She dropped the plastic box and looked right at him.
Collier—thick in the throat—got the effect. Shaved pubis? With one tiny freckle above the opening?
The daguerreotype glared in his mind.
She made herself look like her…
“Who are you?” she asked as if put off.
Dominique didn’t have a Southern accent, yet the voice that came out of her mouth did.
“I asked you a question, sir. Who the blazes
are
you, standin’ in my house uninvited?”
“Come on!” he gruffed and shoved her out of the small room.
“This is no way to treat the lady of this house, and you can be assured—”
“Shut up and get in there!”
Collier hauled her back into his room. “We’re getting out of here—” He grabbed her clothes and heaved them into her arms. “Put those on!”
“These are not my clothes, sir! And if you’re one’a my husband’s workers, you can wager that he’ll hear about this unmitigated intrusion!” She dropped the clothes. “In fact, I am going to tell him right now! And where is Jessa, damn her? Did
she
let you in the house?”
She brushed past him, stark in her nudity, but when her hand landed on the doorknob…
“Oh, dear, well now…maybe I am being hasty.” She turned back around. When she leaned against the door and straightened her posture, her bare breasts stood even more erect.
Holy moly…
Her eyes drilled right into him. “And, if I may be so forward, you are a
handsome
man. I’m sorry we haven’t previously met. Are you one of my husband’s foremen?”
Collier could have wept when he forced himself to
look away from her magnificent body. “Dominique, we have to
leave.
”
She raised a delicate finger. “You must work for Mr. Cutton, am I right?” She pronounced “right” as “rat.” “Or perhaps you work over him. He is a marvelous man, I must say…” She slowly traipsed over, her innocent expression shifting into something sly. “So tell me, sir. How marvelous are
you?
And by what manner?”
Collier cringed when her warm hand slipped into his robe and slid up his chest. Her touch electrified him, and next she was kissing him…
The voice of his id returned,
Looks like you gonna get a slice of the celibate weirdo after all…
Her mouth sucked his tongue.
It’s not her, it’s not her,
he insisted to himself.
You better haul this one’s ashes right now…
But Collier knew he couldn’t.
Just then her hands slid down to his groin.
“Mmmm, yes,” she murmured. “You’re clearly a man who senses the needs of a lady.” Then she opened the robe and pressed against him. Her nipples felt like hot coins.
“But this is my daughters’ room—and God knows where they are at this hour. Out being little girls, I suppose, with that annoying dog of theirs. But we had to get them the dog. They don’t have any friends to speak of, and don’t mix well with the other children in town, due to our elevated social standing.”
Collier shivered with his eyes closed as her hand kept playing with him.
“Oh, but I’ve digressed,” she whispered into his neck. “Let’s retreat to the next room, shall we? It’s my…
secret
room, reserved for my pleasures alone.” She tried to pull him toward the door.
“No,” Collier said through gritted teeth.
She paused through a sigh. “You might be a bit nervous, which I understand—many of my men are at first.
But you needn’t be worrying about my husband. He’s halfway to Maxon right now, and only comes back every month or so.”
Now she pressed harder against him.
He could sense the outrage of his darker self.
Listen to me, buddy boy. If you don’t ball the daylights out of this hunk of angel food cake, you’ll be a disgrace to all of masculinity—
“Put your clothes on,” he told her, pushing her back. “We have to leave…”
“All right.” She ignored him. “If you don’t want to go into the next room, we’ll do it here,” she said, then started to take off his robe.
Collier whipped her hands away. “We’re leaving!” he tried yelling at her. “Now!”
What a loser,
his id conceded.
I give up…
Collier grabbed her shoulders and
shook.
“Your name is Dominique Cusher! You’re a brewmaster and a celibate Christian! Your name is NOT Penelope Gast!”
Had Dominique’s eyes…yellowed? Hatred and disgust tightened her face and next—
flump!
—Collier was thrown to the bed. Her bare thighs fastened his hips to the mattress as securely as a metal girder, and her hand—
Collier began to choke.
Her hand squeezed his throat so hard he thought his vertebrae would separate.
“You will indulge my fancy, sir, or I will kill you—”
Her strength was beyond fathoming. When he grabbed her forearm, it remained firm as a steel post. The hand was digging into his trachea.
