“This is an emergency,” she said. “I have to e-mail my fiance.”
“I’m terribly sorry, but the door is locked and I don’t have the key. The guy who does have the key should be back in about a half hour though.”
“What about your computer?”
“I’m afraid it’s not connected to the Internet.”
“Is there an Internet cafe close by?”
The man gave her instructions to one that was open twenty-four hours a day.
Kathy raced out of the hotel and, after a couple of wrong turns, found the cafe, which was still very active. She had to wait a few minutes for a computer to become available. It was past 9 o’clock in New York and Kathy didn’t see how Jim couldn’t be home by now. He always checked his e-mail first thing after he came into the apartment, so it seemed impossible that this would work.
It was a slow connection, but she was finally able to log onto AOL. Kathy opened her “sent mail” file, clicked “unsend” on her message to Jim, and discovered that the message hadn’t been read yet.
“Thank God,” she said aloud as she unsent it.
Later, back in her hotel room, she called Jim and he picked up on the first ring. He explained that his cell battery had died and he’d been out wining and dining a client. Kathy sensed that he was lying, that he’d really been out with that bitch from his office again, and that he might’ve even brought her back to the apartment with him. Still, it was a relief to hear his voice, to know that everything would return to normal, and she said, “God, I miss you so much, sweetie. This is the last time I go anywhere without you.”
TAINTED GOODSBY CHARLIE STELLA
Abroad tells you you’re a comfortable fit, what it means, make no mistake about it, boyos, it means you have a small dick, she’s trying not to hurt your feelings,” Jack Dugan said.
Dugan was a tall gangly man of fifty-two years. He had a thinning hairline, a long uneven nose, and dark deep-set eyes. He was dressed in a black polo shirt, black slacks, and black leather loafers. He wore thick jewelry on his wrist and around his neck. He’d been drinking since the early afternoon. Now that he’d switched to the hard stuff, he was rambling in overdrive.
“It’s the same thing, you hear about a broad has a nice personality,” he went on. “Maybe she does, maybe she doesn’t. You’re guaran-fuckin-teed, though, she has this great personality, she’s no looker. Comfortable fit is the same fuckin’ thing. It means you don’t need to stand around a locker room full of Mandingos to know you were robbed at birth. It means you’re the type has to crowd the piss stalls. Even the stalls in this place, which are like fuckin’ showers, you got a comfortable fitting dick, you don’t want nobody else to see it. Not that they can that easy, anyway.”
The two men sitting across the table were twin brothers from Ireland several years younger than Dugan. Both were stocky men of five-foot-ten; each weighed about two hundred pounds, had short blond hair, blue eyes, and thick necks. The older of the twins by a few minutes sat directly across from Dugan. He had grown a fuzzy blond mustache. He played with it from time to time.
“Now, take that missy over there, the kid from Dublin,” Dugan continued. He pointed to a slender waitress carrying a tray of drinks away from the bar. “Nice bright smile, the red hair, the freckles, the green eyes. Pretty girl, no? Not the type you’d turn away it comes to bedding down for the night. Her, you don’t give a fuck about her personality. It isn’t the thing. Her, you feed her whatever it takes to get her pants down. She’s a looker, plain and simple. No feelings to hurt, once you’ve done the deed.”
Dugan belched into a fist before downing a shot of Jameson. He slapped the glass down and reached for the half-filled Bud bottle on the table. He took a quick drink from the bottle and belched again, this time loudly.
“Excuse,” he said.
Dugan wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his right hand and then pointed at the twins, one at a time.
“You want a shot, just say so. Don’t be shy, boyos.”
The twins had pints in front of them. They waved the offer off. Dugan poured himself another shot of Jameson.
“Here’s a little tidbit about that one, the missy I just mentioned,” he said, and then pointed at the same waitress again. She was setting drinks on coasters at a round table with a party of six. “She likes it in the ass, that one. Purrs like a fuckin’ cat, you set the anchor there.”
The twins turned to take a better look at the waitress. They were both smiling when they faced Dugan again.
“And the thing is,” he continued, “the best thing, she’s a little off in the head, if you understand what I’m saying.” He wiggled a thumb alongside his right ear. “Some kind of condition from shock, the poor thing was taken by a crew busted out of Mountjoy, took turns with her until she was soft as shite. Gangbanged for two days until the Gardai found them. Her head’s fucked ever since.”
Dugan stopped as the twins turned again to look at the girl.
“Catherine, her name is,” Dugan said. “Catherine Collins.” He leaned forward to whisper. “Call her Cathy, you’re petting her head while she polishes your knob. She likes that. Purrs, I swear to God.”
He stopped to take another drink from the Bud bottle.
“Comes across a little retarded, like she can’t think for herself, but she can, don’t kid yourself. She asked for it there, her brown spot. Turned and pointed.”
The twins smiled at one another.
“She was tainted goods, why they shipped her here,” Dugan went on. “Whatever those cons did to her, she’s taken a shine to being a pin cushion. Auntie Mary back home can’t keep watch while she’s running her bar on the north side. Catherine come over under the eye of the ape bouncer here, Rusty. Have you met him yet? He’s not here tonight, but he’ll pick her up after closing. Big fucker. Him you don’t wanna mess with. Not even the two a’you.”
Dugan yawned before he continued, “He’s some kind of relative, Rusty is. Her cousin, I think. He’s a cunt hair less daft than the girl, but he can lift trees out the fuckin’ ground, he gets angry enough. Snapped an Italian’s arm off the end of the bar one night for giving the same missy some shit and grabbing her ass.”
Dugan was watching the girl now.
“Shame it is, too,” he said, “an ass like that going to waste.”
He wiped one side of his mouth on his shoulder. The waitress Dugan was talking about stopped at their table to pick up an empty bottle.
“Thanks, hon,” Dugan said. “You’re looking very pretty tonight.”
The waitress smiled at all three men and moved on.
Dugan was about to go on when a well-dressed couple distracted him across the room. He stopped to watch a fat, middle-aged man with an attractive, well-dressed older woman. They were seated at a table and immediately attended to by another waitress.
“There he is,” Dugan told the twins. “Don’t look. He’s directly behind the two of you. First table off the stairway.”
The twins looked down at the table.
“I’d like to take the fat fuck and throw him down the stairs,” Dugan said. “Take his wife downstairs to the kitchen and fuck her in the ass on the chopping board, make him watch.”
“How do you want us to handle it?” the older brother asked. His accent was thick.
Dugan suddenly smiled in the direction of the couple. He spoke without moving his lips. “She’s a flirt, the cunt he’s with. Nancy, her name is. Likes to cock tease. Likes to do the halfway thing. I’ve had her down in the card room more than a couple times. She seems to think it’s okay I jam three fingers up her twat, she gives me a blowjob afterward. That isn’t cheating to her. Never let me fuck her, though. Not yet. She’ll suck your dick till you’re dry, but she won’t let you between her legs with it. I guess that’s keeping the marriage vows sacred enough. Who’m I to argue?”
He waved at the woman.
