Family Practice by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview
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CHAPTER 13
Mark and Allison woke up to the sound of something pelting the window. He looked out, seeing that there was a low dark sky filled entirely with black cumulous clouds and the rain was torrential, forming huge puddles in places after five minutes of activity. He got up and closed the window as she stretched her body out. When he turned to her he saw his favorite sights, but the dark, sudden coldness, put him in a strange mood, bordering on ominous. She felt the same way and donned his heavy robe and met him in the kitchen, where he was preparing coffee. Both silently made their breakfasts.
The phone rang at the Roe Household and Connie got her tired but still exhilarated body moving, answering it with a witty; “Hello?”
“Benito. I hear you had a great time last night.”
“Yeah. You got something set up for today?”
“No, that’s why I’m calling. You’re supposed to be getting me some pictures and I think you’re too busy having a good time.”
“I’ve got somebody working on it.”
“Well, here’s the bottom line. NO more parties until you produce.”
“Come on, baby. Don’t you like what I do?”
“I know that you do. So that’s you’re punishment, slave.”
“Please, honey. Wouldn’t you like a voyage to parts unknown this morning?”
“Not as much as I’d like those pictures. And what part of you is unknown, anyway?” He hung up.
Connie knew she had a problem. Benito knew how to administer the ultimate punishment; nothing. She saw the rain and thought; “Dammit, now I’ll have to go out in that to see the jerk.” Warren silently walked behind her and found refuge. She felt much better. Someone needed her. She wiggled around happily. She said; “You’re a lifesaver, baby. But, I’ve got to go take care of some business.”
“You’re a busy girl.”
“Not the way you think.”
Mark’s phone rang. He was also particularly imaginative and said; “Hello.”
“Hi Mark, it’s Vicky. You’ve gotta get over to the office.
One of your clients is here and she’s upset.”
“Connie?”
“Yeah, I think she’s gonna break something.”
“Okay. Tell her I have exactly what she wants and I’ll be there in half an hour.”
He hung up and put on a t-shirt, sweat shirt and blue jeans, telling Allison that he had to leave, but wouldn’t be long.
She said; “I feel weird today. I’d really like the company. Hurry back.”
Mark scooped up the loose pictures, his camera and the film and went into the downpour. Allison thought that she’d liked to have had a few more minutes’ observation time, but he had left so quickly. She decided that she’d ask him for copies of a few.
He took the black Mercury to the photograph emporium and had the film developed. While he waited, he looked at those of crazy Connie. She was quite a girl.
Entering his vestibule wet and ebullient, he saw Vicky at her desk and she just indicated with a thumb; “In there.” He gave her the pictures of Connie, saying; “Hold onto these.”
Vicky was glad to.
He went into the office and saw a petulant Connie pacing the floor. Her attire consisted of a calf length dress and a button up blouse, covered by a small jacket. Everything was some shade of brown and appeared “business-like” to him. This was exactly the feeling Connie had hoped him to have, taking a cue from Benito’s treatment of her.
She looked at him, saying; “What do you have for me?”
While other times he might have made a playful response, he merely took the photos from his pocket, handed them to her and said; “Just what you asked for.”
Connie put the photos on Mark’s desk, spread them out and reviewed them. She was surprised and disappointed for two reasons, the former because she didn’t know until now that Shari, too, was carrying on with Callie.
She stamped her foot and agitatedly said; “This isn’t Candy, it’s Shari, you idiot.”
Mark’s temporary good feeling deflated. He didn’t know what to say, so settled on something stupid; “You’re sure?”
“I’m their fucking mother. I ought to know......
Goddammit.”
“Well, at least you can now confront your other daughter.”
“Why? What good does that do me? I don’t care. Shari’s nineteen and legal. Candy’s fifteen and statutory. That’s the entire point, asshole.” She was livid.
The implications of what she had just said were new to Mark and he started to think of a number of scenarios, none convincing, so he stuck with the simplicity of the focus that he had gotten the wrong thing and Connie’s concern for her underaged daughter. In desperation he said; “I can keep working on it and in the meantime, maybe you can pretend that the photos are of Candy.”
Though she thought that that was absolutely stupid, she, too, was desperate, but not for the same reason the nitwit thought. Having no other current option, she took the pictures, saying; “I’ll give it a try, but it probably won’t work. I ought to kick you right in your ass.”
