Come Out Tonight

by Richard Laymon

  Sobbing, tears running down her face, she finished cleaning her shoulder, then soaped and rinsed her other abrasions, and finally wrung out her sock. Still crying, she hopped on her right foot and pulled the sock on. Then she struggled into her shoe.

  Duane wasn’t that great in the first place, she told herself. I oughta be glad it’s over. And be really glad I didn’t find out what a lying cheating bastard he is after he put it to me. This was my lucky night.

  She laughed and shook her head.

  It is my lucky night, she told herself. I got away from two dirty rotten bastards. A little the worse for wear, but nothing that won’t heal.

  A sadder man, but wiser.

  “Woman,” she muttered.

  No longer crying, she stared at her face in the mirror and shook her head.

  “What a wreck,” she said.

  Bending over the sink again, she splashed her face with water. Then she straightened up and turned off the faucet. And stood there, looking at herself.

  Her face was dripping.

  Her blouse, splashed with water and clinging to her, was open an inch or so all the way down to the single remaining button at her belly. She pulled its edges together, then sighed.

  Then flinched as someone knocked on the door.

  “Are you all right in there?” a man asked.

  “Fine,” she said.

  “You can come out any time.”

  “The men’s room says Hombres on the door.”

  “Yeah, I know. What I’m saying is, you can stop hiding in there. He’s gone.”

  “Huh?”

  “The chubby guy. He drove off a few minutes ago.”

  She shut her blouse all the way, pressed her left hand against it, and opened the restroom door.

  The man met her eyes.

  You!

  She felt herself shrivel inside.

  “Just thought you might want to know,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  “Looks like you’ve been having a rough time.”

  “Yeah. A little bit.”

  “Maybe I can help you.”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Shaking her head, she said, “But thanks.”

  “I tell you what,” he said. “Come on over to my table and sit for a while. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee. You look like you could use some time to recover and sort things out.”

  Out of the frying pan, into the fire.

  But the man didn’t seem quite so creepy, now that he’d spoken to her. He still had very intense eyes and a hard face. Nothing about him, however, suggested that he might intend to do her harm.

  If he wanted to attack me, she thought, he could’ve done it when I was in the john.

  “I guess I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee,” she said.

  “Good.”

  She followed him out of the alcove. With a glance toward the windows, she saw that Toby’s car was no longer at the curb. She quickly scanned the restaurant. The bikers had left, but the crazy woman and the college kids remained at their tables. A gawky-looking man in glasses was leaving the pickup counter with a tray in his hands.

  No sign of Toby.

  “That’s my table over there,” said the gray-haired man, nodding toward it.

  “I know,” Sherry said.

  “I know you know,” he said. “I’ll get the coffee. You can go on and have a seat. I’ll be right over.”

  “Okay.”

  As he headed for the counter, Sherry walked to his table. His old coffee cup was still there, along with a few wadded napkins. The other side of the table was clear. She sat down, turned to the window and peered out.

  Turning her head from side to side, she looked again for Toby’s car.

  The entire length of the block, nothing was parked at the curb.

  He seemed to be gone, all right.

  But Sherry didn’t like it.

  Better, by far, to be able to look out the window and see his car, see him waiting behind its wheel…and know where he is.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The man came to the table carrying a tray. On it were two large styrofoam cups of coffee, a couple of small plastic tubs containing creamer, several paper packets of sugar and sugar substitutes, two red plastic stirrers and some napkins. He set down the tray in front of Sherry.

  “Help yourself,” he said.

  “Thanks.”

  He sat down across from her, reached out and took one of the coffees. “They’ve got good coffee here. Good food, too.”

  “Yeah.”

  Though he didn’t quite smile, the corners of his eyes crinkled. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “I don’t?”

  “Not from me you don’t. You’ve been looking at me like I’m Charlie Manson.”

  Was it that obvious?

  Blushing, she said, “Well, the way you were staring at me…You made me nervous.”

  This time, he laughed. “I make a lot of people nervous.” He took a creamer off the tray, peeled back its top and dumped it into his coffee. “I don’t mean to,” he said. “But I like to keep my eyes open. You never know what you’re going to see.”

  Keeping her blouse shut with her left hand, she reached out with her right and lifted her coffee off the tray.

  “My name’s Jim, by the way.”

  “I’m Sherry.”

  “Sherry. As in ‘Sherry Baby?’”

  “That’s it.”

  “Named after the song?”

  She nodded. “My parents loved it.”

  “Great song. The Four Seasons. They had a lot of great songs. Before your time.”

  “I’ve got their CDs.”

  Jim tore a packet of sugar and dumped it into his coffee. “I’ve got ’em on vinyl. That’s ’cause I’m an old fart.” He grinned and crinkled his eyes.

  Sherry huffed out a laugh. “How old’s that?” she asked.

  “Fifty-two.”

  “That is old.”

  “You’re telling me.”

  “Shouldn’t you be in bed by now?”

  He laughed. “I should be. You’re right about that.” He twirled a stirrer in his coffee. Still half smiling, he looked into Sherry’s eyes. “You want to talk about your situation?”

