Bad Things

by Tamara Thorne

  She smiled. “You’ll see soon enough.”

  “How long are you going to keep me in suspense, evil woman?”

  He was like a little boy, practically bouncing with curiosity. She adored that side of him. “I’m going to keep you in suspense as long as I can,” she said mischievously.

  “Animal, vegetable, or mineral?” he persisted.

  “I’ll never tell.” She grinned at him. Ever since she’d discovered how much Rick loved surprises, she’d been bringing him odd little goodies wrapped up tight as drums so he’d have to really work at them to get them open.

  What it was made no difference. He just seemed so pleased and amazed that someone had thought about him—it must have to do with being raised by Ewebeans, she thought wryly—that she loved watching him. Last week she’d given him a pair of little windup sneakers, and they’d walked them back and forth across the table at Scomillo’s any number of times before a tall, thin waiter curled his lip and looked disgusted. They’d snickered over that the rest of the evening. The week before, it was a bag of watermelon candy; the week before, a Koosh ball. She had a feeling that a stick of gum would please him as much as tickets to the theater. Well, almost as much.

  Watching him watch her as he knotted his tie, she wondered if tonight would be the night; they’d been seeing each other all summer, and nothing but necking had happened yet. When he’d said he wanted to take it slow, she’d been happy, glad to know he wasn’t after her for a quick slam bam. But now, even allowing for her ever-present impatience, things seemed to be at a standstill.

  Here was a man who was sweet and sensitive, intelligent, and just mysterious enough to drive her crazy. Here was a man with the self-control of a monk. Every time they held each other and kissed good night, it became very obvious he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Last week they went dancing, slow dancing, and his desire was so evident that it took every ounce of self-control she possessed not to let fly with a crude remark to the effect of a hard man was good to find. She didn’t know whether he’d take the remark as invitation or insult. He had such strange reactions to things sometimes, and she didn’t want to risk the relationship.

  Plainly Rick Piper had a lot more willpower than she did. And that just served to intrigue her all the more.

  “What are you thinking about, Audrey? You have a funny look on your face.” Straightening his tie, he approached her, his smile dimpling the cheeks of that boyish face, the skin around his eyes crinkling just right.

  Heat squirmed low in her belly and she blushed. “Here,” she said, bringing the gift out from behind her back rather than answering his question. “I was late because I had such a hard time wrapping this.”

  His eyes lit up. “What is it?” He held his hands out, and she placed the long, thin package in them.

  “That’s for me to know and you to find out,” she told him.

  “Let’s sit down.” He led her to the couch, laid the long package on the coffee table, and began working on unwrapping it. She’d smothered it in tape and ribbons to prolong the pleasure of watching him as long as possible.

  Suddenly she was a little nervous. This was a serious gift, the first one that cost her more—a lot more—than five bucks. It was a sword, an indoor reminder of Rick’s sculpture.

  She’d purchased it on a whim. While browsing in one of the antique stores on Euclid a few days ago, she’d spotted it in one of the cases. Polished and in perfect condition, it was a beautiful cavalry-style saber with a slightly curved blade and an ornate bronze hilt. The shopkeeper had told her it was of British design, an officer’s weapon, most likely used during Wellington’s Peninsular campaign against Napoleon near the end of the eighteenth century. Judging by the price, it had probably been used by the general himself. After drawing and quartering her wallet to acquire the weapon, she hoped he’d like it. Her anxiety built as she wondered if he’d like it or if he’d think it was presumptuous of her to give him something so expensive.

  “I . . . I can take it back if you don’t like it. It might not be right . . .”

  He grinned at her, his long-fingered hands dancing among the bows, dutifully untying them instead of cutting because he knew she liked to watch.

  “You love torturing me, don’t you?” he asked, trying to undo a particularly stubborn piece of ribbon.

