Sex Between, The (16 page)

Eventually, candles flickered and sputtered out, tables remained empty, singles became couples. One by one, the orange lights along the ceiling died. Still Lee did not move, except to reach for the bottle. Finding it empty, she set it beside her on the floor and blinked around for Julie.

The girl came up behind her and put her hand on Lee's shoulder. "Come on, lover," she murmured. "It's closing time."

"Want a drink," Lee mumbled. "What?"

"Want a drink," Lee repeated.

Julie looked from Lee's battered face to the empty bottle and back again. "You had enough," she said shortly.

With her fists, Lee shoved herself up from the table. "I want a drink," she roared angrily.

The blonde in the sleek black dress touched Julie's arm. "Get that lush out of here," she muttered.

Suddenly, Lee was fighting mad. Drunk as she was, she wasn't so drunk that she couldn't hear. And the woman had said the wrong thing... No matter what she had said, it would have been the wrong thing.

Groping beneath the table, Lee found the neck of the empty bottle and her fingers closed over it tightly.

But the woman in black was not drunk. And she moved a hell of a lot faster. Before Lee knew what had happened, she was on her knees with the woman's spike heel grinding through her palm.

She let out a shriek of pain. "You damned bitch!"

The woman released her, then glanced at Julie. "Throw her in a cab," she said. She took a ten-dollar bill from the tiny waist pocket of her dress. "We don't want the cops snooping around here."

"I will," Julie promised. She stooped down beside Lee and took hold of her arm. "Come on, baby."

Furiously, Lee shook off the restraining hand. She got to her feet under her own steam and started toward the door.

Julie was right beside her when she reached the sidewalk. She felt the girl's soft breasts pressed against her side, moving her like a tug boat toward the corner and a cab.

Julie opened the door and shoved Lee inside, then gave an address to the driver. Dimly Lee knew that it was not her house Julie had mentioned. She reached out to grab the girl's hand and yanked her inside.

Julie landed full on her lap. And Lee, knowing only that she was there and that she was warm and that she was a girl, put her arms around Julie and hugged her close Furiously her mouth smashed down on Julie's, her tongue parting the girl's lips. Her hand was on Julie's knee. Then moving along her thigh.

"Hey, can that crap!" the driver barked. "A cop'll see you."

Julie's thighs slapped together, pinning Lee's hand. "Save it, baby," she muttered against Lee's ear. "We got all night."

Foggily, Lee considered for a moment, then decided Julie was right. She had all night, didn't she? And all day tomorrow. And all day the year after that. What the hell?

Dimly, something tried to come through. She couldn't quite put a finger on it, but something itched inside her brain like a bit she couldn't reach. Something about...

When the cab stopped, Julie took her hand and led her into the grease-scented hallway of a tenement she knew could only be somewhere on the Lower East Side. Not that it mattered—any more than anything else mattered. She let herself be led by the hand, like a child afraid of the dark. And when they reached the entrance of Julie's flat, she took the key from the girl and opened the creaking door.

The room smelled as though it didn't know about fresh air. There were maybe three pieces of furniture in the place and none of it looked sturdy enough to sit down on. Lee looked around for Julie, waiting to be told what to do.

Julie waved her toward the bed. "Sit," she said. "Let me get out of this uniform."

Docilely, because there was nothing better to do, Lee sat. She leaned back against the wall and tried to focus on a cockroach crawling up the cracked plaster beside her arm. Finally, when she got him in range, she swung her hand in a wide arc. Her palm caught him squarely and squashed him across the wall. For a moment, she stared at the sick looking mess in her palm.

"I can't get rid of them," Julie said. "Especially in summer."

Lee's tired, swollen eyes followed a line up from the flat bare feet. The girl was naked. She had looked better in the uniform somehow. Now Lee could see the too heavy thighs, the roll of fat around her middle. But the breasts were nice. Firm, big. She watched the girl turn slowly, giving her the full show. And she saw the welts, thick and ugly, some still half raw, that striped the girl's back like caning.

Lee wanted to say something. Throw some line of bull. Not that Julie wanted or needed it. But Lee herself liked a bit of polish. Her tongue felt a foot thick and stiff as a board and the inside of her mouth tasted like a summer sewer. She opened her mouth, trying. Nothing came out.