  “I don’t know.” She took a drink of coffee. It was hot and bitter. “I thought you said they had good coffee here.”

  “You’ve gotta doctor it up.”

  “Guess so.” She took a creamer off the tray.

  As she peeled away its top, Jim said, “I saw the two of you in here earlier.”

  “I know,” Sherry said.

  “I know you know.”

  She poured the creamer into her coffee. “He was helping me look for someone. That’s what I thought, anyway.” She stirred, and the coffee changed color from nearly black to tan. “But then it turned out to be a trick. After we left here, he started getting funny with me.”

  “Put moves on you?”

  “Yeah. Well, first he hit me a couple of times. And he tore my earring off.” She turned her head to give Jim a good look at her ear. “Then he…messed around with me. He was trying to take me somewhere to spend the night with him. That’s when I got away.”

  “Who is this guy?”

  “His name’s Toby. Toby Bones.”

  “Toby Bones?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What is he, a pirate?”

  She almost laughed. “I think he’s a mental case. But I don’t really know much about him.” She picked up a sugar packet, ripped it, and emptied it into her coffee. “I didn’t really know him at all until tonight, but apparently he was a student in one of my classes a few weeks ago. I remember his name from the roll book.”

  “That’d be a hard name to forget.”

  “And I didn’t.”

  “You’re a teacher?”

  Nodding, she said, “A sub. I guess Toby developed an interest in me.” She took a stirrer off the tray and twirled it in her coffee. “Sounds like he’s been following m
e around. He knows stuff about where I live. And where my boyfriend lives.”

  Former boyfriend, she thought.

  “And now he has my purse. I managed to leave it in his car when I jumped out. Smart me.”

  Frowning, Jim nodded. “So he now has your keys and so forth.”

  “He’s got everything. And I’m here with nothing. Just the clothes on my back. What’s left of them.”

  “And me.”

  “Huh?”

  “You’re here with me,” Jim said. “I’ll do what I can for you.”

  “Well, thanks.”

  “First things first. How badly are you hurt?”

  “Just scrapes and bruises, I guess.”

  “There’s an emergency room a few blocks from here. I’d be glad to drive you over.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’ll be okay. Besides, I can’t spend the next two hours sitting in an ER. I’ve gotta deal with all this.”

  “Deal with it how?”

  “I don’t know.” She picked up her coffee and drank some. With the cream and sugar added, it tasted almost like warm cocoa. “Toby’s out there someplace—God knows where—and I somehow doubt he’s decided to call it quits for the night. Plus, my boyfriend’s missing. Or maybe not. I’ve gotta find out for sure about him. But I don’t want to get nailed by Toby in the process.”

  “I can protect you from Toby,” Jim said.

  But who protects me from you? she wondered.

  He seems like a good guy, she told herself. But so did Toby right up to the instant he whacked me in the face.

  Who’s to say Jim isn’t worse than Toby?

  “I’m not sure what to do,” she said.

  “You could call the police.”

  “Last time I tried a phone, it wasn’t working. But I’m not sure I want cops involved in this, anyway. They’d have to know everything. Some of the stuff…it’d be so damned embarrassing…”

  As she sipped her coffee, she imagined how things might go with the police. See, my boyfriend had to make an emergency run to the Speed-D-Mart for condoms. It would have to be that or a lie, and she didn’t like the idea of lying. Especially to the police.

  Any guy hearing the truth would immediately picture her naked. From there, he’d start thinking about what it might be like to screw her.

  And that would only be the start of the humiliation. The cops would figure she was an idiot for accepting a ride from Toby. You don’t know this guy from Adam, but you go off in his car in the middle of the night?

  Then their imaginations would start running wild again when she told them about the sexual assault.

  “They might even think I was asking for it,” she told Jim. “I mean, nobody forced me to get in the car with Toby. And the way I’m dressed…They’ll probably book me as a suspected hooker, or something.”

  “You look fine. It’s too bad your blouse got ruined.”

  “I’m barely decent,” she said.

  “That’s not your fault.”

  “Anyway, I’d rather not get the cops involved in this. It’d just be opening a can of worms. Even if they catch Toby…” She shook her head. “I want it to be over. I don’t want the whole world to find out about all this. I don’t want to get questioned or give statements or testify. And if Toby ends up in prison, I don’t want to spend years worrying about what he’ll do to me when he gets out. I just want it to be over.”

  “How do you plan to manage that?” Jim asked.

  “I’m not sure. But I do know that I’ve got to keep the authorities out of it. This has to stay between me and Toby.”

  “Well, I’ll stay out, too, if that’s what you want. But I’d be happy to give you a hand. Right now, you’re stranded and Toby might be out there waiting for you. I don’t think you want to go walking off by yourself. Do you?”

  Sherry turned her gaze toward the window. The broad, well-lighted pavement of Venice Boulevard reminded her of an airport runway—a runway in the middle of the night with no flights coming in or going out.

  Leaves and litter hurried by, leaping and diving in the wind.

  On the other side of the road, trees were shaking.

  Toby’s car was nowhere to be seen.

