The elevator let her out on the sixth floor, and all she knew was that she wanted to see Ian. Suddenly she knew she could crawl through any amount of fear and anger, over a thousand puce satin pimps, just to get to Ian.
The visitors waited in single file outside an iron door and a guard let them into the room beyond in groups of five or six. They made their exit through another door at the far side of the room. But it seemed to Jessie that they were being swallowed up, never to be seen again.
A moment later, Jessica was inside. The room was hot and stuffy, windowless and fluorescent-lit. There were long glass panes in the interior walls with little shelves on either side holding telephones. She realized then that she would see him through a window. She hadn't thought about that. What could you say on a phone?
His face appeared in a far window as she wondered which one to go to, and he stood there, watching her as she felt tears burn her eyes. She couldn't let herself cry ... couldn't ... couldn't ... couldn't! She walked slowly toward the phone, feeling a vise tighten around her heart and her legs turn to straw, but she was walking, one foot after the other, and he couldn't see her hands tremble as she waved hesitantly. And then suddenly she was facing him, and she had the phone in her hand. They watched each other briefly in silence. And then he spoke first.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. How are you?"
He was silent again for a moment and then nodded with a small, crooked smile.
"Terrific." But the smile faded quickly. "Oh baby, I'm so sorry to put you through this. It's all so crazy and so goddam ... I think all I want to tell you, Jess, is that I love you, and I don't know how this whole fucking mess happened. I wasn't sure how you'd take it."
"What did you think? That I'd run away? Have I ever done that?" She looked so hurt he wanted to turn away. It was hard to look at her. Very hard.
"No, but this isn't exactly your run-of-the-mill problem, like a thirty-dollar overdraft at the bank. I mean this is ... Jesus, what can I say, Jessie?" She gave him a tiny smile in answer.
"You already said it. And I love you too. That's all that matters. We'll get this thing straightened out."
"Yeah ... but ... Jess, it doesn't sound like it's going to be easy. That woman is sticking to the accusations, and this cop, Houghton, he acts like he thinks he's got the local hotshot rapist on his hands."
"Adorable, isn't he?"
"He talked to you?" Ian looked surprised.
"Just before he went to the house to see you." Ian looked pale.
"Did he tell you what it was about?" She shook her head and looked away. "Oh, Jess ... what an incredible horror show to put you through. I just can't believe it."
"Neither can I. But we'll survive it." She gave him her best brave girl smile. "What do you think of Martin?"
"Schwartz? I like him. But that's going to cost you a pretty penny, isn't it?" Jessie tried to look noncommital and started to say something, but he cut her off. "How much?" There was a look of bitterness in his eyes for a moment.
"That's not important."
"Maybe not to you, Jessie, but it is to me. How much?" "Two thousand now, and another five if it goes to trial." There was no avoiding that look in his eyes. She had had to tell him.
"Are you kidding?"
Jessie shook her head in reply.
"The man I spoke to before him wanted fifteen thousand, in cash, and by the end of this week."
"Jesus Christ, Jessica ... that's insanity. But I'll pay you back for Schwartz."
"You're boring me, sweetheart."
"I love you, Jess." They exchanged a long tender look and Jessica felt the hot coals behind her eyes again.
"How come you didn't call me last night?" She didn't tell him that she had lain on the floor all night, waiting, frightened, almost hysterical, but too tired to move. She had felt as though her body were paralyzed while her mind was racing.
"How could I call you, Jess? What could I say?" That you love me ... "I think I was in shock. I just kept sitting here, stunned. I couldn't understand it."
Then why did you screw her, damn you? But the flash of anger left her eyes again as soon as she looked up at him. He was as unhappy as she was. More so.
"Why do you suppose she accused you of ... of ..."
"Rape?" He said it as if it were a death sentence. "I don't know. Maybe she's sick or crazy, or pissed off at someone, or maybe she wanted money. What the hell do I know? I was a fool to do that anyway. Jessie, I--" He looked away and then back into her eyes with tears hovering in the corners of his own. "How are we going to live with this? How are you going to live with it, Jessie? Without hating me? And ... I just don't see ..."
