The Rip-Off (5 page)

"Guess."

"Something very soft and very firm?"

"Mmm."

"Possessing an elastic quality?"

"Mmm."

"Almost painfully but wonderfully tight?"

"Mmm."

"Self-lubricating?"

"Mmm."

"Mmm. Now, what in the world could it be?"

Repeatedly staggered out of my bed and went to the bathroom. Over and over, I went down on my knees and vomited into the bowl. Gagging up the bile of fear, as I shivered and sweated with its burning chill. I tried to blame it on an overactive imagination, but I couldn't lie to myself. I'd lied once too often when I lied to Manny- about the one thing I should never have lied about. And the fact that the lie was one of omission, rather than commission, and that lying was more or less a way of life with me, would not lift me off the hook a fraction of an inch. Not with Manuela Aloe. She would regard my lie as inexcusable, as, of course, it was.

In saying that I was unmarried on my PXA loan application, I hadn't meant to harm anyone. (I have never meant to harm anyone with what I did and didn't do.) It was just a way of avoiding troublesome questions re the status of my marriage: were my wife and I living together; and if not, why not, and so on.

But I knew that Manny depended on that application for her information about me. And I could have and should have set her straight. For I knew-must have known-that I was not being treated with such extravagant generosity to buy Manny a passing relationship. She wanted a husband. One with good looks, good breeding and a good name-the kind not easily found in her world or any world. Then she had found me, and oh-so-clearly demonstrated the advantages of marriage to her, and I, tacitly, had agreed to the marriage. She had been completely honest with me, and I had been just as completely dishonest with her. And, now, by God-!

Now…?

But a man can be afraid just so much. (I say that as an expert on being afraid.) When he reaches that limit, he can fear no more. And so, at last, my pajamas wet with cold sweat, I returned to bed and fell into restless sleep.

In the morning, Mrs. Olmstead brought me toast and coffee and asked suspiciously if I had mailed a letter she had given me yesterday. I said that I had, for she was always giving me letters to mail, and I always remembered to mail. Or almost always. She nagged me, with increasing vehemence, about the imminent peril of rats. And I swore I would do something about them, too; and mumbling and grumbling, she at last left me alone.

I lay back down and closed my eyes…
and Manny came into my room
, a deceptive smile on her lovely face. For naturally, although she had learned that I was married, she showed no sign of displeasure.

"But it's all right, darling, and I understand perfectly. You needed the money and you were dying to sleep with me. And-here, have a drink of this nice coffee I fixed for you."

"No! It's poisoned, and-yahh!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, dear! I wouldn't have spilled it on you for the world. Let me just wipe it off-"

"Yeeow! You're scratching my eyes out! Get away, go away…"

My eyes snapped open.

I sat up with a start.

Mrs. Olmstead was bent over me. "My goodness, goodness me!" she exclaimed. "What's the matter, Mr. Rainstar?"

"Nothing; must've been having a nightmare," I said sheepishly. "Was I making a lot of racket?"

"Were you ever! Sounded like you was scared to death." Shaking her head grumpily, she turned toward the door. "Oh, yeah, your girlfriend wants you."

"What?" I said.

"Reckon she's your girlfriend, the way you're always pawing at each other."

"But-you mean, Miss Aloe?" I stammered. "She's here?"

"Course, she's not here. Don't see her, do you?" She gestured exasperatedly. "Answer the phone, a-fore she hangs up!"

I threw on a robe, and ran downstairs.

I grabbed up the phone, and said hello.

"Boo, you pretty man!" Manny laughed teasingly. "What's the matter with you anyway?"

"Matter?" I said. "Uh, what makes you think anything's the matter?"

"I thought you sounded gruff and strained. But never mind. I want to see you. Be at our place in about an hour, okay?"

I swallowed heavily. Had she decided that something was wrong? That I was hiding something?

"Britt…?"

"Why?" I said. "What did you want to see me about?"

"What?" I could almost see her frown. "What did I want to see you
about?
"

I apologized hastily. I said I'd just gone to sleep after tossing and turning all night, and I seemed to be coming down with the flu. "I'd love to see you, Manny, child, but I think it would be bad for you. The way I'm feeling, the farther you keep away from me the better."

