“You like it?”
“I like it on you very much. And the top is perfect. You should always wear that sort of neckline.”
“Why?”
Laura laughed. “Nope. I won’t be forced into a compliment.”
“Laura?”
“Hmmm?”
“Do you like me?”
“Idiot.”
“Then just sort of hold me, because it’s so quiet and peaceful when you do.”
“Poor baby. You’re sleepy.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Why don’t you take a little nap?”
“You mean like this?”
“Sure. Just close your eyes and sleep for awhile.”
She obeyed. It was unbelievably restful in Laura’s arms. Laura leaned back a little and her head dropped to Laura’s bosom. It was soft and warm beneath her cheek.
Sleepily, “Laura?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t let go of me.”
“I won’t, silly.”
“Mmmmm. Don’t let go, Laura. Because if you do I’ll fall. I’m all right when you hold me.”
12
Her name was Peggy Cordovan and she was drunk.
Very drunk, she decided. Almost too drunk to know where she was and definitely too drunk to know where she was going.
She was on Thompson Street. She knew that, because she had left The Shadows when it had closed, and since it was Wednesday night it must be around four A.M. Which meant that it was Thursday morning, when you came right down to it.
But what was the point of coming right down to it? That was the most excellent thing about getting drunk — you didn’t have to come down to it until you woke up the next morning or afternoon with a head that was two sizes too big. Then you came down, hard, but until then you could fly around like a sparrow on marijuana, flying around and even chirping.
She came to a corner and peered intently at the street sign, trying to put the letters together to form words. Thompson and Houston, the sign said. She had managed to wander south and east, and this wasn’t particularly good because the neighborhood wasn’t particularly nice, not nice at all, and if she weren’t drunk she would be a little scared by it all, but why be afraid now, why be scared because she was drunk and God protected drunks and fools and she qualified on both counts.
There was no place to go.
That was the hell of it. There ought to be a place to sleep somewhere, even alone, because she didn’t want to sleep with anyone else yet except Laura, who didn’t want to sleep with her. But there ought to be an empty bed for her to crawl into. She had found one Sunday night and Monday night and Tuesday night, although she couldn’t remember whether she had taken a hotel room or slept at a friend’s place or exactly what she had done.
This was nice. Just letting her mind ramble on and not giving a good goddamn about anything, just walking south on Thompson Street into a perfectly wretched neighborhood and not caring, this was what she needed. She had to practice not caring about things and pretty soon she wouldn’t care about anything at all and she would never be hurt again. She would be strong and bitter and tough and never care any more and that would be better and infinitely safer.
There were footsteps behind her.
She was aware of this suddenly, and with the awareness came the realization that there had been footsteps behind her all the way from The Shadows, footsteps that she hadn’t quite noticed until just now. She listened closely and discovered that more than one person was following her. Two at least. Maybe more.
She decided that she ought to be frightened. Here she was in a lousy neighborhood with someone right behind her and she ought to run like hell. But, strangely, she wasn’t frightened at all.
She didn’t run. She was drunk and nothing was worth worrying about, so instead of running she simply turned around and walked back again to find out what sort of sons-of-bitches were following her and just what they wanted from her young life.
She kept walking until she was within ten yards of them. Then she stopped and they stopped and she looked at them carefully.
There were four of them. They were young, around eighteen, and they were big and they looked strong. They were dressed alike in tight dungarees and black leather jackets with zippers on the pockets.
Christ, she thought, it’s just like the movies. Sideburned teenage toughs in black leather jackets. I ought to be scared out of my wits.
But she wasn’t.
What could they want? If they were after money they had the wrong pigeon. Her purse was someplace, but she hadn’t the slightest idea where.
What did they want?
I’ll ask them, she decided. That ought to be the best way to find out. “What do you want, fellows?”
One of them snickered and they all put their hands on their hips, all at the same time, and it was funny the way they all did the same thing at the same time like a bunch of robots. She started to smile.
“What do you think we want?” one of them demanded.
“That’s a silly question. Would I ask if I knew?”
The one who had asked the question seemed to be the leader. He was a little taller than the rest and a little more ferocious in appearance. “We want you,” he announced. “What else?”
She was puzzled.
“We been following you a long ways. Nobody awake at this hour. No cops around. See?”
She didn’t see.
“All the way from that dike joint we followed you. Hell, what’s a good looker like you doing being a lady-lover? It don’t make sense.”
Doesn’t, she thought.
The tall one snickered again, and she thought that it was a most unpleasant sound, not a nice snicker at all. Come to think of it, how did people snicker pleasantly? That was something to think about.
“It’s such a waste,” he went on. “We figure it’s because you never had a chance to learn better, and maybe if you had a chance it’d do you some good. Get the picture?”
She was beginning to get the picture. She was beginning to see it, although the lines were still slightly fuzzy. She realized what was going to happen to her and that it was the most terrible thing that could happen to anyone and especially the most terrible thing that could every happen to her, and she was beginning to get frightened and a little sober.
“Hey,” she said. “Wait a minute.”
“Why wait? Pretty soon it’ll be getting light out. We been waiting all night.”
Then he took a step toward her and she wanted to scream but she couldn’t scream, not quite, not yet, and by the time she was ready to scream it was too late. His hand was pressed tightly over her mouth and the fingers of his other hand were digging into her shoulder, hurting her.
He took his hand away and another of the boys slipped a piece of tape over her mouth so that she still couldn’t scream. They had her surrounded now. Behind her was a store entrance and there were boys all around her.
They knew that she was helpless. Now that they had caught her, now that it had all been so easy for them, they didn’t seem to be paying any special attention to her.
She was merely a girl to be raped. She might just as well be a car to be stolen or a boy to be beaten up, it didn’t matter. The smallest of the boys was looking at her with something approaching hunger in his eyes, but the others gave no real indication that they were about to rape her. She knew what was going to happen. But she couldn’t believe it was actually going to happen to her.
“I’ll go first,” the tall one said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. It was my idea, wasn’t it?”
The other shrugged, as though it didn’t really matter very much, and the tall boy took a step forward and drove his fist into her stomach. The pain shot through her and she doubled up, trying to shout through the piece of tape and suddenly very much afraid, knowing that it was definitely going to happen, and not wanting it to happen, not wanting it at all.