Finally, feeling almost desperate, she reached out clumsily to grab the girl.

Julie caught her wrist and held it still. "Not yet," she murmured. "Wait."

She went to the unpainted dresser in the corner and opened the top drawer. Lee watched her take out a heavy leather belt. A lethal looking thing, studded with diamond shaped metal slugs and with a buckle the size of a saucer. Julie turned from the dresser and tossed the belt onto the bed.

Lee looked at it curiously for a moment, knowing what was expected of her, yet hesitant. She had never beaten a girl before. Oh, she'd hit a couple, when they needed it. But this? Julie would want to see her own blood flow.

She would want to be smashed like the cockroach. And when she was bloody and half dead, then she would want Lee. Then she would want...

Lee slid the end of the belt through the buckle, making a grip for her hand. Then she made herself stand up, holding onto the wall to steady herself. Julie threw herself face down across the unmade bed, her arms hugged to her sides.

Lee brought her arm up, then swung. The sound of the crack nearly split open her head.

Julie turned onto her side. "Not that way," she said, her eyes betraying her impatience. "The other end. The buckle."

Lee took a deep breath and hunched her shoulders. Earlier, she remembered, she had wanted to tear somebody apart. Earlier, she had been mad enough about something to want to kill. But now...

Now there was nothing but the throbbing ache behind her eyes, the pain from her swollen cheek. And the memory, the damned memory that kept niggling, wanting her to hear.

And suddenly she did hear. Not clearly. But something. A word... a name. Maggie... Maggie, who loved her...

"Maggie," she said aloud, her voice thick, slurred.

"I'm Julie," the girl said, shoving her with bare toes. "Remember me?"

Lee stared down at her stupidly, not remembering the girl nor where she had found her. Not remembering where she was or how she had gotten there. And searching through her brain, she could find nothing that went with the face, the figure. Nothing but a blank, where a night should have been.

"Well, for chrissake," the girl complained, "either come across or beat it."

Lee didn't even hear her. She unwrapped the belt from around her hand and let it fall to the floor. Then she groped in the pocket of her slacks for the wad of bills she always kept there.

Julie turned onto her back and propped herself on her elbows. "I lifted it in the cab," she said matter-of-factly. "A girl has to get something out of a sot like you."

“Yeah," Lee said. Then she tried to smile around the aches in her skull. "Do you suppose you could let me have enough for a taxi?" Julie laughed. "Sure, big shot. How far you goin'?" Lee put her palm against the back of her neck and sighed. "To hell," she slurred.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Helga was anything but glad to see her. She shoved Lee away and stepped back out of her reach.

"What's a matter?" Lee grinned. "Aren't you happy I'm here?"

"Are you crazy?" Helga screamed. "It's five o'clock in the morning." She took a deep breath and jabbed a finger at the air. "If you think you can come sneaking in here…”

Lee clapped her hands over her ears. "Don't shout," she mumbled. "I've got a glass head."

"I’ll shout all I damn please," Helga shouted. She glared at Lee with fists on hips, daring her, challenging…

"All right," Lee said gently, still holding her head between her hands. "I'm sorry. Now, will you please try to be a lady. Just this once."

Helga relaxed enough to snatch a cigarette from the box on the coffee table. Still, she watched Lee warily.

Lee pulled out a lighter for Helga's cigarette, waited till the girl had taken a couple of puffs, then took it for herself.

Helga sighed and sank down onto the couch. "Your hands are shaking," she commented. "It must have been quite a binge."

"It was." From the pain thumping behind her eyeballs, she knew that it had been. But the details? Those she didn't remember and it was probably just as well.

"What happened?" Helga said, a twist of curiosity creeping into the words. She smoothed the pillow beside her, inviting Lee to sit.

Lee remained standing. Not because it was more comfortable, but because she didn't trust her knees. If she tried to sit, she would probably wind up sprawled on the floor. She took a drag on the cigarette and closed one eye against the sting of smoke.

"Well, what happened?" Helga repeated, her tone frankly demanding now.

