Too Little, Too Late

by Marta Tandori

  “You’re the boss,” Beth muttered as she left.

  Eve turned to face her mother, trying to keep a straight face. “Buzz me if you need reinforcements.”

  Kate shot her daughter a murderous look as she left.

  ***

  “Look at me in profile,” said Ashley, staring straight ahead, “and be totally honest, okay? Can you see a bump?”

  Karen looked at her friend’s new nose closely. “Nope.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Honest, Ash. I can’t see a thing.”

  Ashley visibly relaxed. “This has been the absolute worst nightmare. At first, my doctor just wanted to remove the bump, but then it became a whole new ballgame when he didn’t find any cartilage in the tip of my nose.”

  “Are you sure he wasn’t just scamming you for more cash?” Karen took a deep drag on her cigarette. “I mean, your nose looked like it had just as much cartilage as everyone else’s.”

  Ashley giggled, lighting her own cigarette thoughtfully. “That’s just the beginning. You should’ve seen the look on my mom’s face when Dr. Adam then told her my nose was too long and had to be shortened.”

  “What’d she do?”

  Ashley giggled. “She acted like my nose was some kind of mutant deformity and told him to just fix whatever had to be fixed.”

  “Which nose guy did you use?”

  “Some M.D. out in Calabasas, of all places,” confided Ashley with a shudder. “I told Mom there were plenty of good nose doctors in Beverly Hills but my mom’s yoga buddy’s best friend’s shrink used Dr. Adam and he came highly recommended.”

  “Well, at least your nose looks great now,” said Karen sincerely.

  “It should since it cost enough,” she remarked, glancing into the rearview mirror before changing lanes.

  “How much?”

  “More than Heather’s boob implants!” Heather Markham was a year older than both of them and was one of the most popular girls at Killenby, thanks to her reputation for giving a great party. She lived in Pacific Palisades and when she had been thirteen, her parents went away for the weekend, leaving her in charge of a full liquor cabinet as well as her dad’s Ferrari. Her reputation as a party princess was made after that weekend. Nowadays, getting an invite to a Heather Markham party was a major event.

  “Did you tell Heather that?”

  “Not to her face,” admitted Ashley. “But I made sure I told all the right people.” She looked at Karen closely. “Speaking of telling the right people, did you give your dad the pitch about Hawaii?”

  “He said he’d think about it,” said Karen shortly. She was still pissed about the whole dinner episode and hadn’t spoken to her father in a while. “Are you sure your parents are going to let us use your house in Hawaii by ourselves?”

  “We’d hardly be alone.” Ashley finished her cigarette and lit a joint, inhaling deeply before passing it to Karen. “There’d be a house full of servants to spy on our every move.” She momentarily closed her eyes when she stopped at the next intersection. “You just need to chill. It’ll all work out.”

  “Whatever,” said Karen, wishing she hadn’t agreed to come with Ashley to her brother’s bar mitzvah. She had wanted to be there when her boyfriend, Josh, cut his track at the studio.

  “So where’s your brother having his bar mitzvah?” Karen finally asked.

  Ashley shook her head in disgust. “The Whisky A Go-Go.”

  Karen looked at her friend in disbelief. “You’re kidding me, right?”

  The Whisky A Go-Go was located on Sunset Strip in West Hollywood. It was opened in the early sixties and had introduced the concept of go-go dancers in cages. From rock to punk to heavy metal, the Whisky had played an important role in the career of many southern California bands such as The Byrds, The Doors and Frank Zappa.

  Ashley sighed in disgust. “You know my brother and his obsession with The Doors.”

  “That in itself is more than weird,” Karen admitted. “But I would’ve thought your dad would want him having it over at the Fox commissary or some other place like that, not at a nightclub like the Whisky.”

  Ashley turned onto Sunset and pulled into a parking lot not far from the Whisky. “You know my dad wasn’t around much when I was growing up, and when he was, he and my mom argued all the time. Well, I think this is his way of trying to make up for lost time by basically agreeing to whatever Eric and I want.”

