The Lord Won't Mind (The Peter & Charlie Trilogy) (36 page)

“Good God Almighty,” he gasped. “What’s the matter?”

Charlie passed a hand over his eyes and shook his head. “Thank God you’re here. Is there anyone else? If I can just get out of these clothes, I’ll be better.”

Peter looked at the slack face, the sagging body. Obviously dead drunk. He saw the dark stain at the crotch, and his blood froze. “Come on,” he said. He kept a careful distance even though he longed to help him when he saw the difficulty with which he walked. He led the way into the bedroom and turned away as Charlie began to drop his trousers. He went to the closet and took out a dressing gown, moving slowly to fill up time. He dreaded seeing Charlie naked; he held the dressing gown up so that he would be ready to cover him as quickly as possible, and turned back. Charlie was cautiously removing a blood-soaked towel from his sex. Peter stood transfixed. His stomach heaved, there was a prickling all through his arms and legs. “Oh, Christ,” he murmured. He sprang forward and threw the dressing gown over Charlie’s shoulders. “For God’s sake, go into the bathroom and take care of it. There’s stuff there if it’s still bleeding. I’ll call a doctor.” Charlie started to move away. “Have you—Did some guy—”

“Hattie.”

“Hattie! Oh, Jesus.” He turned and sprinted for the telephone. She had ripped his cock to pieces. He would kill her. Of course, it could be fixed. It had to be. Even though it would never be his again, the thought that Charlie’s body might be permanently damaged filled him with a desolation like death. He dialed a number.

“Hello, Phil? It’s Peter. I’m sorry to call so late, but you’ve got to get over here … No, I mean right now … You know I wouldn’t ask you to if it wasn’t serious … Well, somebody’s cock is all torn up … Yeah, thanks, honey.” He hung up and returned to the bedroom. He heard water running. In a few moments, Charlie came out, moving more naturally now, wearing the dressing gown. Peter’s breath caught at the glory of the beloved body beneath the loosely flowing silk. He couldn’t help it; all the last months were obliterated by this form, this flesh, this longed-for presence. He wanted to hold him and care for him. There was something very wrong with his face. Pain? He turned his eyes from him with an effort.

“The doctor’s coming. Come on out, and I’ll give you a drink.” He moved quickly ahead into the living room. Charlie followed and slumped into a chair. Peter brought a drink and held it out to him. He shook his head without looking up.

“Oh, God, I’m in such a mess. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t been here.”

Peter put the drink beside him. “You better tell me.”

“She did this with her teeth.” His shoulders contracted, and he covered his face with his hands. He uttered a groan that became a whimper. His shoulders heaved with a deep difficult breath. He dropped his hands and looked at Peter with staring eyes that were filled with terror. “I beat her.” His voice came out in a hoarse whisper. He looked down at the hands resting on his knees and doubled them convulsively into fists. “I beat her as hard as I could. I may’ve—I don’t know. I may’ve killed her.”

Peter’s scalp crawled. “What do you mean, you may have killed her? God, you must’ve been drunk. What are you talking about? Where is she?”

“She’s there. I ran. I had to get away. I had to find you.”

“Oh, darling.” It was said as a protest, yet his heart filled with gratitude at this declaration of a need. They stared into each other’s eyes. Charlie’s face was distorted by a grimace, and his fingers tore at his hair as he swayed and choked in an agonizing effort to suppress the terror within him. Peter clenched his jaw. His whole body began to tremble. “No. No. Don’t. We’ve got to do something. She may need help. She may be dying while we’re sitting here. You must be out of your mind.” He sprang at the telephone and dialed their number with violently shaking hands. He let it ring as long as he could stand it and then flung the instrument down. “I’ve got to get over there. Have you got the keys? I’ll take care of everything. You just stay here and wait for the doctor. Don’t answer the phone if it rings. Where’re the keys?”

Charlie was sitting doubled over, his head on his arms. He lifted a ravaged face and looked at Peter sightlessly. His throat worked. “I’ll get them,” he said, without moving.

“No, don’t bother. Just tell me where they are. Are they in your jacket?”

