Джон Макдональд - S*E*V*E*N

She stopped, bare feet planted wide apart, fists deep in the big pockets of the beach coat. She looked at him, at the dispatch case. “Well, by God, whaddaya know! The old marksman himself.”

“Are you tight?”

“Possible, fella. Possible. I stopped off down there at the bar and I had two double Gibsons. Pow, pow. Celebration.” She swayed and he reached to support her. She yanked her arm away, tottered back, and half fell against the corridor wall, with a solid impact. She was dazed for a moment, shook her head, then stood there, well braced. She gave him a crooked grin. “Have yourself a nice romp with that big sweet kid, boss?”

“Settle down, Anne. Look. I want us to get away from the whole bit for a while. Fly down to St. Thomas and cruise around for a week or so on Winkler’s sloop.”

“Too late. You tore it. Din have any mercy, did you?” “We said from the beginning, honey, no exclusive claims.”

“You set her up pretty good, huh? Took your time. No sloop, sweetie. No soft talk. No sympathy. No special private overpaid personal ’xecutive secretary anymore either. Resignation in effect.”

“Anne, believe me, she doesn’t mean that much.”

“Aldo, baby, no hard feelings. Nobody means much. That’s the point. What I am celebrating is freedom. No. Celebrating a narrow escape. You know, I damned near fell in love with you? Awful close, sweetie. Wow! Real close. My mind was clouded. I nearly mixed up two different things. Screwing and love. Took me four wonderful years to find out I don’t get along so good on the first without the second, no matter how big you turn me on. It’s like... the beautiful color pictures of food in the magazines.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You already have. Face it.”

“We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“We’ll never really talk again, you and me. This is the last of it. I had a great idea for you when I was walking on the beach. Know those life masks? What you do, after you score and before you cool off... How long will it take with big ol’ Liz? That Lee is going to see a lot of the world, the way you’ll be sending him off looking at stuff and making reports. Where was I? Oh, before you cool off, you get the gal of the month to sort of sit into a kind of shallow pan you got full of plaster stuff. Then after it sets she gets up and then what you do is pour that kind of rubber plastic into the impression. Follow me? Then you take it out after it sets and you fasten it to a big kind of walnut plaque and color it with the right kind of flesh tint, and put a little brass plate under it that’ll have the initials and the dates, and then you hang it up with all the others in a nice paneled study. Now mine would be kinda scrawny and not very impressive, so you can hang mine in a dark corner.”

“Anne, for God’s sake! Don’t. I need you.”

She pulled herself together with an effort, pushed herself away from the wall, and gave him a truly tender and loving smile. She patted his arm and kissed him on the mouth. “Good-bye, my dear Aldo. Parts of it were nice. There were some sweet times. Good luck. Good hunting.”

She brushed by him and went on along the corridor, walking carefully, humming a timeless little song of freedom.

He went back to his apartment and let himself in. She still slept. He unpacked her things, laid out her clothing, put the toilet articles in the bathroom.

Before he woke her, he stood and looked at her for a long time. He knew that they would have a late supper together, and he knew that by then he would want her again. He knew she would make token objection to coming back up here with him, but she would succumb to the same argument he had used on her before, because now she was conditioned to an expectation of pleasure which made her willing to grasp at this handy new rationalization.

He could even hear the sound of his own voice saying the words that would work.

He put one knee on the bed and shook her awake, saying, “Liz? Liz, honey.”

She rolled over and looked at him, her sleep-blurred face firming up as she came awake. “Hi,” she said.

“I brought your things, dear. Your clothes are over there and the rest of the stuff is in the bathroom.”

She pushed herself into a sitting position, yawned widely, then stretched, fists near her breasts, elbows out to the side, lifted high. She looked over at the shift he had laid over the back of a chair.

“That’s fine,” she said. “Thanks.” She worked her way to the edge of the bed and swung her legs out. She tossed her hair back and gave him a rueful smile. “You sure know how to put me to sleep, darling.”

“My pleasure.”

“What time is it now?”

“Almost ten thirty.”

“Gee, isn’t it too late to get anything to eat?”

“I checked. We serve steak sandwiches in the cocktail lounge from ten until midnight.”

“Hmmm. Will you serve me like about seven of them?”

“Growing girl.”

She stood up. “Growing older, Mr. B. Growing wiser, maybe.” She stood in front of him, close to him, hooked her two index fingers around his belt. Her eyes were almost on a level with his, not more than half an inch lower. She looked into his eyes, one and then the other, her pupils making a little back and forth motion, swift and searching. “Who are we, my darling?” she asked softly. “Tell me who we are. Please.”

“Aldo and Liz. Friends. Lovers.”

“I know. Lovers. Can a person love two people very much, for different reasons, at the same time?”

“It can happen. Can you handle the situation with Lee when he comes back tomorrow morning?”

“Yes. Because I know it’s important to you. We weren’t trying to hurt anybody. Not the first time. We gave and took pleasure. The second time was to keep from hurting somebody else. You were right.”

“I’m glad.”

“I would have thought... if I thought about it at all... you’d be too old for me, way too old. But you’re not at all. You’re so awfully damned good about making love to me it scares me. Both times it was so much it scares me. It makes me love you. Is that what you want?”

“As long as we can handle it, honey. Without hurting anybody.”

“Stay near me. It will sort of help.”

“Will do.”

“I want to sort of trust you, Aldo. You know?”

“I know.”

She tugged, kissed him lightly on the lips, released him and said, “You will be the man sitting at the bar and I will be the girl who comes in and says, ‘Why hello there, Mr. Bellinger! Gee, what a surprise!’ ”

“And how are you this evening, Mrs. Bellinger?” “Confused, sir. Confused all to hell.”

She walked over to the chair and picked up her underthings, and turned slowly and walked toward the bathroom. She passed close to the desk lamp and turned and smiled at him. She was on conscious display for him, her figure smooth and rich and lovely. She disappeared into the bathroom, pulling the door shut behind her.

The pattern as expected. The pattern as before. Submissive, dubious, troubled, curious. They always wanted the reassurances. They always had to label it and justify it and ask the question with their pretty eyes, and wonder if it would be the same if it happened again, when it happened again. They had to be provocative to make certain it would happen again. The familiar syndromes of the married mistress, not yet knowing how soon she will feel contempt for the man she has chosen to lie to.

He felt such a wrench of regret when he thought of Anne Faxton that it was like physical pain. He opened the corridor door and paused before shutting it behind him and looked through the living room and bedroom, at the closed door to the bathroom.

Aldo wished with all his heart that he would never have to look at her again, kiss her again, fondle her again, mount her again. But he knew he would, many times. Because she was of trophy caliber, deserving of plaques and awards, and of a secure place high on the list of all the memories.