Joe Lansdale - Leather Maiden

She picked a cherry out of her drink and ate it in such a way as not to get it in her braces. “Are you wiser now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you looking to bang me?”

“I believe this is where I say ‘I beg your pardon?’”

“Is that why you took me out?”

“No…well, of course it crossed my mind.”

“If it hadn’t crossed your mind,” she said, “I would have been disappointed. I thought I might let you. But that’s all hypothetical, of course.”

“Of course.”

“Would it be stupid of me to ask you to take me to dinner?”

“I like a woman who knows her mind.”

We went to a place that was a kind of cross between a club and a honky-tonk. There was a hipster country band up front with a pretty female singer at the microphone, and there were a few people dancing. It wasn’t a big place, but they had some good steaks.

We ate and drank, and pretty soon we danced. I pulled in close to Belinda and we swayed to the music. Her breath was on my neck. It was sweet and warm. When the song finished, we took each other’s hands and headed for the door.

It was odd, but we didn’t go to her place and we didn’t go to mine. Which was probably a good thing. I doubt the aroma of rotting rat in the wall would have been conducive to romance.

I drove us back to the hotel where we had had our drink, and without trying to hide anything, I rented us a room and we took the elevator up. The door to our room wasn’t closed good before we were at one another, practically tearing our clothes off.

Belinda and I fell onto the bed, went together hard and quick. When that was done, we went at it slow, taking our time, enjoying ourselves, prolonging it. Belinda had to ask me to kiss softer, because her braces were cutting her. She said I was bleeding on my upper lip. I kissed softer. Finally it all ended, and I felt as if I had washed up on some distant shore beneath cool moonlight and the sound of the ocean, but it was the light through our window, from the patio below, where a jazz band was playing softly. We lay in each other’s arms, kissing gently from time to time. Then at some point we closed our eyes and slept.

We awoke late morning, and though I really didn’t have to do it, I called on my cell into work, said I wouldn’t be coming in today, that I wasn’t feeling up to snuff. Then Belinda called on her cell, saying she was sick. “They’re going to put two and two together,” she said.

“Let them. They don’t know for sure, and they can’t fire us for what they don’t know. Hell, anyone can get sick.”

“Are you sick?” she asked.

“Lovesick.”

“Really?”

“Well, there are signs.”

“I’m just afraid that seeing me now, in the daylight, naked, you’ll feel like those guys who wake up and realize it was closing time that made a woman look good, and that they’ve discovered they’ve gone home with the college mascot, a goat.”

“You look better in the morning light. And I wasn’t drunk. But you know what would be nice?”

“What?” she asked.

“If you could make goat noises.”

Belinda laughed, reached out and touched my lip gently with her finger. “Your lip is swollen some, from the kissing.”

“It was worth it.”

“I get this wire out of my mouth in a couple weeks, maybe three. I’ll be less dangerous then.”

“And you won’t be picking up radio stations anymore.”

She gave a thin grin. “Do you know how many times I’ve heard that?”

“Bunches?”

“Bunches on bunches with bunches thrown in.”

We ordered up some breakfast. Belinda stayed in bed, and I put on my pants and took the tray at the door. I balanced the tray in bed and we ate. When we finished we put the tray aside and found each other again. We went at it that way, off and on, fueling up for another run until it was nearly time to check out of the hotel.

“I’m going to go in half a day,” Belinda said. “Unlike you, the big-shot columnist, I don’t really get sick leave. Not paid anyway. And I have a set time to be there.”

“Damn. I didn’t think about that. Sorry to make you miss.”

“Don’t be. I liked what I was getting last night and today just fine. But I want you to know, and believe me, I don’t just jump in bed with people, not on the first date, and sometimes not after several dates. It’s not that I’m against sex, as you can confirm, but I don’t want you to think I’m flopping for anyone with a pulse. You were special.”

“I never thought anything of the sort,” I said. “You sure you’re going to work?”

“I am.”

“You’re a doll and a real trouper,” I said. “But me, I have sick leave without time gained, and it is oh so sweet.”

She whacked me with a pillow. “Dirty devil,” she said, and giggled like a little kid.

I grabbed her and pulled her to me and we kissed, gently. When I let her go, I said, “Give my regards to Oswald.”

Back at my place I began to think I would have been better off going to work. Sitting there, I started thinking about Jimmy and his blackmail problem. I looked toward my bookshelf where the DVD was hidden, and had a strange urge to pop it into the player and look at it again, but didn’t. The idea of seeing Caroline was okay, but to see my brother mounting her was disconcerting.

The activity of the night before finally caught up with me. I leaned back in my La-Z-Boy and cranked up the footrest and closed my eyes. I replayed in my head all Belinda and I had done, fore and aft. I felt my feelings shifting toward her and they felt the same way as when they had shifted toward Gabby. It gave me pause. It scared me. I didn’t feel trustful of anyone or anything anymore. Especially myself. I drifted off to sleep, and then my cell phone rang. By the time I got myself awake and found my cell it had quit ringing.

I looked at the number to see who called. It was Jimmy. I called him back. It rang once and he answered.

“I just got instructions,” he said. “They want ten thousand dollars.”

“Ten thousand dollars. That’s it?”

“Yep. That’s it. And believe me, that’s enough.”

“When?” I asked.

“Tonight. Look, I’m standing in my office. I’d rather talk later, face-to-face. My last class is at three today. Can I come by your place?”

“You’ve never been here.”

“But I know where it is.”

“Okay,” I said. “Bring the note.”

17

Jimmy and I sat in my little living room and sipped on crummy instant coffee and didn’t quite look at one another. He was ashamed and I was ashamed for him.

I was looking at the blackmail note. It was lying on the glass coffee table and I was bent over it, reading what I had already read many times since he brought it over, perhaps expecting to find some code there, and then crack it, but I didn’t have any success.

Like the previous note, it had been written with a black marker. But this time the letters were smaller. It read:

TONIGHT. MIDNIGHT. SIEGEL HOUSE. COME IN THE BACK WAY. BRING TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS OR WE MAIL COPIES OF THE DVD TO EVERYONE. COME ALONE. DON’T FUCK WITH US. WE MEAN BUSINESS.

Jimmy sniffed at the air. “What is that smell?”

“Dead rat,” I said.

“That must be me,” Jimmy said, “because I’m starting to feel like that’s what I am. A dead rat.”

“Perhaps,” I said, tapping the note. “But now we know we’re dealing with more than one.”

“That’s what we usually means,” Jimmy said. “I’m going to tell you something, bro. I haven’t got ten thousand. I mean, it’s in the bank, but I can’t get it. It’s under both our names, me and Trixie. I could go up there and pull it out, but Trixie would know pretty damn soon. She does, I might as well have just let them show the video. Hell, hire out a movie theater and serve popcorn, then lay my balls on a chopping block and give Trixie an axe and draw a line on my nuts with a marker.”