The street on which he parked with Linda Harder that April night was one which had been uncovered in the corporate search.
He wanted to kiss Linda, but she was in an extremely talkative mood that night. She had been rattling on for the past five minutes about a boy who’d given her a Stevenson button, and Hank was beginning to dislike Intellectuals and Democrats everywhere.
“He was just a fat little boy,” Linda said, “but he had these wonderful dimples in his cheeks, and this big toothy smile. I was terribly in love with him, and he never paid me the slightest bit of attention.”
“Until the Democrats nominated Stevenson,” Hank said.
“Yes. And then he just came up to me one day and said, ‘Here, vote for Stevenson.’ And he handed me the campaign button. I’ve still got it. It was the first time he’d singled me out for anything, the first time he showed he knew I was alive. I can’t tell you how important it made me feel.”
“I’ll have to buy you a trunkful of campaign buttons. Willkie, Landon, Roose—”
“I don’t need that with you, Hank,” Linda said. “I feel important all the time with you.”
“Do you love me, Linda?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I wonder why people don’t think we know how to love?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean... when we’re young. Why do they always think it’s puppy love or something? Do you know what I believe? I believe we’re the only ones who do know how to love. I mean it. When you get older, you forget. I see it all the time. My parents and their friends. I think they’ve all forgotten what love is. I’m glad I’m young. You know? I’m glad I can love you.”
“I’m glad, too,” Linda said.
“Are you finished with your fat boy?”
“Yes.”
“Can I kiss you now?”
“Anytime you want to kiss me, even if I’m talking, you just shut me—”
He kissed her.
It was a curious thing to be kissing Linda. Hank was twenty-one years old, but he’d never been in love before. Moreover, he had always considered necking the prelude to whatever fortune might allow to follow. Linda’s lips were very nice lips. She was only seventeen, but she kissed well, and she knew how to use the soft inner cushion of her mouth expertly. Kissing her, even though Hank was a man of the world who knew what this sex bit was all about, he felt sort of dizzy, actually dizzy, just kissing her. He listened to her harsh breathing, and he could feel her face feverishly hot against his and he knew without doubt that this was the girl for him, this wonderfully sweet, gentle girl who kissed like this, this marvelously intelligent, remarkably gorgeous girl who kissed like this, this tender, sensitive, amazingly exotic girl who kissed like this was for him, who kissed like this and made him dizzy.
In ten minutes’ time, they both agreed they had better go for an ice-cream soda or something.
Linda buttoned her blouse and put on fresh lipstick.
24
On Thursday night Felix Anders saw Larry’s car leave the development and then, not five minutes later, Margaret came down the front steps and drove away in her car.
He was amazed that they could run their affair in such a slipshod manner and still escape detection. It was a wonder everyone in the world, no less the development, did not know exactly what was going on between them. But even while considering them the most careless sort of fools, he managed to find a tender spot in his heart for them. They were, after all, in love. This spoke in their favor. Like a father picking lice from the hair of two idiot children, Felix Anders felt great paternal compassion for these two tormented fools.
At the same time there was something immensely satisfying about their tortured writhings, something quite pleasurable about watching their silly gyrations and knowing they were rank amateurs playing a game invented for experts. Amateurs amused him. This entire Cole-Gault affair was an entertainment being performed solely for Felix Anders.
And then there was Eve.
Eve was something else again.
Felix walked into the kitchen where Betty was washing the dishes. “Leave them,” he said. “Let’s go to bed.”
“Oh, stop it,” Betty said, pleased.
“Come on, come on,” he said impatiently.
“I don’t like to leave dirty dishes,” Betty said.
He put his hands on her buttocks. “Come on.”
“No. Later.”
“Okay,” he said, shrugging, having made his stud-bull impression, having left Betty with the idea that all he desired in this budding world of beautiful women was her enticing little form alone. “I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back in a little while.”
“Where are you going?” she asked, having become partially interested by his damned wandering hands and toying with the idea of leaving the dirty dishes in the sink.
“Over to say hello to Larry.”
“I’ll be finished soon” she said.
“Okay,” he answered. He kissed her, and he let his hand drift caressingly over her buttocks again. He enjoyed arousing her. He enjoyed being in complete control of the castle which was his home. “I’ll be back.”
Outside, the stars pecked fiercely at the deep blue-black sky. Felix walked the streets of Pinecrest Manor knowing full well that Betty would be waiting at home in her nightgown whenever he decided to return. He would let her wait a while. A long while. He would let her wait until he was ready. It was better for her that way. It was the only way to treat her.
He had long ago stopped believing it was the male of the species who possessed the deep yearning, the insatiable sex drive. He had come to the conclusion that the reverse was true. There was an empty chasm in a woman, and only a man could fill that chasm. And until the chasm was filled, a woman was essentially incomplete. Women had invented marriage only to insure repeated completion, and then had destroyed their own invention when they’d discovered insurance was not necessary. The chasm could be filled, the completion accomplished, by anyone at all.
Felix smiled and ambled up the walk to the Cole house. He rang the bell once, a short, sharp ring. He waited.
Eve answered the door. She was wearing black Bermuda shorts and a black sweater. Her long black hair hung to her shoulders. Her eyes were intensely blue against the overwhelming mass of unrelieved black.
“Oh, hello, Felix,” she said.
Felix stepped into the house quickly. He did not want to ask for Larry while standing on the doorstep. He did not want to be told that Larry was not home and then have no further excuse for entering. Once inside the house, he walked casually into the living room.
“Out for a walk,” he said nonchalantly. “Thought I’d stop by and say hello to Larry.” Quickly, he sat on the couch.
“Larry’s not home,” Eve said.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Felix answered. He made no motion to rise.
“He went to a lecture at Pratt. He goes every other week or so.”
“Well, too bad he’s not home,” Felix said. “I felt like going for a beer.”
“I have beer, if you want some,” Eve said politely.
“No, no,” Felix said, standing. “You’ve got work to do, kids to get to bed.”
“Well...” Eve hesitated. She had already done the dishes and put the children to bed, and so her evening was free. But she’d planned on reading a book she’d taken from the library. She was, in fact, in a particularly uncommunicative mood and was almost glad Larry had gone to his lecture. She did not, however, wish to be rude to Felix. “The children are in bed already,” she said, “and I’ve done the dishes. Would you like a glass of beer?”