Afterward, they would have something to eat. Or maybe they wouldn’t. Then he would drive her to Lookout Park and ask her to go steady.
The door opened and Mrs. Murray invited him in. He liked Mrs. Murray. She was always very cheerful. He told her how nice she looked and she thanked him and called upstairs for Elaine.
Myron Krauss was in town to sell hardware, but the market was lousy, he told everyone at the bar who would listen. Myron was forty-eight, fat and balding. He lived in Minneapolis with his wife and three children. After twenty-five years of marriage he found them all boring.
Myron was pretty boring himself. Maybe that was why no one was listening to him. After a while Myron even bored himself, so he decided to try another bar. He stumbled when he pushed himself off the red leather bar stool. He had to grab for support. “I’m a bit high,” he thought. He knew he wasn’t drunk, though. Myron was proud of the fact that he could hold his liquor.
When Myron lurched out into the cold night air, two young men in black leather jackets and tight blue jeans followed him. Both men had their hair combed back at the sides and forward in the center, until it curled in the middle of their foreheads, like Elvis Presley’s. The hair had been heavily greased and what little light there was in the bar reflected off it.
The wind gusted as the two men exited the bar. They pulled on leather gloves and followed after Myron at a fast pace. There was an alley a little bit ahead of the drunken salesman. The two men timed their actions perfectly. They reached Myron just as he reached the alley.
Ralph Pasante slammed both hands against Myron’s shoulder and Myron stumbled into the alley. Myron was too drunk to realize what was happening. His face registered puzzlement instead of fear. Willie Heartstone knew that his prey would react just this way from past experience. He hit the little man in his solar plexus. Myron grunted. He could not breathe. He thought he might die from lack of air and he opened his mouth wide and wheezed. Willie thought Myron looked like a fish. He let him wiggle around for a second before driving his knuckles into Myron’s nose as hard as he could. Willie felt bone crack and crumble and he saw blood gush out. That felt good. Ralph kicked Myron in the groin. Myron fell to his knees and his head bounced off the alley floor when it hit. Ralph stomped him once for fun. Then they went through the unconscious man’s pockets. When they had his wallet, watch, rings and small change, they ran out of the far end of the alley. Their car was four blocks away.
After they had driven a few blocks, they pulled over on a side street and Willie counted the money.
“How much?”
“A hundred and sixty bucks and change,” Willie said in a matter-of-fact tone. The muggings did not excite him like they used to, unless the victim put up a fight. Then he enjoyed it. He liked beating someone with spirit. It made him feel masterful. This punk tonight was a zero. Willie knew that he would not fight when he saw him flashing his roll at the bar.
“What do you want to do now?” Ralph asked.
Willie ran his tongue across his lips. The two beers he had had in the bar had made him loose and easy. While sitting and waiting for the fat man to leave, he had daydreamed about a woman: his dream woman. The one who came to him at night when he was alone. She was blond and long-legged and she always cowered on the floor before him. Sometimes he would beat her. Sometimes he would please her.
“I don’t know,” Willie answered casually. “We could cruise downtown. It’s almost ten-thirty. The movies’ll be letting out.”
Ralph smiled. He knew what Willie was thinking. Friday night movies meant unattached high school snatch. Willie headed for downtown Portsmouth.
Bobby Coolidge stopped the car in the yard of Alice Fay’s house. Alice lived in a modern, three-story stone house which was located on several acres of Portsmouth’s wealthiest suburb. Her folks were in Hawaii on vacation, so Alice had the house to herself. Bobby and Billy checked their hair in the car mirror. Bobby could hear the sound of a rock band vibrating the night air and he could see the silhouettes of people talking and dancing inside the house. He told Billy to hurry up and Billy zipped up his jacket.
Roger’s car pulled up behind them and they walked up to the porch. Bobby knew that the four of them would not be welcome, but he didn’t give a shit. Most of the people at the party would be candyasses. Jocks, brains. In general, squares. He knew the squares felt uneasy in his presence. He enjoyed that.
Bobby pounded on the front door and a boy in a white shirt and chinos opened it. When the boy saw who had knocked, he looked nervous. The boy was Arnie Klaus, a jock. Arnie looked strong, but, like most jocks, he was chicken when it came to a fight. A year ago, when Arnie was a freshman, Billy had made him cough up a quarter for protection. Billy had outgrown that phase, but Arnie still avoided both Coolidges.
“Hi, Arnie,” Billy said politely. “Good party?”
“Yeah, Bob,” Arnie answered, a little too enthusiastically.
The four of them drifted into a corner of the room. They had noticed the buzz that had accompanied their entrance. It gave Bobby and Billy satisfaction.
The living room was big. Alice’s family had plenty of dough. Everyone looked freshly scrubbed and fashionably casual. Bobby hated them. He tried not to brood on it, but he felt that it was so unfair that these snotnose punks should have it all, while he and Billy had to work so hard for everything they had ever gotten. It had been like that ever since their father had died. Both of them holding down jobs after school. Living poor. Watching their mother drink herself away.
Billy scanned the room. He stopped when he saw Alice Fay and Tommy Cooper standing near the punch bowl. Alice was going steady with Tommy. Tommy had his arm around her shoulder as if he owned her. Billy felt a mixture of anger and despair. It was not right that he should have no chance with a girl like Alice. She was tall and slender with large breasts. Her eyes sparkled and her teeth were perfect. She was perfection. At night, Billy fantasized about her. But it was just a dream and he knew that it could never come true. Alice and her friends were rich. They would graduate high school and go on to college. Bobby and Billy were nothings in their eyes. Their futures were obscure and gray.
Tommy Cooper told a joke and Alice laughed. Billy hated Cooper. He was a jock and a brain. He was tall. His black hair was cropped in a crew cut and his skin seemed tanned even in winter. He wore his letter sweater proudly over a plaid shirt and tan chinos. He looked relaxed and at ease in white socks and loafers.
Bobby noticed the way his brother was looking at Alice. Billy had never told him, but he knew about Billy’s crush on her.
“That Alice is all right,” Bobby said.
“She’s okay.”
“I’d sure like to get me some of that, hey, Rog?”
Roger leered.
“Cut that out,” Esther said. “We shouldn’t even be here, so don’t cause any trouble.”
Arnie had walked over to Tommy and Alice while they had been talking. Arnie said something and motioned in their direction. Cooper turned toward them and scowled.
“I don’t like that prick,” Billy said.
“Me neither,” said Bobby.
“You want to have some fun?”
“Hey, I told you I didn’t want no trouble,” Roger said uneasily. “Besides, we’re outnumbered.”
“I didn’t say anything about trouble, Roger,” Billy said, grinning. “I said ‘fun.’”
“Billy, I know you. Look, Esther, I don’t feel right being here. I’m going home.”
Esther looked at Roger and at Billy and Bobby. Roger was her boyfriend, but he was acting like a coward.
“Let’s stay, Roger. Please.”
“I told you no. Now come on.”
“You never want to have fun. I want to stay.”
“Well I don’t.”
Roger started for the door. Esther went after him. They were talking in angry undertones as they went out the door. Five minutes later Esther came back in. She was crying. “Oh, shit,” Bobby thought. Now they were stuck with Esther for the evening. Roger and Esther were always having fights. They usually ended with Roger slapping her around and Esther crying.