Donald Westlake - Two Much!

“Bladder,” I said.

Her half-closed eyes opened. “What?”

“Go on to sleep,” I soothed her, and stroked her cheek, and kissed her forehead. “I’ll be right back.”

Another romp through the facilities, pausing only to turn off the water in Liz’s sink. (The drain was in excellent condition.) Then on into the bedroom, where Liz was pacing back and forth in a pale blue peignoir, her arms folded beneath her breasts. “You do take long enough,” she said.

“I thought I might as well wash up,” I said. “I’m sorry, did you—?”

“Tell me about it later,” she said, and zipped into the bathroom with every indication of urgency.

Well, that’s the way it is in the morning, particularly if you’ve been putting away many gallons of champagne or other liquid the night before. In fact, come to think of it...

Down the hall from the bedrooms, toward the living room, was another lavatory for the convenience of guests. I found it very convenient, streaking down the hall in nothing but my skin, relieving myself, then washing up in the guests’ sink and drying with the guests’ tiny towels. Why do guests get such tiny towels?

I had made the initial run without meeting any of the servant population of this apartment, but on the return trip I emerged from the guests’ john to find Nikki prancing by with a watering can in her hand. Surveying my nethers with pleased surprise, she said, “Ooo la la!” I hadn’t known they really said things like that.

I looked at her, saw her roguish eyes and her twitching tail, and firmly ordered myself away. Not even counting the physical demands to which I’d already been put this morning, there was the increasingly desperate need to reduce my presences here to one before either of the sisters caught wise. “Later,” I said, and trotted off down the hall.

At the end, Betty’s door was on the left and Liz’s was on the right. Betty’s was just slightly ajar; looking through the crack, I saw that she was not only awake, she was sitting on the edge of the bed. And from the concentrated way she was staring toward the closed bathroom door, I knew what she was waiting for.

God almighty, was there no end to this? I’d been awake less than half an hour, and already I’d been through an exhaustingly full day. I ran on into Liz’s room, took two deep breaths, and Liz came out of the bathroom. “Not dressed?” she said.

“I thought I’d shower.” Quickly kissing her surprised face, I waved gaily, said “ Hasta la vista ,” and scampered off.

I couldn’t lock the lavatory door behind me, but I could certainly lock the tub room door, and did so. The far side door I daren’t lock from Betty’s side, since she might notice, so I had to leave it closed but vulnerable. In the meantime, I’d switched on the shower, and to the merry splash of water I went back to Betty, who jumped up from the bed the instant I appeared, ignored my “Why, darling, you’re still awake,” and zoomed into the john.

And now at last I had a minute by myself to collect my wits and try to work out an answer to this mess. I couldn’t very well keep playing bathroom games all day long. Somehow or other I had to get Art out of this apartment Putting it simply, Art had to make an exit while Bart stayed here. Putting it even more simply, I had to be in two places at the same time.

My current situation was that Bart was naked here in Betty’s bedroom while Art was naked over there in the shower. Therefore, my first order of business was to get Art out of the shower. Then I had to put Bart somewhere out of sight for a while until I could get some clothing on Art Then Art could start to depart but would dart back to where Bart was hidden apart so he could hop a cart back to his sweetheart Smart?

I was still chewing on that one when Betty returned from the bathroom and looked at me in surprise. “Aren’t you going to get dressed?”

“Fart,” I said.

“What?”

Then I leaped to my feet. “A shower,” I said loudly. Everything was happening twice. “I’m going to take a shower.”

I started to run by her toward the john when she said, “Liz is in there now.”

My heart bounced off the floor. “In where?”

“Taking a shower.”

Liz was in there? If Liz was in there, she had to know the truth, or anyway be damn close to it. Two thousand a month: a mental image of bills with little wings flying out a window. Husband to Betty, unbound by extra contracts; a mental image of a huge lumber mill with wings flying away over a mountain. I said, “Are you sure?”

“I heard the water running.”

“Oh,” I said. Oh, the water running, mat was all right, In fact, I almost said something about that being Art in there, not Liz, when I realized there was no way for me to know such a thing.

But now what? If we were all going to wait here for Art to finish his shower, we were all going to get very very dirty.

“Here,” Betty said. She was extending something toward me.

“What? What?”

“Don’t you want your glasses?”

“Oh!” Another goddamn detail. I took the glasses and put them on and then I really did squint. Lenses and glasses make the best combination since ice cream and pickles. “Maybe,” I said, trying to look at her like a man who could see and who didn’t have any other problems either, “maybe he’s out of, I mean, maybe she’s out of there by now. I’ll go, uh, I’ll go check.” And I scampered away to the bathroom, cracking my naked hip against the doorjamb on the way by. Oh, my poor eyes.

Close the lavatory door. Open the tub room door, enter a room which was by now full of steam. My glasses immediately fogged. Wrenching them off, I turned off the water, hurried back to Betty, put the damn foggy glasses back on, peered over them at her, gave her the falsest cheerful smile I’ve ever worn, and said, “All clear now. See you in a few minutes.”

As I started to shut the door again, she called, “Do you have enough towels?”

“Plenty. Plenty.”

“If you don’t there’s some in the cabinet under the—”

“Plenty plenty plenty.”

Shut lavatory door, but leave unlocked. Into still-steamy tub room, close door, lock it. Remove glasses, place on counter opposite tub, turn shower on again, cross room, slam nose into other door.

Ouch. Damn, I forgot it was locked. Unlocking it, I slid it open, saw that Liz’s lavatory was unoccupied, stepped in, slid the door shut, opened the bedroom door, and stepped out to see Liz, dressed, patting her hair at a mirror on the wall. “You must have been very dirty,” she commented.

I closed the lavatory door. “Now that I’m your property,” I said, “I’ll have to take very good care of myself.”

She gave my reflection in her mirror a sour look, then turned to offer a repeat performance to the original. “I wonder what I would have done,” she said, “if you’d refused to sign.”

“You would have loved me more,” I suggested, “but you wouldn’t be marrying me.” I knew it was true when I said it, and I felt a small twinge, but nobody gets everything in this life. You decide your priorities and you make your choices. I’d decided long ago that any cake I had would be eaten.

Liz was frowning at me, thinking it over. “That’s right,” she said. Then, turning away, she said, “You want some breakfast?”

I was hurriedly gathering up my clothing, still scattered here and there on the floor, and throwing it onto my body. “No, I’d better got out of here,” I said. “I wouldn’t want to run into Bart.”

“You want me to drop you any place?”

I hopped around on one foot, pulling on a sock. “Don’t bother. I’ll take a cab downtown.”

“Where will you be today?”