And she'd do it any way she saw fit.
No more arguments over the size of the television or what pictures got hung on the walls; no tedious discussion about thread-count of their pillowcases or wattage of a new microwave oven. If there was a point to be argued, Christian would find it. Now, the only decisions that mattered were her own.
As she picked through an assortment of spatulas, she felt a warm breath on her neck and stood with a gasp. She expected another curious customer, or maybe one of her employees stopping to say hello, but she wasn't prepared for the scowling face that greeted her.
Christian stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at her like she was nothing more than a dog that had pissed on his floor. Linda backed away and blew an angry breath through her lips.
"So now you're following me to work?" she asked.
"Funny you should say that," he grumbled. "I was beginning to think you didn't work here anymore."
"I'm on vacation, not like it's any of your business." Christian said nothing. He simply watched her and smiled at her discomfort. "Do you need something?"
"I was hoping we could talk," he said, "but there must something wrong with your phone. There's no other explanation for your sudden disappearance."
"I have nothing to say to you, Christian. As a matter of fact, I'll be changing my number, so you might as well stop trying. It isn't going to work."
"What happened? Did Mommy tell you not to hang out with the boy from the other side of the tracks?"
"This has nothing to do with my mother and you know it. Whatever I do with my time, and whoever I spend that time with, is none of your concern."
"You don't really believe that, do you?"
Linda noticed for the first time how raw and bloodshot Christian's eyes were. The fuzz along his jaw was several days old and his clothes smelled like he'd been wearing them for some time. She wouldn't be shocked to know he'd gone back to some of his old vices. He'd kicked a cocaine habit two years earlier, but Linda knew the telltale signs.
"You look like shit," she declared.
"That's not a very nice thing to say," he said, sniffling. "I think you look great."
"I'll be sure to file that away with everything else I couldn't care less about. Now please, move. I have things to do."
"Not so fast," he said, standing in front of her and blocking the aisle. "You're here. I'm here. Don't you think this is a good time to put our cards on the table?"
"No," she said, exasperated. "There's nothing to talk about."
"But there is. It looks like you've gotten a new place? Why else would you be shopping for pots and pans?"
"I'm going to culinary school," she yelled.
"You can't microwave popcorn. Is that the best you can do?"
"Fuck off, Christian. I'm done."
Linda turned and slipped past, trying to put distance between them, when Christian reached out and grabbed her arm.
"Where do you think you're going, Linda? Don't make a scene. Do you think your underlings are going to come out here and save the day? We're having this discussion, and we're having it now."
Linda swallowed the sour bile that had risen in her throat, not only from fear but also from the noxious combination of peppermint chewing gum and sweat that lingered around him. She wondered what she'd ever seen in him in the first place. He wasn't the most handsome man in the world - and was by far the worst lover she'd ever lain with - but at least he'd kept himself clean and showered. Now, he could easily be mistaken for one of the homeless men she'd heard lived beneath the new Harrison Avenue bridge.
"Let me go," she said through clenched teeth.
"Sure. As soon as you get yourself under control. I wouldn't want you tripping and busting up that pretty face."
"Linda!" a voice called. "Is that you?"
She couldn't see the owner of the voice, but she recognized it. She stood on her toes and looked over Christian's shoulder as an older man strode down the aisle toward them.
"Al," she shouted cheerily. "It's so nice to see you again."
She felt breath escape Christian's mouth in a hot gust as he let go of her arm.
"The feeling is mutual," Al Sterling said. "Is everything okay?"
"I was just leaving," she replied.
Christian stepped closer and glowered.
"And who might you be?" Al asked.
"None of your business, old man. Keep moving. Linda and I were having a conversation and you're not part of it."
"Oh? Is that right, Linda? If she wants me to leave, I'll gladly say farewell and allow you two to have your little chat."
"Oh, that's quite alright," Linda said. "No worries at all."
"Linda..." Christian rumbled.
"I don't think I caught your name," Al said.
"Fuck you, that's my name."
"Well, it would seem even your parents don't like you very much. I can't imagine why." Al looked Christian up and down and frowned. "Linda and I have something to discuss, so I'd appreciate it if you could give us some privacy."
"I get it now," Christian said. "He's the reason you're not returning my calls. This old fuck..."
"There's no reason to talk like that in front of a lady. I'll ask you again... isn't there somewhere else you need to be?"
"You're going to piss me off, grandpa. Why don't you mind your own business, get what you came for, and go? I think the Depends are in another aisle."
Christian grabbed Linda's arm a second time, but she barely noticed. It was the steely glint in Al Sterling's eyes that made her pull away.
In a single motion - almost too quick to see - Al pulled Linda's arm from Christian's grasp, reached up, and slammed him against the shelf. A pan skidded across the rack and fell to the floor with a metallic clatter. Linda held a hand over her mouth to stop what may have been a scream... or wild laughter.
"Son of a bitch," Christian shouted. "Who do you think you are?"
"Linda is a friend of mine, and I get very defensive when I see some young punk treating her in a way that goes against any respectful upbringing. Did your father tell you it was okay to yell at women? Did your mother allow it?"
