He gripped her slippery body with both arms, lifted her, then brought her down on him and was inside her, turning her sideways and pinning her against the wet tile wall. He felt the bar of soap with the edge of his foot and kicked it away, struggled and found purchase on the slippery porcelain and drove himself into her. She groaned and laughed again, breathlessly. “No, no, no!..”
He grabbed a handful of her wet hair and yanked her head back so she was looking up at him as he slammed into her, bouncing her off the wall.
She never blinked but her eyes narrowed beneath the stream of warm water from the shower head. “That’s right, David. You’re angry. Take it out on me. Get it all out. Harder! Harder!”
Gripping her hair tighter, he braced a foot against the side of the tub and hurried his thrusts into her, felt her body stiffen and her stomach press hard into his, heard the wet slap of flesh as his rhythm drummed her against the tiles.
He climaxed and pressed against her hard, then realized her eyes were bulging. He was squeezing the wet clump of her hair harder than he’d realized, straining her head back so that she was staring up at the ceiling. Her pupils were glazing over as if she were strangling, but she was grinning.
Alarmed at the violence within him, he released her, pulled out of her, and stepped back.
She stood gasping and hunched over, still leaning against the tiles, one trembling arm outstretched as if for balance.
When she caught her breath, she said, “So how do you feel now, David?”
“Brimming over with that acid you talked about.”
He threw the plastic curtain aside and stepped out of the tub, then began drying himself with one of the towels from a porcelain rack.
She remained in the tub with the shower running and the curtain open, languidly soaping herself and gazing lovingly at him as he began to get dressed.
“Where are you going?” She asked as he sat on the commode and put on his shoes and socks. “Look out the window. It’s starting to rain.”
“Only to your phone to order some Chinese carry-out, so it’s ready for me when I walk into the restaurant. That’s where I am now, out buying dinner to bring back to the apartment for Molly. I’m sitting at the bar and waiting patiently while it’s being prepared.”
“You’ll still be away longer than if you’d gone straight to the restaurant.”
“They were busy, so the kitchen was backed up. A rowdy group from a convention of some kind, all of them drinking too much and making unreasonable demands on the waiters. They were feeling good and singing songs. You had to wait a long time for the food.”
“That’s imaginative. Won’t Molly think it might be a lie?”
“No. She won’t want to think that.”
“Do you tell a lot of lies, David?”
“Lately I do. I have to. But it’s to be kind, to avoid trouble and pain for other people.”
“That’s what all liars say.”
“The ones who tell mostly defensive lies.” He’d tied his shoes and knew he should finish dressing, then make the phone call to the restaurant and leave, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Deirdre.
She glided the smooth bar of soap through the cleavage between her breasts, then over her erect nipples. “You certainly are deceptive, David the rapist.”
“Aren’t I, though?” he said, standing at last and buttoning his shirt.
Whatever she wanted, he always gave her, even over his own protestations and denial. Even rape. Not really David the rapist, though. David the liar. David the rationalizer.
He smoothed back his hair and checked his image in the fogging medicine chest mirror, looking away as quickly as possible.
41
Later that night, after David had fallen asleep watching television and Michael was in bed, the phone rang.
Molly was standing next to the phone in the kitchen, pouring Diet Pepsi into a glass with ice in it, and she grabbed the receiver after the first ring so Michael wouldn’t be awakened.
She expected the call to be for David; he’d mentioned something concerning Josh phoning about work. But the caller, a woman, asked for her.
“You’re David Jones’s wife?” the woman said in a clipped, educated voice.
Molly said that she was.
“You don’t know me, Molly. My name’s Darlene.”
Molly remembered Traci mentioning a woman who’d called Link Publishing looking for her. Darlene. Molly was pretty sure that had been the name. Maybe this was about a copyediting job. But at this hour?
“I feel I should warn you about someone,” Darlene said. “There’s a woman named Deirdre.”
“I know her,” Molly said in a choked voice, speaking softly. She didn’t want David to wake up and hear.
“She means you harm,” Darlene said.
Molly didn’t want to think about Deirdre, didn’t want any more trouble or even to talk about trouble. She wished fervently that she could hang up the phone and pretend it had never rung.
But she knew she couldn’t. She had to talk with Darlene.
“You’re warning’s a little late,” she said. She could feel a muscle in the right side of her neck twitching. “Deirdre’s already tried to kill me.”
“Are you sure?” Darlene sounded aghast.
“I’m sure. There are some who don’t believe it, but I’m sure.”
“I believe you,” Darlene said, “though I didn’t think she’d go that far this soon. I mean, she’s a little weird. Well…more than a little. And I know something’s building in her.”
“Where do you know her from?” Molly asked.
“From the time she came to New York, not long ago. At first she seemed okay, I liked her. Then I noticed some things about her. I didn’t mind. Okay, so she was eccentric. Lots of my friends are oddballs. It didn’t bother me that she had a strange view of the world. Then she started talking like she was crazy, telling me about things she thought, things she’d done. After a while your name came up. And your husband’s.”
Molly squeezed the receiver. “David’s?”
“Deirdre has some…well, kind of possessive ideas about him. I guess you know they were married a long time ago.”
“David’s told me. That’s no secret.”
“Deirdre thinks she can steal him from you. I mean, seriously.”
“How do you know this?”
“She trusts me and talks to me. I might be the only person she can trust in New York, so she tells me things in confidentiality. And I’d keep them confidential, only they’re so…weird. You should watch out for Deirdre.”
“What’s she told you about David?”
“I don’t want to repeat it, because I don’t know how much of it’s true. But I’m sure some of it is. Sure enough that I figured I had to call you.”
Molly was still trying to figure out what the phone call meant. For some reason, she believed this woman, and she had no idea why. “How much does Deirdre tell you?” she asked.
“Not everything. She’s basically untrusting and manipulative. People like that always keep some things to themselves.”
“What has she said about me?”
“She doesn’t like you, Molly. It isn’t just that you’re in her way, that you have something she wants. She really doesn’t like you. She thinks you stole her life.”
“You mean because I’m married to David?”
“I guess so. Even though a lot of time has passed since they were together, she wants him and won’t let go of the idea. Sometimes she talks almost like she’s lost her mind.”
“Darlene, did you phone Link Publishing and ask for me?”
“No, it must have been someone else. Some other Darlene.”
“What’s your last name? Who are you?”
“I can’t tell you that. I don’t want to get involved. I only called you because it was my duty. Something terrible is going to happen. I can sense it. You’re not the only one I’ve had to warn.”
“Can I have your phone number?” Molly asked.