Love Always (15 page)

The policeman looked at Noonan. “Mr. Spenser?” he said.

“I’m a friend of the family,” Noonan said.

“Mr? …”

“Noonan.”

“Mr. Noonan. We’re going to let you hear her version of the story. Are you a lawyer, Mr. Noonan?”

“A journalist,” Noonan said.

“That’s the same thing,” the policeman said. “Mr. Noonan, please step this way with Mrs. Spenser.”

Noonan began to have a sneezing fit. He was about to fall asleep, so he found it hard to keep his balance when the sneezes shook him. Lucy was walking down the corridor in front of him. He ran to catch up, sneezing violently.

“Where is she?” Lucy said.

Noonan began to sneeze convulsively. He reached in his pocket for the Afrin, threw his head back and squirted it in each nostril. “God help me,” he said.

“If he’s done anything, I’ll kill him,” Lucy said.

The policeman threw open a door. Nicole was asleep on a couch, a pile of uniforms on top of her.

“She’s sleeping,” Lucy said stupidly.

“Mrs. Spenser. We want you to talk to her. We need your permission to have her examined. I must tell you that if you
refuse permission, we will begin proceedings to obtain permission.”

Noonan began to sneeze wildly. Nicole heard him and shot up. She saw Lucy and was disoriented. Then she reached out and tried to grab Lucy, but she had no muscle coordination; she had been roused from a dead sleep. “Lucy?” she said. “You believe me, don’t you?” Nicole started to cry. “Can we go home?”

Suddenly Nicole seemed shorter and thinner than Lucy remembered her. She was just a little girl, lying on a sofa. Lucy turned and stared at Noonan.

“Hi,” Noonan said, holding up his hand.

“Hi,” Nicole said.

Nicole struggled to one elbow. “We were just taking pictures,” Nicole said. “You believe me, don’t you?”

“Why were you taking pictures?” Lucy said.

“I made him do it. Oh, it’s not his fault. This girl in California was jerking him around, and I thought he should send her some funny pictures. We just got in the back of Peter’s car—”

“God,
no
,” Noonan said. “Peter’s car?”

Nicole turned toward him. “I was taking silly pictures of Edward on the rug,” she said.

“Do you know the person the car is registered to?” the policeman said.

“What were you doing with Peter’s car?” Noonan said.

“I must tell you that the person who owns this car may be in a lot of trouble,” the policeman said.

“We borrowed it for the afternoon. We just wanted to take the pictures,” Nicole said. “The cops are crazy. They almost killed us. They pulled in behind us at about a hundred miles an hour, and we weren’t doing anything. We weren’t doing anything but taking pictures—to send to his girlfriend. This is crazy,” Nicole said, starting to cry.

The policeman was staring at Noonan. Noonan said, “I know the person who owns the car. Yes.”

“And did the person realize what the car was being used for?” the policeman said.

“What happened?” Noonan said to Nicole.

“I was only taking pictures. I told you. Why are they making such a big deal out of this? They were going to be funny pictures for his uptight girlfriend. Nobody could see us. He was on the floor of the car.”

“Mrs. Spenser,” the policeman said. “May I speak to you in the other room?”

Lucy left Nicole crying on Noonan’s shoulder.

“Mrs. Spenser,” the policeman said, preceding her into the corridor, “we found a naked man in the back seat of a car with a minor. There are charges that pertain to this situation. When the film is developed, if we find any pictures of your niece … For your own peace of mind, I am sure that you want to ascertain whether or not there was foul play. We have confiscated the camera and film. Tomorrow, when the lab opens, the film will be developed. If there are pictures of your niece nude, I am afraid that the charge is going to be much more serious. Mrs. Spenser: perhaps you already see why we request a medical examination of your niece.”

“Don’t you believe her?” Lucy said.

“Mrs. Spenser, I don’t believe anything anybody tells me,” the policeman said. “Mr. Bartlett is in the lockup, and he tells me he should be released.”

“Keep him there,” she said.

When Lucy went back into the room, Nicole was calmer. Noonan was sitting with his arm around her shoulder.

“Nicole,” Lucy said. “At any point, did you have your clothes off?”

“Why would I?” Nicole asked shrilly. “They were pictures for his girlfriend.”

Lucy looked at the policeman. He looked back, as if he pitied her. Lucy wondered if she was crazy.

