One Night Stands; Lost weekends

by Lawrence Block

  “Rita—”

  Her face softened. “I’m sorry, Jim,” she said. “I don’t like to tease you.”

  Not much, I thought. I didn’t say anything.

  “It’s just that I don’t want us to get too involved, Jim. Honey, every time we park the car and neck up a storm we go a little farther than we did last time. I’m afraid sometime we won’t be able to stop.”

  “What’s wrong if we don’t?”

  “Jim—”

  “Well, what if we don’t? God, Rita, I want you and you want me and that ought to be enough. Why in hell won’t you let me make love to you?”

  “I’ve already told you that.”

  “But it doesn’t make any sense!”

  She moved closer to me. I could feel her breasts pressing against my chest. My skin felt warm beneath my shirt where she was touching me. Her lips brushed my cheek.

  “Not until we’re married,” she said. “I’ve told you a dozen times, darling.”

  More than a dozen times, I thought. Closer to a hundred times. I kissed her again, almost absently, thinking that this was just a repeat of a conversation the two of us went through almost every night.

  But I had to keep going.

  “We’re going to be married,” I said, “as soon as I get enough money saved up so that we won’t have to pick through garbage cans when we want breakfast.”

  “I know.”

  “I’d marry you now,” I went on. “Waiting was your idea, Rita. I—”

  “You know it’s the only sensible thing to do.” She was closer to me now, so close I could feel every outline of her warm body. My arm slipped around her and stroked the firm flesh. I had a hard time getting the next sentence out; I wasn’t much in the mood for conversation.

  “Okay,” I said. “Waiting to get married is sensible. But waiting to make love isn’t.”

  “Suppose I got pregnant?” she demanded.

  The same old arguments every damned night. “You won’t,” I said.

  “You can’t be sure about that, Jim. It happens, you know.”

  “Then we’d get married right away.”

  “And then we’d have everybody counting the months and snickering when the baby was born. I don’t want that, Jim.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “But that’s not the main thing. I’m an old-fashioned girl, honey. I want to wait until I’m married. That’s all there is to it.”

  She seemed to be right—that was all there was to it. That was the trouble.

  She snuggled up to me again. “I don’t really feel like talking,” she said. “Do you?”

  “No,” I said. “Of course not.”

  “We’ll wait then? Until we’re married?”

  I nodded.

  “Okay,” she said. “Then let’s get in the backseat.”

  I opened the door and helped her out and into the backseat. Then I reached for her and she came to me and our mouths met as they always did—hot and hungry and demanding. I kissed her again, savagely.

  She purred like a kitten.

  Then I was undoing the buttons on her blouse, and my arms were around her. I pressed her close to me and kissed her. My hands caressed her soft flesh. I fumbled with the catches of her bra.

  “Here,” she said. “Let me do that.”

  She broke away and reached behind her and the motion made her firm breasts strain against the bra until I thought it would break. Then the bra was off and she was in my arms again.

  “Rita,” I said. “God, I love you.”

  She started to say something but I stopped her mouth with mine. I held her and stroked her and kissed her and watched her turn from a beautiful girl into a hungry, passionate woman in my arms, her eyes burning like purple fires into mine.

  Then I slipped my hand under her skirt and she froze.

  “Stop,” she said.

  “Rita—”

  “Stop!” She pushed my hand away and withdrew from me. “Jim, I told you—”

  “I can’t help it,” I said. “I’m only human.”

  “But I told you.”

  I reached for her again, ready to tell her that I would try to control myself, loving her and hating her and wanting only to hold her close and love her.

  Then the door opened.

  He was about as tall as I am, but there the similarity ended.

  He was built like an ox. His forearms were as thick as my legs and there wasn’t an ounce of fat any place on him. It was all hard muscle.

  His hair was clipped close to his scalp; his eyes were small and beady. His nose looked as though it had been broken once.

  He was wearing clothing that looked familiar. It took me a minute to recognize it.

  It was prison clothing.

  There was a gun in his right hand that looked like a cannon.

  “Out,” he said. “Get out of the car.” The words came out in a snarl.

  I glanced at Rita. She was clutching her blouse around her, trying to button it but having a tough time. Her fingers were numb with fear.

  His lips curled into a sneer. “Don’t bother,” he told her. “I’ll just have to rip it off. Now get the hell out of the car.”

  We got out. There was nothing else to do.

  “Over here,” he said, motioning with the gun. We walked a few yards from the car into a clearing.

  I said, “What do you want?”

  He looked at me and smiled. Then he looked at Rita and the smile widened. She stiffened in terror. Her whole body shook.

  “Guess,” he said.

  I guessed.

  “I don’t have much money,” I said. “But you’re welcome to it. And I suppose you’ll want the car—it’s not new by any means but it’ll get you where you’re going.”

  “Yeah,” he said. He was still looking at Rita and I knew what he was thinking, what he was going to do.

  He turned to me. “Chuck your wallet over here,” he said. “And don’t try anything. This thing works,” he added, motioning with the gun.

  I took the wallet from my inside jacket pocket and tossed it to him. He caught it easily with one hand and flipped it open, counting the money.