  “Sweet.” Karen got out of the car and waited for Ashley to lock it and set the alarm. “So what you’re saying is that I shouldn’t be bitter about my parents’ divorce, right?”

  Ashley shrugged her bare shoulders philosophically. “All I’m saying is that most of our friends’ parents have either gotten a divorce or are going through a divorce. No biggie.” She tossed her car keys in her Marc Jacobs bag before flinging the bag over her shoulder. “Most of the time, the divorce is never about us, it’s about them.”

  Karen shook her head. “It’s not that easy.”

  “Maybe not,” conceded her friend. “But the first rule of survival is that you have to make it work for you.”

  The two girls linked arms as they went inside. The music was deafening and the place was already packed with people. Go-go dancers gyrated in cages suspended from the ceiling. Karen grinned, almost getting burned by the glass blower turning out little glass creatures for each kid to take home. The club had more carnival games than an actual carnival and there was a band playing Doors music while waitresses, dressed in scantily-clad cocktail dresses, handed out appetizers.

  “What is that?” yelled Karen, pointing to a hut with flashing strobe lights off to one side of the room.

  “I think that’s where kids can make their own video games.” Ashley pointed to the other side of the room. “My dad also hired a T-shirt maker. We have to make sure we get a T-shirt before we go.”

  Everywhere Karen looked, she saw kids. Some were excited and running around, others looked bored and probably wished they were elsewhere. All in all, this was just like any other kid’s party except that this one probably cost as much as an average house in middle America. Here, the kids weren’t dressed to the nines in their best party dresses but wore designer jeans, Jive tees, two hundred dollar jackets and Doc Martens.

  Karen shook her head. “I cannot frigging believe all this!”

  Ashley gave Karen’s arm a squeeze. “Aren’t divorces great?”

  CHAPTER 17

  The huge property had been an all-but-forgotten parcel of land in Benedict Canyon when his father had purchased it for next to nothing from a California land baron who’d lost most of his fortune when the market crashed in the late twenties. Leo suspected that the selling feature for his father had been the huge underground bunker; the previous owner’s brainchild, who’d been a paranoid recluse and had it built after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. Atop the entrance to the bunker was a dilapidated old hunting lodge which Karl Bauer kept intact; the only modifications he’d made to the building were to make it more secure and to add blackout paint and steel bars on all the windows and the one door. And while construction began on the elaborate Spanish hacienda that was to serve as the main house on the property, his father had spent a small fortune in running electricity and plumbing into the bunker. Lush landscaping soon hid what little there was to see of the building.

  Construction on the main house had been completed two years before his father had died. He had left the property to Leo. With the advent of technology, Leo had further secured the property and bunker some years later with a highly sophisticated alarm system. It was his private sanctuary where he felt closest to his father and until recently, this was where he had come to seek solace and to reaffirm his purpose.

  Leo took the key from inside his pant pocket and unlocked the lodge door before carefully replacing it. He stepped inside and turned on the lights before going over to the far wall and deactivating the alarm system. As always, he was immediately blinded by the vivid red that
covered the walls, ceiling and floor.

  Taking several cleansing breaths in an effort to calm his inner turmoil, Leo took off his shirt, followed by his pants, then his socks and lastly, his underwear. Each article of clothing was neatly folded and placed on the chair in the corner, the only piece of furniture in the room. His meticulous ritual usually had a calming effect on him but today, he could find no solace in anything he did.

  Removing the eight-foot strand of nylon rope coiled loosely over the back of the chair, he went and stood in front of the mirror attached to the opposite wall. He had shaved this morning and his genitals were smooth to the touch, although he noted with annoyance that his penis was already rigid. A film of sweat broke out on his forehead as he looped the strand of rope into a noose-hold by bringing the loose ends back through the loped end. He pushed it to the base of his body, close to his pelvis before turning the noose side down towards his balls, executing three or four simple twists. It was difficult to maneuver the rope around his stiff penis, even with his practiced hands. Taking the separated strands of rope, he wrapped each one around each of his balls, rotating to keep them even. After he separated his balls with the rope, he left about three inches of strand on each side. Those, he brought to the bottom of his balls and tied them off before taking the excess up around his swollen shaft and tying it again.

