Tide's Ebb (13 page)

No response.

“Larry! I’m going to jump in the water if you don’t come out!”

Silence.

“Larry, I’m going to count to ten!”

A rough voice called out, “Ten!”

Marianna’s heart leapt: “Larry!”

Still, the voice remained unwavering. “If you want to jump,
do it
.”

“No, you’re supposed to say ‘You jump, I jump!’”

“No, you jump, I walk away and pretend like I didn’t see a thing.”

Marianna felt her blood rise. Who was this man? “What’s the matter? You never had a woman with a touch of class before?”

There was a pause.

But then Larry popped out of the hatch of his boat and walked up to her. “Is that what you call it when you put your finger in my ass?”

Marianna’s blood was accustomed to boiling by now, but this time it was close to evaporating. She couldn’t believe how anal Larry was about the matter.

She slapped him. “I read in Cosmo that it feels great. Ungrateful son of a bitch—I don’t do that for everyone.”

Inside, she knew that was a lie.

Larry scowled impatiently. “Look, I don’t know who you people are! What with your macchiatos, fingers-in-asses, and high-heels.”

Marianna thought to herself:
This is probably the first time those three things have been mentioned in the same sentence.
She winced.
At least, I hope so.

Larry started walking away. “Look lady, we had a moment, but then you stuck your finger in my ass. I didn’t want any more surprises. Not after everything I’ve been through.” He paused. “Don’t come round here no more, ok?”

Sometimes, all you can do is go back to work.

It had been two weeks since Marianna had shared Larry’s bed, and she couldn’t believe that it was over. And so Marianna threw herself into the passions of document review. She berated the paralegals as never before. Each instance of shoddy work the equivalent of a rusty dagger in her silky-smooth thigh.  While billing hours for the firm was a unique kind of satisfaction, she couldn’t help her mind drifting. Sometimes, while reading a contract, she would think instead of Larry’s rough hands on her hips. Her body would respond as if he were still there. Sometimes, many minutes would pass before she could regain her composure.

One day she called Suzanne, but she couldn’t bring up her night with Larry. Instead, she talked about how Bradley used to bleach the pubic hair on his ass to match his golden locks.

“Well, I guess Bradley was a bleached asshole then!”

Oh, how the girls laughed and laughed! But then Marianna got serious for a moment.

“I never need to see Bradley again, now that I’ve had a real man. I know who I am—and I will hold out for love.”

For deep down, Marianna longed for only one thing. She longed for Larry and each night she fell asleep with dreams of him only. He was her ghost lover.

It was late one night, and again Marianna had cried herself to sleep, thinking only of how Larry had made her feel.  But there was a noise that roused her.

Some tapping on the door? Was it Larry, coming to hold her, to caress her once more like he used to? Marianna roused herself, almost sleepwalking, and opened the door.

But it was not Larry standing there.

The face was younger, prettier, without blemish. The pores, unclogged by blackheads. There was no trace of facial hair.

It was Bradley.  And he was drunk and strangely wearing a backpack.

“I saw you on the news with another man,” Bradley slurred.

“What?”

“I saw you on the news kissing another man—a hero who saved a boy from the cruel sea!” He said these words in a strange, sing-song voice.

For a second, Marianna was excited about having been on TV, but then she realized it had led Bradley to her.

“But Bradley, I thought you didn’t care about me.”

Bradley grimaced at her unsteadily. “That’s true.  You were only ever an accessory to me—a pretty accoutrement. You weren’t born into the same kind of wealth I was. Of course, you’ll never understand my special.”

Marianna felt a chill down her spine.

“Your ‘special’? I have no idea what you’re talking about Bradley, I’m sorry, but you have to go.”

“Mumsy says I can’t let you talk,” Bradley hissed, flinging the door wide open.

It all came back to Marianna, the awful images of the donkey flew back into her mind.

“Look, I have no interest in revisiting that day.”

Bradley’s eyes seemed distant. “But Mumsy says I can’t let you talk. Ever.”

Marianna’s heart started to race. “Bradley, it’s no big deal. Lots of people are into donkey porn these days.”

“No! Daddy never let anyone talk about his specials either.”

“Look Bradley, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mumsy says Daddy took care of business—people found out about his specials, so he took care of them. And then he had to leave for Monaco.”

Marianna’s eyes widened as she realized the real truth behind Bradley’s father’s disappearance—Bradley’s family was depraved to the core. There was no limit to what they would do to hide a secret, and they had enough money and influence to get away with anything… including murder.

“Bradley, I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s late. You’re drunk. Let’s just bury the hachet on this whole issue!” Marianna would later come to regret her choice of words.

“Good idea. Do you want to see what I have in my backpack?”

“No, Bradley, it’s ok. No need! It’s just time for you to go now.”

At first, Bradley did not move.

Then he slowly pulled his backpack off and unzipped it. He was calm, but his eyes told a different story. His eyes bespoke the emptiness of generations of good breeding, of good manners, of city living. They were cold. Hollow. Dead. There was nothing in them except misery and anger.

He opened the backpack and displayed its contents to Marianna.

She gasped.

Inside were three things only: duct tape, a saw and an ax. Bradley reached in and grabbed the ax.

Marianna could not stifle her scream.  Her body reacted before her brain could, and she began to run. Run just as fast as she could into the dark of the Rhode Island night.

She heard Bradley’s unhinged voice call after her, “Silly girl, I’m captain of the rugby team! I’ll catch you!”

But still she ran.

She did not get far.

She felt a massive hand around her throat. Another meaty hand grabbed her right wrist and pinned it around her back. “You were always a great lay. Why not one more time?” In the corner of her eye, Marianna saw that Bradley had put the ax on the ground.

He pushed her down to the soft New England grass. She pummeled him with her fists as he pressed his full weight against her, heavy and sweaty, but with a sort of floral bouquet befitting an excellent cologne, applied in precisely the correct manner.

He easily overpowered her small frame. Marianne closed her eyes.
Is this it?
Bradley bore down, his weight crushing the air out of her lungs, the braying of the donkeys deafening in her ears.

Suddenly, the weight lifted. Bradley was no longer on top of her. Instead, he was lying on the ground a few feet away, with a stunned look in his eyes.

Larry stood over him. “Marianna, call the police!”

Before she could move, Bradley lunged at Larry, knocking him off-balance. “I’m the captain of the rugby team!” Bradley jumped on top of the prone Larry, raining blows on Larry’s face with tightly clenched fists. Blood ran from Larry’s nose. Larry stretched one arm up, reaching his foe’s throat, but he could not grip it, so broad was the rugby captain’s neck. In size, they were evenly matched, but Bradley, even in his drunken state, was swifter and more sprightly than the courageous captain.