The Carpetbaggers (31 page)

"Maybe this weekend," Tommy answered.

"Then maybe we'll take her to the movies." Laddie said.

"Big deal!" Tommy snorted. "It's O.K. for you but what about me? It’s no fun sitting next to you and watching you cop feels. Who'm I goin’ to take?"

"I don't know," Laddie answered.

Tommy walked along for a moment, then snapped his fingers. "I got it!" he said excitedly.

"Who?"

"Your sister. Rina."

"Rina?" Laddie said. "She's just a kid."

Tommy laughed. "She ain't such a kid. They're really poppin' out on her. They look even bigger lately than when we seen 'em on the raft a couple weeks ago."

"But she's only thirteen," Laddie said.

"My cousin Joan's only fourteen now. She was thirteen last summer when you were nuzzlin' her on the back porch."

Laddie looked at him. Maybe Tommy was right. Rina was growing up. He shrugged his shoulders. "O.K.," he said finally. "You ask her. It won't do any good, though. I don't think my mother will let her go."

"She will if you ask her," Tommy said surely.

"I’m goin' in to shower an' put on my suit," Laddie said. "I’ll meet yuh on the beach."

"O.K.," Tommy answered. "See yuh."

The cottage was cool and silent after the heat and noise at the game. Slowly Laddie walked through to the kitchen. "Molly?" he called.

There was no answer and he remembered it was Thursday, Molly's day off. He heard a noise upstairs and walked over to the staircase. "Mother?"

Rina's voice came down to him. "They drove down to Hyannis Port to have dinner with some people."

"Oh," he said. He went back into the kitchen and opened the icebox. He took out a bottle of milk and a piece of chocolate cake and put them on the table. He drank the milk from the bottle and ate the cake with his fingers. It wasn't until after he had finished that he remembered he'd promised himself he wouldn't touch any sweets in hopes that his skin would clear up.

He sat there in a kind of lethargy. He heard the bathroom door slam and footsteps leading back to Rina's room. Idly he wondered what she was doing home at this time of the afternoon. Usually she was down at the beach already with her giggling bunch of silly girl friends.

Maybe Tommy was right. She was growing up. Certainly the way she brazenly sat there on the raft with her boobs half hanging out and letting them goggle at her didn't make her seem like a kid. Tommy was right about one thing, though. They were bigger than his cousin's.

A picture of Rina sitting on the raft flashed through his mind: the way she looked at them while they looked at her; her hair falling wet and straight to her shoulders, her lower lip pouting and kind of heavy.

He felt a familiar heat surge through him. He half groaned aloud. Oh, no, not again. He'd promised himself after the last time, he'd stop. He got to his feet abruptly. He wouldn't do it this time. He picked up the empty plate and put it in the sink, then walked out of the kitchen and started up the stairs. He'd grab a cold shower and then beat it out to the beach.

Rina's room was opposite the head of the staircase and the door was partly open. He was almost halfway up when the light spilling from her room caught his eye. There was a movement inside the room and he stopped on the staircase, his heart pounding. Slowly he sank to his knees so that only his eyes were above the top of the landing.

Rina had just crossed the room and was standing in front of the mirror, her back to the door, clad only in a brassière and a pair of bloomers. While he watched, she reached behind her and unfastened the brassière, then, half turning, stepped out of the bloomers. Holding them in her hand, she crossed the room and came back in a moment, carrying a bathing suit. She paused again in front of the mirror and stepped into the suit. Slowly she pulled it up over her breasts and straightened the shoulder straps.

He felt faint beads of perspiration across his forehead. This was the first time he had ever seen a grown-up girl completely naked. He had never thought they could be so beautiful and exciting.

Walking quietly, he passed her room and went into his own. He closed the door and sank, still trembling, to the bed. For a long moment, he sat there, the pain of the heat surging inside him bending him almost double.

Slowly he reasoned with himself. No. He mustn't. Not again. If he gave in to it now, he would always give in to it. At last, he began to feel better. He wiped his forehead with his arm and got to his feet.

All you needed was a little self-control and determination. He began to feel proud of himself. What he had to do was remove himself from all kinds of temptation. That meant everything. Even the French pictures he had bought from the candy store down in Lobstertown.