“You do realize that you were in a car in the woods with a naked man?” Lucy said.

“It was just Edward.”

The policeman showed his surprise. He looked at Lucy.

“Let me talk to her privately,” Lucy said.

The policeman looked doubtful. Then he left without saying anything. Noonan looked at Lucy and she nodded. He followed the policeman out of the room.

“Don’t tell them who I am,” Nicole said. “They don’t have any idea who I am.”

“Do you see the trouble you’ve caused?” Lucy said, so frustrated that she was close to tears.

“And don’t tell Piggy. I’m not just saying that to protect myself. If Piggy finds out, your life is going to be miserable. I’m telling you. He’s crazy about stuff like this.”

“What ‘stuff like this’?” Lucy said. “This is pretty bad, Nicole.”

“I swear to you,” Nicole said, “it was just a joke. They want to charge him with all sorts of things that are ridiculous. How can it be indecent exposure when we were in a car? Nobody was around.”

“Apparently the police were.”

“They almost killed us. They came tearing into the woods and almost hit the car. They were driving crazy. Lucy: you’ve got to believe me.”

“Whose idea was it to take the pictures?” Lucy said.

“It was mine. I swear it was mine.”

“Terrific,” Lucy said. “Think about it. Don’t you think that’s rather odd, that you’d have that idea?”

“I never said I was normal. You’ve got to talk to the cops. You’ll see tomorrow. There’s nothing of me on the roll. I told that guy over and over. Nothing happened.”

“Enough happened to ruin my night,” Lucy said.

“Lucy, please say something to that cop. Get me out of here. Come on.”

Lucy was getting angry now. “You’re fourteen,” she said. “Fourteen-year-olds don’t get in the back seat of a car with a naked man.”

“It was for a
joke
. It was
Edward
.”

“You’re fourteen years old,” Lucy said.

“Come on, Lucy,” Nicole said. “That’s not fair. You know nobody ever thinks about that.”

N
ICOLE
was upstairs, and Lucy was having trouble talking her into getting out of her nightgown and joining them. The day before, Nicole had called Lucy an uptight asshole. She thought that Lucy should talk to the police and force them to drop charges against Edward. He had been freed on bail, after the results of Nicole’s examination at the hospital, and was back in California. Nicole was embarrassed to be a certified virgin. She had taken the television up to her room and watched it for three days. On Friday the man writing the novelization of
Passionate Intensity
was supposed to come to the house, but if Nicole was still sulking, Lucy would have to think of some excuse to cancel it, and Piggy be damned.

Actually, Lucy sympathized with Nicole, but she didn’t want to let on. Of course she didn’t sympathize with Edward, or with Nicole’s preference for rape over being made to feel an embarrassed child, but what Nicole had said about being fourteen had cut to the quick: they
didn’t
think of her as a child. She was one of them, and it seemed everyone had forgotten that she had less sophistication, less resources, and sensitive feelings. Nicole had such a good act going that she had convinced all the adults. Or perhaps, like Piggy Proctor, they didn’t care that that was the case; they just wanted to keep the performance going so they could clap, whatever happened.

There was wild applause on
Hollywood Squares
. Bess Myerson had just said something funny. The camera switched to Tony Randall. Nicole didn’t even look up when Lucy came into the room.

“We’re going to take St. Francis to the waterfall,” Lucy said. “Come on. We want you to go with us.”

“I don’t want to,” Nicole said.

“You can’t spend the summer in your room,” Lucy said. “You love the waterfall.”

“I don’t want to drive all the way to Bristol,” Nicole said. “You and Hildon get along fine without me. Go without me.”

“I know you’re mad, but I don’t deserve this,” Lucy said. “I didn’t instigate anything with the police; I’
m
not pressing any charges. I just don’t give a damn what they do, or what happens to him. He should have known better, even more than you should have. It’s over now. Come on, Nicole. Let’s make up and go out and have some fun.”

“It’s really a lot of fun for me to drag along with you and your lover,” Nicole said.

Lucy sighed. She sat on the foot of the bed. Bess Myerson said something that broke them up again. X’s and O’s lit up on the big screen.

“You can tell him to tell you about the woman he’s in love with. He’ll tell you all about Antoinette Hadley-Cooper. He’s not in love with me, if that’s any consolation,” Lucy said.

