Just then the door opened.
“Get down from there!” Terese snarled.
Jack stepped down from the toilet and cringed. He was afraid that Richard was about to hit him on the head again. Instead Richard just crowded into the bathroom, holding the gun out in front of him trained on Jack’s face. The gun was cocked.
“Just give me a reason to shoot,” he hissed.
For a second no one moved. Then Terese ordered Jack back to the kitchen sink.
“Can’t you think of another place?” Jack said. “I’m getting tired of the view.”
“Don’t push me,” Terese warned.
With the cocked gun just a few feet away, there was nothing Jack could do. In a matter of seconds he was handcuffed to the drainpipe yet again.
A half hour later Terese decided to go out to the store to get some aspirin and some soup. She asked Richard if he wanted anything. He told her to get some ice cream; he thought it might feel good on his sore throat.
After Terese had left, Jack told Richard that he had to go to the bathroom again.
“Yeah, sure,” Richard said without budging from the couch.
“I do,” Jack averred. “I didn’t get to go last time.”
Richard gave a short laugh. “Tough shit,” he said. “It was your own fault.”
“Come on,” Jack said. “It will only take a minute.”
“Listen!” Richard yelled. “If I come in there it will be to crack you over the head again. Understand?”
Jack understood all too well.
Twenty minutes later Jack heard the unmistakable sound of a car approaching along the gravel drive. He felt a rush of adrenaline in his system. Was it the Black Kings? His panic returned, and he stared forlornly at the unbudgable drainpipe.
The door opened. To Jack’s relief it was Terese. She dropped a bag of groceries on the kitchen table, then retreated to the couch and lay down and closed her eyes. She told Richard to put the groceries away.
Richard got up without enthusiasm. He put what had to be kept cold in the refrigerator and the ice cream in the freezer. Then he placed the cans of soup in the cupboard. In the bottom of the bag he found aspirin and a bunch of small cellophane-wrapped packages of peanut-butter crackers.
“You might give some of the crackers to Jack,” Terese said.
Richard looked down at Jack. “You want some?” he asked.
Jack nodded. Although he still felt ill, his appetite had returned. He’d not eaten anything since the deli food in the van.
Richard fed Jack peanut butter crackers whole, like a mother bird dropping food into a waiting chick’s gaping mouth. Jack hungrily devoured five of them and then asked for water.
“For chrissake!” Richard voiced. He was annoyed this job had fallen to him.
“Give it to him,” Terese said.
Reluctantly Richard did as he was told. After a long drink Jack thanked him. Richard told Jack to thank Terese, not him.
“Bring me a couple of aspirin and some water,” Terese said.
Richard rolled his eyes. “What am I, the servant?”
“Just do it,” Terese said petulantly.
Three-quarters of an hour later another car could be heard coming up the driveway.
“Finally,” Richard said as he tossed a magazine aside and heaved himself off the couch. “They must have driven by way of Philadelphia, for chrissake.” He headed for the door while Terese pushed herself up to a sitting position.
Jack swallowed nervously. He could feel his pulse pounding in his temples. He realized he didn’t have long to live.
Richard pulled open the door. “Shit!” he voiced.
Terese sat bolt upright. “What’s the matter?”
“It’s Henry, the goddamn caretaker!” Richard croaked. “What are we going to do?”
“You cover Jack!” Terese barked in panic. “I’ll talk to Henry.” She stood up and swayed for a moment as a wave of dizziness overcame her. Then she went out the door.
Richard dashed over to Jack. En route he’d picked up the gun, which he now held by the barrel as if it were a hatchet. “One word and so help me I’ll bash your head in,” he growled.
Jack looked up at Richard. He could see the man’s determination. Outside he could hear a car come to a stop followed by the muffled sound of Terese’s voice.
Jack was faced with an unreasonable quandary. He could yell, but how much sound he could make before being incapacitated by Richard was questionable. Yet if he didn’t try, he’d soon be facing the Black Kings and certain death. He decided to go for it.
Jack put his head back and started to scream for help. As expected, Richard brought the handle of his gun crashing down on Jack’s forehead. Jack’s scream was cut off before he could form any words. A merciful darkness intervened with the suddenness of a light being switched off.
Jack regained consciousness in stages. The first thing he was aware of was that his eyes wouldn’t open. But after a struggle the right one did, and a minute later so did the left. When he wiped his face on his sleeve he realized that his lids had been sealed together with coagulated blood.
With his forearm, Jack could feel that he had a sizable lump centered at his hairline. He knew it was a good place to be hit if you had to take a wallop. That part of the skull was by far the thickest.
He blinked to clear his vision and looked at his watch. It was just after four, a fact confirmed by the anemic quality of the late-afternoon sunlight coming through the window over the sink.
Jack glanced around the living room, which he could see from under the kitchen table. The fire had burned down significantly. Terese and Richard were sprawled on their respective couches.
Jack changed his position and in the process tipped over a container of window cleaner.
“What’s he doing now?” Richard asked.
“Who the hell cares,” Terese said. “What time is it?”
“It’s after four,” Richard said.
“Where are these gang friends of yours?” Terese demanded. “Are they coming by bicycle?”
“Should I call and check?” Richard asked.
“No, let’s just wait here for a week,” Terese said irritably.
Richard put the phone on his chest and dialed. When the phone was answered he had to ask for Twin. After a long wait Twin came on the line.
“Why the hell aren’t you here?” Richard complained. “We’ve been waiting all day.”
“I’m not coming, man,” Twin said.
“But you said you were,” Richard rejoined.
“I can’t do it, man,” Twin said. “I can’t come.”
“Not even for a thousand dollars?”
“Nope,” Twin said.
“But why?” Richard demanded.
“ ’Cause I gave my word,” Twin said.
“You gave your word? What does that mean?” Richard asked.
“Just what I said,” Twin said. “Don’t you understand English?”
“But this is ridiculous,” Richard said.
“Hey, it’s your party,” Twin said. “You have to do your own shit.”
Richard found himself holding a dead telephone. He slammed the receiver down. “That worthless bum,” he spat. “He won’t do it. I can’t believe it.”
Terese pushed herself up into a sitting position. “So much for that idea. That puts us back to square one.”
“Don’t look at me. I’m not doing it,” Richard snapped. “I’ve made that crystal clear. It’s up to you, sister. Hell, all this was for your benefit, not mine.”
“Supposedly,” Terese retorted. “But you got some perverted enjoyment out of it. You finally got to use those bugs you’ve been playing with all your life. Yet now you can’t do this simple thing. You’re some sort of…” She struggled for the word: “Degenerate!” she said finally.
“Well, you’re no Snow White yourself,” Richard yelled. “No wonder that husband of yours left you.”
Terese’s face flushed. She opened her mouth but no words came out. Suddenly she lunged for the gun.