"You'd better back the fuck up before I back you up."
Al closed the gap between them until their noses were almost touching. "I'm sure this is as unpleasant for you as it is for me, but I'm not going to ask you again. You can either walk away, or I can escort you outside. It makes no difference to me."
Linda watched Christian struggle, but Al wouldn't budge. Veins bulged on her ex-boyfriend's forehead as beads of sweat popped from his pores. He gritted his teeth, trembling with fury, but was no match for the older man.
Al leaned in closer and spoke into Christian's ear, but Linda couldn't make out what he said. The color drained from Christian's face and he had a stupid, terrified look in his eyes. Without another word, Al stepped back as Christian ran a hand through his hair and walked away with a snort.
"Well, that's settled," Al said.
"What... what did you say to him?"
"I told him if I ever see him again, I'll cut off his cock and feed it to the birds."
Linda's laughter caught in her throat when she realized Al Sterling wasn't joking.
"Thank you," Linda said. "Christian gets angry when he doesn't get what he wants."
"An ex-boyfriend?"
"We broke up a few months ago, but he won't let me be. He's been hounding me ever since... and apparently following me."
"Well, I hope I took care of that."
Linda left the aisle and peeked around the endcap, expecting to see Christian skulking nearby. When she decided the coast was clear, she smiled at Al and broke cover.
"I think he's gone," she said nervously.
"Would you like me to walk you to your car?"
"I couldn't ask you to do that."
"You didn't ask. I'm offering. You've had enough unpleasantness for one day."
She nodded and offered a thin smile. "I can come back later. With an
y luck, he'll be drunk and passed out by then."
"Is he dangerous?" Al questioned.
"His bark is worse than his bite. He's gotten physical in the past, but nothing I can't handle."
As they walked outside, Linda scanned the parking lot for Christian's car - a red Nissan 300ZX. It wasn't common, which made it much easier to spot, even in the packed Wal-Mart lot. Linda had often teased him that he loved the car more than her, and as time went on, she realized there was more truth to that statement than she was willing to admit. Al saw Linda frown and stepped closer.
"It's okay," he said. "I think he got the point."
"You really didn't have to get involved."
"What kind of friend would I be if I didn't? Besides, the look on his face was worth it."
"I'm going to go home and mix up a stiff drink," Linda said. "Again, thank you."
"My pleasure. You have my card. If you ever need to call me, please don't hesitate."
Linda smiled and left Al standing at the entrance. It didn't hit her until after her third rum and Coke how strange it was for him to have shown up at just the right time and place. What if Christian wasn't the only one following her?
By the time she mixed her fourth drink, it no longer mattered.
***
Linda fell asleep the second her head hit the pillow.
She'd gotten through her sixth mixed drink and a rerun of Charles In Charge when the couch felt like it had taken flight and began its wobbly ascent to the stratosphere. She could never hold her booze, but after her run-in with Christian, her thirst for escape trumped her common sense. The rum would not only make her useless the following day, but it also had a way of turning her dreams into mad playgrounds of subconscious chaos. Tonight was no different.
Her dream-self floated across the cracked asphalt of Delaney Street, toward the Blackridge Apartments as they must have looked decades earlier. Every window was ablaze with yellow light; the sound of up-tempo jazz music drifted into the night air, carried on a warm summer breeze. Muffled conversation and laughter escaped the building in sporadic bursts. Linda hadn't been invited to the party, but she wouldn't let that stop her. Not like she had a choice. She drifted forward, toward the voices, toward the light, through the line of parked Duesenbergs, Cords, and Studebakers.
A man in an expensive tuxedo reached out with a white-gloved hand and opened the door, bending slightly at the waist as if he'd found something interesting on the ground.
"So glad you could make it," he said. It was difficult to hear him through his bizarre papier mâché mask; it was misshapen and hung crookedly on his face, looking like a child's drawing of some ferocious jungle beast. Piercing blue eyes peered from two raggedly cut holes above a wide, toothy mouth. "Everyone is in the Rose Lounge." He growled convincingly, laughed, and ushered her inside.
As if the doorman wasn't odd enough, the main room of the Blackridge - or the Hotel DeMarco as it was known at the time - was filled with men and women each wearing similar masks: lions, dogs, parrots, mice, elephants, and others so poorly rendered that Linda couldn't identify them. The men were dressed in tuxedos while the women wore identical white gowns that spilled to the floor in silky waves. She looked down and noticed she too was dressed in the same attire.
While the main room had a fair amount of partygoers, the Rose Lounge was stacked to the hilt. The entrance was packed with people holding expensive champagne glasses and smoking from six-inch bakelite cigarette holders. Linda had seen them in old movies, but never in real life.
But this isn't real life, she thought. This is a dream. Just go with it.
She felt herself moving forward as if standing on a conveyor, drawn toward the lounge, closer and closer to the heart of the party. She glided over the marble floor like a ghost, watching as masked faces turned in her direction. People stepped aside as she neared, parting to leave a small path into the center of the room.