“Jesus Christ, you’re killing me!” he gagged.
“Um-hmm.” She lowered her crotch. “Unless you fuck me right now…”
For a split second, she released his throat and Collier
dragged in a breath just before he would’ve passed out. He tried to lurch up—
In an inhuman blur, she grabbed one of the pillows and was now vising it against his face with both hands.
Sightless, Collier felt his lungs start to expand.
Her accent sounded so sweet around the ultimately profane words: “You will
fuck
me, sir, and then you will void your bladder—”
Collier was convulsing.
“—or I’ll smother you right now.”
Collier wasn’t sure if he’d passed out or not. Some reflex hooked his fist in an arc; then he felt his knuckles crack into the side of her head.
Dominique fell off the bed.
He jerked to a sitting position, wailing as he sucked in air. Black spots before his eyes began to dissipate. He saw Dominique sprawled on the floor, but—
Something unidentified seemed to cover him. The pillow she’d been smothering him with had torn open…
Feathers?
He brushed the unpleasant substance off his face.
What IS this stuff?
He almost threw up when he realized it was human hair.
Mostly brown but with swathes of blonde and some streaks of red…
Next, he threw
himself
off the bed, revolted, but he moved like a madman. Dominique was out cold. He hauled on his clothes, then flopped Dominique around on the floor and redressed her. He skipped the hassle of putting her underwear on but when he paused and noticed her cross twinkling on the bedpost, he put it back around her neck.
Collier’s adrenaline more than made up for his negligible physical strength. He flung Dominique over his shoulder and plodded out of the room.
Oh, Christ…
The stench of urine in the hall choked him like tear
gas. He took a few steps, blinking hard, and then suddenly Dominique’s unconscious body felt heavy as a sack of bricks. Collier stopped a moment, to reestablish his balance…
Did he hear these words?
“Come inside…”
He looked to find himself standing immediately before the door to the next room.
Room two.
The room that was always locked.
“Come inside my secret room,” came the plush accent.
Collier’s eyes were riveted to the doorknob. Very slowly, it began to turn.
Something
clicked…
The voice started to warble.
“Come inside, sir, and oblige a lady…”
The door swung open, revealing a black void. The stench quadrupled and slammed Collier in the face so hard he could’ve staggered backward and flipped over the rail with Dominique still on his shoulder.
He trudged away just as he thought he detected a shapely nude figure stepping out of the room.
Senseless, Collier tore off like someone wading through mud. He almost fell down the stairs but probably wouldn’t have minded because it would’ve gotten him to the bottom all the more expediently. The stench followed him as though it meant to run him down.
Only a few yards to go!
his mind yelled when the vestibule doors surfaced in the murk.
“But, sir,” a squawky male voice rose. “Why did you not sign your check? You must know that cash money cannot be rendered without your signature…”
The scrawny man sitting at the writing table looked perturbed, wearing an odd red hat.
A gold nose flashed.
Collier actually used his head to bang open the vesti
bule doors. Then he banged through the next set and was scrambling out into the night.
Before the doors could close behind him, her wanton voice beckoned him one more time:
“It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Collier. I trust you’ll be back to see me again very soon…”
Collier flopped Dominique into the car, then drove away from the house. In the rearview, he thought he glimpsed four figures standing between the pillars of the front porch, two of them short, and two taller.
The sound of a dog yapping faded as he sped away.
He parked in front of the restaurant. The town lay dark and silent before them.
But it seemed normal.
Dominique murmured something in her unconsciousness, then curled in the seat, asleep.
A final silent throb of lightning marked the end of the storm. Collier’s adrenaline rush finally drained. He fell into a black and gratefully dreamless sleep.
Collier awoke to a wall of sun in his eyes, and an agitated rapping sound.
Ugh. What the—
A frowning man in a police uniform was knuckling the window. Collier rolled it down, shielding his eyes.
“Oh, it’s you, Mr. Collier,” the cop said. “I heard you were in town. I’m Sheriff Legerski. Here’s your ticket.”
Collier tried to shake off his grog. “Ticket for what?”
“Not even big-time TV stars can illegally park.” The sheriff indicated the sign right next to Collier’s lime-sherbet fender.
NO PARKING
9-5.
