Mickey Spillane - Everybody's Watching Me

It was the kind of a place where they don’t ask questions and don’t believe what you write in the register anyway. I signed Mr. and Mrs. Valiscivitch, paid the bill in advance for a week and when the clerk read the name I got a screwy look because the name was too screwballed to be anything but real to him. Maybe he figured his clientele was changing. When we got to the room I said, “You park here for a few days.”

“Are you going to tell me anything?”

“Should I?”

“You’re strange, Joe. A very strange boy.”

“Stop calling me a boy.”

Her face got all beautiful again and when she smiled there was a real grin in it. She stood there with her hands on her hips and her feet apart like she was going into some part of her routine and I could feel my body starting to burn at the sight of her. She could do things with herself by just breathing and she did them, the smile and her eves getting deeper all the time. She saw what was happening to me and said, “You’re not such a boy after all.” She held out her hand and I took it, pulling her in close. “The first time you were a boy. All bloody, dirt ground into your face. When Renzo tore you apart I could have killed him. Nobody should do that to another one, especially a boy. But then there was Johnny and you seemed to grow up. I’ll never forget what you did to him.”

“He would have hurt you.”

“You’re even older now. Or should I say matured? I think you finished growing up last night, Joe, last night…with me. I saw you grow up, and I only hope I haven’t hurt you in the process. I never was much good for anybody. That’s why I left home, I guess. Everyone I was near seemed to get hurt. Even me.”

“You’re better than they are, Helen. The breaks were against you, that’s all.”

“Joe…do you know you’re the first one who did anything nice for me without wanting…something?”

“Helen…”

“No, don’t say anything. Just take a good look at me. See everything that I am? It shows. I know it shows. I was a lot of things that weren’t nice. I’m the kind men want but who won’t introduce to their families. I’m a beautiful piece of dirt, Joe.” Her eyes were wet. I wanted to brush away the wetness but she wouldn’t let my hands go. “You see what I’m telling you? You’re young…don’t brush up against me too close. You’ll get dirty and you’ll get hurt.”

She tried to hide the sob in her throat but couldn’t. It came up anyway and I made her let my hands go and when she did I wrapped them around her and held her tight against me. “Helen,” I said. “Helen…”

She looked at me, grinned weakly. “We must make a funny pair,” she said. “Run for it, Joe. Don’t stay around any longer.”

When I didn’t answer right away her eyes looked at mine. I could see her starting to frown a little bit and the curious bewilderment crept across her face. Her mouth was red and moist, poised as if she were going to ask a question, but had forgotten what it was she wanted to say. I let her look and look and look and when she shook her head in a minute gesture of puzzlement I said, “Helen…I’ve rubbed against you. No dirt came off. Maybe it’s because I’m no better than you think you are.”

“Joe…”

“It never happened to me before, kid. When it happens I sure pick a good one for it to happen with.” I ran my fingers through her hair. It was nice looking at her like that. Not down, not up, but right into her eyes. “I don’t have any family to introduce you to, but if I had, I would. Yellow head, don’t worry about me getting hurt.”

Her eyes were wide now as if she had the answer. She wasn’t believing what she saw.

“I love you, Helen. It’s not the way a boy would love anybody. It’s a peculiar kind of thing I never want to change.”

“Joe…”

“But it’s yours now. You have to decide. Look at me, kid. Then say it.”

Those lovely wide eyes grew misty again and the smile came back slowly. It was a warm, radiant smile that told me more than her words. “It can happen to us, can’t it? Perhaps it’s happened before to somebody else, but it can happen to us, can’t it? Joe…It seems so…I can’t describe it. There’s something…”

“Say it out.”

“I love you, Joe. Maybe it’s better that I should love a little boy. Twenty…twenty-one you said? Oh, please, please don’t let it be wrong, please…” She pressed herself to me with a deep-throated sob and clung there. My fingers rubbed her neck, ran across the width of her shoulders then I pushed her away. I was grinning a little bit now.

“In eighty years it won’t make much difference,” I said. Then what else I had to say her mouth cut off like a burning torch that tried to seek out the answer and when it was over it didn’t seem important enough to mention anyway.

I pushed her away gently. “Now, listen, there isn’t much time. I want you to stay here. Don’t go out at all and if you want anything, have it sent up. When I come back, I’ll knock once. Just once. Keep that door locked and stay out of sight. You got that?”

“Yes, but…”

“Don’t worry about me. I won’t be long. Just remember to make sure it’s me and nobody else.” I grinned at her. “You aren’t getting away from me any more, blondie. Now it’s the two of us for keeps, together.”

“All right, Joe.”

I nudged her chin with my fist, held her face up and kissed it. That curious look was back and she was trying to think of something again. I grinned, winked at her and got out before she could keep me. I even grinned at the clerk downstairs, but he didn’t grin back. He probably thought anybody who’d leave a blonde like that alone was nuts or married and he wasn’t used to it.

But it sure felt good. You know how. You feel so good you want to tear something apart or laugh and maybe a little crazy, but that’s all part of it. That’s how I was feeling until I remembered the other things and knew what I had to do.

I found a gin mill down the street and changed a buck into a handful of coins. Three of them got my party and I said, “Mr. Carboy?”

“That’s right. Who is this?”

“Joe Boyle.”

Carboy told somebody to be quiet then, “What do you want, kid?”

I got the pitch as soon as I caught the tone in his voice. “Your boys haven’t got me, if that’s what you’re thinking,” I told him.

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t take a powder. I was trying to get something done. For once figure somebody else got brains too.”

“You weren’t supposed to do any thinking, kid.”

“Well, if I don’t, you lose a boatload of merchandise, friend.”

“What?” It was a whisper that barely came through.

“Renzo’s ticking you off. He and Gulley are pulling a switch. Your stuff gets delivered to him.”

“Knock it off, kid. What do you know?”

“I know the boat’s coming into the slipside docks with the load and Renzo will be picking it up. You hold the bag, brother.”

“Joe,” he said. “You know what happens if you’re queering me.”

“I know.”

“Where’d you pick it up?”

“Let’s say I sat in on Renzo’s conference with Gulley.”

“Okay, boy. I’ll stick with it. You better be right. Hold on.” He turned away from the phone and shouted muffled orders at someone. There were more muffled shouts in the background then he got back on the line again. “Just one thing more. What about Vetter?”

“Not yet, Mr. Carboy. Not yet.”

“You get some of my boys to stick with you. I don’t like my plans interfered with. Where are you?”

“In a place called Patty’s. A gin mill.”

“I know it. Stay there ten minutes. I’ll shoot a couple guys down. You got that handkerchief yet?”