That was what she was holding in her right hand. The base, with a piece of broken stem three centimetres long and dripping red with his blood. Tora raised the weapon again and Max Hansen cried out and curled up into a ball. A second later he felt a deeper blow between his shoulder blades. The glass spike penetrated his flesh and stayed there.
He screamed. The uneven surface of the broken stem must have damaged some nerve when it went in, because he started jerking as if he were having a fit. It was throbbing and pounding. He managed to raise his head to beg for mercy, but Tora was no longer there. He managed to haul himself to his feet with the help of the bed head. Throbbing, pounding. Then he heard the door opening.
There was something not right about that Max Hansen. Teresa had felt it as soon as he opened the door of the hotel room. Something wasn’t quite right about the look on his face or the tone of his voice. Perhaps everyone in the music industry was like that, but she wouldn’t have left Theres alone with him if it hadn’t been necessary, and if Theres hadn’t said that was what she wanted. She was going to make her CD.
However, there was absolutely no chance of Teresa going down to reception. As soon as Max Hansen had closed and locked the door, Teresa crept over and placed her ear to the door. She could hear the sound of voices inside, but not what they were saying. After a while she heard Theres singing ‘A Thousand and One Nights’ and felt a stab of jealousy. That was their song, somehow. Although of course Theres didn’t know that.
And what if she had known? Would it have made any difference?
Teresa had a sentimental streak. She liked what was known as elegiac mood in poetry. A persistent, imprecise longing for what had been, even if it hadn’t been particularly good. She was sometimes struck by a blissful melancholy when she saw Bananas in Pyjamas on TV, despite the fact that she hadn’t really liked it when it was on the first time round.
Theres was the least sentimental person she had ever met. Only the present existed, and when Theres spoke about things that had happened in the past, it was as if she was reading aloud from a history book. Dry facts that had no relevance to what was happening now.
Teresa heard a scream from inside the room. She leapt to her feet and rattled the handle, banged on the door. When no one opened it, she banged again. A moment later the door opened and Theres was standing there, naked. There were streaks of blood on her stomach. One hand was red, and in the other she was holding a champagne glass without a base.
‘What have you…what…’
Before Teresa managed to formulate a sensible question she caught sight of Max Hansen, disappearing into the bathroom. He too was naked, and before he locked the door she caught a glimpse of his back. A T-shaped object was sticking out in the middle of all the red, a tap that had been opened and let out the blood.
‘Help me,’ said Theres. ‘I don’t understand.’
If it hadn’t been for the word ‘help’ Teresa would have taken to her heels. This was too much. But Theres had asked for help. Theres needed help. Therefore she had to help. Teresa walked into the room and closed the door behind her.
‘Here,’ said Theres, holding out the glass with the broken stem. ‘Do you like this stuff? I don’t. It tastes bad.’
Teresa shook her head. ‘What…have you done?’
‘I sang,’ said Theres. ‘Then I took off my clothes. Then he tried to eat me up. I wasn’t scared. I knew I could make him dead.’
‘Listen. Get dressed. We have to get out of here.’
When Teresa followed Theres into the room, she caught sight of the camera, the red light showing that it was recording. They had a similar one at school, and while Theres was getting dressed, Teresa rewound, and quickly looked through what had happened before she came into the room. Theres’ refusal, Max Hansen’s insistence, the result. She pressed eject, took out the DVD and slipped it into her pocket.
Theres was dressed now. The contents of the glass without a base had spilled out all over the bedside table. ‘Come on,’ said Teresa. ‘We need to leave.’
Theres didn’t move. There was the sound of running water from the bathroom. Teresa was beginning to get an odd taste in her mouth. The particular taste that comes when you are facing something completely unpredictable, a mixture of bile and honey. She didn’t want to do this anymore. ‘Come on,’ she wheedled. ‘We can’t stay here.’
‘Yes we can,’ said Theres. ‘I’m going to make a CD.’
‘Not with him.’
‘Yes. He wants to make a CD with me.’
‘Before, maybe. Not anymore.’
‘Yes, he does.’
Theres sat down on the bed and indicated that Teresa should come and sit beside her. Teresa wavered for a few seconds, but there wasn’t really any alternative. She picked up the champagne bottle, tipped the contents into the ice bucket, tested its weight in her hand as a weapon, then sat down next to Theres. She handed her the bottle. ‘Here.’
Theres didn’t take it. ‘What for?’
‘In case he…tries to eat you again.’
‘He won’t.’
‘But just in case.’
‘If he does you can make him dead.’
They sat side by side. The intensity of the whimpering from the bathroom was lessening somewhat. Theres was probably right. That Max Hansen was an unpleasant character, but not particularly dangerous. A coward.
Teresa weighed the bottle in her hand. It was thick and heavy. The shape of the neck and the bulge at the top made it ideal for use as a club. She imagined what it would be like to bring it down on Max Hansen’s coiffured skull, examined her feelings carefully. No. It wasn’t unthinkable. Something within her actually longed to do it.
They were two defenceless girls. There was proof of Max Hansen’s attempted attack on film. They would walk free on every count. She thought. But as Teresa sat there on the bed next to Theres, she felt anything but defenceless. On the contrary. She tried out a couple of mock blows with the bottle in her hand, looked at Theres, so calm and erect, her hands resting on her knees. Not defenceless.
We are invulnerable, thought Teresa. We are the wolves.
When Max Hansen emerged from the bathroom five minutes later, he was literally as pale as a corpse. Every scrap of colour had left his skin, and he had knotted a couple of bath towels around his chest and stomach as temporary bandages. He gave a start when he saw Theres and Teresa sitting on the bed.
‘What the fuck…what the fuck are you doing here?’ he said faintly, glancing at the bottle in Teresa’s hand. He fumbled in his jacket pocket and took out his wallet, threw it on Theres’ knee. ‘Here. Take it. It’s all I’ve got.’
Theres gave the wallet to Teresa, who didn’t know what to do with it. She opened it and considered removing the money, but decided it was best not to, so she threw it back to Max Hansen.
‘I’m going to make a CD,’ said Theres.
Max Hansen swallowed. ‘What?’
‘I’m going to make a CD,’ Theres repeated. ‘I’m going to sing. You’re going to help me.’
For a moment it looked as if Max Hansen was going to burst into tears. He swayed on his feet. Then he opened his mouth to say something, but no sound emerged. He was about to take a step towards Theres, but something in her posture stopped him.
‘Is that…is that what you want?’ he said eventually.
‘Yes,’ said Theres.
‘So we can…we can just draw a line under this, and kind of…?’
Since Theres didn’t reply, possibly because she wasn’t familiar with the expression, Teresa answered instead. ‘Nobody’s drawing a line under anything. But you heard what she said, didn’t you?’ She patted her pocket and nodded at the camera. ‘By the way, I’ve got the movie.’