The Erection Set

Hell, I tried to stay out of it. I had left myself wide open so everybody would know I had cut out, but the game had its own rules and they didn’t want you to cut out unless you did it on a slab in the morgue. Only then could they be sure. Time and distance didn’t mean a damn thing. They were always those gnawing suspicions that you were just sitting by, waiting to pounce and start all over again.

Okay, I was back in the running again, all the way. It was hare and hound, but the rabbit had sneaked out in front and now the hounds ere baying at its heels, but this rabbit was jungle bred and had fucking big teeth and fucking long claws with a tiger for its father and a lion on its mother’s sideandthe end of the canyon was coming up where the rabbit hadto turn and let loose with all the armament and screw the odds. You died once ... that was it ... time’s up, Charlie, and hope you had a nice life. Up your ass, Mac, just make sure I’m dead, that’s all.

The party had thinned out and separated into tight little groups making their own points with champagne perfection. A tired orchestra played to a half-dozen couples rubbing pelvises on the small floor. Walt Gentry was smiling at the blonde leading lady who had left her white fox somewhere and was holding him off in a dance designed to give him a full view of her chest that was barely encased in swath of see-through chiffon. His demeanor was one of total satisfaction, like the deal had been made hours ago.

Cousin Dennisoh was hovering over Leyland Hunter who was-drawing up some kind of a document, with Cross McMillan gloating beside them, and S. C. Cable was busy talking to Sharon. She was taking notes, consulting the two elderly gentlemen alongside who were apparently quite happy with everything. One owned a whole tract of downtown property and the other was the mayor of Linton.

I didn’t see Rose and I didn’t see Alfred.

Nobody had seen a waiter with a Daly nameplate, either.

Over in the Comer Sheila McMillan was holding a glass of champagne in either hand and when she saw me standing by myself beside the piano she put the glasses down and walked around the edge of the crowd to my little nook and said, “Take me out of here, Dog.”

One of the waiters brought her jacket and we walked back through the kitchen to the side entrance I had used before. She was weaving a little bit and her face had a peculiar set to it. “Why this way?” she asked me.

“People talk,” I said.

“I don’t care about people anymore.”

At the door I flipped the overhead light out and she leaned against me for a moment breathing the cool air. “Want to walk?”

“Yes. I need it.”

The parking area was half empty, but I never did like rows of quiet cars and took the path to the right that led behind a row of bushes and cut into the main entrance. Under the light at the door Bennie Sachs was talking to another uniformed cop and I didn’t like that either, so I led her across the grass and angled toward the comer of lawn to the street and stood in the darkness of the trees a minutes to look around.

“You’re waiting for somebody,” Sheila said.

“Not really.”

“Somebody’s out there.”

“Everybody’s out there, kitten.”

I felt the shiver run through her and held her hand. “Get me away from everybody, Dog.”

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“No, not home. I took a room at the hotel for the night. Cross is going back to New York and I didn’t want to stay in the big house alone. I’m tired of being alone.”

“What’s bugging you, kid?”

“Nothing. Please, just take me to the hotel.”

So we walked to the car, listening to the night sounds, my ears trying to pick up anything that didn’t belong to the night alone. I got her inside, went around the car and shoved the key in the lock. She shivered again and stared straight ahead. “Trouble?” I asked her.

“Why do people do things to people?”

“Beats me, sugar.” Inadvertently, I put my hand on her thigh and although it was only a quick touch I felt her contract in a spasm of emotional anguish that only stopped when I had both hands on the wheel.