  He gave the package a firm tug. The immediate shock of pain was reassuring. Satisfied that his balls and penis were tightly bound, he reached for the crisply laundered shirt and trousers hanging on a peg on the wall and put them on, followed by a dark tie. The hat and armband quickly followed suit. The effect was immediate as his heart quickened its beat. Slowly but surely, Leo felt the customary heat start at the tips of his toes and work its way up his entire body. Searching in the mirror for the reassuring bulge, Leo realized that his penis was no longer straining against its bindings and had gone limp. He was in control.

  Leo walked across the room to another smaller room lined with shelves that held gardening tools and other outdoor paraphernalia. Going over to the farthest shelf, he tugged at it and it opened smoothly on well-oiled hinges to reveal a steel door with a panel of numbers on it. Punching in a series of numbers he had branded to memory, Leo waited until he heard the door click and unlock. The steel door and the keyless entry had been another one of his innovations. On the other side of the door was a long dim corridor leading down into the underground bunker and it took several minutes for his eyesight to adjust to the dimness.

  Walking awkwardly over to the flag, he knelt in front of it. He tried concentrating on its bold colors. The strength of those colors should have infused him with power. Despite his single-minded purpose, he felt Maria’s presence taking over, wantonly enticing him with the purity of her body and soul. Except that her body was pure no longer. He had seen to that. The rushing sound filled his head again. He shook it violently.

  “Stop laughing at me, Father.”

  The rushing noise only became louder. He tried concentrating on the flag in front of him. Instead, images of Maria, spread-eagled on her stomach while he took her from behind, played across his mind. To his mortification, the rope around his penis seemed to chafe against his renewed erection. Biting back a sob of frustration, he picked up the riding crop and struck it directly over the bulge in his pants. A shiver went down his spine. Pulling down his pants, Leo again raised the crop, the next blow harder than the first, sending an erotic shock through his constricted scrotum. He was unable to stop himself as he dealt his body blow after blow until it was saturated in sweat. Finally, his excitement could be contained no longer and he came all over the flag with huge rapturous spurts of sticky liquid.

  When he was finally spent, he felt no peace. He felt only anger and shame as well as an urgent need to be with Maria once again.

  CHAPTER 18

  “These roses are lovely,” said Esther in delight. “It was nice of you to bring them for me.”

  “I know how much you love roses,” Kate told her as she placed the roses and baby’s breath in a crystal vase, doing her best to hide her surprise at Esther’s wan appearance. “How are you feeling today?”

  Esther avoided Kate’s eyes as she smoothed the covers over her lap. “I’m no better or worse for wear, as the saying goes.” She took Kate’s hand and pulled her down beside her wheelchair. “Now you didn’t come all the way out here just to talk about my health, did you?”

  “I didn’t?” asked Kate, feigning innocence.

  Esther gave her a knowing look. “We’ve been friends for a long time and I know when something’s bothering you. Lucky for you, I’ve got all my marbles today, so shoot.” She sat up straight in her wheelchair. “I’m all ears.”

  Kate grinned at her, unable to suppress her amusement. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a nosy old busybody?”

  “I should hope so,” the older woman shot back. “It’s what keeps my ticker ticking. So, what gives?”

  “Paul Wagner has decided to put out a special anniversary edition of the Paisleys’ Greatest Hits Collection and he’s asked me to be a part of it.”

  “And you said?”

  Kate sighed. “I agreed to do it. It seemed fair considering he practically handed me the listing on his estate.”

  Esther nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe your head is telling you the time is right.”

  Kate decided to tell her what had been uppermost on her mind for the past few days. “Paul’s also invited me to go with him to an art gallery in a few weeks,” she said hesitantly, “in San Francisco.”

