Richard Laymon - Fiends

Marty moaned at the gentle pressure of his hand.

‘I hate bras,’ he said.

‘They come off.’

‘I wish you wouldn’t wear them at all.’

‘My parents.’

‘I know. Your parents. Christ. You’re twenty-five.’

‘Am I?’

‘You oughta get a place of your own.’

‘So I hear.’

‘It isn’t normal.’

‘So you keep telling me. And like I keep telling you, I don’t see any reason to move out. I like it there. They like having me. And I don’t see any reason to find a place for myself until I’m ready to start a family of my own,’

‘Is that a proposal?’ Dan asked, not sounding especially amused. ‘This is my proposal - let’s go to the lake.’

‘Okay, okay.’

Outside town, the road had no lights but Dan drove fast as if he knew every twist and curve and bump, and he was taking them by instinct.

‘The air-conditioning works really good out here,’ Marty said. ‘Open your vent?’ Dan suggested.

Marty opened it. A warm breeze rushed suddenly up her legs and under her skirt. She kicked off her sandals. The floor mat was gritty under her bare feet.

‘Can I ask you something?’ Dan said.

‘Anything you want.’

‘What was bothering you at the show?’

The question hit her like a blow to the stomach. She wanted to double over and hold herself.

‘You weren’t sick, were you?’

‘Not really.’

‘You were scared. That’s why you wanted to get out so fast. Something scared the hell out of you. What was it?’

Marty turned her face away and gazed out of the open window. Her arms felt cold. She rubbed them, trying to get rid of the goosebumps.

‘Tell me.’

‘I saw this guy.’

‘Who?’

‘Someone I used to know.’

‘You saw him during intermission?’

‘He was sitting near the back.’

‘An old boyfriend?’

She shook her head.

‘Was he an old boyfriend?’ Dan repeated.

She looked at him. His eyes were on the road and the rearview mirror. He hadn’t seen her silent answer. ‘No’ she said. ‘Not a boyfriend. I don’t think I want to talk about it, okay?’

‘Fine,’ he muttered.

‘I’ll tell you sometime,’ she said quietly. ‘But not now, okay?’

‘Fine. I just wondered if it might be him in the car that’s following us.’

Marty groaned. She twisted round and looked out of the rear window. She could see nothing except the curving two-lane road, most of it hidden in shadows cast by the tall forest on both sides. ‘Where?’ she asked.

‘About fifty yards back. No headlights.’

She kept studying the road behind them. And finally she noticed a dark shape against the lighter darkness of the blacktop, moving along like a low, hunching shadow.

Near Gribsby, four hundred miles above North Glen, a young man paced the end of a creaking pier.

‘About time, huh?’ he heard.

He looked toward the shore and saw Tina. She stopped beneath a light, waved, and ran up the pier to meet him. ‘Whew!’ she said. ‘I didn’t think I’d ever get away. Relatives can be such a pain in the butt, you know that?’

‘I know that, Brad said. ‘The good Lord willing, we’ll never be relatives.’

‘I didn’t mean that.’

‘I know.’ He held out his arms. Tina stepped into them and he kissed the tip of her nose.

‘Lousy aim,’ she said.

He kissed her mouth. Her lips were warm and open, dry at first, then slippery. He moved his hands on her back, feeling her ribs through the soft thickness of the old sweatshirt that was far too big for her. The sleeves were cut off. He stroked her bare upper arms and slipped his hands into the sleeve holes and rubbed her shoulders. Tina hugged him more tightly.

‘I could stay like this forever,’ she said.

‘We wouldn’t get much fishing in.’

‘Creep.’

‘Ready to go?’

‘Nope.’

‘Yep.’ He kissed her forehead, then pushed her away. ‘Climb aboard.’ Squatting, he gripped the gunwale and held the boat steady while Tina boarded.

‘It’s a beautiful night,’ she said. ‘Get a load of that moon.’

He watched Tina instead. She stood on the deck with her bare feet apart, her hands on her hips, smiling as she looked from the full moon to the bright path it made on the lake.

‘Isn’t it something?’ she said.

‘ You’re something.’ Brad climbed onto the deck. ‘You look like a pirate.’

‘Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.’

‘Except for your fanny.’ He patted it.

‘What’s about my fanny?’

He stepped back and inspected it, frowning thoughtfully like an artist examining the lines of a statue. ‘Nothing is wrong with it… exactly.’

‘Oh, thank you.’

‘But it’s not the fanny of a pirate. They’ve got big, broad butts. Yours is much to graceful and delicate.’

‘Sorry.’

‘I’ll just have to grin and bear it.’

‘Bare it?’

The way she smiled made Brad pull her close, holding her lightly, kissing her, finally pushing his hand down the back of her jeans and feeling the cool smooth skin of her buttocks.

Tina squeezed him tightly, and let go.

‘Shouldn’t we be shoving off?’ she asked.

‘Should we?’ he murmured against the warm curve of her neck. ‘The fishies are waiting.’

‘Very true. Thanks for reminding me.’

He let her go. Together, they untied the mooring lines. Then Brad turned on the ignition key and pressed the starter button. The twin inboard motors thundered into life. Tina came up beside him. He gave her a swat on the rump.

‘If you break it, you buy it.’

‘How much?’ he asked.

She held onto him as the boat lunged forward. ‘You probably can’t afford it,’ she said.

The bow lifted above the waves.

‘You’re forgetting, I’m a wealthy man.’

‘Right. Your dad owns a bait shop.’

‘There are different kinds of wealth,’ he said, grinning.

‘You’re wealthy in worms.’

‘How about ten bucks? Is that enough?’

‘Plenty.’ She smiled up at him. ‘You get a discount ’cause I love you so much.’

Brad put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Have I wished you happy birthday yet?’ he asked.

‘No. What’re you waiting for?’

‘Happy birthday. The big seventeen.’

‘Yeah. I’m ancient.’

Brad throttled down. The roar of the motors diminished to a sputtering whisper and the boat slowed, its bow slowly lowering into the waves. ‘Time for your party,’ he said, and killed the motors.

‘We’ll let her drift for a while.’ He lifted Tina onto the pilot’s seat. ‘Just sit tight on your priceless fanny.’

‘Ten bucks isn’t priceless.’

‘Right back,’ he said, and went below. In the galley, he opened his ice chest. Two glasses were tucked into the crushed ice along with two bottles of champagne. He left one bottle behind and hurried topside. Tina grinned. ‘Hey! Champagne?’

‘Happy birthday.’

‘Shouldn’t you have a towel to wrap round the bottle? They always have towels.’

‘A towel, a towel. Good idea. Hold these.’ He gave the bottle and glasses to Tina, then rushed below and found a beach towel. It was still damp and smelled of sun tan oil. He tucked it under his arm and picked up a flat, gift-wrapped box. As he reached the top of the steps, he heard a pop. A cork shot past his ear. It thumped the window. ‘Almost gotcha!’ Tina blurted.

‘Good thing you missed.’

‘Yeah?’

‘How far can you swim?’

‘Far. Very far.’ She scanned the shores. The nearest was at least a quarter mile away. ‘I could make it,’ she said.