the Big Bounce (1969) (19 page)

And Leon Woody says

No, Leo doesn't say anything. Jack Ryan says it. He says the hot dog only thinks he notched one up, like any hot dog who thinks he's a hot dog. But what happened, he was notched. Hooked, notched, and set up.

Whatever he did now, he had to do something with the beer case first. He was approaching the Bay Vista and he thought of the vacant field next to Mr. Majestyk's house.

Ryan was exactly the way Nancy imagined he would be. Very basic but in control, and thorough. Sort of a natural. Neat body bone and muscle and good moves which he had probably been working on since he'd first discovered there were girls in the world. He had to pose after, taking his time getting dressed, and she had pictured him doing that too.

Jackie was all right. It would be fun to grab the money and meet him in Detroit and spend about a week with him in Florida or on Grand Bahama and then, before breaking it off, take him home to meet Mother.

Lying on the bed, one hand on her stomach, her other hand playing with a strand of her hair, Nancy heard herself say, Mother, this is Jack Ryan.
She saw her mother in the shade of the palm tree, her cigarette case, lighter, and vodka and tonic on the glass-top table. She saw her mother lower the thick novel to her lap, slip off her reading glasses, and hold them, interrupted, under her chin, her eyes on Ryan and her mouth forming the smallest gesture of a smile. Her head would be cocked very slightly, alertly, and she would seem to nod, a slight smile and a pleasant hint of a nod, but not giving away any of herself in the look: withdrawn, peering at him through little brown stones, observing him and sensing something was wrong.

Jack's from Detroit, Mother.

Watch the eyes, the little brown stones. Watch Jack Ryan. He looks away from Mother. Mother isn't bad-looking at all for a forty-four-year-old mother, chic and slick and wearing white and pearls to set off her tan. But Ryan isn't sure about her. She hasn't said anything, but she scares him. Little Mother pushes him off-balance with her cool. He looks around the patio. He puts one hand in his pocket to show he's at ease and looks at the small, curved swimming pool and then toward the white stucco house, trying to think of something to say. It would be good, Nancy thought. It would be fun to bring him in and let him loose. It would be fun to watch Mother watching him: afraid he might touch something or come toward her, watching him calmly but afraid to move, sitting perfectly still and waiting for him to go away.

Mother, this is Jack Ryan. He breaks into houses and almost clubbed a man to death.
That could shake her up a little.

Maybe. Though the thing with the two boys in Lauderdale didn't seem to shake her the two boys she had met at Bahia Mar and had brought home because her mother was out and only Loretta, the maid, would be there.

She was fifteen then. She could still see the two boys standing with their hands on their hips in shorts and tight football jerseys with numerals, 23 and 30-something. They were both over six feet and could chugalug a can of beer in less than twenty seconds, tall and slouchy with their hands-on-hips, time-out pose, but still little boys. She didn't put them in the same class now with Jack Ryan. Size didn't count. Anyone under 21 or who wasn't married (a new qualification) or had never been arrested for felonious assault, was still a minor.

They sat by the little curved pool with three six-packs and a transistor radio and the boys beat time on the arms of their chairs when they weren't drinking the beer. Loretta, black face and white uniform, would appear at the door leading into the sunroom, frowning and trying to catch Nancy's eye. One of the boys said, Your maid wants you.
But Nancy pretended she didn't see Loretta and the two boys got the idea.

Nancy said, It's too bad we have to be spied on. If we were alone, we'd probably have more fun.
One of the boys said, Yeah,
and the other one said, Like doing what?
And Nancy said, Like going swimming.
One of them said, But we didn't bring any suits.
And Nancy said, So?

She watched them each drink their beer while they thought of a way to get rid of Loretta and while Nancy knew all the time how they would do it. They couldn't lock her in her room; Loretta had the key.

So they used the box spring and mattress from Nancy's room, sliding them quietly over the tile to Loretta's open door. She didn't see them. When she did look up, and they heard her muffled voice inside, a wall of striped mattress ticking covered the doorway. They laughed, Nancy laughed with them leaning against the box spring while they brought chairs to wedge between the mattress and the opposite wall in the hallway. Then they ran outside and took off their clothes and dove in. The boys did. Nancy went to her room and put on a two-piece semibikini. She turned off all the lights in the house and the swimming pool lights too, hearing the boys yelling hey, what's going on! But when she came out and they saw her, they grinned and one of them whistled and the other one said, Hey, now, yes!
The wet young athletes in their wet, sagging jockey shorts.

