Authors: Harold Robbins

Dreams Die First (13 page)

She seemed frozen. I pushed her roughly. “It’s all right. Get into the car!”

She still didn’t move. I bent over the man. “Who are you working for?”

“Fuck you, you crazy bastard!”

I pulled the safety on the gun and put a bullet into the ground between his legs. “You get the next one in the balls.”

His lips tightened.

I shoved the muzzle of the gun into his crotch. He almost screamed. “I don’t know!”

“You’re lying!” I made as if I were going to squeeze the trigger.

“No!” he screamed. “We got the contract from back East. A grand to take you out.”

I stared into his face. There wasn’t a man alive who could lie with a gun in his balls.

“Johnny wanted to hit you the minute you came into the lot. I was the one that said, ‘Wait.’”

“He’s telling the truth, Gareth,” Denise said suddenly. “I heard him.”

“You get in the car,” I said, still looking down at him.

“I saved your life,” he almost screamed. “Hers, too.”

I straightened up, putting the safety back on. “I’ll send you a thank-you note.”

I took her arm and shoved her toward the Valiant. The doors on the passenger side were all bashed in, so I pushed her across the seat and got in after her. We were out of the parking lot before the first man out of the hospital came around the corner.

We were four blocks away before we spoke. “How did they get you?” I asked.

“They were parked in front of the office when I came out. The big man got out and asked if you were inside. I told them that you had gone to the hospital. Then he asked if you still had the Rolls. Something made me say you did. Then he asked what hospital. I said I didn’t know. That’s when he pulled me into the car and hit me.” She began to cry. “I didn’t want to tell them, but he kept on hitting me.”

I put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her head against me. “It’s all right. It’s all right.”

After a few moments she stopped crying. “Who are those men? Why are they after you?”

“Bobby’s ex-friends play rough. They don’t like what I did last night.”

“They’re not going to like what you did today either.”

I looked at her quickly to see if she was joking. But she wasn’t, she was straight. I smiled. “I think you’re right.”

“What are you going to do now?”

“I’ll have to leave town for a while. Lonergan said he needs time to straighten this out. I haven’t made up my mind exactly where to go yet.”

“I have a place,” she said quickly. “They’ll never find us there.”

“Us?”

“Yes. You won’t be able to get in without me. They won’t take anyone unless a member brings them.”

“What place?”

“Reverend Sam’s farm in Fullerton.”

“Don’t some of the boys who worked at the store live there?”

“Yes.”

“Then I can’t go. I have to go someplace where nobody knows me.”

She looked up into my face. “If you dyed your hair black, not even your own mother would recognize you.”

***

About seven o’clock that evening I was sitting in a motel room off the freeway with quick tan on my face and a plastic cap tied over my dyed hair. I put in a call to the office and Verita answered.

“Where are you?” she asked. “We called the hospital, but they said you left almost two hours ago.”

“A problem came up. Lonergan said I should leave town for a few days. I can’t go into it on the phone, but everything will be all right.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. But you’re going to have to see that the paper gets out on time. Persky and Eileen there?”

“Yes.”

“All of you pick up extensions and listen.” I heard the clicks in the phone. “Eileen, I’m going to have to ask a special favor. You’re going to have to supply the copy for the next issue.”

“Gareth, I don’t know what to write.”

“I don’t care what you do. Print anything. Letters from the readers, publicity releases, anything to fill the pages until I get back. It’s very important that we don’t miss an issue. Understand?”

“I understand.”

“Thank you. How’s the article coming?”

“There’s a lot more to it than I thought.”

“Good. Stretch it. Maybe we can turn it into a weekly feature. Persky?”

“Yes, Gareth.”

“Stay on top of the printer. Make sure that Ronzi gets the seventy-five thousand copies.”

“I just heard from him. He wants you to call him right away. I think he’s worried about his print order.”

“I’ll call him as soon as we’re finished here. The important thing is to keep rolling. If we miss an issue, we’ve blown it.”

“Can I get some writers from the school?” Eileen asked.

