John MacDonald - Slam the Big Door

“I might make a little more than seven dollars, Mom.”

“You’ve had a lot to drink! I can tell by your eyes.”

“Purdy Elmarr’s liquor, Mom.”

They grinned at each other with private understanding. “Now don’t you get into any of those big poker games they have out there.”

“He’s not about to ask me. Yet.”

“Later on, sweetie, let’s go out to dinner to celebrate. Just you and me. A fat old lady and her wonderful, brilliant son.”

“I’m sorry. I better change and go down and see Debbie Ann.”

Dee’s mouth grew smaller. “I know she had a silly crush on you years ago even though she was years younger than you — hardly past childhood and you were almost a man, but I really don’t see what the great attraction is. She’s a divorced woman, Robert. I haven’t told you this before but I was actually shocked when I first saw her after she came back to live with Mary. She actually has a slutty look. I’m sure there are just dozens of really lovely girls around who would be delighted if you’d pay as much attention to them as you do to that...”

“Jealous?” he asked innocently.

“Oh, you !” She looked coy. “Maybe I am. A little.” She frowned. “Sweetie, I just don’t want my handsome intelligent son to get involved with a loose woman. I can remember how I used to worry about the two of you, years ago, wondering if she was... encouraging you in any way. She had that look, even then. I was so relieved when you broke up with her. And now, to have it start all over again... Really, sweetie, I am a woman of the world. I’m not an old prude. And I can see how she could be attractive to men... well, in a sort of primitive way... or you could say an animal way... and it wouldn’t particularly please me if that’s all you’re interested in, but it wouldn’t worry me the way it does thinking you might get serious about her.”

“When I’m ready to get married, it won’t be to her, Mom.”

She looked intently at him, sighed and smiled. “Just don’t let her trap you, sweetie. I guess it would be hard to trap a lawyer, wouldn’t it. Run along then. I guess men just have to be like that. You can settle down after you’re married, the way your father did. He certainly was no angel before he met me.”

He went in the house and showered. He thought about Debbie Ann. He knew he had made a bad decision last night when he had ignored her objections, thinking that if he could arouse her, she’d let him into her room. But it had made her furious. He had been as angry as she was. What the hell difference could it make to her? She was divorced, wasn’t she? And it had actually been so damn easy that first and only time, long ago. There had been girls before her, a very few, and a lot of girls and women since her, but it had never been like that. In his tipsy haste and clumsiness he had hurt her badly, and by rights that should have ended any chance of her response, but she had come out of the paralysis of the unexpected pain within moments, erupting into a greedy gasping frenzy that had at first shocked him, and then almost immediately depleted him. He remembered how she had cried afterward, and how she had looked, sitting on the blanket, her face contorted, tears flowing, sniffling, her small body red in the glow of a sun that sat cloudless on the rim of the Gulf, as she wriggled back into the damp swim suit. He remembered how she had kept shuddering there in the hot sun at each touch of his hands, keeping her eyes squeezed tight shut as though that somehow kept him from seeing her.

They had sailed back in dusk that turned into night, and she had refused to help with the boat, or look at him or speak to him. And after that, no matter how carefully he plotted, he couldn’t make her do it again. He couldn’t even get her alone.

When he heard she had come back for a divorce, even though eight years had gone by, the wanting came back, strong as ever. Last night had been the best opportunity yet.

As he dressed he told himself that he would have to hide his anger. Be very nice to her. Apologize extensively. Blame his insistence on alcohol. Because — and the thought chilled a little area in the back of his mind — if she refused to have anything to do with him, Purdy Elmarr would find out about it somehow. And he would be of no use to them. Any lawyer could set up a simple corporation. They weren’t paying him fifty thousand dollars for that. He knew what they thought. They thought they were paying him fifty thousand dollars to continue sleeping with Debbie Ann. It was a small hedge compared to a sixteen million gross. It was espionage money. He wished he could start earning it in the way they thought he was earning it. So change the approach. Maybe humility would work. All in all, it was something the law texts had not mentioned.

And suddenly he realized he had a lot more at stake than he had counted on. He stood in shocked silence, thinking. If the deal went through, no harm would be done. It would be a private matter. But what if it didn’t work? It would make a juicy story for Corey and J. C. to tell around Ravenna, Venice, Sarasota and Bradenton.

He could hear J. C. holding forth to a bunch of local businessmen at lunch, chuckling. “Purd, Corey and me figured we had that Jamison land practically in our pocket, boys. Hell, we even cut that Raines squirt in on a piece of it, on account of he’d cut himself in on a lot a pieces of somethin’ else raht under Troy Jamison and Mary Kail’s nose, so he was in a spot to steer it all our way a little, you know, but it just didn’t work out. But I bet it was the nicest kind o’ law work that boy ever had. Or ever will.”

Rob Raines felt his face grow hot. A thing like that, a story that would accumulate artistic exaggeration as it passed from person to person, and lent itself so readily to coarse and obvious puns, could cook you for good. Ten years from now they’d still be telling it.

“See that fella ’cross the street? Rob Raines. I’ll tell you how he got screwed one time.”

Rob suddenly knew that those three men knew the additional risk he was taking. “God damn them!” he whispered. And he knew that the deal had to go through. He had to make it go through. Because, if it didn’t, what had looked like the beginning of importance could turn out to be the end of any possibility of importance. It would not be the same in a city. But here, up and down this chain of Gulf-side resort towns and cities, the business and legal community was like one small town. Everyone knew your triumphs and mistakes, your golf handicap, your political opinions, your amorous adventures, the size of your father’s and your grandfather’s estate, and whether your mother had married up or down to produce you.

Had he previously established a public identity, had he made any particular start in establishing the legend of himself in the community, potential damage would not be as great. But he had been most careful. He had balanced the possibly critical opinions of the MGA and the sailing squadron and the addiction to rather expensive sports jackets, by subscribing to the opinions of the more conservative wing of the Democratic party, by avoiding divorce cases, drunk-driving cases and collision litigation, by serving on the hospital drive and the Community Chest, by entertaining and being entertained by the more responsible segments of Ravenna society. As an attractive young bachelor he had been able to be carefully selective. He had begun to acquire a small amount of estate work, and he had turned down one political opportunity that had seemed to him to require more work than kudos.

But should Twin Keys fall through, the results of the four careful years of practice would be bitched. He would be known as that young lawyer who was so eager to get cozy with the Elmarr group he had been willing to further his ambitions in bed. It would make of him a figure of fun. The community would not be indignant. Or cruel. They would be amused. It wouldn’t be the end of him. But it would set a limit. He could go only so far.