  “Peanuts,” he said. “Less than thirty bucks.”

  “It’s all I have.”

  “With the heap you’re driving, that’ll hardly cover the gas. And I bet it burns oil by the gallon.”

  I didn’t answer. His eyes went back to Rita and I wished he would stop looking at her, wished he would go away and leave us alone.

  “You’re nice,” he said to her. “It’s been a real long time.”

  She seemed to go limp. I think she probably knew what was happening all along, but as soon as he said those words the full impact of it hit her.

  “A long time,” he went on. “Too long. You got any idea what it’s like?”

  I looked at him.

  “You,” he said to me. “You know what it’s like being without a woman for four and a half years? Huh?”

  I almost started to laugh. I felt like asking him if he knew what it was like being with Rita and not making love to her.

  But I didn’t say anything.

  “Naw,” he said. “You wouldn’t know. You wouldn’t know what it’s like sitting in a goddamn cell every night and going crazy. Sitting there forever.”

  For a second his face seemed to relax. Then it went rigid again and he broke off.

  “What did you do?” It was Rita talking this time. I wanted to tell her to shut up, to leave him alone and just pray he would go away without doing what I knew he was going to do. The words stuck in my throat.

  “Huh?”

  “What did you do that got you in jail?”

  He smiled. It wasn’t a pretty smile.

  “Oh, I did lots of things.”

  “I mean—”

  He walked over to her, keeping the gun trained on me as he did so. Neither of them said anything until he was standing inches away from her. He reached out a finger and chucked her under the c
hin as if she were a little girl.

  “I took something,” he said, “something that didn’t belong to me.”

  “What was it?”

  He chuckled. “It was a she. A broad. Looked something like you, come to think of it.”

  She said, “Oh.” Her voice was flat and empty, almost lifeless.

  “Not quite the same as you,” he said. “Wore her hair long but it was a shade darker. Built a lot like you, though.”

  Without warning his hand snaked out and ripped her blouse all the way open, exposing her breasts. She took a step backward, drawing in her breath sharply as she did so.

  He followed her.

  “You’re not going anywhere,” he said. “Understand?”

  She nodded dumbly.

  He reached out and fastened a hand on her, and I could see how she shrank from his touch. For a moment I had a wild impulse to charge him. Maybe, with a little luck…

  But I didn’t move. Even if the gun wasn’t loaded, even if he didn’t manage to shoot me, I still didn’t stand a chance. He could take me apart with his bare hands.

  His hand tightened on her and she gasped.

  “You’re built better than she was,” he said. “Bigger in the chest anyway. Let’s see how your legs stack up against hers.”

  She didn’t move.

  “Come on,” he said. “Get the skirt off.”

  It took her a moment to respond. Then she unhooked the skirt and stepped out of it. She wasn’t wearing a slip—only a pair of black lace panties that matched the bra which was now in the backseat of the car.

  I couldn’t help staring at her. Even knowing what was going to happen to her, knowing that we would both be dead in an hour or two at most, I still couldn’t help staring at her and realizing how breathtakingly beautiful she was. Her legs were long, with trim ankles and rounded calves leading up to swelling, full thighs.

  “Nice,” he murmured. “Very nice.”

  Her mouth opened and closed without any sounds coming out.

  “The panties,” he said suddenly. “Get ’em off.”

  “What—”

  “Come on,” he snapped. “I don’t have time to waste.”

  “What are you going to do to me?”

  The smile was back on his face, leering and open and ugly. “You damned little fool,” he said. “Now what in hell do you think I’m going to do?”

  She didn’t say anything. I could see the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

  “I’m going to make up for four and a half years,” he said. “Now get the pants off.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said.

  He spun toward me and glared at me.

  “Look,” I said, “if you let us go I’ll get you more money. I’ve got a few hundred at home. It’ll get you out of the state.”

  He laughed. “Don’t be a damn fool all your life,” he said. “We couldn’t even make it to your home, and we’d never make the state line. They got the roads blocked off all around.”

  “They know you escaped?”

  “They sure as hell ought to,” he said. “I broke out with half the prison watching me.”

  “But—”

  He didn’t let me finish. “I haven’t got a chance in hell,” he said. “By now they’ve got the whole area sealed off and they’ll be closing in soon. They’re going to get me.”

  “Look,” I began. “If you let us alone and if you give yourself up maybe they’ll go easy on you.”

  This time his laugh went through me like a cold wind. “Cut the crap,” he said. “I was doing life for rape. You think they’ll commute my sentence because I gave myself up?”

  “But—”

  He laughed again, even harsher this time. “I killed a guard on the way out. Shot another one in the gut and he’s probably croaked by now. Still think I should give up? Or do you have any more bright ideas?”

  I didn’t say anything this time.

  “I’m just out to get what I can,” he said. “Right now I’m going to have some fun with your broad here. Then I’ll probably kill the two of you, depending on how I feel. Then when the law comes I’ll see how many of them I can take with me. And that’s all—no more time in stir, no more nights in a cell. See?”