Quickly he opened a dresser drawer and burrowing underneath a broken slat, came out with the pictures. He placed them on the dresser drawer face down. He wouldn't even look at them one last time. He'd flush them down the toilet when he went in to take his shower.

He undressed rapidly and put on his bathrobe. He walked back to the dresser and caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. It was filled with a noble resolve. It was amazing how quickly resolution could reflect itself. He turned and left the room, forgetting the pictures that lay on the dresser.

He was drying himself in front of the mirror when he heard her footsteps turn down the hall to his room. Suddenly, he froze as he remembered. The pictures were still on the dresser. He grabbed for the bathrobe on the door behind him.

It was too late. When he got to his room, she was standing near the dresser, the pictures in her hand. She looked up at him in surprise. "Laddie, where did you get these pictures?" she asked, a curious excitement in her voice.

"Give them to me!" he demanded, walking toward her.

"I will not!" she retorted, turning her back to him. "I haven't finished looking at them yet."

Lithely she spun away from his outstretched hand, across the room to the far side of the bed. "Let me finish," she said calmly. "Then you can have them back."

"No!" he shouted hoarsely, flinging himself across the bed at her.

She turned to avoid his grasp but his hand caught her shoulder. The pictures flew from her hand as she fell to the bed beside him. She reached for the pictures. His hand caught at her shoulder strap to keep her from getting them, and the strap broke in his hand. He froze suddenly, staring at one white breast that had escaped the bathing suit.

"You broke my strap," she said quietly, making no move to cover herself, her eyes watching his face.

He didn't answer.

She smiled slowly and raised her hand to her breast, rubbing her palm gently across the nipple. "I'm just as pretty as any of the girls in those pictures, aren't I?"

He was fascinated, unable to speak, his eyes following the deliberate movement of her hand. "Aren't I?" she asked again. "You can tell me. I won't tell anyone. Why do you think I let you watch while I was undressing?"

"You knew I was watching?" he asked in surprise.

She laughed. "Of course, stupid. I could see you in the mirror. I almost burst out laughing. I thought your eyes would pop out of your head."

He could feel the tension begin to build up inside him. "I don't think that's funny."

"Look at me," she said. "I like you to look at me. I wish everybody could."

"That's not right," he said.

"Why isn't it?" she demanded. "What's wrong with it? I like to look at you, why shouldn't you look at me?"

"But you never did," he said quickly.

A secret smile came to her lips. "Oh, yes I did."

"You did? When?"

"The other afternoon when you came back from the beach. There was no one home and I watched you through the bathroom window. I saw everything you did."

"Everything?" The word escaped from him in a groan of dismay.

"Everything," she said smugly. "You were exercising your muscle." Her eyes looked into his. "I never knew it could get so big. I always thought it was little and kind of droopy like it was when you were a little boy."

There was a tightness in his throat and he could hardly speak. He began to get up from the bed. "I think you better get out of here," he said hoarsely.

She looked up at him, still smiling. "Would you like to look at me again?"

He didn't answer.

Her hand reached up and took down the other shoulder strap. She wriggled out of her bathing suit. He stared down at her naked body, feeling his legs begin to tremble. He saw her eyes move down over him. His bathrobe hung open. He looked at her again.

"Now take off your bathrobe and let me see all of you," she said.

As if in a daze, he let the bathrobe slip to the floor. With a groan, he sank to his knees beside the bed, holding himself.

Quickly she rolled across the bed and looked down at him. A faint sound of triumph came into her voice. "Now," she said, "you can do it for me."

His hand reached up to touch her breast. She let it rest there for a moment, then suddenly moved away from him. "No!" she said sharply. "Don't touch me!"

He stared at her dumbly, the agony pouring through him in waves.

Her heavy-lidded eyes watched him.

"Do it for me," she said in a husky voice. "And I’ll do it for you. But don't touch me!"

ALL THROUGH THE MOVIE, LADDIE COULD HEAR THEM giggling and whispering. He could imagine what they were doing in the darkened theater, even though he couldn't see. His mind flamed with visions.

