Ed Lacy - Strip For Violence

“I'm listening at the keyhole, what the hell did you think I was doing?” I snapped, walking past him, ready to knee him if he tried to stop me.

He merely stepped aside, smiling down at me.

11

The two-block walk to my car cooled me off somewhat. And driving back to the boat I tried to figure out exactly what I was angry about. I'd talked less than ten minutes to Margrita, it was the only time I'd ever spoken to her, yet I felt as steamed as if I was an old boyfriend she was handing the brush. It didn't make sense.

Pete took me out to my boat and I undressed. It was too warm for pajamas, so I climbed into my bunk, snapped the lights off. From a nearby express cruiser I heard dance music, sounds of several women and men laughing. My own boat was rocking gently and I kept thinking of Margrita and Louise, how the relationship between a man and a woman should be so simple, and always ended up so damn complex, full of knots. Maybe it was a reflection of our world, where even the relationships between nations were all screwed up.

I tried to sleep, but then I started thinking of Marion Lodge, wondering how hungry and disillusioned she must have been when she started peddling it, if she still wore her hair in those corny curls when she was hustling, what a lousy thing it was that society made a commodity out of that, how lucky men were that they were not built so they could sell....

I heard the launch coming and it didn't pass me, but came alongside. Pete called out, “Company, Hal.”

I said, “Come aboard,” and sat up and snapped on the light and there was Anita coming down the cabin steps! I pulled the sheet across me like a startled school girl as Anita said, “Well, well, so this is where you live. Very cozy.”

“Get me that robe hanging on the door. What are you doing here?” I asked, as she sat down on the bunk opposite me, lit a cigarette. She had on high heels, a smart suit, and her face was flushed and covered with a lot of make-up. She looked older, almost a little hard. Maybe it was her overbright eyes—I was certain she'd had a few drinks.

“Now, Hal, is that a way to greet a friend, barking at them?”

“Stop the chatter and get me the robe.”

“Get it yourself, I like you the way you are,” Anita said, blowing a cloud of smoke at me. “I really go for all those nice muscles ridged across your tummy. Hal, you look much better undressed. My, warm in here.” She fanned her skirt showing the V her thighs made to her black-lace panties.

“If I get up I'm going to fan something—your backside. Now what the...?”

She came over and sat on my bunk, stared at me with big sad eyes. There wasn't any liquor on her breath. “Why don't you stop with this big-brother act? Hal, am I poison, that hard to take?”

There was a serious, pathetic quality to her voice—this was my big day with the gals! And for a fast moment I asked myself why I was playing the brother clown, Anita was young, pretty, and burning up.... But my so-called better sense kept warning... lay off!

“Don't start that, Anita. You're not hard to take, on the contrary you're—Hell, baby, you're a kid. We'd only end up in a mess. I like you; if I didn't I wouldn't worry about hurting you or...”

“You drive me nuts with this kid routine, that little girl-with-a-doll line. I know what I want, what... Here, is this a child's kiss?” She fell on top of me, her lips hard and pressing, her hair all soft on my face.

I tried to push her off, or at least I was thinking about it, as I managed to say, “Anita, give us time. If it's to be you and me... we'll know it.” Having her on my bunk, so near me, was almost too damn much to resist.

“Why should we wait?” she whispered, her lips moving against my ear. “I'm sure, and you... you just said you liked me. Darling, you're all I've been thinking about these last couple months. When I first started working for you... you gave me a laugh kick. I mean, you weren't at all what I thought a shamus would be. Then, I've gotten so crazy about you I can't think straight, I...”

The “shamus” did it, reminded me she was merely a thrill-happy kid. I pushed her away. “I'll give it to you straight—I'm scared of you. You're pretty and impulsive and probably would be terrific in the hay, but honey I'd never know when you'd change, when all that pep and energy would be directed against me, find myself doing time because you're under eighteen and...”

“Do I have to bring a birth certificate to bed?” she asked, poking a finger at the hair on my chest.

That sounded so silly we both laughed and that really tore it. She stood up, looked around, dropped the ash from her cigarette in the sink. “Gee, this is like a little apartment What a compact kitchen, everything....”

“We old sailors call it a galley. Find anything on the rock?”

“No, walked my legs off around that part of town. Found nothing. Hal, if I did something big, say like finding that Frisco money, grabbing that big reward would...”

“Don't you ever stop thinking about rewards?”

“Why should I? Think of the mugs who did the job, all those millions around them and every buck too hot to spend. Must drive them nuts. But suppose I did find that, or got one of the other rewards, would you run away with me? To Mexico, to Europe?”

“Honey, with that sort of green stuff I'd fly to the moon with you!”

“All right, keep making fun of me, one of these days I'll do something big and take your bluff—one of these days soon.”

“Sure you will. Sydney Greenstreet called me this afternoon, said he was afraid you'll drive him out of business.”

She stuck out her tongue at me. “You'll see. Is there a bathroom here, or is it any porthole in a storm?”

I pointed to the large picture of the blowfish that covered the door to the bow, and the John. “That's a door—the handle is the piece of food under the seaweed—what the fish is diving for.”

“That's a door?” Anita said, going over to examine it. “How clever.”

“Called the 'Blowfish Madonna.' Anchored off Fire Island last year and some artist got the bright idea of painting the door. Really got a soulful expression on the fish. There's a light switch on your left—and you work the pump handle beside the John to flush it.”

Soon as she shut the door I jumped out of bed, put on pants and shoes. She'd left her bag on the bunk and I opened it, took out my .38 special and tossed it under the covers. The hand line I'd used to catch the shad was drying over the sink, and I cut off two heavy sinkers from it, dropped them in her bag—so the bag would feel heavy.

I was putting on a T-shirt when she came out. “Come on, I'll put you in a cab, send you home.”

“I about expected that—brother!”

“Who you all dolled up for tonight?”

“You.”

She sounded so blue I didn't have the heart to bawl her out for taking the gun—that could wait till morning. “Come on,” I said, taking her arm, starting for the deck. She gave me a hug and a kiss that nearly smothered me. “For the... stop it!” I said, breaking away.

“Knew I could get your water on,” Anita said, walking by me, a silly triumphant sway to her small hips.

I whistled for Pete and we stood on the deck, my arms around her shoulders. Again I felt confused, feeling leery of her and at the same time almost sorry for the kid. It was a clear night, with a half moon and all the stars out. Anita said quietly, “Sorry I was a pest.”

“You're no pest, only... things like this can't be rushed. Maybe some day I'll wake up, start chasing you and...”

“You'll never have to chase me, Hal. Gee, it's great standing here, all those stars—”

“If we were out on the Sound, away from the city lights, see many more stars.”