Charlie nodded. Peter rushed back to the bedroom and found the jacket and fumbled through the pockets. He retrieved the keys. His scalp crawled as he thought of entering the apartment. He moved jerkily as he went and stood in the entrance to the living room. Charlie sat all gathered in on himself, staring at the floor.

“OK, I’ll go now.” His voice was shaky. “Don’t do anything. The doctor’ll be here soon. Don’t answer the phone. Have you thought what you’ll tell the police if they get into it?”

Charlie looked up. “She did this to me. She had her teeth in me and wouldn’t let go. What else could I do? That’s self-defense, isn’t it? Oh, God, baby. I’m so scared. I knew you’d help. Don’t tell her where I am. There was so much blood everywhere.”

“Don’t worry about anything. It’s got to be all right.” He hesitated a moment, fighting down fear, and then turned and left. He grabbed a taxi and had himself dropped on the corner within sight of El Morocco’s lights. He was already thinking about being an accessory after the fact or whatever it was called. Tim would know. What would he do if he found a corpse? No, it just couldn’t happen. Charlie was in a state of shock. He’d been too drunk to know what he was doing. He’d probably just hit her a couple of times, maybe knocked her out, and then panicked. His hands were trembling as he paid the driver. He clung to shadows as he made for the truss shop. As he reached it, there was the sound of car doors slamming next door and a burst of laughter. His heart was beating fast as he entered the dingy building. He remembered about fingerprints. At the end of the hall, he stood at the door, listening. He heard nothing. He made a supreme effort to get a grip on his nerves and muscles and inserted the key noiselessly. Then, covering the knob with the flap of his jacket, he turned it and gently pushed the door open. It made a small sighing sound. He stood just inside it, his heart pounding against the side of his chest, his knees trembling, listening. Silence. Then a dragging sound that made his breath catch, and a thump, and he heard Hattie cursing in a tearful voice. Relief made his head swim. Should he go to her? It would probably only make matters worse. If she could move and curse, she was able to go to the phone and call for help. He prayed for her to do it now so that he could be sure. There were other, unidentifiable sounds. She was there, a few feet from him, moving around. At any moment, she might come out to go to the bathroom or kitchen. No, she mustn’t find him here. He took two infinitely careful steps back into the hall and pulled the door to behind him. It made a faint click. He heard her muffled voice call, “Charlie.” He scuttled down the hall and let himself out. He stood among the garbage pails and took a long breath. His heart was still pounding, his knees trembled beneath him, but he was filled with a wild elation. She was all right. She wouldn’t have called out, she couldn’t have heard the door click, if she weren’t in full possession of her senses. She could take care of herself. He sprang forward and hailed a taxi that had discharged passengers in front of the nightclub.

He burst into his apartment and was confronted by Phil emerging from the bedroom.

“Hi, honey. Kiss.” The doctor gave him a peck. He was a cheerful-looking young man. He jerked his head toward the bedroom. “Nasty. Like everything, it could’ve been worse. It is true about its being his wife?”

Peter nodded. “Just a minute.” He went to the bedroom door. Charlie was getting up from the bed. They looked at each other, and Peter nodded. “She’s all right.” Charlie sank back onto the bed. Peter turned again to the doctor. “It isn’t serious?”

“Serious enough to call me. You were right about that, snooks. The bleeding’s just about stopped. She really got her teeth into him. God. Women are queerer than anybody. It’ll be in working order again in a week or two. I wouldn’t mind having another look at it when it’s healed.” He winked at Peter. “I’ve got to run.”

“You don’t want a drink? Listen, thanks a hell of a lot. I’m sorry about its being so late, honey.”

“For you, any time. Love to Tim and Walter.” He gave Peter a pat on the behind as he went out. Peter returned to the bedroom.

Charlie looked up at him. “You saw her?”

“No, but it’s all right. I need a drink now. Come on, I’ll tell you.” It made him uncomfortable for Charlie to be in the bedroom; he didn’t think Tim would like it. He waited for him to rise and preceded him to the other room. Charlie’s untouched drink was still on the table where he had left it. He put some more ice in it and fixed himself one. Charlie stood watching him.

“It feels better?” Peter asked.

“Yes. Much. Tell me, for God’s sake.”

