"T needn't be profane!'" Brad mimicked her in a scratchy high-pitched falsetto. "Jesus, you elegant Peninsula prick-eaters give me a pain in the ass!"
Linda gasped, her hand fluttering to her swan-like throat. "I've never in my life heard such language!" He must be on dope, she thought; how else to explain this sudden shift of manner, this maniac animosity?
"… In public you're all halos and holy-water," Brad went on, "but in private you'll take on any guy who asks 'ya… and don't tell me you never knew how Joyce has been grinding her beat-up twat all over the countryside ever since grammar-school…"
"Why, Brad Grogan, if you think for one minute I'll sit here and let you utter those vicious lies about Joyce, you're crazy! So you… can stop this old car and let me out… right here and now… because you're rude!"
Brad pressed his foot on the gas, right down to the floorboard. The big car gave a forward lurch and hurled Linda back against the seat. "You'll go when I finish my demonstration," he said, no longer bothering with the friendly auto-dealer smile, "and I'm not referring to the car. I've got another birthday-present in mind for you, Linda. It's not quite as big as a station-wagon, but oh honey!.. It'll sure get you where you're going!" He glanced with brief amusement at her stricken face, his nuts practically applauding as he saw the delicate petals of her lips flop open in shock. Linda stared straight ahead, nonchalantly trembling; and inwardly babbling out the emergency-preachment: I will see no evil, hear no evil and do no evil!
NINE
Suddenly they were out of town. Linda wouldn't let herself look at the speedometer, or even the scenery. She kept staring vacantly ahead, hoping that perhaps he'd think she'd gone catatonic and might relent long enough to drive her to a clinic. Out on the open road now. No more Hillsborough. Nothing but wasteland. And Brad Grogan gunning his motor, giving the zephyr-like station-wagon its supreme test, racing close to ninety miles an hour.
"Tell me something, Linda?" he said. "Are you blond all over? Or are you gonna make me wait and find out for myself?"
Say nothing, she told herself. She said nothing.
"Hell, I'll bet you'll just love it when I blow some hot breath at those pretty little hairs down there," he said, swinging right into his big fear-and-threat campaign. "How about ol' David? Didn't he ever whistle Dixie down there at your continental divide?"
Linda shuddered and turned to the right, wishing like hell she were back home in her little-blue-heaven as she gazed out the window in absolute horror. The full impact of what was happening to her kept her speechless. It was all too incredible and she tried her darndest to think rationally; but this only increased her terror, because it forced her to see the shattering reality of her nightmare: there was never any thought of a birthday present, and God only knew whose car this was… probably stolen, to be sold later so he could feed his grisly habits… cocaine or hashish, most likely. And poor David had no idea what was going on, and… (her hand went to her throat again)… nobody knows where I am!
If only she could pretend to be calm and brave, and somehow not let him see her fear. "Brad, I must say, you're being exceedingly crazy. Don't you realize this is kidnapping?"
"It's also 'rape,' honey-tits… and don't tell me you didn't realize that!" Brad snickered comfortably.
"Oh Dear God in Heaven!" wailed Linda, and wrung her hands.
Brad laughed with great relish. "What the hell's that, a cry of thanks or a warning?"
She turned towards him and started tugging at his sleeve.
"Lower, baby," he prompted her.
"Oh Brad please, stop the car and let me out! I swear I won't tell a soul. And listen, I'm truly sorry if I did anything to hurt your feelings. I mean, it wasn't because you were Greek or anything like that…"
"Goddammit, you mean they held that against me too!" This idea got him even hotter for revenge, and in another second the car was doing close to a hundred.
"No, no, Brad, I only wanted you to know that nobody even mentioned you as part of any sort of undesirable minority. And I especially… I never meant to cut you off like that or snub you… had nothing against you personally… I always liked you, uh… we liked you, Brad…"
"I'm hip!" his voice going savage over the noise of the motor. "Dammit, you liked me plenty, Linda. I caught all your sneaky glances whenever we were lounging around the pool together, you in your germ-free Bikini, and me in my technicolor jackstrap, and man, were your angel-blue eyes ever hungry for my meatloaf!"
Linda quivered, sighed and slumped a little. "Oohh! That is so disgusting, so vile!"
"Oh come off it, honey. Big wangs have gotta be your special kick. 'Cause I've seen David in enough locker-room showers to know that's a pretty wild stump he shoves up your kiss-hole every night!"
Linda let out an ear-splitting scream.
Brad laughed uproariously. "Oh Jesus, one more blast like that and you'll give all these cows a hernia!" He pointed out the window at the farmlands they were riding through.
Another hideous thought occurred to Linda, as she turned and gazed at the camping-mattress in the rear of the station-wagon. "Oh you fiend, you liar! That was never for 'display,' was it?"
Brad grinned, winked, and blew her a big pucker of a kiss. "Oh, it's for display, all right, Linda. And in just another few minutes you and I'm gonna give it a trial-run…"
"I think you're demented. I should really feel sorry for you… Oh no!.. What am I saying…?"
"Aw come on, tell me, honey. Haven't you always had a secret desire to be a naked lady mattress-tester?" Brad glanced quickly at the angry panting of her breasts, then with a swift lashing gesture, he yanked the cardigan off her shoulders so he could see more of the action. Whew! What a paper-thin summery dress she was wearing. The frenzied heat of anticipation began to swarm between his legs now as he tossed the sweater in the back and let his eyes trace the heaving outline of her nipples once or twice. He scooted a little closer to her in the seat and without warning, jabbed his whole right hand up her skirt, squeezing as much hot thigh-flesh as he could grab without losing control of the wheel.
But before he could slip his hand back where it belonged, Linda cried out and dug a nail into his wrist, breaking the skin. Brad let out a roar and pulled his hand away, sucking the bit of blood that trickled from his wound. "Listen, baby, if you want to fight now and fuck later, it's all right with me, but you oughta know that you'll be the one who comes out a little the worse for wear. You follow me? How're you gonna explain a black eye or a broken jaw to your family or your bridge-club?"
"I'll tell them you attacked me!" she spat at him. "Everyone knows your reputation, so they'll believe me.
"Yeah? And what were you doing in my car?"
"Ahh, but David will tell them that he… that he…" Linda stopped, suddenly feeling like a fool, for she'd almost repeated Brad's shoddy lies and fictions.
"Go on. What about David?" he asked. "Will you tell him about this?"
She sighed and slowly shook her head. "Oh God no, I couldn't… It would kill him!"
… But right now that little fucker's too busy to drop dead, thought Brad, although he decided not to pass this information on to Linda. Why shouldn't she find out the hard way, just as he had with Joyce? And aloud: "That's my girl!.. Mum's the word. And honey, I tell you what… Since you're being so cooperative, I won't tell anyone either. That hot little lunch-counter of yours is gonna pop and splutter at least half a dozen times this afternoon, but we'll keep that our dirty secret, won't we, baby?" He swatted his big hand up her skirt once more, and this time managed to rummage inside her panties. Oh brother, contact at last!.. Skin!.. Ali warm and silky and tender. "Joyce always had a special opening stitched in her panties so she'd be ready for whoever cared to jerk her off…"