Collier looked at the ticket. “A hundred bucks?”
“Usually it’s twenty-five, but you get the celebrity rate.” The sheriff guffawed. “Just kidding. But thems the breaks, you know, Mr. Collier?”
Jesus.
Collier signed with a proffered pen.
“Just send your hundred in anytime you like. Check, money order…or, you can just put twenty-five in my hand right now, you know, if it’s more convenient.”
Collier gave him the cash, head aching from the sun.
“Thanks. Say, is that Ms. Cusher in there?”
“Uh, yeah.”
The sheriff winked. “I won’t ask.” He tore up the ticket. “But I really love your show! Hope ya have a great day. Oh, and move the car, huh? And you might want to get it painted a better color, too. Something more…manly?”
Collier moved the car several yards to another sign that read
FREE PARKING ALL DAY
. Beside him, Dominique roused.
She blinked around. “What the hell?”
“Good morning.”
Her hands felt around the car as if in disbelief. “What am I doing in this weird-looking car? And—what time is it?”
“Quarter after ten.”
“Damn it!” She brushed a tangle of hair out of her face. “I was supposed to open at ten! How could you let me sleep so late?” A fretful look at the restaurant’s front doors showed several employees grinning at them. “Damn it!”
She smirked down at her shoes. “Where are my socks?” A hand came to her bosom. “Where’s my bra?” Then her eyes bugged when she briefly slipped her hand below her belt line.
She gave him a long, hard look. “Justin. Where’s my pubic hair?”
Collier leaned back and sighed. “You shaved it off last night. In the bath closet. By candlelight. With a very old straight razor.”
He could see her mind churning behind her eyes.
“I…think I…remember,” she said. When she touched the side of her head, she glared. “I also remember you punching me in the head!”
“It wasn’t like you were giving me much choice, Dominique.”
“I was…”
“Smothering me with a pillow?”
Her open stare told him she remembered. “And we didn’t…”
“No, we didn’t have sex. Your celibacy is secure.”
She was rubbing her face. “But…I wanted to, didn’t I?”
“You didn’t want to,” Collier said. “Someone
else
wanted you to.”
“What do mean?” Then another eye-bugging stare. “Oh my God, did I grab your—”
“Dominique, just forget about it. It’s all over.”
“But what
happened?
”
Collier needed a beer. “I believe you were possessed by the spirit of Penelope Gast,” he finally said.
She sat back in her seat, boggled.
“Just forget it. Pretend it never happened. Just go inside now, go to work, and forget about the whole thing.”
She nodded slowly, was about to get out of the car, then paused, her hand to her bosom again. “Give me my underwear.”
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean? Where is it?”
“Your underwear’s hanging on the bedpost in my room, where you left it.”
“Well then drive back to the inn. Justin, I can’t go change at my apartment ’cos the fumigators are still there.”
Collier dully shook his head. “I’m never going in that
house again, Dominique. I’ll be happy to drive you up there if
you
want to go back in that room and get your stuff, but…not me. Ain’t happening.” He eyed her. “Want me to drive you up?”
“No, on second thought—”
“It won’t kill you to work one day with no undies,” Collier guaranteed her. The image of her breasts swam in his head. “Trust me, a braless Dominique behind the bar will keep the place packed all day.”
She got out of the car and walked to his side in a daze. “Where are you going now?”
“I have to figure out a way to get my luggage and laptop out of that room. You go to work now, but I’ll be back a little later.”
She leaned down to the window. “You’re something, you know that? Last night you really could’ve—”
“But I didn’t.” He grinned at her. More visions of her impeccable nudity swam before him. “Believe me, it wasn’t easy.”
“Are you looking down my blouse, Mr. Collier?”
“Yeah.”
She kissed him and laughed. “See you later,” she said, then rushed embarrassed to unlock the tavern’s doors.
But Collier’s lifted spirits began to sink when he drove back up to the inn. The blazing daylight didn’t offer as much comfort as he wished. He already knew that he could not reenter the house, daylight or not.
He jumped out of the car when he spotted Jiff emptying the ashtrays on the porch.
“Hey, Jiff! I need to talk to you—”
The younger man sat down and slouched on a front bench. “Howdy, Mr. Collier.”