  She just smiled. Tonight they were going into Los Angeles to see Les Misérables, which had just reopened at the Chandler Pavilion. Both had seen it before, but they wanted to see it together. He’d surprised her with the tickets last week; the best seats in the house, he’d told her, obtained by pulling what he called “reporter” strings. So tonight it would be dinner, a play too romantic and schmaltzy for anyone to resist, then home—hers or his, she didn’t know or care which—to share the bottle of champagne she’d stashed in a cooler in her car. After that, she intended to try to get him to unwrap her. Her patience had run out.

  That was the other reason she arrived late; it had taken her forever to get dressed. She’d left the office early and gone to Victoria’s Secret, where she invested in a form-fitting beige teddy loaded with tiny silk buttons and matching panties that had multiple ribbon closures. She also bought a garter belt for the first time in her life, specifically because of the snappy things you had to undo to get the nylons off. Her outerwear included hook-laced high-heeled boots, a midcalf black linen skirt which buttoned up the front, and a white high-collared silk blouse with more than thirty miniature button loops for him to undo—and that wasn’t even counting the cuff buttons. Finally, she’d pulled her red hair up in a sweep of loose curls, then instead of securing it with a couple of clips, she’d used two dozen bobby pins.

  She wanted to be unwrapped in the worst way.

  “Audrey?” He was smiling at her. “Earth to Audrey.”

  “Hmmm?”

  “What’s on your mind?”

  “I’ll tell you later.”

  “I’m ready to open this.” He was down to the wrapping paper, all the ribbons piled on the floor next to him.

  “Rick, is it hot in here?”

  “No,” he said, his impatience showing as he plucked’ at the paper. “But you look feverish. Are you up for tonight?”

  “Oh yes.” She smiled. I hope you are too.

  “Tissue paper,” Rick said dryly. “I should have known.” He began turning the package over and over until, at last, he uncovered the shining steel blade. “Audrey,” he whispered, lifting it away from the wrappings, “it’s beautiful.” He took hold of the saber’s hilt, hefted it, then stood and tried it out, cutting delicate figure eights in the air.

  “It’s in honor of your sculpture’s completion. You’re almost done, right?”

  “It’s beautiful,” he told her as he made like a Musketeer. “Wonderful, marvelous. Lord, Audrey, it’s incredible! I’ll hang it over the fireplace. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She glanced at the clock. “We should get going.”

  He leaned down and kissed her, then took her hand as she got to her feet. “Thank you so much!” he repeated, his eyes dancing with delight. “For now, I’m going to put this in my room and lock the door.” He made a face. “Can you imagine what would happen if Jade got her grubby mitts on it?”

  With that, he raced up the stairs. A moment later, he was back. “Before we leave, I have to show you something. It’ll just take a minute. Close your eyes,” he ordered.

  “Rick?”

  “Come on, do it. It’s my turn to surprise you.”

  “Okay,” she laughed, and shut her eyes.

  He led her out the front door, and she waited while he shut and locked it. Then he put one hand around her waist and the other on her elbow and guided her down the front steps.

  “Watch out, the grass is wet,” he warned. “We’re heading toward the old pond. It’s pumping out right now, so it kind of stinks. Did I tell you it used to be a swimming pool?”

  “No.” She laughed. Rarely was he so maniacally happy.<
br />
  “It was. Hector and I are going to muck it out next week, then the replasterers will come and everything will be refitted, and before you know it, voilà, a swimming pool.”

  “What will the koi think of that?”

  “They’ve been gone for years,” he said, a touch of sadness in his voice. “Ewebean disease, I guess.” His voice lightened. “There used to be colored Malibu lights out here. Ultra sixties. My dad installed them. Watch out, the ground dips here. Okay, step up.” Her feet encountered a hard smooth surface, and they stopped walking. “Open your eyes.”

  She did. They stood before the murky, reeking pond. Directly across from them, Don Quixote sat majestically upon his bony steed. “Wow,” she murmured. The piece was beautiful and a little frightening at the same time.

  “Once Hector installs the new lights,” he said, “we’ll be able to see his silhouette from the house all the time,” he told her proudly. “I’m thinking of changing the landscaping a little so he can be seen from the street too.”

  “It’s wonderful, Rick,” she said sincerely.