  “Really.” That one word spoke volumes as Esther gave Kate a shrewd look. “It seems to me like there’s a bit more than just a tit for a tat going on between you two.”

  Kate grimaced. “I wish you wouldn’t use those words. Anyway,” she forged ahead, “we’d leave Friday afternoon and return on Sunday.”

  “Make sure you pack a few sweaters,” her friend offered sagely. “It can get chilly at night this time of the year – from what I can remember, of course.”

  Kate looked at her in exasperation. “Is that all you’re going to say?”

  “What else do you want me to say?” Esther asked reasonably. “Do you want me to tell you that you shouldn’t go?”

  “Of course not.” Kate flipped open one of the magazines lying on the table. After a moment’s pause, she sheepishly asked, “Should I go?”

  “It depends on what you’re afraid of.”

  “What makes you think I’m afraid of something?” Kate impatiently threw the magazine back on the bedside table, studiously avoiding her friend’s gaze.

  “Because you keep answering my questions with questions.” Esther took hold of her hand. “You don’t have to tell me you’re attracted to the man. Anyone with half a brain can see that.” She held up her hand to ward off her friend’s immediate protest.

  Kate slumped down onto Esther’s bed. “So, it’s that obvious, is it?” Seeing Esther’s lascivious grin only made her feel worse. “Don’t answer that.”

  “Let’s examine the facts.” Esther straightened her back, all businesslike as she began ticking points off on her arthritic fingers. “He’s a single, attractive man, last time I saw him. Takes after his father in the looks department. He’s got a healthy bank balance and he’s straight. What’s not to like? Hell, I’d even go if he promised to spring me from here.”

  “Maybe I’m reading more into his invitation than I should be,” Kate argued. “After all, we’re supposed to be looking for a piece of art for his main foyer.”

  “Maybe you’re not,” Esther countered.

  Kate fiddled with the coverlet on Esther’s bed. “This is ridiculous. I’m acting like an inexperienced school girl trying to figure out how far to go on a first date.” She stared at her friend helplessly. “What should I do?”

  “I think you should go,” said Esther firmly. “Marcus would want you to go. Just make sure he uses a condom.”

  “That wasn’t funny!” Kate pretend
ed to glare at her balefully. “Someone your age shouldn’t have their mind in the gutter.”

  “Someone my age is just grateful to have my faculties at all – most of the time, anyway,” Esther retorted wickedly. “Besides, you’re never too old for a lecture on safe sex. And you’re forgetting one thing.”

  “What’s that?” asked Kate suspiciously.

  “If all Paul Wagner wanted to do was jump your old bones, he could’ve asked you to go with him somewhere on his jet and then deflowered you in the sky.”

  Kate rolled her eyes. “I think I’m a little beyond deflowering.”

  “The point is, there are worse things you could do than be in the man’s company for a few days, right?”

  “Right,” she admitted.

  “Good.” Esther pointed towards the door. “Now that we’ve got that settled, you can take me for a spin in this Godforsaken contraption.”

  ***

  Eve was just starting to slice radishes for the salad when she heard the front door slam. “We’re in here!” she yelled.

  A minute later, Karen came into the kitchen. Seeing her grandmother sitting on one of the stools pulled up to the counter, she went over and pecked her on the cheek. “Hey, Grams.”

  “Hey yourself,” replied Kate fondly. “How was the recording session?”

  “It wasn’t a recording session.” Picking up a sliced radish, she plucked it in her mouth. “We watched Josh’s new music video.”

  “This Josh, he’s a friend of yours from school?” Eve asked. “I don’t recall you mentioning him before.”

  “I don’t always talk about all my friends,” Karen retorted before quickly changing the subject. “What’s for dinner?”

  “Lasagna,” Eve told her. “Why don’t you set the table.” Expecting her daughter to riase an objection like she usually did, Eve was surprised when Karen went to the cupboard and began taking out plates. A look passed between Eve and her mother. Kate had noticed it too.