“I’m sorry. You probably should. Look, I’ll keep trying whether you pay me or not. I owe it to you.”
Connie’s anger almost dissipated in the face of the apology. She just said; “Oh, Mark,” and left. She attempted to silently walk by Vicky, her mind on more important matters than petty courtesy. Vicky was distracted by the photos she was holding. She did a double take at Connie and what she held in her lap and murmured; “Wet all over. Hmmm, hmmmm.”
Connie took that as a reference to the rain and just said;
“Bye.”
She drove to Benito’s Toyota dealership very slowly as the windshield wipers failed miserably at providing good vision in the continuing torrent. She would take a desperate shot at buying some time and action. She barged into Benito’s office, where he sat alone; signing some documents and silently placed the photos in front of him. He put his pen down and took a hard look, picking some up to get a better view. She nervously watched and then he disgustedly dropped them on the desk,
saying; “What kind of shit are you trying to give me? This is Shari. Everybody knows her.”
Connie was as prepared as she could be and replied; “Maybe we can have them doctored.”
“The cops will pick that up easily, stupid. We know it’s going on. Shari’s of legal age! Get me pictures of statutory rape. That’s all I want.”
Flustered, Connie tried to be playful, but Benito pushed her away. She hoped that this might be the start of a new game and tried again. But Benito again pushed her aside and said;
“Take your stupid fucking pictures and get out of here. Don’t come back without what I want. Then, maybe I’ll allow you something.... Maybe.”
She had been treated roughly in the past and generally liked it, but previously she was always rewarded. This was a new strange feeling that she didn’t like, so she took the photos and left. The soaking she received getting to the car didn’t cool her off.
Mark took the pictures from Vicky and put them in one of his desk drawers. He dejectedly said; “See ’ya. I’m going home.” When he got into the hallway, he saw two burly men in soaked, dark, pinstriped suits walking quickly his way and before he could think, one grabbed his arm, spinning him around
and the other punched him in the stomach. The wind knocked out of him, Mark fell to his knees, but they picked him up and frisked him, slamming him into the wall.
He got another shot in the belly and slumped down, thinking that these guys looked a bit like the duo he met at the warehouse entrance on Hook Harbor Road. They pulled him to his feet by the arms. One took out a knife and held it to Mark’s throat, saying; “This is a friendly message from Callie. If you keep following him, the next message will be delivered by the bad guys.”
They let him go, turned to leave and one turned back to give him another one in the gut. Mark fell to the ground again.
His assailant pointed at him and said; “Don’t think we’re fucking around. You’re getting close to stuff that’s way over your head.” Mark sat there, not yet ready to move and remembered Connie’s comment about “statutory.” For the first, time he considered that he might be totally in the dark. If Connie was concerned with statutory rape, why didn’t she go to the cops? She must have meant “statutory” as a short hand way of merely describing the situation. And given her and her family’s lifestyle, why did she have a problem with Candy’s desires? Maybe Connie considered it too early to be playing with a fossil. But it’s 1972 and anything goes. And what kind of “way over my head” stuff is the thug talking about? Sonny
and the Feds had warned him about Hook Harbor Road. But, no one said anything about the Thunderbird. He wanted to continue as he was making good money for the first time in his life. He knew he was missing something important.
When he felt better he dashed through the rain and drove back home, dripping wet. Allison greeted him at the door, saying; “I’m glad you’re back. I’m really feeling strange today.” She let the bathrobe slip from her shoulders, took him by the hand and said; “Come on, baby. Make me feel better.”
She sat on the couch, the only sound in the apartment the driving precipitation drenching the windowsill. He forgot about his bellyache.
When Connie got back home the first thing she did was put the photos in the family room chest of drawers where she kept Mark’s business cards. Warren entered the room wearing a robe and kissed her neck. He said; “Everything go okay?”
“No, but I don’t want to think about it.”
“You’re not in any trouble, are you?”
“No. I just may have lost an admirer.”
He slightly laughed and said; “Well, you’ll always have me.”
She gently kissed his lips and continued with increasing fervor. She said; “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too.”
“I’m also hot as hell.”
She sat down and he went down until the rain stopped. She got up, took his hand and put him in the chair. In a few minutes the precipitation again struck the open window. He stroked her hair tenderly and again said; “I love you.”