“You do what you have to do. You’re the editor while I’m away. It’s your baby.”

“What about the bills?” Verita asked.

“You pay them. The bank has your signature.” I looked up. Denise was making motions. It was time for me to rinse out the dye. “By the way, you’d better shop around for another car. I fucked this one up pretty good.”

“You weren’t hurt?” she asked quickly.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry. If we get the next issue out, we can afford to get you a new car.” Denise was dancing up and down in front of me, pointing to her head. “I’ve got to go now. I’ll call you in a few days.”

I pressed the button to disconnect. “One more call,” I said to Denise. I dialed Ronzi.

“Gareth,” I said when he answered. “What’s up?”

“I got the word from back East. You got some very important people mad at you.”

“So?”

“There’s a contract out on you.”

“I know that, but Lonergan’s straightening it out. It’s all a mistake.”

“Mistakes don’t matter if you’re dead.”

“What are you getting at?”

“My friends tell me that if we’re partners, ain’t nothing going to happen to you. Nobody fucks with the family.”

“How much time do I get to give you an answer?”

“Twenty-four hours.”

“I’ll get back to you. Meanwhile, we have a deal for seventy-five thousand copies, right?”

“Right. We don’t welsh on deals.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” I said and hung up the phone. I looked at Denise. “Now what do we do?”

“We shampoo out the excess,” she said, slipping on a pair of plastic gloves.

I went into the bathroom and put my head over the sink. She shampooed my hair twice and when I finally straightened up and looked at myself in the mirror, I had to admit she was right.

Forget about my mother not recognizing me. I didn’t even recognize myself.

CHAPTER 19

It was after midnight when we finally bounced to a stop on the dirt road in front of the farmhouse. The windows were dark; the night was silent. I cut the switch and turned off the headlights. I turned to Denise. “Looks like everyone’s asleep.”

“That’s okay,” she said, getting out of the car. “The visitors’ rooms are always unlocked.”

I followed her up the steps to the veranda and in the door. The only sound was the creaking floorboards beneath our feet. I stumbled against a chair.

“Take my hand,” she said.

It was like playing blind man’s bluff. I couldn’t see where she was leading me, but she seemed to know exactly where she was going. I didn’t walk into any walls or stumble over any more furniture.

We stopped in front of a door and she knocked softly. “Just in case there is someone already inside,” she whispered.

There was no answer. She opened the door and led me into the room, then closed it softly behind us. “Do you have a match?” she asked.

I found a package in my pocket. She struck the match. I looked quickly around the small room. Against the far wall was a narrow bed and a chest of drawers, on top of which was a porcelain basin and pitcher. A mirror hung over the chest. Against the other wall was a wooden closet and above it was a small casement window. The match sputtered out.

In the dark I heard her cross the room and open one of the drawers. A moment later she lit another match. She took a candle from the drawer and touched the flame to its wick. The yellow light flickered in the room as she placed it on the holder next to the basin.

I looked up and saw the electric light fixture in the ceiling. “Why don’t you just turn on the light?” I asked.

“The power is on an automatic switch. It goes off after nine o’clock to save electricity. Besides, we begin early here. By five o’clock in the morning we’re up and ready to work. Very few of us are up later than nine.”

“Many people up here?”

“Thirty, sometimes forty. It depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether they want to be here or not. It’s mostly kids who are trying to kick one habit or another.”

“Drugs.”

“And alcohol.”

“What do they do?”

“Work on the farm. Pray. Get counsel.”

“What do you grow here?”

“Reverend Sam says people.”

I was silent for a moment. Then I nodded. Maybe he was right. At least he was trying. I fished a cigarette out of my pocket and lit it from the candle. When I turned back to her, she had kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the bed. “Tired?” I asked.

She nodded, looking up at me.

“I am, too,” I said, taking off my jacket. “Think both of us can fit in there without one of us falling off?”

She stared at me without answering. Suddenly she began to tremble, the tears coming to her eyes.