They played tag, with a lot of running dives and grabbing under water, stopping for a swig of beer every few minutes. After enough of that Nancy fell into a lounge chair to rest, her chest rising and her flat stomach sucking in as she breathed. They sat staring at her until she got up and stretched, showing them her stomach again, and said she was going in to change.

Hey, but would one of them mind unhooking her bra? It was so darn hard to reach.

They both went for it, and while they pushed and wrestled for position, Nancy reached behind and unfastened the strap. Walking to the sunroom door, she knew they were watching. She went inside, closed the glass door behind her, and pressed the lock catch. She took off the bra. She stood with her back to the glass until she knew they were close to the door and one of them was trying the handle. Then she turned around.

One of them said, Hey, come on. Open the door.

Nancy looked from one to the other, the tall stringy athletes trying to look casual in their wet jockey shorts. She hooked her thumbs in the low waist of the bikini and smiled.

Come on. Open up.

What'll you give me?
Nancy asked them.

You know what.
They both laughed at that.

Come on,
the other one said again.

I'm going to bed,
Nancy said.

Open the door, we'll go with you.

What'll you give me?
Nancy said again.

They were both looking at her, seriously now, silent. Finally one of them said, What do you want, anyway?

And Nancy said, Fifty bucks, Charlie. Each.

She could still see the dumb look on their faces.

And the look on her mother's face a few days later, the no-look look.

Is it true, Nancy?

Her mother had found out about the two boys because one of them happened to have a buddy relationship with his father. The little buddy told the big buddy. The big buddy told his wife, who told a friend, who told Nancy's mother, the friend saying she didn't believe a word of it, but perhaps Nancy's mother would like to look into it. Then the scene her mother sitting in the living room, Loretta a few steps behind her.

Is it true, Nancy?

The brown stones in her mother's solemn eyes stared up at her and, watching her mother's eyes very closely, she said, Yes, it's true.

The eyes did not seem to change expression. Do you know what you're saying?
her mother asked. You want us to believe you offered yourself to those boys?

Uh-huh.

Don't say uh-huh, dear. Say yes or no.

Yes.

All right, tell me why.

I don't know.

If you think this is cute have you thought of the consequences?

Nancy hesitated, interested. What consequences?

That people,
her mother said quietly, might hear about it?

Nancy began to smile; she couldn't help it. Mother, you're beautiful.

I don't see anything amusing,
her mother said. I want to know what happened.

Nancy looked at Loretta, who looked at Nancy's mother. Whatever you heard is probably true.

Loretta said they left before midnight.

How long do you think it takes?
Nancy said.

Her mother's solemn expression held. I want you to admit you thought this up as a not very funny joke.

Mother, I did. I propositioned them.

All right,
her mother said, rising, smoothing her dress over her hips. There doesn't seem to be much point in talking about it.

Really. It's true.

It's up to you,
her mother said. But until you admit the truth and start making sense, you won't be allowed out of the house.
Her mother turned and started across the room.

I'll tell you everything we did,
Nancy said after her. Do you want to hear it or not?

Her mother didn't. A few days later she told her mother only part of the story was true, the part about blocking Loretta's door. Her mother said, then the boys made up the rest of it as some sort of perverted joke. Yes, Nancy said, and she was allowed to go outside again and play.

It had been all right but very minor. She had been a little girl then and now she was a big girl and had to think as a big girl. Everything was relative. It became relative as one changed one's approach and went on to bigger and better bounces.

Playing with the two boys had been fun.

Faking out the fathers taking her home from babysitting had been fun.

Putting on Bob Jr. had been fun.

Fooling around with Jack Ryan and thinking of how to take Ray's fifty thousand had been fun. But even this was fairly low key compared to what she had in mind now.

If she could set it up. If she could work out the timing, it would be the biggest bounce of all.

Chapter
14

RYAN SKIMMED OUT the swimming pool, with the little Fisher kids watching and asking him if they could jump in and try and touch the end of the skimmer, but he told them he had to hurry and didn't have time to fool around. He didn't feel like playing. He got the rake and cardboard box without running into Mr. Majestyk and took them down to the beach. There was no one down there yet and it was a good place to think.