"Stop it!" She spat the words into the phone in a whisper. "Stop it right now! We'll see this thing through and it'll be over and straightened out and we'll never have to think about it again."
"But won't you? I mean honestly, Jessie, won't you? Every time you look at me, won't you hate me a little bit for her, and for the money this'll cost you, and ... fuck." He ran a hand through his hair and reached into his pocket for a cigarette. Jessie watched him and then suddenly noticed his pants. He was wearing white cotton hospital pajama bottoms.
"Good God, what happened to your pants? Didn't they give you time to get dressed?" Her eyes grew wide as she envisioned Sergeant Houghton dragging him out of the house bare-assed and in handcuffs.
"Adorable, aren't they? They took my pants down to the lab to test them for sperm." It was all so goddam tawdry, so ugly, so ... "I'm going to need some pants for court tomorrow morning, by the way." And then he grew pensive for a moment and took a long drag on his cigarette. "I just don't understand it. You know, if she wanted money, all she had to do was call and blackmail me. I told her I was married." How nice ... and then for no reason she could fathom, she looked at Ian, at his wrinkled white cotton pajamas, at the boyish face and rumpled blond hair, at the madhouse of people around her, and she started to laugh.
"Are you okay?" He looked suddenly frightened. What if she got hysterical? But she didn't look hysterical, she looked genuinely amused.
"You know something nutty? I'm fine. And I love you, and this is ridiculous, dammit, so will you please come home--and you know what else? You look cute in pajamas." It was the same laughter he had heard a million times at two in the morning when she'd teased him about walking around the house reading his work, stark naked, and with a pencil behind each ear. It was the laughter of splashing water at each other in the shower, of tickling him when he got into bed. It was Jessie, and it suddenly made him smile, as he hadn't smiled since this whole nightmare had begun.
"Lady, you are absolutely screwy, but I adore you. Will you please get me out of this shithouse so I can come home and--" He stopped on the word and looked suddenly pale.
"Rape me? Why not?" And then they grinned again, but quietly. She was okay now. She had Ian right in front of her, she knew she was loved and safe and protected. With Ian suddenly gone and that incredible silence, it had been as though he were dead. But he wasn't dead. He was alive. He would always be alive, and he was all hers. Suddenly she wanted to dance, standing there in the jail in the midst of pimps and thieves, she wanted to dance. She had Ian back.
"Mr. Clarke, how come I love you so much?"
"Because you happen to be mentally retarded, but I love you that way. Hey, lady, could you be serious for a moment?" His face showed that he meant it, but Jessie still had laughter in her tired, bloodshot eyes.
"What?"
"I meant what I said about paying you back. I will."
"Don't worry about it."
"But I will. I think it's time I went back to some kind of job anyway. It doesn't work like this, Jess, and you know it too."
"Yes, it does. What do you mean, 'it doesn't work'?" She looked frightened again.
"I mean I don't like being kept, even if it is for the supposed benefit of my writing career. It's lousy for my ego, and worse for our marriage."
"Bullshit."
"No bullshit. I'm serious. But this isn't the time or the place to talk about it. I just want you to know, though, that whatever money you put out on this, you're getting back. Is that clear?" She looked evasive, and Ian's voice got louder in her ear. "I mean it, Jessie. Don't fuck around with me on this. You're not paying for it."
"Okay." She looked at him pointedly, and at the same moment a guard tapped her on the shoulder. The visit was over. And they had so much left to say.
"Take it easy, sweetheart. I'll see you in court tomorrow." He had seen the stricken look on her face.
"Can you call me tonight?"
He shook his head. "No, they won't let me now."
"Oh." But I need to hear you ... I need you, Ian ... I ...
"Get yourself a good night's sleep before the court thing tomorrow. Promise?" She nodded, looking like a child, and he smiled at her. "I love you so much, Jess. Will you please take care, for me?"
She nodded again. "And you too? Ian ... I ... I'd die without you."