  “Thanks.” He looked around, his expression changing slightly, a trace of nervousness showing through his good humor. Does he see them? She wondered. Does he think he sees them? He hadn’t brought up the greenjacks in months and wouldn’t even let her talk about the research she’d done—but she was pretty sure he hadn’t stopped thinking about them.

  “It’s getting dark,” he. said, his voice suddenly nervous. “We’d better get going now. We’re only going to have time for fast food as it is.”

  She almost tripped trying to keep up with him. He acted like devils were after him, but she said nothing. His strangeness was part of his charm.

  35

  They ended up at Rick’s because Shelly was spending the night at a girlfriend’s and he didn’t want to make Carmen watch Cody any longer than necessary. That was fine by Audrey. Her apartment was little and cramped, and the people downstairs cooked fish or liver virtually every night, an unromantic aroma at best. She was also convinced the couple across the hall from her both suffered from Tourette’s syndrome.

  When they came in the house, Carmen eyed the champagne bottle Audrey held, then asked him if he wanted his cat back tonight. He hemmed and hawed for a moment, then Carmen told him that Quint was welcome to stay at her place. He nodded and mumbled something about having to work late anyway.

  Audrey was pretty sure Rick blushed when he said it, and hoped work wasn’t really what was on his mind. Going to the ladies’ room at intermission and maneuvering through all the buttons and bows had been a Herculean task, and she was more intent then ever on making it pay off.

  “I’ll get the glasses,” he said after Carmen left. “You want to watch a movie or something?”

  “Sure.” Something sexy.

  “I have lots of tapes. Why don’t you pick something out?” He turned to go into the kitchen.

  “Rick? Where are the tapes?”

  He made a face. “That would help, wouldn’t it? I had them there”—he pointed at the bare bookcase to the left of the fireplace—“but that didn’t work out.” He crooked his finger, and she crossed the room. In a low voice he said, “Jade got into them.” He pulled his keys out of his pocket and selected one. “They’re in my room,” he said. “Do you remember where it is?”

  She nodded. She’d seen his room the first time she’d come over, when he’d given her a grand tour of the house.

  “They’re in my dressing room in a cabinet right beneath my jackets. It’s the cabinet without the hanger through the handles.”

  “Why is that?”

  “The cat. He loves to open doors, and there’s a passage behind the one with the hanger. I’m afraid he might accidentally push the latch and end up”—he pitched his voice to sound like Peter Lorre—“lost in the bowels of the mansion.”

  “Gotcha. I’ll find it.” She smiled at him. “Do you have any apples?”

  “Red Delicious, fresh from Oak Glen. You want some with your champagne?”

  “Yes. We’ll be totally decadent, yet fat-free. Be right back.”

  After she let herself into his room, she was surprised to see the wire lying on the floor between the two cabinets. Quint’s work, she thought, kneeling. She opened the wrong door first, found it empty except for a box of D-Con. Curiously she looked for the interior latch Rick had talked about, but gave up quickly. There were better things to do: champagne to drink, apples to eat, a man to seduce.

  She quickly restrung the wire through the cabinet’s handles, then opened the other cabinet and, moments later, was overjoyed to find a copy of Time After Time, a romantic fantasy filmed in the seventies. The fact that he owned it spoke volumes about the man. As she rose, she glanced around the room, having a brief but uncomfortable feeling that something was watching her. She saw nothing. Don’t be silly. You’ll get as nervous as Rick is, and then won’t you be the pair! Reentering the bedroom, she saw a twenty-five-inch TV set and VCR across from the bed. Should she suggest they watch it up here? No, too forward.

  She walked back down the stairs. The movie concerned Jack the Ripper stealing H. G. Wells’s time machine to escape to modern times, and the timid inventor’s resulting chase and romance. When Wells fell in love in the movie, the woman who wanted him had to do all the work. She smiled to herself. Old H. G. was a lot like Rick Piper: too shy and retiring for his own good.

  But there were good things about that. No doubt because of the sadistic asshole she’d been married to, Audrey was instantly turned off by men who approached her first, no matter how gently; she needed to do the pursuing in order to feel safe. Hence, the attraction to Time After Time. Hence the attraction to Rick Piper.