The tables and chairs had been dragged to the edges of the room, leaving a wide open space in the middle of the floor. A hush had fallen over the crowd. Birds whispered to cats and cats whispered to deer as Linda came to rest in front of the lounge's centerpiece - a large bed covered in crimson silk. Lying among the folds was a man, completely naked except for a black mask in the shape of a crow. She recognized the blazing green eyes immediately.
Al Sterling.
He lay back, hands clasped behind his head as if waiting for Linda to make the first move.
"Look at that," a woman gasped. "It's so... big."
Linda didn't need further explanation. She looked down at Al's mid-section and sucked in a breath. His penis was fully erect, a solid twelve inches from base to tip. Female voices sighed in awe as he thrust his pelvis into the air, showing off every inch of what he had to offer.
What am I supposed to do with that? Linda thought. Her apprehension didn't stop her from moving forward. She climbed onto the bed and sat between his splayed legs, reaching out a delicate hand to caress his thighs. He twitched at her touch and sucked a whistling breath through his teeth.
The lights dimmed as spectators inched closer to the bed, reaching out to touch them both with curious fingers. Linda realized her gown had fallen away. Hands slid over her back; one circled her nipple as it grew taught; another slid between her legs and lightly stroked the sensitive flesh.
Linda had never experienced such blatant eroticism in her entire life.
As she moved closer and straddled Al Sterling's midsection, the crowd began chanting words she didn't understand. She didn't need to do anything. She felt someone's hand slide between them, guiding Al's erection. She braced herself by putting her hands on his chest, feeling the wiry hair slipping between her fingers.
This is going to hurt, she thought, but she was helpless to stop it.
When Al entered her, she screamed... but the sensation soon became one of pleasurable warmth. She timed her movement to match his increasing speed, allowing him to penetrate deeper with each thrust. Greedy hands groped at every inch of her flesh, touching her in places she'd never been touched before.
A woman walked to the top of the bed, raised her gown, and sat on Al Sterling's papier mâché beak, grinding on his face like she was riding a mechanical bull. She reached out and squeezed Linda's breasts, moaning deep in her throat as she leaned closer and licked the soft skin beneath Linda's ear.
A man crawled onto the bed behind her, placed his hands on her hips, and did something Linda had never done before. The pain was exquisite but lasted only a few seconds - a few wonderful seconds.
The crowd cheered as Al reached orgasm, but by then, the dream was fading.
Linda opened her eyes to an empty room, and the only hand touching her was her own. She pulled her fingers from beneath the waistband of her sweatpants and shuddered. Her body was tense and drenched in sweat; her knees were shaking. A steady, tingling heat radiated from between her legs and worked its way into her toes.
"This is new," she said to the empty room.
She hoped she hadn't called out in her sleep. Explaining that to her mother - or worse yet, her father - was something she couldn't even imagine. She tossed the sheets aside, undressed, and stepped into the bathroom, waiting for the water in the shower to warm up. Whatever she had begun in her sleep could be taken care of behind a closed door.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Al Sterling watching her through his mask... heard the quiet muttering of people hiding in the shadows... felt every sensation of what Al and the others had done to her.
She wondered how she'd ever look at him again with a straight face.
Her orgasm was glorious. The day dawned in a way that her morning coffee could never replicate.
But she drank it anyway... with a smile on her face.
Chapter 3
By the time Linda had dressed and left the house, it was already after eleven. The dream had slowed her down in more ways than one, but as she crossed town, she began feeling more like herself. She was meeting Th
eresa for lunch at Italo's and couldn't wait to tell her the news about her new digs... and her X-rated dream from that morning.
"I have to stop drinking before bed," she said aloud, followed by a knowing giggle. How many times had she said the same thing? A dozen? A hundred? Once the hangover melted away, and the dreams faded, she always forgot her resolutions. What was the point of living cautiously at twenty-five? Everyone makes bad decisions in their twenties; it's part of the preparation for real adulthood.
She found a parking space on Pittson Avenue, locked the car, and stepped inside the restaurant. Theresa had the room all to herself. Linda pulled out a chair and sat with a grunt as Theresa looked up from her cell phone with a smile.
"One of these days, you're going to shock me by being on time," Theresa joked.
"Don't worry, I think it'll be a while before you have to worry about that." She leaned across the small table and kissed her friend on the cheek.
"Woman, you look like you closed the bar last night."
"The bar in my parents' liquor cabinet, maybe."
"Oh, one of those nights."
"I can't be held responsible for my parents' inability to hide their booze."
Theresa laughed and sipped her Pepsi. "So what brought this on?"
"I ran into Christian at Wal-Mart..."
"That dirty son of a bitch," she interrupted. "What did he do?"
"Nothing... nothing really. He just likes to hear himself talk."
Linda didn't feel like discussing the details. She'd grown tired of conversations where the main focus was Christian's latest fuck-up. There was no reason to keep him in the spotlight anymore.
"Did he come after you again?"
"No, nothing like that. Just let it go... there are better things to talk about."
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