"Don't think like that. Now go on, I'll see you tomorrow. And Jess ... thank you. For everything."
"I love you."
"I love you too."
On the last words, the phones suddenly went dead in their hands, and she waved at him as she followed the flock of visitors into the elevator. She was alone with them again now. Ian was gone. But it was different this time. She felt full of the way he looked and sounded, of the color of his hair, and even the smell of his skin. He was vivid again now. He was still with her.
Chapter 7
Zina and Katsuko were both busy with customers when Jessica walked in, and she had a moment to compose herself in her office before joining them. It was crazy, really. Guess where I've been? To visit Ian in jail. From city prison to Lady J in one swift leap. Madness.
The girls were helping a couple of women who wanted dresses for Palm Springs. They were overweight, overdressed, overbearing, and not overly friendly. And Jessica found it nearly impossible to work. She kept thinking of Ian, of the jail, of Martin Schwartz, of Inspector Houghton. The inspector's eyes seem to haunt her.
"And what does your husband do?" One of the women asked her, while looking over a rack of their new velvet skirts. They were a rich Bordeaux color with black satin trim. Copies of St. Laurent.
"My husband? He rapes ... I mean, writes!" The women found it hilarious, and even Zina and Kat had to laugh. Jessica laughed through tears in her eyes.
"My husband used to be that way too--before he took up golf." The second woman found the interlude delightful and settled on two skirts and a blouse while the first woman went back to the slacks.
It was a long day, but it saved her from talking to Zina and Kat. It was almost five before they sat down for a round of hot coffee.
"Jess, is everything okay now?"
"Much better. We had a few problems, but everything will be worked out by tomorrow." At least then he'd be home, and they could work it out together. Just so he came home!
"We were worried as hell about you. I'm glad everything's fine." Zina seemed satisfied, but Katsuko continued to search Jessie's eyes. Something didn't sit right.
"You look like shit, Jessica Clarke."
"Flattery, flattery. It's just this grim suit" She looked around, wondering if she should change into something from the shop's fall line just to pick up her sagging spirits. But it was late, and she was tired, and she didn't have the energy to get into or out of anything. It would only be another ten or fifteen minutes before Zina locked the doors for the night.
Jessica stood up, stretched, and was aware of the ache in her back and neck from the long crazy night she'd spent on the floor. Not to mention the tension of the day. She was arching her back gingerly, trying to ease out the kinks, when a woman walked into the boutique. Jessie, Kat, and Zina quickly glanced at each other, deciding who would stand up and be helpful, but it was Jessie who turned toward the woman with a smile. The woman looked pleasant, and it did Jessie good to deal with the clients. It kept her mind off herself.
"May I help you?"
"Do you mind if I browse? I heard about the boutique from a friend, and you have some lovely things in the window."
"Thank you. Let me know if you need any help."
Jessica and the woman exchanged an easy smile, and the customer began to look through the sportswear. She was elegant, somewhere in her mid- to late thirties, maybe even forty, but it was hard to tell. She wore a trim, simple black pantsuit, a cream linen blouse, a small bright scarf at her neck, and a healthy amount of obviously expensive gold jewelry--a handsome bracelet, a nice chain, several very solid looking rings--and a striking pair of onyx-diamond earrings that had caught Jessie's attention when she'd walked into the shop. The woman spelled money. But her face showed warmth, and something else--as though she enjoyed the pretty things she was wearing, but understood that there were other things in her life that mattered more.
Jessie watched her as she moved from rack to rack. She looked content, happy. And she had a kind of grace that made her easy to watch. The face was young, the hair ash blond streaked with gray. In an odd way she reminded Jessie of a Siamese cat, particularly the pale china blue of her eyes. Something about her made you want to know more.
"Did you have anything special in mind? We have some new things in the back." The woman smiled at Jessie and shrugged.
"I should be shot for this, but what about that suede coat over there? Have you got it in an eight?" She looked guilty, like a small child buying more bubble gum than she was supposed to, but she also looked as though she were having a good time. And as though she could afford one hell of a lot of bubble gum, or anything else.