Now Tommy was offering Rina a gumdrop. He could see him casually holding the bag toward her, the back of his hand seemingly accidentally pressing against her breast. Laddie shifted restlessly in his seat, trying to pierce the dark out of the corner of his eye, but it was a waste of time. He couldn't see anything.

"May I have some candy?" Joan's voice came from the darkness.

"What?" he asked, startled for a moment. "Yeah. Sure." He held the bag toward her.

She turned as she helped herself from the bag and he felt the soft press of her breasts. But it served only to remind him of Rina. He sank back into his seat unhappily.

They stopped in front of Tommy's cottage on the way home. "How about some pop?" Joan asked. "We've got a big bottle in the icebox."

Laddie shook his head. "No, thanks," he said quickly. "It's almost eight o'clock and I promised Mother we'd be home before dark."

Rina didn't say anything.

"Maybe you could come over later?" Joan asked. "After you've taken Rina home?"

Rina looked at him. He flushed. "I don't think so," he answered. "I’m pretty tired. I wanted to get to bed early."

Joan shot a curious look at him, then silently turned and walked into the cottage. There was an awkward moment until Tommy spoke. "Well, good night, then," he said. "See yuh on the beach tomorrow."

They walked the rest of the way home in silence. It was already dark when they climbed up the steps to the porch. He opened the screen door and held it for her.

She started to enter the house, then stopped when she saw he made no move to follow her. "Aren't you coming in?"

He shook his head. "Not right now. I think I’ll stay out for a little while."

"I think I will, too," she said quickly, stepping back onto the porch.

He let the screen door swing shut. Its clatter echoed through the house. "Is that you, children?" Geraldine Marlowe called.

"Yes, Mother," Rina answered. She glanced quickly at Laddie. "Can we stay outside for a little while, Mother? It's so hot tonight."

"All right. But only for half an hour, Rina. I want you in bed by eight thirty."

"O.K., Mother."

Laddie crossed the porch and sat down on the large wicker chaise. Rina followed and sat down beside him. "Why did Joan want you to come back?" she asked suddenly.

He didn't look at her. "I dunno."

"Did she want you to do it for her?"

"Of course not!" he said indignantly.

"I don't like Joan," she said suddenly. "She's a— she's a hyp— a hypo— "

"A hypocrite." He supplied the word for her, surprised by the unexpected depth of her perception. "What makes you say that?"

"Tommy wanted me to touch him in the movies, but when I wouldn't, he took Joan's hand and she did."

"No!" The word escaped him involuntarily. Rina was right. The little bitch
was
a hypocrite.

"And she never even looked at him once," Rina continued. "She was always looking at the screen and once she even asked you for some candy."

He stared at her wonderingly.

"I wonder if they're doing it now," she said thoughtfully.

A picture of Joan and Tommy flashed through his mind. He began to get excited.

"I’m not a hypocrite, am I?" she asked. A slow smile came to her lips. She moved and he felt her fingers brush across his thigh. She looked into his face. "Would you like to do it now?" she whispered.

"Now?" he said in a stunned voice. He glanced over his shoulder back to the house.

"They won't come out," she said quietly. "Father is reading his newspaper and Mother is knitting. I saw them through the doorway."

"But— " he stammered. "But— how?"

She smiled again, her fingers taking the handkerchief from his breast pocket.

* * *

Geraldine looked up at the mantel clock. It was just eight thirty. She heard the screen door slam and Rina came into the room. Her daughter's eyes were bright and shining and her face wore a happy smile. The smile was infectious and Geraldine smiled back at her.

"Did you have a good time at the movies, dear?"

Rina nodded. "A wonderful time, Mother," she said excitedly. "It was such fun. You don't know how great it is to be able to see a picture without all those brats squalling and running up and down the aisles like they do in the afternoons."

Geraldine laughed. "It was only yesterday that you were one of those brats."

Rina's face suddenly turned serious. "But I'm not any more, am I, Mother?"

Geraldine nodded her head gently. "No, darling. You're quite grown up now."

Rina spun around happily. "That's right, Mother," she said gaily. "I'm quite grown up now."