Or a little boy she could hear saying, “I don’t have nothing to do.” Kicking at the Sarouk, at the ripple, with the heel of his boot, trying to flatten it.
“That carpet you seem determined to destroy,” Carolyn said, “cost fifteen thousand dollars.”
“No shit?” He looked down at the blue oriental pattern.
“No shit,” Carolyn said. “It’s worth much more than that now.”
“Why don’t you sell it, get the money?”
“I enjoy it. I didn’t buy it as an investment.”
“How much you make a year?”
“Enough to live the way I want.”
“Come on, how much you make?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“You don’t keep any money in the house, do you?” Clement grinned at her. “I know, it’s all in visa cards. That shit’s ruining me, you know it?”
“Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”
“No, but you could write me a check.”
“Why would I do that?”
“You know why.”
“Clement, you’re a terrible extortionist.”
“I know. But there was that chicken-fat judge dead and nothing to come of it. Seemed a shame. Then I see your phone number in his book and I commenced to scheme.” Clement squinted. “How come he had your number?”
“He called a few times, wanted me to go out with him.”
“Jesus, you didn’t, did you?”
“No, Clement, I didn’t.”
“You ain’t a young girl, but I know you can do better’n that.”
Carolyn said, “This chat’s costing you money, Clement. If we’re getting into your situation there’s a twenty-five-hundred-dollar retainer to think about. If we go to trial, I’ll need another seventy-five, in advance.”
Clement blinked and squinted. Carolyn watched his act indifferently-Clement shaking his head now.
“First thing you must learn in school, I mean lawyers, is how to turn things around. I come up here to get a check and you tell me you want ten thousand dollars.”
“If I’m going to represent you.”
“For what? Shit, they’re dickin’ around, they’re never gonna have a case. I’m pulling out, going down to Tampa, Florida, for the winter. But I don’t have the stake I thought I was gonna. That’s why I need you to write me a check.”
Carolyn sat low in the chair studying Clement, her elbow on the arm, her cheek resting against her hand.
“You never cease to amaze me.”
“I don’t?”
“Always seem so calm. Never upset. How do you manage that?”
“Thinking good thoughts,” Clement said. “Go get your checkbook.”
“What do you need, a couple hundred?”
Clement squinted at her again. “Couple hunnert?” He had come seeking no particular amount. She had mentioned a ten-thousand-dollar fee and that didn’t sound too bad. Nice round number. But now-shit, looking at him like he was the janitor, waiting for him to leave so she could open her book again-he doubled the amount and said, “Twenty thousand oughta do it.”
Carolyn didn’t say anything. She didn’t move until he said, “You’re pretty calm yourself.” Then watched as she came out of the chair, laying the book on the hassock, and went to the desk in the bay of front windows.
With her profile to him, leaning over the desk, she said, “I’m doing this against my better judgment,” opening a business-size checkbook and writing now.
Clement was surprised. He’d expected her to give him an argument. He could see the curve of her fanny against the robe. She tore a check from the book and walked across the room, right past him, not looking at him until she was standing in the doorway that opened on the upstairs hall. Clement could see the railing behind her and now she was offering him the check.
“Here. Take it.”
Something wasn’t right. Clement stared and watched her move out into the hallway now and hold the check over the railing.
“All right, then pick it up on your way out,” Carolyn said. “But if you take it, please don’t expect me to ever help you again, in or out of court. Understood?”
Clement got up and crossed toward Carolyn. Her extended arm looked pale and naked sticking out of the robe. As he reached her she handed him the check. Clement looked at it.
“This says two hunnert.”
Carolyn called over the railing, downstairs, “Marcie?”
“I said twenty thousand. You left out some oughts.”
Carolyn turned to look at him. “Even if I could write a check in that amount, do you really think I would?”
“Yes, I do,” Clement said. “ ‘Stead of me rolling up your rug or taking your jewelry-sure, I do.”
“But a check-you know I could stop payment as soon as you leave.”
“Then I’d come back, wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t believe this,” Carolyn said. “All I have to do is call the police.”
“Man, it’s hard to get through to some people,” Clement said. “Where’s your bathroom?”
Carolyn hesitated, then gestured with her hand, a vague motion. “Right there. The first door.” She turned with her back to the railing for Clement to go past, then tried to pull away as he took her by the arm.
“Let’s me and you go toidy.”
“Now wait a minute-” Clement’s fingers dug into her upper arm and she called out, “Marcie!”
“She’s locked in the pantry.” Clement was moving Carolyn along now. “I told you she was arguing with me. People argue-you’re a lawyer-you got to make your point or shut ’em up, huh?” He pushed Carolyn into the bathroom and swung the door closed behind them, looking around. “Man, this is some biffy; you could have a party in here… big stall shower… I like a tub-bath myself, but this’ll do fine. Take your robe off.”
“Clement?” Carolyn began.
“What?”
“Whatever you’re doing…” She tried a sincere expression with a slight smile. “Can I offer you a little advice?”
“How much’s the retainer?”
“No, this is free. Whatever you have in mind”-slowly, with a soft lilt to her voice-“I think you should consider very carefully the position you’re in.” Clement hooked a finger in the ring of the caftan’s zipper. “Clement, be nice, okay?”
“You’d stop payment, huh?” The caftan opened as he pulled down. She tried to hold it closed. He took her two hands and brought them away, standing close, looking into her face.
“I don’t have anywhere near that much,” Carolyn said, still sincere, “so what difference does it make?”
“How much you got?”
“Let’s go look in the checkbook.”
“Take off the robe first.” He let go of her hands.
“Clement, really, if you’ll stop and think for a minute…” His hands slipped inside the rough-cotton garment, moved up her body and felt her elbows come in tightly, her eyes staring into his.
“What you think I’m gonna do to you?… Huh? Tell me.” He moved his thumbs across her breasts. “Hey, your nobs’re sticking out… That feel pretty good? Juuuust brush ’em a little, huh?… They get hard as little rocks.” His right hand moved lightly down her side to her hip, their eyes still holding. “Now what am I gonna do?… That your belly button right there?… My, we don’t have no panties on, do we?” His voice drowsy. “Tell what you think I’m gonna do to you… Huh? Come on…”
Clement drew his right hand out of the caftan, bringing it down past his own hip, curled the hand into a fist and grunted, going up on his toes, as he drove the fist into Carolyn’s stomach.
Once he got her into the shower, the caftan off her shoulders, pinning her arms, Clement gave Carolyn a working over with a few kidney punches and body hooks, a couple of stinging jabs to the face before a right cross drew blood from her nose and mouth and he turned the shower on her. The job was trying to keep her on her feet, glassy-eyed and moaning, Clement doubting she had much air left in her. He gave Carolyn a towel and guided her back to the desk in the window bay, bright with afternoon sunlight. Opening the checkbook, Clement said, “Let’s see now how much you want to give me.”