First, was there anything to worry about or not?

There was always something to worry about when other people were involved.

Even before Nancy presented him with the beer case, there was something to worry about. He had gotten rid of the beer case. He had taken care of that early this morning, burying it five feet deep in the vacant lot. But he hadn't gotten rid of Nancy. He hadn't gotten rid of Billy Ruiz or Frank Pizarro. They were all hanging over him and could fall on him and maybe the only way was to run out from under. Disappear.

He could still go into Ray's lodge. It would still be possible to pull it off.

It was a funny thing, he could see himself going into the place, but he didn't look right. He could see himself going into other places with Nancy, the great boy-girl burglary team, and that didn't look right, either. He looked dumb, doing it because she wanted to do it. A game and not real at all. She talked about real life. It wouldn't be anything like real life. It wouldn't be anything like going into places with Leon Woody. That had been real. But now it seemed like a long time ago and something that would never happen again. Like hanging from the roof. He did it and still had it to take out and look at, but he knew he would never hang from a roof again.

He felt some sand inside his right sneaker. He had the shoe off and was pouring the sand out when he saw Mr. Majestyk coming across the beach. He hadn't seen Mr. Majestyk since Wednesday night, after they had looked in his window. Ryan thought of it now, but he said to himself, the hell with him, and looked right at Mr. Majestyk.

Mr. Majestyk's gaze shifted beyond Ryan and moved around the beach, squinting a little in the sunlight. He said, What're you doing?

What am I doing? I'm raking the beach.

Mr. Majestyk was staring at Ryan now, for a moment frowning. What happened to you?

Nothing.

I can see nothing.

This guy and I had a disagreement.

Boy, you get in an argument you start swinging, don't you?

I didn't start it.

Listen, there's some painting has to be done in number five. I painted most of it in the spring, but I didn't get the kitchen.

What about the beach?
Ryan looked off in the direction Nancy would come.

Leave it,
Mr. Majestyk said.

They'll be coming down pretty soon.

That's all right. It's not bad.

I don't know,
Ryan said. There's some junk over there and up by the steps.

All right, just get that. Then I'll give you the paint. Just in the kitchen where the goddamn wall's messed up. Number Five.

Ryan looked at him, realizing Mr. Majestyk had said it before. Five? The broad by herself?

Yeah, she checked out yesterday, so it's a good chance before the new people come tomorrow.

Number Five?

I said Five, didn't I?

What time did she leave?

In the afternoon.

What for? What'd she say?

How do I know what for. She says she's leaving, she leaves. I don't ask her why. I say hope you enjoyed yourself and come back. That's all. Look, pick up that crap and then come by, I'll give you the paint.
He started to walk off, then turned to Ryan again. What were you making all the goddamn noise about this morning?

What noise?

With the bulldozer. Christ, seven thirty in the morning.

I wanted to finish it up. I figured there'd be a lot to do today.

Christ, seven thirty. I was about to come out, you stopped.

Well, it's done now,
Ryan said.

He dragged out raking the beach another half hour, until Mr. Majestyk appeared again and yelled to him to knock off for lunch. Looking up the beach he still saw no sign of her. So quit worrying, he thought. If she wanted him, she'd have to find him.

They had tunafish salad and onions, tomatoes and peppers and some sweet corn and the homemade bread, and a couple of beers each. They discussed whether beer was better in bottles or cans, and then which was better, bottled or draft, and both agreed, finally, that it didn't make a hell of a lot of difference. Long as it was cold.

Mr. Majestyk said hey, the game was on TV tonight. Detroit at Boston. McLain going against McDermott.

About eight or eight thirty I think it starts.

I'll see,
Ryan said.

He wouldn't take a job as a painter for anything, though he didn't mind it once in a while. It was something different and it was quiet in here.

Ryan finished a cupboard door and got down off the chair. He could see the broad's face close to his. He lit a cigarette and went into the bedroom. Putting the cigarette in his mouth, he unlocked the window and pulled up on it. He pressed in closer and pushed up against the frame with the heels of his hands. He banged them against the frame and pushed up again. The window wouldn't budge. He could see where the dried paint held the frame to the sill. The window probably hadn't been opened since spring.