After five languid minutes, Connie got up and said; “I think I’m going to sleep the day away. I’ve been through a lot and I’m really tired.”
He said; “I’ll rest, too.... on my favorite pillow.”
She rubbed his cheek, saying; “Thanks, honey, but not now.
I really need some sleep.” They kissed and she went upstairs to bed. Warren was wide awake, dressed and decided to use the idle time to check on Mark’s progress. He drove Connie’s Camaro to Journal Square. When he entered the vestibule of Mark’s office, he saw Vicky with her voluptuous black legs up on her desk, reflecting on the pictures she had taken out of Mark’s drawer of Connie’s exploits.
She was startled and embarrassed and quickly put her feet on the floor, knocking Connie’s photos all over. Warren bent down and picked up some of the pictures and was immediately elated.
As Vicky straightened her dress, Warren said; “Don’t be embarrassed. I do it all the time. Are there any more of these photos?”
“No, they’re all here.”
“Great. That’s what I came for.” He continued picking them up off the floor. Vicky picked up the phone and said;
“I’ll get Mark.”
“Don’t bother him. This is what I came for. This is good stuff. Tell him to keep getting more; I’ll be glad to pay.”
“This IS good stuff. Mark hasn’t been paying attention to me lately and I’m lonely; you know what I’m saying.”
Warren used his advantageous position to get a different view of her rainy Afro. He kissed her and when she didn’t move, he got up and locked the outside door.
She continually moved around on the chair. She said; “You white guys are crazy freaks. But, I love it.”
After an hour they thought was five minutes, she said;
“I’ve got to get to the other little room.” He held her and said; “No, right here is fine.” The rain once more blasted and Warren imagined that he detected water on his face and hands.
He said; “Thanks, baby, you’re great.”
She said; “You’ve got to visit more often.”
He got all the photos and said; “Tell Mark I’m serious.
I’ll pay for all that he can get.”
Vicky said; “Can you get me some copies?”
Warren smiled and while exiting, said; “I’ll bring them next time.”
Mark and Allison kissed and nuzzled until she pulled away saying, “Enough, enough. It’s getting sore.”
He ignored her and tried to continue. She said; “Stop.
Come on. It tickles.”
He tightened his arms firmly around her. She was finally able to stand up and when free she said; “Dammit, Mark. When I say no, I mean no.”
He frowned, looked up at her and said; “I could do this all day.”
“Same old Mark. Isn’t there anything else you like to do?”
Mark gave her an evil grin which answered her question, but it also reminded her of old times.
She turned her back to him and said; “Try this.”
She watched him in the mirror, excited at his exuberance and the thought of him doing the same thing with others. She recalled someone’s insight of; “I don’t want to have sex with somebody I respect.” She wished there were two Marks.
She remembered when she was with him years ago. She was walking alone near her home, when she met two female friends from school.
The first said; “When you kiss him, can you taste me?” and they both laughed.
The thoughts further excited her, so she settled in with Mark #1 and enjoyed another half hour of feeling superior. She got tired of standing and ordered him to stop. She again turned around and presented her other side and said; “I’ve got a special treat for you.” The cloud burst decimated the windowsill and thunder cracked. She loved the feeling of power that she had over her debauched slave.
She said; “Isn’t there something else we can do all day?”
He looked questioningly at her and said; “Like what?”
She had her answer, but it wasn’t one he wanted to hear, at least not at this moment. She looked discouragingly at him, put her best foot forward and started reading more of “Funkytown USA.”
As he paid lip service to the entree, she started to call him various names. When she said; “You’re not sexy, you’re just disgusting,” his feelings were hurt. He thought that he was doing something nice for his love, which she requested and wound up chastised for it. He knew it as his joy, too, but he thought that was the case only because he liked giving pleasure to those he cared about. He remembered the beating he had gotten. He felt embarrassed and silly in front of the girl he loved, who now treated him disdainfully. He decided he had to get away for
a while and get even with Callie, somehow. He tried to catch Allison’s eyes with a hurt, questioning look, but she ignored him and looked at her book.
Candy spent her day thinking about her situation, sometimes angry and sometimes crying. She decided that the best thing she could do is settle the matter once and for all, so she called Callie with a new modus operandi.
“Hello.”
“Callie, it’s Candy. I can’t stand it anymore. I need your company desperately.”
