Richard Laymon - Flesh

He wished he could think. He wanted her. But not here. He wanted to get her out of here, but he wanted to feel her cool fingers on him and he wanted to put his hand through the open side of her gown and follow the smooth warm skin of her thigh upward. And then we’re naked and we spread the blanket and it’s not supposed to be this way. It’s not the plan.

We’re here now, we should go by the plan.

She didn’t reach in. She tugged at his belt, instead. He could hear her breathing heavily as he rubbed her breasts.

“Wait,” he gasped in a husky whisper.

“Wha’?”

“I’ve gotta use the john.”

“Lemme have the matches. I’ll ged the place ready.”

“I’ll need one to find the john.” He took the matchbook from his pocket, peeled out a match and struck it. The brightness hurt his eyes. Celia squinted against the glare.

He gave the matchbook to her, then headed for the alcove at the far end of the bar where the rest rooms were located. He stepped around the card table. The match was hot on his fingertips, so he shook it out. Hands in front of him, feeling the air, he made his way slowly forward.

Behind him, a match snicked. He hurried the rest of the way to the alcove, then looked back. Celia was standing midway between the front door and the corner of the bar, straddle legged, looking down at the blanket. She staggered and almost fell when she bent over to pick it up. With one hand, she shook the blanket open. Very slowly she raised the match and puffed it out. She vanished.

Jason stared into the darkness, waiting for another match to flare. It didn’t happen. Finally, he turned around and felt his way along the wall. He found the door to the men’s room. He turned the handle, stepped inside, and flicked the light switch.

Roland, sitting on the toilet, grinned up at him.

“How’s it going?” Roland whispered.

Jason shook his head.

Roland pointed at his open fly. “I assume, from that, that you’re not alone.”

“She’s here.” He pulled his zipper up and fastened his belt. Then he leaned back against the rest room door. He took a deep breath. He rubbed his face. “I’ve got my doubts, Ro.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s a nice girl. This seems like a rotten way to use her.”

“You want to help Dana, don’t you?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t. But it’s a stupid idea, anyway. What are the chances that the guy’ll come back tonight?”

“He was here last night,” Roland pointed out. “And he made a good catch. So why wouldn’t he come back and try for another?”

“It’s crazy.”

“When he comes, we’ll nab him.”

Jason shook his head. Pushing himself away from the door, he stepped to the sink and turned on a faucet. “Don’t want her hearing us,” he said.

“Where is she?”

“Over near the front door. She was spreading the blanket.” Jason splashed water onto his face, wiped himself dry with the front of his shirt, and stepped backward until he was leaning against the door.

“Did you get her soused?” Roland asked.

“She’s demolished.”

“Great.”

“I feel like a shit.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to her.”

“If the guy comes—”

“We’ll nail him. And he’ll take us to Dana.”

“Celia, she’ll know I used her if the guy really shows up.”

“What do you care? She can’t do anything about it. It’s not like you kidnapped her or something, she came here of her own free will.”

“She didn’t plan to get used for bait.”

“Tough toenails. So maybe she’ll be pissed. But you’ll find Dana. It’ll be worth it, right?”

“I guess.”

Roland stood up. “We’d better get out there,” he said, and turned off the faucet. “Don’t want our madman running off with her while we’re in here gabbing. You go over to her, but be quiet about it. Don’t say anything. If this is going to work, she needs to conk out.”

“She was pretty wired when I left her.”

“Turned on?”

“Yeah, and jittery.”

“If she’s awake, fuck her. That’ll calm her down. Soon as she’s asleep, get back here. She won’t be much of a decoy if you’re right there with her.”

“I don’t know,” Jason muttered.

“You don’t know what?”

“This whole thing. Maybe I’ll just take her home.”

“Don’t be a jerk.”

“Ro, she’s nice. I like her.”

“Just going to let Dana turn in the wind?”

Jason twisted his face as if he had a gut-ache. That phrase got him, Roland thought—turning in the wind. “I’ll see how it goes,” he muttered.

Roland waved him away from the door, then flicked off the light and slowly turned the knob. The latch disengaged without a sound. The hinges were silent as he eased the door open. He grinned. He’d thought of everything. Earlier, after popping open the lock with a simple twist of his knife point, he had sprayed oil on the latch and knob and hinges.

His bare feet were silent on the hardwood floor. He could hear Jason’s footsteps behind him, but they weren’t very loud. Running a hand along the wall, he found the entryway and stopped beneath it.

Jason put a hand on his shoulder.

The light in the bathroom had messed up Roland’s night vision. Except for gray areas near the windows, everything looked black. He listened, but heard only his own heartbeat and Jason breathing close to his ear. Jason sounded like he’d just finished a sprint. His breath smelled of liquor.

Roland turned sideways, his back to the edge of the entryway. He found Jason’s shirt and gave it a slight tug. Jason stepped past him and started through the room.

Going great, Roland thought.

He hoped that Celia was still awake. He hoped that Jason would fuck her. If that happened, he’d sneak up close have a ring side seat. Nothing to see, but plenty to hear. And he’d be able to imagine the rest. He’d looked her over good yesterday at the mall—her and her friend, the cute one.

Could’ve been that one tonight. But this was fine. This was great. The date gimmick might not have worked on Celia’s friend, and he liked the date gimmick. The bait-date. What a laugh. People were so damned fun to manipulate. Mess around some with their heads, they’ll do whatever you want.

So how’s it going Jason, old pal? Ready to pork her?

Pork.

Roland laughed softly, caught himself and pressed his lips together hard.

He heard quiet footfalls.

Jason was coming back.

“She’s zonked,” Jason whispered.

Shit. So much for the good-time show. “Great,” Roland said.

“So where do we hide? We should probably get closer. Maybe one of us should wait behind the bar?”

“Good idea.”

“You got the handcuffs?”

“Right here.” Roland patted a front pocket of his jeans.

“What about my hammer?”

Roland didn’t answer.

“You had it when I dropped you off.”

“I’m thinking.”

“I’m not gonna jump the guy bare-handed.”

“Must’ve left it in the john,” he said. “Yeah.”

“Well, go find it. Christ.”

Roland made his way back to the rest room. He entered and quietly shut the door. He turned on the light. The claw hammer was propped against the wall beside the toilet. He had placed it there, out of sight, intending to return for it once Jason realized he was without a weapon.

He picked it up. It still had a price sticker on its handle. They had bought it that afternoon at a hardware store for Jason to use against the fabricated maniac.

Roland pushed its wooden handle under his belt.

He popped open the snap of his knife case, removed the knife, and folded out the blade. It made a quiet click as it locked into place.