She said, Oh, disappointedly, but agreed that it was probably best not to see me. She was leaving town for a couple of weeks-some business for Uncle Pat. Naturally, she would have liked a session with me before departing. But since I seemed to be coming down with something, and it wouldn't do for her to catch it…

"You just take care of yourself, Britt. Get to feeling hale and hearty again, because you'll have to be when I get back."

"I'll look forward to it," I said. "Have a good trip, baby."

"And, Britt. I put a two-thousand-dollar bonus check in the mail to you."

"Oh, that's too much," I said. "I'm really overpaid as it is, and-"

"You just shut up!" she said sternly, then laughed. "Bye, now, darling. I gotta run."

"Bye to you," I said. And we hung up.

I had sent Connie three thousand dollars out of my first PXA check, and another three out of the second. Explaining that I'd gotten on to something good, though probably temporary, and that I'd send her all I could as long as it lasted. After all, I hadn't sent much before, lacking much to send, and it was sort of a conscience salve for my affair with Manny.

When my bonus arrived, I mailed Connie a check for the full two thousand. Then, after waiting a few days, until I was sure she had got it, I called her.

Britt Rainstar, stupe de luxe, figured that getting so much scratch-seven grand in less than two months- would put her in a fine mood. Bonehead Britt, sometimes known as the Peabrain Pollyanna, reasoned that all that loot would buy reasonableness and tolerance from Connie. Which just goes to show you. Yessir, that shows you, and it shows something about him, too. (
And please stop laughing, dammit!
)

For she was verbally leaping all over me, almost before I had asked her how she was feeling.

"I want to know where you got that money, Britt. I want to know how much more you got-a full and complete accounting, as Daddy says. And don't tell me that you got it from Hemisphere, because we've already talked to them and they said you didn't. They said that you had severed your association with them. So you tell me where you're getting the money, and exactly how much you're getting. Or, by golly, you'll wish you had."

"I see," I said numbly; surprised, though God knows I should not have been. I was always surprised, when being stupid, that people thought I was stupid. "I think I really see for the first time, namely that you and your daddy are a couple of miserable piles of shit."

"Who from and how much? I either find out from you, Mister Britton Rainstar, or
-What?
What did you say to me?"

"Never mind," I said. "I tell you the source of the money, and you check to see if I'm telling the truth-as to the quantity, that is. That's your plan, isn't it?"

"Well…" She hesitated. "But I have a right to know! I'm your wife."

"Do you and are you?" I said. "A wife usually trusts her husband, when he treats her as generously as I've been treating you."

"Well,
all right
," she said at last, grudgingly defensive. "I certainly don't want to make you lose your job, and- and-well, Hemisphere had no right to get huffy about it! Anyway, just look at what you did to me!"

"I didn't do anything to you, Connie. It was an accident."

"Well, anyway," she said. "Just the same!"

I didn't say anything. Simply waited. After a long silence, I heard her take a deep breath, and she spoke with an incipient sob.

"I s-suppose you want a divorce, now. You wouldn't talk to me this way, if you didn't."

"Divorce makes sense, Connie. You'll get just as much money, as if we were married, and I know you can't feel any great love for me."

"Then you
do
want a divorce?"

"Yes. It's the best thing for both of us, and-"

"WELL, YOU JUST TRY AND GET ONE!" she yelled. "I'll have you in jail for attempted murder so fast, it'll make your head swim! You arranged that accident that almost killed me, and the case isn't closed yet! They're ready to reopen it any time Daddy and I say the word. And golly, you try and get a divorce, and, by gosh-!"

"Connie," I said. "You surely can't mean that!"

"You'll see! You'll see if I don't. Just let me hear one more word out of you about a divorce, and-and-
I'll show you who's a pile of shit!"

She slammed up the phone, completing any damage to my eardrum that had not been accomplished by her banshee scream. Of course, I'd hardly expected her to bedeck me with a crown of olive leaves, or to release a covey of white doves to flutter about my head. But a threat to have me prosecuted for attempted murder was considerably much more than I
had
expected.

At any rate, a divorce was impossible unless she agreed to it. Which mean that it was impossible period. Which meant that I could not marry Manny.

Which meant…?