Callie forgot about his busy day and said; “When can I come get you?”
She suspected that he would answer something like that and was both disappointed and angry, which she was controlled enough not to show; “How about right now?”
“Be there in a few minutes.” She hung up.
Mark would like to see Callie get in trouble for a few reasons. He was being paid and he liked the payee. He didn’t think old farts should be bothering with underage girls and his belly was still not quite as good as it was when the day started. He dressed, kissed Allison goodbye and drove the red Corvair to Liberty Lane.
Allison turned on the television and settled on a channel, having some kind of “investigative report.” A thirty-ish commentator, with a wrinkled brow, a dark mustache and long hair, was questioning four young bullet headed men in military uniforms. The four testified that they were members of four different units, each laughingly referred to as “Zippo squads.”
They, of course were not participants but saw first-hand the rest of their squads burn down South Vietnamese villages, after raping the younger women while their husbands watched and then killing everyone there. The charred bodies had already been found inside the former huts by the “investigating authorities.”
After answering a few questions offered by the seemingly shocked and outraged commentator, they unanimously stuck to their sordid stories, emphasizing that they were not participants, that they knew of no military reason for the actions and wanted to come forward now in an effort to get these appalling acts stopped. Mr. Mustache thanked them and they left. He then went into the audience with his microphone to get reactions. There were five steady refrains; 1) “I don’t believe it;” 2) “The four were unpatriotic to be saying such things;”
3) “Why didn’t they come forward sooner?” 4) “They should have pursued this through military channels;” and 5) “How much money did they get to come on television and say this?”
Allison’s simple thought was that absolute power corrupts absolutely, but also realized that the absolute power Mark had given her because of his love, was enjoyed by her in a non-loving way. Or, was it a loving way? She shut the television, put down the book and drowsed, with unanswerable questions circling in her mind. She was certain she now saw the true meaning of love-hate.
Mark, trying a bit harder to be inconspicuous and having the luxury of gas and the money for more, circled Liberty Lane rather than parking. The torrential rain had ceased, leaving puddles he splashed through. People were coming home from work and there was no reason to take special note of him in the bustle. On his third trip, he was rewarded seeing what looked like Candy steadfastly striding out of number 694 and walking toward the Boulevard. He remembered that Connie had told him that Candy usually wore lighter clothes than her sister and this determined looking girl had on a pink blouse and long white pants.
As he got back to the Boulevard he saw her enter the shiny new Caddy and he followed.
He could see arms waving around in an agitated manner and
“lawnmower head” gesturing with his palms up, in a seeming effort to assuage her and end the apparent argument. No such luck as the girl tried to smack him in his head.
The same scene continued for a few blocks and then the girl made a more furious concerted onslaught on Mr. Flat Top, at which point he hit the gas hard, picking up a lot of speed.
Mark got stuck at a red light and lost sight of them. He continued on another half mile to no avail and then drove to the Thunderbird Motel, but did not see the Caddy. His activities diluted the hurt feelings he had before and he was now glad to go back and see Allison again.
As he entered the apartment she got up from the couch, ran over to him, put her arms around his neck and kissed him on the mouth, saying; “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
He was happy, smiled and said; “For what?”
She lovingly looked into his eyes and he took her hand, leading her back to the couch. He picked up the book and said;
“Come on, let’s find a better place to live.”
Callie went down a side street and circled around, coming back to the Boulevard, heading quickly back toward Liberty Lane.
The in-progress conversation/yelling match continued him saying; “Fucking goddammit. You said you were desperate. What did you expect?”
Candy said; “I only said that because that’s the only time you want to see me.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I don’t believe you just said that.” She made another attempted smack at his head.
“Would you rather play checkers?”
“I don’t remember where this whole thing started, but it’s just damn stupid now. If you just want something desperately, there is plenty available right around the Thunderbird.”
“That’s just where I’m going after I get rid of you.”
She started to cry and said; “This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.”
The car screeched to a halt at Liberty Lane. He pushed her roughly on the shoulder and said; “Get the fuck out of here.”
Her pride hurt, she did exactly that and watched the car pull away. Oblivious to everything around her, she walked home, went to her room and put on the television for company, dazedly watching the second showing of Mr. Mustache and the four military “Zippo squad” informants. She wasn’t as shocked as other viewers. After her last few days she was ready to believe almost anything.