Season said, ‘Carl, I’m going to have to. If I don’t live with it, then Sally’s going to die with it. And that’s all.’
She hesitated, and then she said, ‘Vee wasn’t any part of the deal, though. You hear me, Oxnard? My sister wasn’t any part of the deal. You can’t ask anything of her.’ Oxnard frowned. ‘I don’t understand you,’ he said. ‘It seems to me that as long as I’m holding a loaded Magnum up against your sweet little daughter’s head, I can ask anything of anybody who cares about her.’
Another cold pause. And then Vee turned pale-faced to Season, and said, ‘Season – we can’t let them kill her. For God’s sake.’
Carl growled, ‘You morons will die for this. I mean it. Every last one of you will die.’
‘He’s very dramatic, don’t you think so, Oxnard?’ one of the Angels asked, and Oxnard grinned and nodded.
‘He’s a thespian,’ said Oxnard.
‘A thespian?’ asked the Angel with wild hair and zits. “That’s right. That’s intellectual talk for over-aggressive, over-acting, worn-out, used-up, suburban asshole.’
‘Your gun makes you strong, that’s all,’ quivered Carl.
‘That’s right,’ agreed Oxnard. ‘It’s a good thing I’ve got it, don’t you agree? Now why don’t you go sit on that breakfast stool over there, and keep quiet, and why don’t you two ladies start stripping off ready? Huh?’
Season said, ‘Not in front of the child. You promised. I’m not doing anything in front of the child.’
Oxnard snapped, ‘Lady – unless you perform in front of this child – then this child is going to perform in front of you. And let me tell you one thing from personal experience – only one personal experience, mind you, but one is quite enough – dying is a very much less pleasing performance than fucking.’
‘You’ve killed someone before?’ asked Season, coldly.
Oxnard nodded. ‘That’s right. Now, strip off.’
Carl said, ‘Listen, you, whatever your name is. There’s no way. You hear me? There’s absolutely no way.’
Oxnard said, ‘They call me Oxnard, if you must know, on account of the fact that I come from Oxnard. My real name is Charles.’
‘Isn’t he too much?’ giggled one of the Angels. ‘Charles, for Chrissake.’
There was a fraught silence. Then Season, with complete dignity, unbuttoned her white broderie anglaise sundress and shrugged it off her shoulders. Underneath, she was naked, her skin still that bright bronze colour of a fresh suntan. Oxnard smiled, and the rest of the Angels whistled and laughed.
‘You can do what you want,’ said Season, tightly. ‘But you’ll have to take my daughter out of here.’
Oxnard thought about it for a while, and then said, ‘Okay. It’s a reasonable, clean, one hundred per cent American request. Carlo – you want to take the gun, and Shirley Temple here, and keep her out of the living-room until I call you? But one thing. If I tell you to waste her, you waste her, and quick. Let’s not make any mistakes about that.’
The Angel with the frizzy hair took the Magnum, gripped Sally’s wrist, and pushed her out of the kitchen. He grinned at Season as he passed by, and said, ‘Nice tits, lady. Real nice tits. I’ll catch you later.’
Sally, swallowing in fear, said, ‘Mommy! Mommy – what are they going to do?’ but Season simply shook her head, and tried to smile. There were too many tears choked up in her throat for the words to come out.
Oxnard rapped to Vee, ‘Come on, honey. You too. Get it all off.’
Vee hesitated for a moment, but then she tugged her pink sundress over her head, and dropped it to the floor. She was even skinnier than Season, with a dark mahogany suntan from years in California. There were faint semi-circular scars under her breasts where she had them had lifted.
Oxnard looked appreciatively from one sister to the other. ‘Well, now,’ he said, ‘isn’t that the neatest pair of canyon-dwelling women you ever saw?’
Carl held his hand across his mouth as Oxnard stripped off his jacket, unbuckled his belt, and kicked off his pants. Oxnard nodded to the tallest Angel, who wore a soiled red rag around his head, and said, ‘Hold that flake. Hold him tight. And if he tries to make trouble, break his festering fingers.’
Then Oxnard suddenly reddened, and shouted, ‘Okay! Okay! We’re going to have ourselves some fun here! You know what I mean? Fun! You come here, Mommy, and stand in front of this fancy sink. That’s right. Facing the window. Now, spread ’em. That’s right, spread ’em. You hear me! I want to see your ass!’
Chilly with fear. Season stood by the sink, gripping the draining-board, and staring sightlessly out of the window at the flickering palm trees in the front garden. Oxnard, wearing nothing now but his shirt, his bootlace tie, and a pair of dirty white moccasins, grasped the cheeks of her bottom and fondled them with hard, searching fingers.
‘Think you’re going to get out of this easy, huh?’ he whispered loudly in Season’s ear. His breath smelled of Scope. ‘Think you can just close your eyes and pretend that nothing’s happening, that it’s just another pecker in life’s never-ending parade of peckers? That’s what you think, huh? Well – let’s make it more difficult for you, shall we? Let’s make it a little more memorable.’
He turned around, and strode across the kitchen, absurd in his shirt and his sneakers, but somehow even more menacing because of his absurdity. Carl tried to push his way forward, but the tall Angel’s muscular grip pulled him back.
‘You’re crazy!’ shouted Carl. ‘You know that? You’re out of your polluted little brain!’
The tall Angel knocked him hard in the side of his head with his pointed knuckles, and Carl staggered. Vee, naked and defenceless, said, ‘For God’s sake, leave him alone!’ But the Angel simply bared his teeth at her in a mock-animal snarl.
Oxnard pulled open one kitchen cupboard after another, and dragged all the spices and cans and cups and bottles on to the floor, in a clattering cascade. Red pepper was sprayed across the tiles, along with sugar and coffee and broken china and scattered spoons.
‘Oil! That’s what I want! Oil!’ raged Oxnard. ‘Good, slippery, lubricating oil!’
In the end cupboard, by the ovens, he discovered a plastic bottle of Mazola. ‘There!’ he said, staring wildly from one Angel to the other. ‘A good clean US product for a good filthy unAmerican purpose!’
He turned around to Vee, and said: ‘Come here! Come on, you can have the privilege of joining in this little erotic stunt!’
‘Bastard!’ howled Carl. ‘Maniac!’ But the Angel punched him again, in the mouth this time, and knocked out one of his teeth. Carl spat strings of blood, and went down on to his knees. One of the other Angels was giggling so much by now that he sounded as if he was going to choke.
Seizing Vee’s wrist, Oxnard forced her to crouch down on the floor in front of the sink, right between Season’s wide-apart thighs.
‘Now, you’re sisters, aren’t you?’ breathed Oxnard. ‘You should get on well together, in every possible way. You can start giving her a tongue job, sweetie, while I start doing what I want to do.’
Vee blinked up at him in fright.
‘You understand what I’m saying!’ shrieked Oxnard. ‘Do it, or I’ll have that niece of yours blown to pieces!’ Shaking uncontrollably, Vee raised her face.
Above her, Season whispered, ‘Do it, Vee. It’s not going to harm us. I love you, and I always will.’
‘That’s right,’ smiled Oxnard. ‘Sisterly love, incarnate. Or should I say carnal?