Эд Горман - Stranglehold

Behind her in the vestibule two mutt cats — one golden tom and one black-and-white female — stood primly watching us. She turned to them and said, “Now you’ve got plenty of food and water. And I’ve left the TV on for you in the family room. I’ll see you later.”

As she was locking the door, she said, “It’s pathetic how I talk to them. But when my marriage started going south I guess they became the kids we never quite got around to having.”

“I’ve got a cat of my own in Chicago. She has my power of attorney.”

On the way to the restaurant she’d selected, she spent a few minutes trying to find a station that played old standards. “It’s funny. I love a lot of the music today, even some of the rap. But when I want to feel like a grownup, I like Sinatra and Tony Bennett and people like that.”

“You like rap?”

“I said ‘some of it.’ I had my twelve-year-old niece with me this summer for a month. Her folks are going through a divorce and we’ve always been close, so she came out here from Connecticut to get away from everything at home. I couldn’t believe how much rap she listened to. A very upper-class white girl. Anyway, I guess she wore down my defenses. There are three or four rap songs I actually enjoy.”

The restaurant was tucked into some pines. There were so many Beemers, the parking lot resembled a dealership. The owner was also the greeter, an Aspen type, a big guy in a red flannel shirt, a black leather vest, and jeans. The Rolex on his right wrist spoiled the effect he wanted — a TV version of a cowhand — as did the capped teeth. There were two levels to the place — the enormous fireplace and bar downstairs and the tall booths and tables on the second level. The waitress dressed pretty much like the greeter. She was young and sweet and probably couldn’t afford a Rolex. While we waited for our drinks, Jane said, “If I start getting drunk, stop me. I’m an embarrassing drunk, believe me.”

“I’ve been known to be pretty embarrassing myself.”

“Did you ever get into fights?”

“Not when I was drunk. Sometimes when I worked in army intelligence but not very often.”

“My soon-to-be ex thought he was a heavyweight champion when he got drunk. He was always picking fights. When he woke up the next morning I’d have to remind him of what he’d done.”

“I’ve had too many of those nights myself.”

“Did you drink a lot when you were married?” Then, “Damn.”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have asked that question. It was stupid.”

“Logical question given what we were talking about. And no, it wasn’t the drinking; it was the fact that I spent so much time away from home working on campaigns. I wasn’t faithful and neither was she. She had a good excuse for it. I didn’t.”

“Do you get along with her now?”

“I don’t see her that often. My daughter says that she’s very happy with her new husband. I’m glad for her. I was a selfish bastard. When I found out she had a lover, I got jealous and stupid. I ranted for days even though I’d pushed her into it.”

“Maybe she would have been unfaithful anyway.”

“Maybe. But the point is, I blamed her when I’d been unfaithful long before she was.”

We started in on the warm bread hidden in a basket and wrapped in a heavy wine-red napkin. As she picked up the butter knife, she said, “I tried to be unfaithful one time. I found this note in his pocket from one of the secretaries where he works. It was obvious what was going on. I got dressed up and went out to a bar just the way women do in movies, and I sat at a little table and three or four men hit on me. I was never a beauty like Susan, but I did all right. And it was fun sitting there and flirting and feeling the way I did in college. But when it came down to going home with this guy — and he was really good-looking — I just couldn’t do it. And it’s not because I’m so moral or anything. We’d been married for eleven years and even when he was cheating — I guess I just didn’t want to be like him. Does that make any sense?”

“Sure.”

The salmon steaks were very good. We both drank Manhattans. The longer we talked the more I liked her, and in the candlelight her sensible good looks took on real beauty. I knew I was getting interested in her because I was starting to wonder what she thought of me as well.

“Are you dying to ask me about Susan?”

“Well, I thought I’d get around to it eventually.”

“She called me.” Her expression and her voice tightened. “I sounded flip just a moment ago. I shouldn’t have. I’m really worried about her.”

“What did she say?”

“Nothing new, really. But her tone of voice — really desperate. Something must have happened. This is just terrible for her. She’s so afraid that the press will find out about Bobby before she’s ready to talk to them about it. It doesn’t help that Natalie keeps trying to control everything. Natalie still believes she can contain this thing. That sure doesn’t help Susan any. I’ve told her that I can’t see how this will be such a terrible scandal. She put her boy up for adoption. She didn’t abort him. And he got a much better home environment than she could have given him at the time. I guess I don’t understand politics.”

The waitress appeared and asked us about dessert. Neither of us was interested. I asked for the check.

“It’s early yet,” I said. “Would you like to go someplace else?”

“Not really. I’d rather just go back to my house. Maybe watch TV. Hopefully with you along.”

“That sounds good. I just hope professional wrestling’s on tonight.”

She made a face. “Are you serious?”

“No,” I said.

“God, you do deadpan very well. I thought, This guy likes professional wrestling?”

“I mostly watch old movies and talk shows.”

“I get tired of all those talking heads. They think they’re so important.”

“You noticed that, huh?” I said as I signed the MasterCard form.

A few minutes later we were walking through the night to my rental. Jane leaned against me. I had my arm around her shoulders. The parking lot had been full, so we’d had to slide into the lone slot in the narrow drive of the business next door, right on the edge of the adjacent loading dock.

She’d tucked herself into me as we walked. Her head came just to my chest and I could smell clean hair and light perfume. She felt good there. Comfortable. I was looking forward to going back to her house. I didn’t think I’d be spending the night, but I was sure we’d know each other a lot better by the time I left. My daughter was always urging me to meet somebody. Maybe I had.

There was little light and that made it all the easier for him. As I leaned over to unlock her door, he ran at me and leapt on my back. I didn’t even have time to turn around. He honored the verities of an earlier era. He wore brass knuckles and he hit me hard enough and fast enough that I was on the ground before Jane could even start screaming. Elapsed time was seconds.

He stank of sweat, whiskey, and aftershave. As I twisted around I got a glimpse of red hair and a pair of insane blue eyes. I was aware of Jane trying to pull him off me. He somehow flung her away with such force that she fell over backward. I heard her crash on the concrete. She was still screaming.

I was on my hands and knees, trying to get my footing, fighting through the pain from the pounding my head had taken.

“Tell that bitch the price is double now, Conrad. I want another payment of the same amount by eight o’clock tomorrow night. You understand that?”

I found my rage. I came up off the ground so fast that I surprised him. I slammed into him with such force that he had to struggle to stay upright. I was all fists and fury. The biggest problem I had was my vision. All the brass punches had taken their toll. My vision was gauzy. I was still swinging at him, but he’d moved back and I was starting to stumble.