She drove into the garage at the Waldorf Towers.
"Miss?"
She showed the garage attendant her key to the Cord apartment. She didn't know what her mother had done with hers, but Jo-Ann had never surrendered her key. The man glanced at the license plate on the Porsche and opened her door. She got out, and he drove the car down into the garage.
The key gave her access to the elevator, too. She went up. At the door she pressed the bell button before she used the key. No one responded, so she unlocked the door and entered the apartment.
When Bat came home a little before midnight he found Jo-Ann sitting on a couch in the living room. She was smoking a cigarette and had taken off her dress and her stockings and garter belt and shoes. She sat in a white silk slip.
"It's a family apartment," she said.
He nodded. "Of course. The garage man told me you were here. I'm glad to see you."
Jo-Ann nodded. A bottle of Scotch sat on the coffee table before her. The ice in her glass had long since melted, and she had been sipping Chivas Regal neat. "Nevada died," she said.
"I heard. Our father called from California. I didn't know the man as well as you did, but I understand what a great loss it is."
Jo-Ann picked up her glass and drank the little that was left of the warm whiskey. "I feel as if I'd lost a father. He was more of a father to me than Jonas ever was."
"I understand," said Bat. He sat down on the couch, at the opposite end.
"I don't think you do, but it's all right."
"I know something of the family history," said Bat.
"You grew up in odd circumstances, too. Did you have anybody to talk to?"
"My mother," he said. "My grandfather."
"Lucky you," she said despondently. She crushed her cigarette. "Jonas is nobody's father, you know."
"He's a great man."
Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at him. "Do you think so? Or is that a Cord employee talking? Congratulations on your job, anyway."
He got up and went to the bar to get a glass. "A little more Scotch?" he asked.
"A splash."
He brought back two glasses, both with ice. As he poured, he glanced at her and said, "I wish we'd known each other sooner. I have two other little sisters: Rafaela and Mercedes. I was away from home during most of the years when they were growing up."
"Do you love them?" Jo-Ann asked.
Bat nodded. "Of course."
Jo-Ann scooted across the couch to sit close to him.
She reached for his hand. "You and I would have loved each other."
"Yes."
"Still can," she said.
He squeezed her hand. "Of course."
"Nevada gave me some advice," she said softly. "He told me to give my love to a man I could trust. A man who would accept responsibility for the consequences."
"That was good advice."
She lifted his hand and kissed it. "Nevada and I weren't talking about the kind of love you're thinking about."
"Jo-Ann ... ?"
"A man I can trust," she said simply, directly. Then her voice rose, and she said, "I'm a virgin, goddammit!"
Bat frowned. "You've had too much to drink."
Jo-Ann snatched up her glass and drank the Scotch he had poured. "Drunk! You think I'm drunk. No. Let me tell you what I am. I'm Jonas Cord's daughter. I'm the granddaughter of another Jonas Cord. When I heard about you, I wondered if you were a Cord at all, or some kind of fraud. There was never a Cord by the name who'd turn down a shot of whiskey or a piece of virgin pussy!"
She grabbed at the hem of her slip and pulled it up and over her head. She was wearing panties but no bra.
"Jo-Ann," he murmured.
"C'mon, big brother. You a Cord, or you not?"
"My sister —"
"My brother. So what the shit? You're the man I can trust, if you've got the guts. Brother and sister. We're gonna love each other — brother and sister, for the rest of our lives. If I can't trust my brother, who can I trust? I need your help, big brother. Besides the fucking I need from you right now, I need a standard to compare with."
"Our father —"
"Jonas will laugh if he finds out, which he doesn't have to. He'd do it himself if he were here. Only I wouldn't let him. Him, I wouldn't trust. Hey, brother! Look at me! Toni have nicer tits than these?"
For a moment Bat closed his eyes. "Oh, Christ," he muttered.
"You wouldn't know maybe, but Nevada Smith was a great man," said Jo-Ann. "Greater than our father and grandfather in some ways. He said something to me — I wrote it down when I got back to my room, and I think I've got it exactly the way he said it. He said. This thing we're talkin' about, it's mine, it's your'n, it's his'n, it's her'n. It's nobody else's but. And it's not worth moanin' and groanin' and worryin' and hurryin' about. Live, little girl! Pee when you have to and fuck when you want to.' You bastard, I want to!"
" 'Bastard.' You used the wrong word, little sister. Okay, I'll fuck you outta your mind!"
Jo-Ann grinned. "Promise? Promise it's going to be everything I've ever heard about!"
9
Everything she'd ever heard about.
Jo-Ann had seen pictures but had never seen a male organ before. He guided her hand to it and let her examine it with her fingers before he brought it near her. She satisfied her curiosity. She had been told it would be hard, but it wasn't hard; it was just stiff. She had been told it would be cold. She had been told it would be hot. It was neither. She curled her hand around it and squeezed it gently. A drop of gleaming moisture appeared on the rosebud of its tip. She pinched the drop off between her thumb and finger and tested it. It was slippery.
"Life," he said quietly.
They lay on his bed. She wanted to be kissed more before he entered her, so she rolled on her side and pressed her mouth to his. He responded forcefully. They kissed so hard she could taste blood from her lips. Then he turned gentle and pushed his tongue into her mouth. She had heard of this but had not imagined the lazy delight she would find in it. They lay side by side for a long time, their tongues caressing each other. She held his penis in her hand, and he stroked her wet private place with one long finger.
Until his patience ran out. Then he pushed her over on her back and rose to straddle her. For a moment she was afraid. For a moment she was sorry she had brought herself to this point. Then it was too late for fear, too late for regret.
He was tough and he was tender. He was gentle and he was rough. He hurt her and he soothed her. He subdued her and he exalted her. She shrieked and writhed under his unrelenting deep strokes: from pain and pleasure so intermixed she could not separate them. And when he finished and withdrew, she was hurt, she was exhausted, she was drenched with sweat; she was submerged in warmth and wonder.
For sure she would never again live without it.
"Big brother," she whispered, playfully mimicking a girl child.
"Hmm?"
"How soon can we do it again?"
"In a few minutes," he said. "Then never again after tonight."
15
1
FOUR MONTHS AFTER THE DEATH OF NEVADA SMITH — that is, in late summer 1953 — Bat flew to Havana. Jonas sent him. It was the first time Bat would be working alone, without his father's close supervision.
Fulgencio Batista had sent Jonas an invitation to come to Havana, delivered as a personal message by the Cuban consul-general in New York. Batista hoped Jonas Cord would invest money in Cuba: specifically in building a casino-hotel. Jonas had replied that he could not come anytime soon but would send his son, Jonas Enrique Raul Cord y Batista.