  I saw.

  He turned back to Rita. “The pants,” he said. “In a hurry.”

  She took off her panties, slipping them down over her hips and thighs and stepping out of them. She was shaking like a leaf. It wasn’t hard to figure out why.

  “Please,” she said suddenly. “Please—don’t.”

  This got him mad. “You little bitch,” he said. “I’m going to be dead in an hour or two—what the hell is it to you if I have some fun first? It’s not like I was taking something away from you.”

  She hesitated. “I…I never did it before.”

  He stared at her. “Huh?”

  “I’m a…a virgin.”

  “Sure,” he said flatly. “Sure, so am I. We’re all virgins. You and him—the two of you were just playing doctor in the backseat. Sure.”

  “I mean it,” she protested. “Jim and I…we never went all the way.”

  He turned to me. “She telling the truth?”

  I just nodded.

  He looked at her again. Then he looked at me.

  Then he started to laugh.

  “You little punk,” he said when he stopped laughing. “A guy like you, you wouldn’t know what to do with a broad like this. What’s the bit—just sit around necking?”

  My cheeks were burning. But Rita was nodding very earnestly.

  “Hell,” he said. “I outgrew that when I was in junior high. I guess some people take awhile to grow up.”

  I still don’t understand it exactly. When he touched her, when he told me what he was going to do to her, I was still able to stand still and not do anything about it. But now something snapped, as if his insult had hit home and I had to do something about it.

  I rushed him.

  I came in low and the gun sounded like a cannon when it went off. The shot missed and he pulled the trigger again when I was within a foot or two of him.

  The hammer clicked on an empty chamber.

  I crashed into him and he rolled over on his back. The gun dropped from his hand and I reached for it, managing to pick it up. Then he was on his feet again and coming at me.

  Behind me Rita had started to scream.

  “You punk,” he snarled. “I’ll kill you for that.”

  When he charged me I swung the gun like a club, putting everything I had into it. I had to nail him fast. If he got in one punch he could kill me.

  The butt of the gun caught him on the side of the head and knocked him to the ground. It would have killed an ordinary man, or at least knocked him out. But he was shaking his head at once and on his feet a second later.

  “Okay,” he said. “Now you’re going to get it.”

  I was still holding onto the gun as he came in for the kill. He was wary now, knowing that I had the gun and that I wasn’t afraid to hit him with it.

  Out of the corner of my eye I could see Rita. She was standing in the same place as before and she was stark naked, screaming her lungs out.

  But there was no one around to hear her screams. I cursed myself mentally for parking so far away from town. I had wanted privacy—now I wished I had settled for a nice quiet spot on lover’s lane by the river.

  It was too late to wish. He stepped in closer, swinging his left like a meat cleaver. When I ducked it he threw the right.

  I ducked under the punch and stepped out of the way. He had put his whole body into the blow, expecting it to connect, and now he couldn’t stop. He went on right past me and I brought the gun down with all my might on the top of his head.

  He dropped like a stone.

  I knelt down next to him; he was unconscious. Then everything that had been bottled up inside me let loose and I rolled him onto his back. I brought the butt of the gun down on the bridge of his nose as hard as
I could and I heard bone snap.

  When somebody who knows judo does that with the side of his hand it can kill a man. I didn’t know any more about judo than I had read in detective stories, but I wasn’t using the side of my hand. I was using a gun butt.

  I felt for a pulse. There was none.

  He was dead.

  When I straightened up she was in my arms, warm and sobbing and unconscious of her nakedness.

  “Jim,” she said. “Oh, God!”

  I didn’t feel anything. “Relax,” I said. “He’s dead. He can’t do anything now.”

  “You were wonderful,” she said. “You…you killed him.”

  I nodded.

  “You knocked him out and you killed him.”

  I nodded again. My arms slipped around her and I stroked the smooth skin.

  “He was horrible,” she went on. “I…never met a man like that.”

  I mumbled, “He had a few good ideas.”

  “What did you say?”

  I told her again.

  She drew away from me. “What do you mean, Jim?”

  I ignored her question. Instead I reached out a hand and took hold of her the way he had.

  “He’s right,” I said. “You are nice.”

  She didn’t know how to react. Finally she smiled. “I’m glad you think so.”

  I didn’t smile. I tightened my grip on her the way I had seen him do it and she writhed in pain, staring at me.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Yes,” she gasped. “What—”

  “If you weren’t such a bitch,” I said, “we wouldn’t be here tonight. All this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “I…let go, Jim.”

  I didn’t let go.

  “Jim—”

  “We’d have been in bed, Rita. My bed. We never would have seen this guy.”

  She stared at me. I think she was beginning to catch on.

  “Let go,” she said. “I have to get dressed.”

  “Don’t bother.”

  “I have to get some clothes on.”

  “I’ll only rip them off again.”

  Her eyes opened wider. “Jim—”

  “He had some good ideas,” I said again. “I’m sick of necking, Rita. When I want something I’m going to take it.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I want you,” I said.

  “Please,” she said. It was the same tone of voice she had used before when he told her to take off her pants.