn’t anything too bad.”

“I hope so too. I’ll call you in a little while if it’s anything I think you’d want to know. Thanks, big boy. Big lover boy.”

They held each other and exchanged a long kiss and Tim gave Peter’s nose a little tweak and was gone. Peter looked at his watch. Five minutes. Charlie would be here any moment now. He searched his mind for some explanation for the strange call. The only reason he could think of for Charlie turning to him was that it must have something to do with his special world. Had he got into trouble in a bar? It frightened him. If it had anything to do with the police, his coming here would risk involving Walter and even Tim. He warned himself not to be snowed under by Charlie, the way he always had been. Keep cool. Try to think straight. There was too much at stake. The doorbell rang, a jangling intrusion on the silence. Peter started and then hurried to the door and opened it. Charlie lurched in and sagged against the wall. Peter’s heart turned over.