“Oh great,” Nicole said. “So you let a friend of mine get in trouble with the cops for doing absolutely nothing to me, and you go with a guy who not only steps out on his wife but doesn’t even love you. That makes a lot of sense, Lucy.”

“Nicole, that isn’t fair. I didn’t tell you to go off in the woods with Edward, and I didn’t tell the cops to go find you. Just because you had bad luck doesn’t mean you ought to blame me.”

“I’ll agree,” the contestant said.

“And the answer is,
Ronald Reagan
gets
more
mail than Boy George.”

“Do you mind if I turn that off?” Lucy said. “I’d at least like to talk to you. I’m not angry, you know. Most people would be.”

“You’re not most people. You’re my aunt. You’re supposed to be on my side. If you cared about how I felt, you’d talk to the cops about Edward.”

“This is silly,” Lucy said. “They’re not going to do anything
but fine him. That’s no big deal. I don’t have the power to make cops do anything or not do anything.”

“You’re just concerned about having a proper image.”

“If that was true, then I’d be mad at you, wouldn’t I?”

“You are mad at me. You just won’t admit it.”

“I’m only mad that you’re acting so stupid. You’re not punishing anybody but yourself lying in bed all day. If you’d cut it out, we could drive to Bristol and have a nice day. Come on, Nicole.”

“Go without me. I don’t want to come.” Nicole turned on her side and put on the radio. Some man was explaining how Peabo Bryson got his name. Peabo Bryson started to sing “If Ever You’re In My Arms Again.”

The radio. Lucy thought about Les and felt like crying—lying in bed next to Nicole and crying until somebody came and did something about it. She took a deep breath and exhaled. She looked at Nicole. Nicole looked very much like Jane at fourteen. She could remember how old they thought they were when they were Nicole’s age—how old, and how misunderstood.

“Is there anything you’d rather do today?” Lucy said.

“I’d rather be left alone. This is my vacation,” Nicole said, the corners of her mouth turned down.

“How about miniature golf?” Lucy said.

“Jesus,” Nicole said. “Next it’ll be a ride on your shoulders and a hot fudge sundae.”

“Come on,” Lucy said, getting up.

“The whole world does what it wants without me,” Nicole said.

“How come you won’t?”

“Because I’m your aunt.”

“I don’t want to go,” Nicole said. “It won’t be any fun.”

“You thought it was fun the other time.”

“I thought it was pretty. I didn’t think it was fun.”

“It is pretty. Come on.”

Nicole didn’t answer. “Come on,” Lucy said, getting up and walking out of the room. “We’ll be waiting for you.”

She went downstairs. Hildon thought that Nicole had no right to sulk. He was dismayed about what she’d done and he
was even more dismayed with Lucy because he thought she was ignoring the situation. There were also problems at the magazine: Matt Smith had been calling, wanting to have jokes explained to him. Hildon did not have the time or the heart for it. Who enjoyed explaining a joke? He usually avoided the calls or made up any plausible explanation. Noonan was leaving on the weekend for the West Coast. He hadn’t found a replacement. Many bright, young, half-crazy people had applied. It made Hildon feel old. It made him feel like an anachronism that he thought of so many things for the magazine without even being high. Old, anachronistic, and probably much crazier than those kids. The romance with Antoinette Hadley-Cooper wasn’t going well. She was seeing a lot of other people, and she was either avoiding him or just expecting that he’d stand in line and take his turn like the others. Living with Maureen had become impossible: she had been spending a lot of money on clothes—clothes that were bought from the rack already rumpled and looking as if they had been half inflated with an air pump. They were full of strings and pockets and zippers. The dresses looked like something a person would wear to jump out of an airplane. Maureen was also concerned with her energy. She had been shaking lecithin granules in the spaghetti sauce and serving “shakes” for dinner that were bitter with brewer’s yeast. She dropped seaweed in with yogurt and orange juice in the blender to make salad dressing. He mentioned Adele Davis’ death from cancer. “That’s an old story,” she said. Maureen was studying acupressure, taking an aerobics class, and being counseled by some misogynistic crank who went around giving women instructions on how to be obnoxiously aggressive. Hildon poured himself a glass of orange juice and sat on the sofa hoping to get a laugh out of Lucy’s latest column.