  She saw nobody on the sidewalks.

  She met Jim’s eyes.

  “I guess you’re still afraid of me,” he said.

  “I don’t know you. That’s how I got in trouble with Toby. I mean, you seem like a really nice guy, but…how do I know you’re not some kind of maniac pretending to be a nice guy?”

  He frowned as if giving deep thought to the matter. Then he said, “I suppose you can’t know for sure. You’ll just have to trust your own judgment.”

  “My judgment hasn’t been so great lately. Not where men are involved.”

  He suddenly grinned. “I’ve got just the solution.” Leaning sideways, he reached into a front pocket of his trousers. Sherry heard jingling sounds. Then his hand came out with a key ring. He unclipped a small, black plastic device and slid it across the table.

  “What’re you doing?”

  “That’s the remote for my car. Controls the alarm and door locks.”

  “What am I supposed to do with it?”

  He unclipped a key. “This is for the ignition.” He slid it over to her.

  “Jim?”

  “Take my car,” he said.

  “What?”

  “It’s just outside in the parking lot. A blue Saturn. Take it. I’ll walk home. It’s not that far.”

  “Are you saying I can take your car without you?”

  “Sure. Do whatever you need to do. I can get by without it for a while.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  “You can drop it off at my place when you’re done. My address is in the glove compartment.

  “I can’t take your car.”

  “I want you to.”

  “Nobody lets a stranger drive off with his car. You don’t even know me. What if I decide to keep it?”

  “You won’t,” he said.

  “How do you know?”

  “You’re not a thief.”

  “You can tell by looking?”

  He tipped his head to one side and squinted at her, his eyes twinkling. “I think so.”

  “Tell you what,” Sherry said. She pushed the remote and ignition key back to his side of the table. “You drive.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Wait here,” Jim said. “I’ll check the parking lot and make sure the coast is clear.” He shoved open the door and went out into the night.

  Sherry stayed just inside the Nacho Casa.

  Jim returned in about fifteen seconds and opened the door for her. “No sign of him. Ready to go?”

  “Ready.”

  Hunched over and leaning into the wind, Jim hurried across the parking lot. Sherry followed him, holding her blouse shut with one hand, pinning her skirt down with the other. The hot wind blew against her. It hurled grains of debris that bit at her bare skin and raw wounds.

  Jim stopped at a low, dark car. Ducking, he pulled open the passenger door. Sherry climbed in, and he shut the door. It closed with a quiet solid thud, sealing out the wind and grit and noise.

  She reached for the seat belt, then stopped.

  Let’s just leave it off, she thought. I might need to get out of here fast.

  Not that I don’t trust him.

  Jim dropped into the driver’s seat and shut his door. “Where to?” he asked.

  “How about the Speed-D-Mart over on Robertson?”

  Jim started the car. “What’s the main cross-street?”

  “Airdrome.”

  He backed out of the space, pulled forward to the lot’s exit, then turned right.

  This has happened before, Sherry thought. It made her uneasy, even though she knew that a left turn onto Venice would’ve been illegal.

  “It’s the other way,” she said.

&nbs
p; “I know.”

  “I realize you can’t go that way.”

  “I could. If you don’t mind a few bumps.”

  “That’s all right.”

  At the first intersection, he turned right. This wasn’t the route Toby had used. Plus, they were now heading in the proper direction. Sherry felt some of her tension slip away.

  “This is awfully nice of you,” she said.

  “I like your company.”

  “Lucky for me you were there.”

  “I’m there most nights.”

  “Why is that?” she asked. “I mean, if you want to tell me.”

  “I’m a people person.”

  A laugh jumped out of her.

  Jim turned his head and smiled. “I don’t mean that the way you probably think.”

  “You mean you’re not a ‘touchy-feely’ kind of guy?”

  “Right. I just like to watch people. From a distance. So I go where they are. Late at night, that limits my choices. A place like the Nacho Casa is perfect. Open all night. Different people coming in all the time. Most of them sit down and stay a while so I have plenty of time to observe them.”

  “So…you sort of spy on everyone who comes in?”

  “That’s about it.”

  “That’s a wee bit strange, Jimmy.”

  He looked over at her and laughed softly. “Keeps me out of trouble,” he said.

  “I’d think it might get you into trouble.”

  “Doesn’t usually.” Not signaling, he suddenly cut hard to the left and swung onto a sidestreet.

  Alarm slammed through Sherry. “What’re you doing?”

  He swerved, stopped at the curb and shut off the engine and lights.

  “Jim!”

  “I want to see if we’re being followed.” He turned his head to the left, apparently to watch the side mirror.

  “Are we?” Sherry asked.

  “We’ll know pretty soon.”

  “I didn’t notice a car behind us.”

  “Neither did I. But it’d be hard to see if its headlights are off.”

  A sensible precaution, she thought.

  Or is this just an excuse to stop? This is just the sort of thing Toby pulled. What’s he gonna do next, pound me and start feeling me up?

  Why did I get into the car with this guy? What am I, a moron? Don’t I ever learn from my mistakes?

  Good going, Sherry. They can put it on your tombstone.