"I'll take a look." Jessica disappeared into the stockroom, wondering if they did have the coat in a smaller size.
They didn't But they had a similar one that sold for forty dollars more. Jessica removed the price tag and took the coat out to the woman. It was a warm cinnamon color with a soft clinging shape. It was actually a better-looking coat than the first one, and the woman noticed that instantly.
"Damn. I was hoping I'd hate it."
"It's a hard coat to hate. And it looks well on you."
They watched the woman swirling gracefully in the brown suede coat. It suited her marvelously, and she knew it. It was a pleasure to see clothes on someone like that. But then, she could have worn the rug and looked fabulous.
"How much is it?"
"Three hundred and ten." Zina and Kat exchanged a quizzical glance, but they knew enough not to question the price aloud. Jessie always bad a method to her madness, and she was usually right. Maybe this was someone special Jessie had been hoping to lure into the shop. She certainly looked like someone one ought to recognize. And the woman did not look overwhelmed by the price of the coat.
"Does it have matching pants?"
"It did, but they're gone."
"That's too bad." But she managed to casually collect three sweaters, a blouse, and a suede skirt to go with the coat before she decided that she'd done enough damage for one day. It was a beautiful sale for the shop, and an easy one. She pulled out her checkbook, encased in emerald green suede, and looked up at Jessie with a smile. "And if you see me back here in less than a week, throw me out the door."
"Do I have to?" Jessie looked mock-regretful.
"That's an order, not a request!"
"What a pity." The two women laughed and the shopper filled out her check. It was for well over five hundred dollars. But she hardly looked worried. Her name was Astrid Bonner, and her address was on Vallejo, only a block from Jessie's home.
"We're almost neighbors, Mrs. Bonner." Jessie told her her address, and Astrid Bonner looked up with a smile.
"I know that house! It's the little blue and white one, I'll bet, with all those fabulous bright flowers out front!"
"You can see us for miles!"
"Don't apologize; you do wonders for the area! And you have a little red sports car?" Jessie pointed out the
window.
"That's me." They laughed together and Zina quietly locked the doors. It was a quarter to six. "Would you like a drink?" They kept a bottle of Johnnie Walker in the back. Some of their customers stayed late to chat. It was another nice touch.
"I'd love to, but I won't. You probably want to get home." Jessie smiled and Katsuko put Mrs. Bonner's purchases in two large shiny brown boxes filled with yellow and orange tissue paper and tied them with plaid ribbons.
"Do you own the shop?"
Jessie nodded.
"You have some beautiful things. And I needed that coat like another hole in my head. But ... no will power. It's my worst problem."
"Sometimes a splurge is good for the soul."
Astrid Bonner nodded quietly at the remark and the two women exchanged a long glance. Jessie felt very comfortable with her. She was sorry Astrid Bonner wouldn't stay for the drink; Jessie had nothing to rush home for, and she would have liked to talk to her. She wondered which of the houses on the next block was hers. And then she had an idea.
"Can I give you a lift home, by the way? I'm leaving now." It would also spare her the questions that Zina and Kat might have saved to hurl at her after hours. She couldn't face that yet. And Astrid Bonner would give her safe passage. She still hadn't told them she wouldn't be in the following morning, while she went to the arraignment.
"A lift would be terrific. Thank you. I usually walk when I'm this close to home, but with these two boxes ... delightful." She smiled and looked even younger. Jessie wondered how old she really was.
Jessica picked up her coat, grabbed her bag, and waved at the other two. "Good night, ladies. See you sometime tomorrow. I won't be in in the morning." The four smiled at one another, Jessie unlocked the door for Astrid, Zina locked it again behind them, and they were on their way. No questions, no answers, no lies. Jessie was enormously relieved. She hadn't realized how she had been dreading that all afternoon.
She unlocked the car and Astrid slid in, the boxes tall on her lap, and they headed for home.
Now and Forever (1978) Page 6