  “Find something good?” he asked as he entered the living room and placed a large tray on the coffee table.

  “Yes. You’re a romantic, aren’t you, Piper?” She held up the box for him to see. “No sense denying it. You’ve been caught.”

  “Guilty,” he said sheepishly. “Have you seen it before?”

  “Yes. I never get tired of it.” She smiled coyly, thinking that the movie would be great inspiration. She slipped it into the machine.

  “Bring the remote,” he said, sitting down. He patted the cushion next to him. “And come sit with me.”

  “Pretty classy, huh?” he asked as she sat. The champagne rested in a silver ice bucket, and four shiny-wet apples were piled in a crystal bowl. Two linen napkins and two champagne flutes also sat on the teak tray.

  “Not bad for a Vegas guy,” she said.

  “Are you implying you expected plastic glasses?” He grinned at her and began to remove the foil from the bottle, Suddenly Jade’s obscene moaning began.

  “Christ,” Rick said. “Jesus Christ. Not now.”

  She almost suggested they go to her place, then remembered Cody.

  “Fuck me!” Jade cried. High-pitched lusty “Oh, oh, ohhs,” followed.

  Audrey stifled a giggle.

  “That’s it,” Rick said, showing no signs of amusement. “I’m going to tell her to knock it off.”

  Audrey put her hand on Rick’s wrist. “If you do, she’ll just cause a scene.” She paused. “There’s a VCR in your room.”

  He considered. “There’s nowhere to sit, though,” he said slowly.

  “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck meeee!”

  Rick grimaced, obviously interpreting his aunt’s behavior as a reflection upon himself.

  Audrey snickered. “We can sit on your bed. I mean, that is why you’ve got that entertainment center on the wall across from the bed. To watch TV, right? You must love movies, with all the equipment you’ve got.”

  “Yes, well, that unit used to be in my living room back in Vegas. I put it up there instead of down here because I was afraid I’d spend a lot of my time up there, staying away from Jade.” He looked pained. “Besides making those . . . noises, she also goes through other people’s belongings and takes whatever she wants—or mangles them,
one or the other. She did that with the tapes when I had them down here. Never admitted it, of course.” He made a face. “She got sticky stuff all over them. It was disgusting. She must’ve been eating Twinkies or something.”

  Audrey smiled demurely. “Are you sure it wasn’t Cody’s doing?”

  “No, he makes little bitty fingerprints. Lord.” He rolled his eyes as Jade’s lewd noises reached another crescendo.

  “At least she’s multiorgasmic,” Audrey teased lightly. She had to get him out of here before he lost his good mood. “So what do you say? Shall we take this tray and the movie and watch upstairs?”

  “You don’t feel awkward?” he asked.

  “No. Has anyone ever told you you’re terribly old-fashioned? Especially for a guy whose best friend is a she-male.”

  “Your brother’s very moral.” Rick sniffed dramatically, and placed everything back on the tray. “In his own way.”

  “I’m teasing you, Rick.” She crossed to the TV and ejected the tape.

  “I know,” he said, gathering everything together on the tray. “I guess I am old-fashioned.” They started up the stairs. “Seeing the things my brother did with her”—he nodded back in Jade’s direction—“and her daughter, maybe had an effect. They did things animals wouldn’t do.” Outside his door, he hesitated. “You’re sure you’re okay with this? I could get some chairs from the kitchen.”

  “I’m fine with it.” She paused. “Are you?”

  “I just don’t want you to think I’m trying to take advantage.”

  She laughed; she couldn’t help it. “I don’t think that at all,” she said with utmost sincerity.

  “I need to know you, and you need to know me,” he added, setting the champagne on the nightstand. “We need to talk more.”

  “I agree.” She put the tape in the machine and brought the remote to the bed. “If there’s anything I haven’t told you about myself yet, I will when I think of it. I’m out of deep dark secrets, so I hope you feel like you know me. Mind if I take my shoes off?”