Russell Andrews - Icarus

"Not at heart, though. At heart he wasn't a son of a bitch at all." She took a sip of wine and rubbed her tongue around her mouth. She still had bits of peanut butter stuck up in there somewhere. "I cared about him. Really and truly. In my own way. I knew he was seeing other women, too – he never lied, which I liked. But that was Kid. He was a taker. He took me, I have to say. I loaned the bastard five thousand dollars right before he died. Never paid me back a nickel."

"Did he tell you what the money was for?" Jack asked, surprised.

"He said it was for tuition. That they wouldn't let him graduate unless he paid up. But I didn't believe him. It just sounded like he really needed the money."

"Did he say how he was going to pay you back?"

"Sure." She grinned. "He said he was gonna get the money from you." She poured herself a bit more wine, still working her tongue around her gums. "You know what Kid liked best?" she asked now.

Jack shook his head. Her voice had changed just a little. It was subtle but seductive and he felt the small hairs on the back of his neck start to tingle.

"He liked me to dance for him. Here in this apartment. A private dance."

Jack knew he looked awkward. He wasn't comfortable suddenly and it showed. But Leslee grinned again, as if she was enjoying his discomfort.

"You're rich," she said. "You're really rich."

He didn't say anything. She was grinning like crazy now. She stood up and went to her CD player. Put on a CD, R.E.M., Automatic For The People, not too loud. Michael Stipe's melancholy voice seemed to echo through the apartment.

"You want me to dance for you?" she asked. He realized she was very close to him. She had managed to slide over on the couch so she was less than a foot away. "You want to have a little private dance, just you and me?"

Jack shook his head. "No. I don't think so."

"Are you shy?"

"No."

"Are you married?"

Jack closed his eyes. Left them shut for what felt like a long time. "I feel married," he said.

"Most men feel married," Leslee told him. "I make them feel unmarried."

She was right next to him now. One leg curled over his and she was on his lap, facing him, her mouth maybe an inch from his. She was barely moving but he could feel her grinding herself into his crotch. And he could see her nipples jutting toward him from under her shirt.

"I think I'd better go," he managed to say.

She didn't make any move to get off him. Just kept smiling and for the first time he noticed that the smile could also make her look unattractive. It wasn't just charming. There was something off-putting about it. Something even kind of crazy.

"I could make you stay," she whispered. "I really and truly could. If I wanted. Do you believe me?"

He didn't answer. Because he didn't know the answer. He didn't know what to believe at this exact moment.

"I know what you're thinking," she went on. "First you thought no, she can't make me do anything. Now you're thinking maybe. Maybe she can because she's so sexy I can hardly breathe. But there are no 'maybes' about it. Ain't no 'maybe,' baby." As she whispered to him, she reached over, not far, to her small beaded purse. She reached inside, pulled something out, and Jack heard a sudden click. Then he saw the long, thin blade that she held in her hand. He didn't move.

"If I wanted, I could cut your throat and when the police got here, I could just tell them you tried to rape me." As she spoke, he could feel her warm breath on his face, on his lips and his cheek. "I'd get away with it. Really. Really and truly."

He saw her take a deep breath, watched her chest heave. She reached down, put one hand on his thigh, the hand with the switchblade, and he could feel himself hold his own breath now, but then she pushed herself off him. Quickly, with a gymnast's agility, her legs were no longer wrapped around him, she was no longer touching him at all. When she was standing, she folded the blade up, put it back in her purse.

"Maybe you should go," she told him.

He nodded. Keeping his eyes on her, he backed up slowly until he reached her front door. His hand groped for the knob, found it and turned it. Then he was out in the carpeted hallway.

He didn't let himself think of anything until he was down on the street. And then life seemed to come streaming back into him.

And that made two, is what he thought.

Two women who could easily have pushed Kid off the balcony and ended his life.

Without ever thinking about it again.

– "-"-"WHY IN THE WORLD did she do that, she wondered?

Why do I get this overpowering urge to hurt men?

Oh, you know why, she thought. Of course you know why. But it's no excuse. Everyone's had something bad happen to them. Everyone's been abused.

She liked him. He was nice.

Really and truly nice.

But she'd gone and done it again.

And now she'd never get her five thousand dollars back.

"I think it's time to call it off, Jackie."

"Call what off?"

"The whole thing," Dom said. "It's gettin' too weird. Mobsters' wives, guys dressed up as cowboys dancin' around on stage, naked women with knives. I think it's time to stop."

"Can I tell you something, Dom? I mean, something you're not going to want to hear."

The older man looked at his younger friend, the friend he thought of as a son, and said, "There's nothin' you could ever tell me, Jackie, that I don't wanna hear."

"I had one affair when I was married to Caroline. One. That's it. It was a long time ago, eight, ten years ago. When we were opening up the Jack's in London. I was spending a lot of time over there, a decent amount of time by myself. And… I was out one night with a bunch of restaurant people. We were trying a new hot place. Somebody, one of the chefs, brought a friend along. Emma. And Emma was extremely attractive, funny, young – very young – she was great, so we had a fling. Very intense. Incredibly passion-ate.

"One night?"

"Five. Five amazing nights. Three in a row, then not, then neither one of us could stand it anymore so we saw each other the next night and the next. Then I never saw her again."

"Why not?"

"Dom, you can't imagine how exciting she was. There was something about her, she just sucked you right in. But I decided I couldn't get sucked in any further than I was. The thing is, I loved my wife. Not only that, we were happy. And still passionate. We weren't having any problems at all and I thought she was as perfect as a woman could be."

"But you still went ahead with this other woman."

"That's right."

"Did she know?"

Jack had to smile. Even now, even in death, Caroline was "she" to Dom. "I don't know," he said. "Yes, I think she did. I'm sure she did. Part of it was that she seemed to know everything about me. You ever see that Taxi where Latka sleeps with a woman to save his life, so he doesn't freeze to death, and he walks in the door and what's-her-name, Carol Kane, looks at him and just screams, 'You did it with another woman!' Caroline was like that. And part of it… When I came back from London, things were different. She'd lost a baby and…" Jack shook his head, trying to bring the memory back into focus. "But if she knew, she never said anything. Ultimately I think she knew why I did it and why I stopped it, and it was okay with her."

"So let's hear it. If everything was so perfect, why?"

"Because I couldn't stop it. Not without hating myself. And maybe even hating Caroline a little. And if I couldn't stop it, it had to be right."

"And then you could stop it."

"That's right."

"And you can't stop this thing now, this thing you're doin', is that your whole point?"

"You're not so dumb, are you?"

"There's somethin' else you're not tellin' me, though. Somethin' else is going through that stubborn little brain o' yours."