He could see her face again, close, her eyes open wide inches from his. To the great lover it had been a look of wild-eyed passion. Now, in the empty room, he knew it had been pure panic. The poor broad had wanted her window opened and he had almost raped her.

He wished he could run into her again, just for a minute. He'd tell her: Listen, I'm sorry we had that misunderstanding. See I thought
Maybe not that; something like it. He'd have to say something.

No he wouldn't. He'd never see her again.

But he saw her in his mind every once in a while as he painted and each time he saw her, he slapped the paint on a little heavier.

She should have stayed another day. He could have been nice to her. Polite. He could have taken her out and bought her a Tom Collins and it would have been the biggest thing that ever happened to her.

The other day he could have treated Billy Ruiz a little better.

He began thinking about Billy Ruiz and the others, wondering how they were going to get home if they couldn't pay Camacho for the bus ride.

If it was true about the bus Camacho wanting to charge them five hundred dollars.

And Pizarro wanting five hundred for the wallets. What was this, everything costing five hundred dollars? If he did anything, he should go out and have a talk with Frank about the wallets and find out about the bus.

Mr. Majestyk came in looking up at the freshly painted light green walls.

Inside the cupboards, too,
he said.

Inside? Who's going to see inside?

You got enough paint?

I guess so.

There's a phone call for you,
Mr. Majestyk said.

Yeah? Who is it?

Who do you think?

He followed Mr. Majestyk to his house, wiping his hands with a rag soaked in thinner. In the living room he put the rag in his back pocket and picked up the phone with the tips of his fingers. Mr. Majestyk went over to his desk and opened and closed drawers, then shuffled through a stack of third-class mail.

Hello?

Hi. I slept in this morning,
Nancy said. After the workout.

I wondered,
Ryan said. I didn't see you.

Are you coming over tonight?

I guess I could.

Nine thirty,
Nancy said.

That late, uh?

I've got a surprise for you.

No, you haven't,
Ryan said. Not anymore.

Really. But you have to come on time.

Okay, then.

Will you come?

Yeah, okay.

Is someone there?

Uh-huh.

The one who answered?

Right.

I think he was mad he had to look for you. I told him it was urgent.

Uh-huh.

He'll think I have hot pants.

Okay then, I'll see you later.

Nine thirty,
Nancy said. Come upstairs. I'll leave the door open. Okay?

Okay,
Ryan said.

She hung up.

As Ryan put the receiver down Mr. Majestyk straightened up from the desk. While you're here,
he said, maybe you better take some more paint.

I got enough.

Just in case.

I got plenty.

Listen,
Mr. Majestyk said then. That broad on the phone

Yeah?

Mr. Majestyk smiled, self-conscious, showing his white perfect teeth. He shrugged then. Why should I say anything right? You're old enough.

I was about to mention it,
Ryan said. He started out but stopped in the doorway and looked back at Mr. Majestyk. What was that broad's name in Number Five?

After work he asked Mr. Majestyk if he could borrow his car to go get something to eat. Mr. Majestyk said he could eat with him, cold cuts and potato salad. Ryan said thanks, but he had to get some things at the drugstore anyway, so he might as well grab a bite in town.

He didn't stop in Geneva Beach. He headed directly for the migrant camp and pulled up next to the shed. Billy Ruiz, his face opening up when he saw Ryan, was alone inside.

Ryan looked around the room. He said, Why didn't you put the beer case where I told you, behind the store?

The surprised expression remained on Billy Ruiz's face and Ryan said, Where is it?

Frank said he got rid of it that night. He said it would be better at night.

Where is he?

I tole you, he was fired.

I heard he was going to drive Camacho's bus back for him.

Billy Ruiz frowned. Why? He got his truck.

I heard his truck was busted.

It's always busted, but he make it run. You think he leave it here?

Who's driving the bus, then?

I don't know. We got a new crew leader, he pick somebody knows how to drive it.

Then, you're all set,
Ryan said.

Sure we get paid tomorrow, go home. Come up next year, hey, maybe we see you!

Maybe,
Ryan said. You never know.

On the way back he decided why not grab a bite. He stopped at Estelle's, then went over to the Pier Bar and had a couple while he watched the sun go down. It was a good place.