“Jiff, are you all right?” Collier asked when he noticed the man’s bloodshot eyes and sagging posture.
“Had too much to drink last night, Mr. Collier.”
Good. Then maybe you don’t remember watching me in bed with your mother and sister,
Collier thought.
“You ever drunk so much you’re still drunk the next day?”
“All the time.”
“Well, that’s how I feel now.”
Maybe this’ll perk him up.
Collier took a fifty out of his wallet. “Jiff, I need a big favor. I need you to go up to my room and get my suitcase and laptop. I have to check out now.”
Jiff slumped in the seat. “Shee-it, Mr. Collier, I sure hope you ain’t leavin’ on account’a what happened…” But then the sentence collapsed.
“On account of what happened last night?” Collier said. “In…your mother’s room?”
Jiff thumbed his eyes.
“What
did
happen, Jiff? Was that really us…or was it the house?”
Jiff’s eyes leveled. “It was the house doin’ stuff to us, I guess is how ya’d put it. Shee-it. And that’s why you don’t wanna go back in, huh?”
“Yeah, Jiff.”
“Oh, it’s okay now. It don’t happen much, just…every now’n then: the dreams and what’cha hear sometimes’n see, or
think
ya see. And what’cha do. But Ma says it’s the house goin’ through some sort of cycle. Been that way since the war.”
Collier didn’t care.
“Ma also says it’s certain folks who start the cycle, but I ain’t never really figured that one.”
Certain folks,
Collier thought.
Again, he didn’t care. “I think I’ll…stay outside anyway.”
“Okay, Mr. Collier.” Jiff dragged himself up and took the fifty. “I’ll be right back down with yer stuff.”
“Oh, and could you tell your mother to get my bill?” Collier asked. “She already ran my card.”
“Sure thing.”
Collier released a long breath.
When he looked at the fat oak tree out front, he smiled. The tree looked just like any other.
A man with longish blond hair—obviously dyed—was walking up the path, carrying a small suitcase. He waved to Collier.
“Damn glad I found you, Justin. Christ, what’s going on?”
Collier couldn’t believe his eyes. He knew that dyed hair and phony tan anywhere. “Sammy?”
The man stepped up in a tacky Hawaiian shirt, blue jeans with starched creases, and gator-skin boots. “Man, I hate those six-hour flights. And driving here? What a pain in the ass.”
What the hell is HE doing here?
Collier wondered.
“And congratulations on snagging that third slot from me…fucker.” Savannah Sammy smiled with bleached teeth; they shook hands.
“Sammy, why are you here?”
“’cos you’re here, and for what reason I couldn’t pretend to guess. Prentor told me you left some nutty message on his voice mail, said you’re not coming back to the show. Then he tries to call you back fifty times but says you never answered.”
Shit. The storm last night…
And Collier’s phone was upstairs.
Probably fifty screaming messages on it.
Sammy’s eyes thinned. “Tell me it’s bullshit, Justin. Your ratings jumped. You don’t turn down a contract renewal when your show skyrockets to the third slot.”
“It’s no bullshit,” Collier said. “I’m not going to sign the contract.”
Sammy smiled. “Sure, I get it. You’re holding out for more—cool. That’s why I’m here, my man. Prentor sent me here to convince you to come back. I know how it works—you don’t take the first offer. But I’m prepared to up that by—”
Collier shook his head, amused. “I’m not holding out, Sammy. I don’t want to do the show anymore.”
Sammy’s tan face creased. “Another channel made an offer? We’re prepared to
counter
offer.”
“You’re not hearing me. I’m not coming back. I’m burned out. I’m sick of being on TV…”
Savannah Sammy looked on the verge of grabbing Collier’s throat. “Justin! You just got voted sexiest man on the Food Network! You don’t walk away from that!”
“I’m walking.” Collier winked. “But look at the bright side. With me gone, you’re back in the third seat, right behind Emeril and what’s her name.”
Sammy’s hair spray began to break. “You just hit the big time, brother! No one says no to that!”
“I do. I’m just going to write beer books and relax. I’m not even coming back to L.A.”
“Where are you gonna go?”
“Here,” Collier said. “I’m staying right here, in Gast.”
One of Sammy’s eyes began to twitch. “This is a Civil War tourist town in bumfuck Tennessee!”
