'Will she cry ... ask you not to do it?'
'I don't know. I don't think so. I think she'll go along with it. Oh, she'll say things to her friends, suck around for a little sympathy. Poor little thing--that prick, how could he? After she's been so good to him.'
Melanie sat up, drawing her knees to her and wrapping her arms around them. 'What's she like?'
'She's--' Frank had to think. He sipped his Scotch. 'She's--what can I say? She's just kinda there. Nice looking, good figure. Everybody tells her how cute she is, you know, how does she stay so slim, all that.'
'She good in bed?'
'Well, it's not really a big thing to her.'
'No pun intended, huh?' Melanie said.
'It's not important to her. The way she was brought up, like a lot of the women we know, sex is something ... they look at it as something you have to do when you're married. Something you have to put up with.'
'That's weird,' Melanie said.
'Well, you weren't brought up like that. How old were you, the first time you got laid?'
'Fourteen, I think. Yeah, fourteen. But I was giving hand jobs before that.'
'My wife, these women we know, they lead a very sheltered life,' Frank said. 'The big thing they talk about at the club--well, some of them, they play golf, they're pretty active. But the others, along with my wife, the big thing to talk about would be what they're gonna cook for dinner.'
'That's really weird,' Melanie said. 'I'd eat out.'
'You don't eat out every night,' Frank said. 'No, you sit at the table, try and make conversation. I tell her about the business. It could be a problem I'm having with a sub-contractor, like trying to get the cement guy to come in when I need him--'
'Yeah?' Melanie said.
'She listens, but she doesn't give a shit. I try and keep it light, tell her about my round of golf maybe if I played that day. No response.'
'No response,' Melanie said. 'What's she interested in? You mind my asking?'
'No, I don't mind. What's she interested in?' Frank thought again. 'How much I drink. She says, we go to a party and I'm a little high, she says your problem, you don't count your drinks. I say I did too count 'em. I had twenty-eight, exactly.'
Melanie nodded and laughed.
'She doesn't think it's funny. I tell a joke, you know, like the one the guy gets bit on the pecker by the rattlesnake?'
Melanie grinned. 'Yeah?'
'She doesn't think it's funny. Oh, she laughs. If other people are there she laughs, but she doesn't think it's funny. She's more interested in is the house clean? Or, where's Bo? It's late and Bo's not home yet. I say to her it's only ten-thirty, for Christ sake, he'll be home.'
'What about your son? What's gonna happen?'
'That's something we'll have to discuss along with the settlement,' Frank said. 'She'll probably keep Bo, the mother, you know, I'm not gonna argue with that. It's all right, he and I'll see each other.'
'I'd like to meet him,' Melanie said.
'You probably will, you don't pack that big canvas bag and take off somewhere.'
'Leave my place? I'm getting to be a homebody,' Melanie said. 'I've planted flowers--Hey, there was a guy renting the next apartment. He was there a couple of weeks with his wife. I was outside for awhile, I went in, I just got in and he knocks on my door. I answer and he goes, 'I'll give you $500 if you'll take your clothes off and let me look at your body.' No shit.'
'Just look? Come on--'
'No shit. I go, 'Hey, get fucked, okay?' Creepy guy--'
Yeah, Frank thought. She'd have the Arab dress off, or the string bikini, before the door closed. That was the only thing that bothered him. He had more than enough money to keep her happy, but she'd still fool around. He noticed the way she looked at young guys with flat stomachs and nice builds. They could be Bahamian, it didn't matter. If it ever bothered him too much or he ever caught her with somebody he'd end it, throw her out. He'd have to. It was her age. Pretty soon though, when she got to be twenty-two, twenty-three, she'd begin looking ahead and settle down. Growing flowers, that was a good sign.
They were in bed when the telephone rang, in semidarkness: lamplight from the living room on the floor; moonlight on the bed, the imported palm trees stirring outside the window. Frank raised his eyes, past the mound of her belly, past round pale breasts (her tummy-tum and her ninnies, he called them), to her face on the pillow. He raised his head then and her eyes opened.
She said, 'Are we gonna answer it?'
'I don't know.' Frank held his position, his can rounding over the foot of the bed, toes dug into the shag carpeting, a freestyler ready to dive. The phone continued to ring.
'You want me to?' Melanie said.
'No ... I guess I better.'
It could be Bo, something about the tennis camp he didn't like. It could be Mickey--because he'd forgotten to call earlier. Something about the car, playing helpless. Where should she get it fixed? Frank walked into the living room naked, scratching his crotch, feeling a little heft but nothing like he'd had before. That was all right, Melanie could get it back with one touch. She liked to touch it and talk to it, get down there and say dirty things to it softly. It was coming back already ...
Then began to shrivel fast as the voice on the phone said, 'How you doing, man? With that fine young lady you got with you--'
'Who is this?'
'Hold the line. Your wife wants to speak with you.'
Chapter 14
THEY HAD MICKEY DOWNSTAIRS sitting in the straight chair by the telephone table with her mask on. Louis watched her fooling with her fingernails as she waited, as Ordell spoke into the phone. Louis and Ordell had their masks on, Louis holding a sheet of paper in his hand. Richard was wearing his monster face. Mickey was the only one in the room seated.
Ordell said, 'I'm telling you the truth, man. Here she is.' He looked over at Louis.
Louis watched him go to one knee and place the phone against Mickey's face. When her hands raised, he pushed them down. He'd hold it for her, his face close to hers. He touched her shoulder then, meaning for her to go ahead.
Mickey said, 'Frank?'
Louis could hear the man's voice, some of the words, asking who that was and where was she and if this was her idea of a joke or what.
She said, 'I don't know ... Frank, listen to me ... I don't know! They want you to hear my voice. That's all ... No, I'm all right ... Frank, I don't know--'
Ordell put the phone against his chest. Richard took Mickey by the arm and led her across the room to the hallway and the stairs. Ordell looked at Louis and nodded to the chair. Louis shook his head. He took the phone from him, held it out as he looked at the sheet of paper in his other hand, then put the phone to his ear.
'Mr. Dawson,' Louis said, 'how you doing? And how's Melanie? I understand she's got great big ones.' He looked over at Ordell and had to grin. Ordell was jiving his shoulders around with his elbows tucked in, not able to stand still. Louis put the phone against his chest and said, 'He wants to know who this is.'
Ordell had to turn away, laughing the way you did smoking grass when something that wasn't that funny forced the laugh out of you.
Louis said into the phone, 'I'm not allowed to tell you, Mr. Dawson. But I can tell you this. Tomorrow go to the Providence Bank and Trust and draw a million dollars out of your account ... Mr. Dawson? I think you better quit talking and listen, cause you're in deep shit, man. I want you to draw one million dollars in a cashier's check and