Peter told him. Charlie sank into a chair and put his head in his hands, pressing his temples.

“Thank God. Oh, thank God. I really thought I might’ve killed her. I don’t know what I was thinking while it was going on. I was so drunk, maybe I wasn’t thinking anything. I probably really wanted to kill her. I know I thought about you. Jesus.” He lay back in the chair and closed his eyes. “What’s going to happen now? Everything’s been so awful. All of it. Oh, God, baby. Why haven’t we been together?” Tears spilled from his eyes and rolled silently down his cheeks.

Peter’s hand clenched his glass. He looked into it and swirled its contents around. “Please don’t. Things just happen, that’s all.” There was a long silence.

“Can I stay here tonight?” Charlie asked.

“No.” Peter was barely able to get the word out.

Charlie lifted his head and rubbed his hand across his eyes and looked up. “What is this place? Is somebody keeping you?”

Peter turned away and took a swallow of his drink. He opened his mouth to speak but couldn’t. He waited a moment for the knot of hurt to dissolve. “I don’t much like that question. You have no right to ask it, but no, as a matter of fact. This was lent me by a friend.”

“Well, what are we going to do?”

Peter’s body stiffened. He closed his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. “We?”

“I can’t go back there. You know that. I’ll never see her again. Oh, God, baby, I’m counting on you so completely. I’ve got to. I can’t go to C. B. like this. You’ve got to help me.”

Peter swallowed hard. Tears sprang into his eyes and he shook them away. “Please. Please,” he begged. “There’s a lot you don’t know about. I’ll do everything I can. You know that. But there’re certain things I just can’t do anything about. How can I help?”

“We’ve got to find some place for me to stay. Hattie’s capable of anything. She might go to the police. She could charge me with assault and battery or attempted manslaughter or God knows what. She’d do it if she sets her mind to it. The scandal wouldn’t stop her. Maybe I ought to get away somewhere until we see how things stand. I can’t think straight. Tell me what to do.”

Faced with practical decisions, Peter felt more safely under control. “I see what you mean. Maybe you should clear out for a few days. I’ll do just about anything for you, but I can’t let you stay here. There’s somebody else involved. Besides, I’m not too difficult to find in this town. If Hattie wants you, I’d probably be the first person she’d think of. No, we’ve got to think of something better. The trouble is, with that thing you can’t go just anywhere. It has to be taken care of.” There was no solution that wouldn’t involve him. He resisted the responsibility even as he welcomed it. Charlie had come to him; he wouldn’t have wanted it otherwise. This was something he was going to have to fight his way through within himself, alone. It was worse than anything he had feared, but he had to face it for his own sake. He had to face it for Tim’s sake. Tears flooded up behind his eyes. He took a long swallow of his drink and put it down. “All right. I have an idea. Let’s give it a try.” He went to the telephone and dialed a number. A sleepy voice answered. “Hello, Whit honey? Peter. Did I wake you up?”

“Not exactly, if you get what I mean. It’s lovely. What’s going on?”

“I’m in sort of a mess. Do you still have your car?”

“Sure. You want it, sweetheart?”

“Could I borrow it for a couple of days?”

“Sure. You want it now? It’s in that garage on Third. You remember? You damn well should.”

Peter laughed. “I remember.”

“I’ll call and tell them you can have it. You better take some identification.”

“You’re a chum, honey. I’m sorry if I interrupted something.”

“You didn’t interrupt. It’s divine. ’Bye.”

Peter hung up. “Well, that’s that,” he said without looking at Charlie. “I’ll pack a bag. You can wear something of mine.”

“Where’re we going?”

“I don’t know. Connecticut, I guess. It’s the easiest. I was up at Stamford a few weeks ago. It’s a pretty big town. There’ll be a hotel.”

“I haven’t got any money.”

“That’s the least of our worries. Just a minute. I’ve got to make another call.” He returned thoughtfully to the bedroom and picked up the house phone that connected with Walter. “Hello, old pal,” he said when Walter answered. “You’re not asleep?”

“No indeed. It’s always a pleasure to talk to you.”

“Well, listen. This is sort of crazy. I’m going away for a day or two. Charlie’s in some pretty bad trouble.”