“What’s the matter?” I asked. Then I realized she had seen the gun I had shoved into my belt. I took it out and put it on top of the chest.

“I’m afraid,” she whispered through chattering teeth.

I sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled her head to my chest. “It’s over. There’s nothing to be afraid of now.”

“They were going to kill you.”

“They didn’t.”

“They’ll try again.”

“Lonergan will straighten it out in a few days. Then we’ll go back to normal.”

She looked up into my face. “Would you have killed that man if I hadn’t stopped you?”

“I don’t know. When I came back from Vietnam, I hated the thought of violence. I was sick of it. But then, when I saw your face, I didn’t think anymore. I was just angry.” I raised her face and traced her cheek with my finger. “You know, tomorrow you’re going to have one of the great shiners of all time.”

She looked puzzled.

“A black eye,” I explained.

She was off the bed and at the mirror almost before the words were out of my mouth. “Wow! It looks awful!”

I smiled. “I’ve seen worse.”

“Is there anything we can do about it?”

“They used to hold a beefsteak against it.”

“We don’t have any.”

“Cold compress. Ice.”

“We don’t have that either.”

“Then you have a black eye.”

“I guess so. Do I look funny?”

I kept the smile from my lips. “No.”

She turned suddenly and blew out the candle. “Now you don’t have to look at it.”

“I didn’t mind.”

“I did. I don’t like looking funny.”

I dragged on the cigarette. The tip glowed in the dark and I could see her begin to unbutton her shirt. There was a rustle of clothing; then she scrambled past me into the bed. I turned to touch her. She was already under the blanket.

I got to my feet, put the cigarette out in the candle-holder and began to take off my shirt.

“Gareth.”

“Yes?”

“Would you let me undress you?” Not waiting for my answer, she rose to her knees and unbuttoned my shirt, sliding the sleeves down my arms. She dropped the shirt on the floor. Her fingers touched my nipples lightly. “Are you cold?”

“No.” I reached for her.

She put my arms gently back at my sides. “Not yet.” Her mouth, tongue and teeth licked, laved, sucked and nipped at my chest while her hands unbuckled my belt and opened the zipper. My jeans fell to the floor around my legs and her hands cupped my balls.

“Your balls are so big and swollen,” she whispered as she slid her cheek down across my belly, seeking my cock with her mouth. I felt her teeth gently rake my engorged glans.

“Okay. That’s enough,” I said, lifting her away from me.

There was hurt in her voice. “What’s the matter, Gareth? Don’t you like it?”

“I love it.” I laughed. “But if I don’t get these jeans off my legs, I’m going to fall on my face.”

It was a great bed for fucking, narrow and firm, but the only way we could sleep on it together was spoon fashion. I put my back against the wall and my arm under her head while she snuggled backward against me. “Comfortable?” I asked.

“Mm-hmm.”

I closed my eyes.

“Was it good for you?” she whispered.

The generation gap didn’t exist in that respect. It was the one question every woman asked. “It was beautiful.”

She was silent a moment; then she said, “You’re getting hard again. I can feel it.”

“Let’s try to sleep. It’ll go away.”

She rubbed her buttocks against me.

“Jesus. That’s no way to do it.”

“Put it inside me,” she whispered, excitedly. “I want to sleep with you inside me.” She moved slightly and I entered her as easily as a hot knife slips into butter. She put a hand down between her legs and cupped my testicles. “That feels so good. I wish you could shove your balls into me, too.”

We lay quietly for a moment. I began to doze.

“Gareth, which do you like better, boys or girls?”

“Girls. Now go back to sleep.”

“I want you to fuck me in the ass.”

“Go to sleep.”

“I mean it, Gareth. I want you to fuck me in the ass.”

I opened my eyes. “Why? What makes it so important?”

“Isn’t that the way you fuck boys?”

“Yes. And girls too.”

“Then why won’t you do it to me?”

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t,” I said wearily. “It’s just that I’m tired. I want to sleep now. We’ll do it the next time.”

“Promise?”