The restaurant was near the lake I have mentioned earlier. The city waterworks lake. There was only a handful of patrons in it, this early evening hour, and they gradually drifted out as I talked to Manny, apologizing and explaining. Explaining the inexplicable and apologizing for the inexcusable.

Manny said not a word throughout my recital. Merely stared at me expressionlessly over her untouched dinner.

At last, I had nothing more to say, if I had ever had anything to say. And, then, finally, she spoke, pulling a fringed-silk shawl around her shoulders and rising to her feet.

"Pay the check, and get out of here."

"What? Oh, well, sure," I said, dropping bills on the table as I also stood up. "And, Manny, I want you to know that-"

"Get! March yourself out to the car!"

We got out of the restaurant, with Manny clinging to my arm, virtually propelling me by it. She helped me into the car, instead of vice versa. Then, she got in, into the rear, sitting immediately behind me.

I heard her purse snap open. She said, "I've got a gun on you, Britt. So you get out of line just a little bit, and you won't like what happens to you."

"M-Manny," I quavered. "P-please don't-"

"Do you know where I went while I was out of town?"

"N-no."

"Do you want to know what I did?"

"Uh, n-no," I said. "I don't think I do."

"Start driving. You know where."

"But-You mean, our place? W-why do you want to-"

"
Drive!"

I drove.

We reached the place. She made me walk ahead of her, inside and up the stairs and into our room.

I heard the click of the door lock. And then Manny asked if I'd heard a woman being slapped on the first day I went to her office.

I said that I had-or, rather, a recording of same; I had grown calmer by now, with a sense of fatalism.

"You heard
her
, Britt. She left the office by my private elevator."

I nodded, without turning around. "You wanted me to hear her. It was arranged, like the scene with Albert after you'd left that night. I was being warned that I'd better fly straight or else."

"You admit you
were
warned, then?"

"Yes. I tried to kid myself that it was all an unfortunate accident. But I knew better."

"But you went right ahead and deceived and cheated me. Did you really think I'd let you get away with it?"

I shook my head miserably, said I wanted to make things right insofar as I could. I'd give the car back, and what little money I had left. And I'd sell everything I owned- clothes, typewriter, books, everything-to raise the rest. Anything she or PXA had given me, I'd give back, and- and-

"What about all the screwing I gave you? I suppose you'll give that back, too!"

"No," I said. "I'm afraid I can't do anything about that."

"Oh, sure you can," she said. "You can give me a good one right now."

And I whirled around, and she collapsed in my arms, laughing.

"Ahhh, Britt, darling! If you could have seen your face! You were really frightened, weren't you? You really thought I was angry with you, didn't you?"

"Of course, I thought it!" I said, and, hugging her, kissing her, I swatted her bottom. "My God! The way you were talking, and waving that gun around-!"

"Gun? Look, no gun!" She held her purse open for examination. "I couldn't be angry with you, Britt. What reason would I have? You were married, and you couldn't get unmarried. But you just about had to have the job, and you wanted me. So you did the only thing you could. I understand perfectly, and don't you give it another thought, because nothing is changed. We'll go on just like we were; and everything's all right."

It was hard to believe that things would be all right. Knowing her as well as I did, I didn't see how they could be. As the weeks passed, however, my suspicions were lulled-almost,
almost
leaving me-for there was nothing whatsoever to justify them. I even found the courage to criticize her about her language, pointing out that it was hardly suitable to one with two college degrees. I can't say that it changed anything, but she acknowledged the criticism with seeming humility, and solemnly promised to mend her ways.

So everything
was
all right-ostensibly. The work went on, and went well. Ditto for my relationship with Manny. No one could have been more loving or understanding. Certainly, no one, no other woman, had ever been as exciting. Over and over, I told myself how lucky I was to have such a woman. A wildly sensuous, highly intelligent woman who also had money and was generous with it, thus freeing me from the niggling and nagging and guilt feelings which had heretofore hindered and inhibited me.

It is a fallacy that people who do not obtain the finer things in life have no appreciation for them. Actually, no one likes good things more than a bum-and I say this knowing whereof I speak. I truly appreciated Manny after all the sorry b-axes which had previously been my lot. I truly appreciated everything she gave me, all the creature comforts she made possible for me, in addition to herself.

Everything wasn't just all right, as she had promised. Hell, everything was beautiful.

Until today.

The Day of the Dog
…