“That’s right.” Collier patted him on the shoulder. “Sorry you came all this way for nothing, man. But my mind’s made up…”
“Jesus. Prentor’s not gonna believe it…” But then Sammy’s eyes flicked to the door’s glass panel. “Hey, check out this old woman with the fantastic bod. Holy
shit.
”
Mrs. Butler was coming through the doors, her breasts and wide hips highlighted in a clingy dress.
“And look at the little fireplug behind her!” Sammy added.
It was Lottie who followed her mother, in a halter and cutoff shorts barely bigger than a bikini.
“Mr. Collier, I’m so sorry you won’t be stayin’ any longer,” Mrs. Butler lamented. “Jiff said you needed to check out right now.”
“Yeah, I do. But I’m not exactly leaving town.” Collier signed his credit card receipt and returned it.
Lottie grinned at him. She mouthed,
Let’s screw…
Some things never change,
Collier thought.
But Mrs. Butler was already staring. “My goodness
gracious!
” She grabbed Collier’s arm. “Am I lookin’ at who I
think
I’m lookin’ at?”
This’ll be great!
“Mrs. Butler, let me introduce you to Food Network star Savannah Sammy—”
“—of
Savannah Sammy’s Sassy Smokehouse
!” the old woman shrilled with delight. Lottie’s eyes snapped to Sammy’s crotch.
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” Sammy extended his hand.
The woman almost fainted. “Oh, I just LOVE your show! And, please, please, call me Helen! Are we blessed enough that you’ll be staying with us?”
Sammy hesitated, his eyes pasted to Mrs. Butler’s bosom. “Well…”
“Stay a few days, Sammy,” Collier goaded. He put a hand on each of their shoulders, and urged them to enter. “It’s the best bed-and-breakfast you’ve ever seen in your life.”
Sammy’s eyes couldn’t settle on whose body to examine harder: Mrs. Butler or Lottie. “Yeah, I guess I could stay a few days…”
Collier squeezed the old woman’s shoulder. “Mrs. Butler, why don’t you check Sammy into my old room?”
“Oh, I’d be happy to! Come on inside, Mr. Sammy!”
Lottie grabbed Sammy’s bag and followed them in.
“Later, Sammy,” Collier bid.
“Yeah, yeah—we’ll talk—”
No we won’t,
Collier thought. He chuckled under his breath.
This house is gonna LOVE him…
Jiff came back out with Collier’s suitcase and laptop. “Well, here’s your stuff, Mr. Collier. It’s been great knowin’ ya.”
“I’ll be seeing you around, Jiff. I’m moving here.”
Jiff gaped through his hangover. “You kiddin’?”
“Nope. I need a change of scenery. Bad.”
Jiff paused through some confusion. “Well that’s just dandy…”
Collier took the suitcase. “I got some things to tend to right now, but I’ll be seeing you around.”
“Okay, Mr. Collier.” But then Jiff stopped him. “Wait a sec. Before ya leave…” He pulled something out of his pocket. “Didn’t know if you wanted these in yer suitcase, ya know?”
He handed Collier Dominique’s bra and panties. “Thanks, Jiff. I’ll get them back to their rightful owner soon. Take care!”
Collier stowed his gear in the car and drove off.
Jiff just shook his head. “What the hell does he wanna move
here
for?” he muttered.
Jiff decided to blow off the rest of the day; the hangover had thoroughly ragged him out, and with his mother and sister fussing over that Sammy guy who’d just checked in…
They’ll never know I’m gone.
Instead, Jiff moseyed over to the Spike, but not to turn any tricks.
Shit, I’m even too hungover for that
…For a hangover of this magnitude, there was only one real cure.
The long, dark bar had no customers this early, just Buster—in his vest and Frankenstein’s-monster haircut—hanging up some glasses.
“Jiff. Can’t believe you’re in here after all those beers you pounded last night.”
“Buster, I need me some hair’a the dog.”
“Don’t know where you put it.” Buster slid him a beer. “How’s business?”
“Sucks.”
They both laughed at the same time.
“Heard you’re cutting off old J.G. That true?”
Jiff sat slumped. “Yeah, that old whack job was gettin’ too kinky even for me.”