He stepped back and his eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“Heroin, darling.” Before he recovered she went on. “You shouldn’t be all up in the air about it, Benny. Poor old Tober never breathed a word. He was your trusty old friend through and through.”
“A pinch,” he said finally. “Just a pinch!” His voice got sharper. “Do you know how long you’ve been out?”
“I can guess,” she said. She was still smiling, and she stepped close again. With a slow motion like a caress she pushed back the thick sleeve of the bathrobe. “But don’t blame Tober, darling. I fixed that dream myself.”
And inside the frail-skinned crook of her arm he saw a red dot.
She watched his face, enjoying it.
“You what?” It was hoarse at first, then a roar. “You what? You fixed that jolt yourself? You crazy bitch, you went ahead and shot that filthy junk-”
“I didn’t mean to go to sleep on it, really. But how was I to know how little it was cut.” It was a grin now, not a smile any more.
“Christ in heaven, you stupid dame, don’t you know what this can do? Don’t you see what happened to that blithering Tober, what made him the jackass he is now? A wreck! A cheat! A lying, stupid jackass who-”
“A cheat, a liar, a stupid lying jackass?” Her voice was a sudden scream. “You sanctimonious crook, you call him a liar?” She was crouching now, talking with an angry speed that hit him like a gust of hail. “You ugly runt, you can stand there in the daylight, talking like a judge, talking like a holy saint who’s shocked when somebody goes to pieces, breaks, goes under!” There were tears in her eyes, bright tears she didn’t try to hide. “You stinking swine, you can stand there telling me to be a lady and not mind the filth you brought along? What filth? The filth last night, Saint Benny, the filth the day before, that lying act you worked up in that cabin, that noble deal to make me think Saint Benny is a saint. He doesn’t take advantage of a crazy dame who’s throwing it around because she’s crazy. He wants to make her pure and clean instead, and later maybe have an unspoiled act of love-so pure, so rare, so-” She couldn’t go any further. Her raw voice cracked and she sobbed.
He saw it now. She’d gone to bed that night in the cabin, thinking of him with a kind of love. She’d…
“Don’t bother, Tapkow.” He had started to reach out for her when her voice stopped him. “You’re forgetting yourself. This is Miss Pendleton, the piece of business you got on your hands. Your little Big Deal Pendleton dame all neat and cold and so important.” Her laugh had a nasty ring. “You didn’t tell me, Saint Benny. Tober didn’t mean to tell me, Saint Benny. But learn something, Saint Never trust a hophead.”
After she had slammed out of the room he stood a while. He ran a hand over his tired face and just stood.
A week, maybe, Alverato had said. A week maybe, or perhaps a little more, because Big Wheel Saint Benny had the right dame and everything under control.
Then she came back. She had a pair of shorts in her hand and a halter. “Beat it, Tapkow. I want to dress.” She turned and saw him still standing there. “Don’t worry about me, Tapkow, I’ll be around.”
He stayed there and lit a cigarette. “I just learned something,” he said. “Never trust a hophead.”
She shrugged. Then she let the robe fall to the floor. He saw her pull the shorts over her hips and then fit the halter around her breasts. She patted herself, ran a hand through her hair, and went to the door. “You don’t believe me, Tapkow?” She opened the door. “Then just remember. I don’t like Daddy any better than you do. Less.” She banged the door.
He went downstairs and stood in the hallway. When he saw the short girl from the day before, the one with the wet sheet, he followed her to the terrace, because she was pushing a cart with a coffeepot and other things on it. He had a cup of coffee and let it burn his tongue. It helped.
And what had happened in the room upstairs, that had helped. He was back to the time before, thinking only of the things that mattered and the way he’d made them all come true. The big deal in the palm of his hand and nothing to stop him from keeping it there.
Then he went back to the hall and sat down where he could see the stairs and the cars beyond the open front door. Never trust a hophead, she had said.
When he saw Pat again the shock made him stare. It was the same girl with her long legs tanned and the sun suit and the rumpled hair. Only the hair was rumpled as if it were on fire, her eyes were deep glittering stones, and she was screeching as if the air around her were all spikes and nettles. She came jumping down the stairs and when she came closer Benny saw that she was laughing. She passed him with a wild jump, ran to the door, then back, and stopped before him. Her hand shot out and he felt a sharp pinch on his check while she crinkled her eyes in laughter. Then she was up the stairs and gone.
Before Benny got halfway up she came back. Tober was with her. Somehow his wasted frame managed to look sodden and they both were giggling like maniacs. Benny gave no warning. One hand grabbed the front of the shirt, the other drew back like the kick of a wild horse.
But it never came through. He let go of Tober and lunged for Pat, who was climbing over the railing ready to jump. How she got away he never knew. The next thing was her wail, then the smack of her bare feet on the tile below. Before Benny got down she was racing through the front door and into the yard.
Benny came to a stop at the open door. He saw her in the car, behind the wheel, and she was looking his way. She sounded quiet and hostile. “I’m leaving,” she said. The motor was racing and her hand was on the shift.
He didn’t know how she had got the keys, but that wasn’t important now. Tober had come up to the door and he looked at the car with interest. “I never drive when I’m high,” he was saying. “I’m an old bore and I have a number of cardinal rules.”
“Tober.” Benny talked low, afraid to move. “Make her stop. She mustn’t get away, Tober.” A drop of sweat stung his eye but he didn’t even blink.
“Oh, Patty!” It was a singsong, like the voice of a nurse calling a child. “Before you leave, Patty-”
She was listening.
“Before you leave, Patty-”
Both men advanced slowly. She threw the car into gear with a crash.
“I don’t want that Tapkow pig to come any closer!” She sounded fluttery and shrill. “I don’t want that Tapkow pig. You never give up, Tapkow, do you?”
He didn’t have an idea what she was talking about. He had stopped next to Tober, and he spoke in a hoarse whisper. “Tober, tell her to wait. Tell her to have one farewell drink and spike it hard. Do you hear?”
“But, Benny, all I got is-You didn’t want me to give her-”
“Load her till her top flies off, but stop her!”
The three figures in the hard light of the sun were immobile. The motor was murmuring, then it howled, then it murmured again.
“Oh, Patty…” The singsong again. “One for the road, honey?”
“What?” She blinked at them in the sun.
“Running out is one thing, honey, but running dry is another.”
She sat still, thinking. Only her foot was nervous, making the motor growl.
“Oh, Patty…”
“Stop that yammer,” Benny whispered. “Tell her again.”
“All right,” she called across the yard, “but that Tapkow swine mustn’t move. I don’t want that Tapkow piggy to come any closer.”
“He won’t, Patty-cake,” Tober called. He went into the house and Benny stayed where he was.
It seemed an eternity in the white sun, each muscle an ache of its own, and the cold sweat a slippery itch on his skin.
“Clink, clink, Patty-cake!” Tober came down the stairs and into the sun with a tray that held a pitcher. The liquid was almost green and it slopped with each step. When Tober got to the car she took her foot off the clutch and the jerk made her head snap back. Then the motor was dead. There was a discussion about it for a while, and then she started the car again. She said, “You didn’t bring a glass.”