And even through her fog, Lee heard the tone and knew that, whatever she said, Helga would be taking notes. Storing up information for discreet use at the proper time. She shook her head, but carefully. Her eyes swam in a film of tears and Helga drifted away from sight.

"Well, hell," Helga said. "You've got a black eye and you're stinko. I presume you didn't spend a quiet evening at home."

"That's right." She watched a length of ash sift to the carpet, then rubbed it in with her toe. She had forgotten about the black eye. About Cleo and Tony. Had that been tonight? Or years ago? Nothing fitted. Her brain felt like a handful of confetti. If only she could remember...

Helga came and took the cigarette from her fingers. "Before you burn down the house," she said, jabbing it into an ashtray.

"What day is it?" Lee said suddenly.

"Thursday," Helga said. "Almost." She turned to look into Lee's bleary eyes. "You're way out tonight, aren't you?"

Lee grunted. How do you tell a practical soul like Helga what it feels like to be one of the living dead? Not to know where you've been or what you've done or why the hell you did it. She simply stared back at Helga dumbly, too confused, too miserable to speak.

Finally Helga took her hand and led her down the hall to the john. Lee stood patiently while Helga undressed her, trying to be co-operative, yet hardly able to move her useless limbs. And she stood patiently too when Helga shoved her under the shower and turned the cold water on full blast. Despite herself, the iciness of the water forced her to respond, made her shiver and reel back against the tiled wall to escape. She had wanted, almost, to believe that she was dead. That she could feel nothing.

But she felt the roughness of the big towel Helga rubbed over her back and chest. Felt the lye-like burning of a sour brownish liquid Helga made her swallow. And by the time Helga had taken her into the bedroom and made her stretch out on the cool, fresh sheets, she had begun to remember.

"Now, get some sleep," Helga said, gently for her. She snapped off the bed lamp and lowered herself to the edge of the mattress. "You can tell me about it in the morning."

And Lee could have laughed, except for the dull ache still splitting her skull. Tell Helga in the morning? Tell her what? Tell her about Maggie? That she had traded the only girl she loved for some nebulous thing Kate called honor? Or tell her about Cleo? Tell her how she'd played muscle boy and slugged a coward who was all words and no bite? Or tell her about Julie and how she had to borrow five bucks of her own dough for a cab? Anything she told Helga would get nothing but a horse laugh. No sympathy, no empathy, no love.

What's the use? Lee thought. What the hell is the use?

She turned on her side and reached out for the girl, knowing that only in one way could she keep Helga from laughing at her. Helga had no respect for anything but the gratification of her own desires, her own lusts. And what, after all, did it matter? Helga, like Julie, like Cleo, meant nothing.

"Hmmm," Helga murmured, drawing away from Lee's kiss. "You've been practicing, lover." She let her long fingers glide lightly over Lee's naked back. "Who's the lucky girl?"

"You," Lee countered, too quickly. "If you'll just shut up and..."

She rolled to the girl, needing to suffocate the irony, the stupidity of it all. If she looked at Helga, if she looked at herself, she would not be able to go through with it. Hungrily, almost savagely, she sought Helga's mouth, needing Helga to need, to lie quiet and wanting. Needing herself to feel something... anything, to quiet the frustration seething through her. She must not think of Maggie, must not spend the rest of her life remembering. She must...

Helga put her hands against Lee's shoulders and held her off. "You didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"Who's the girl, lover?" Her tongue slid along Lee's earlobe. "You've never had hot pants like this for me."

"Don't be so damned suspicious," Lee said. But she heard the quaver in her own voice and knew that Helga had heard it too.

Helga held herself rigid, touching Lee all the way up, but not letting Lee move to caress her. "What happened to your little friend Maggie?"

It was a loaded question. Lee swallowed hard, but she realized that Helga could not possibly know the truth, that she was simply making a stab in the dark. Assuring herself, as Helga must forever be assuring herself, that she had Lee where she wanted her and could keep her that way.

Which was exactly what Lee wanted Helga to believe. The fewer the questions she had to answer, the less she had to think about Maggie, the better things would be for all of them.

"My little friend Maggie," Lee said evenly, "is now safely ensconced at Grandmother Kate's house." She smiled against Helga's shoulder. "Which means I'm now a free agent. I came here to tell you that."