Blue Belle - Andrew Vachss [64]
She walked over to the couch.
"Take off those pants."
She reached back to unhook her bra. "Just the pants," I told her.
She stepped out of her spike heels. Even with the zipper all the way down, getting the pants off was a struggle. She stood there in her bra and panties, hands on her hips. "You want these off too?" she asked, her thumbs hooked in the waistband.
"Yeah."
She did, watching me every second. "Now what?"
"Come with me," I said, taking her hand. I led her back to the bathroom, posing her in front of the sink. The candle's flickering glow carried through the open door.
"Lean forward," I told her, my hand on her shoulder. "Look into the mirror."
"I still think…"
"Shut up. Just do what I tell you, okay?"
"Okay."
"I'm going to ask you some questions," I said, sliding my hand down to her waist. "Soon as you get the right answer, I'll stop. Got it?"
"Yes."
"Look in the mirror—tell me what you see."
"An ugly old girl."
I slid my hand to her butt, took a plump cheek in my right hand, gave her a hard, sharp pinch.
"Ow!" she yelped.
"Wrong answer," I told her. "What do you see now?"
"The same thing," she snapped, her voice set and stubborn.
I pinched her harder.
She yelped again. "Take another look," I told her. She tried to rub herself—I slapped her hand away.
"I don't care if you pinch it right off, I'm not…Burke!" she squealed as I pinched her again. My hand was getting tired.
"I see a beautiful young girl," I whispered to her. "You sure I'm wrong?"
Tears rolled down her face. "You mean it? You swear you mean it?"
I squeezed her butt, gently this time. "I've got all night," I promised her.
"This isn't fair," she said, a smile peeking out from beneath the pout.
"Tell me what you see," I said, still holding her in the same place, tightening my hand. "Last chance."
"I see a beautiful young girl," she said. Like a robot.
I pinched the sweet flesh hard. She tried to push past me but I blocked her way.
"Okay!"
I stroked her butt gently. "Tell me."
"I see a beautiful young girl."
"Me too," I said, kissing her.
She came into my arms, baby–soft. I kissed her for a long time. "I'm going to be black and blue," she said against my chest.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm not," she said, pulling me toward the bed. "It's a lot better than being just blue."
69
SOMETHING FLICKED at my brain just before l drifted off to sleep. Something about a letter. I made a grab for it, but I went under before I could pull it close.
When I came around, it was still dark. Belle was lying crossways on the bed, her breasts flattened against my chest, her face buried in the pillow next to mine. She was awake too—I could tell from her breathing.
"What, baby?" I asked her.
She turned her head, propping herself on an elbow. "Baby …I'll never have a baby."
"Sure you will. Someday."
"No, I won't. I fixed it. I had a real ugly harelip—you know what that is?"
"Yeah."
"Well, I had a bad one. Pulled up so bad you could see my teeth all the time. I saved some money—went to a plastic surgeon. You know what, Burke? He told me he could fix the whole thing, give me a different face. A real nose instead of this little pig's snout, cheekbones, anything I wanted."
"So what happened?"
"I started on it. He did the harelip first. Did it real good too. But then I went on a job with a couple of boys. It got nasty right in the middle—the wheels came off and we had to fly. We got away, but one of the boys got himself shot up pretty bad. There's this old doctor, back in the hills. We went by his place, stayed there for damn near a month. Cost us every dime we had between us, but he pulled Rodney through."
She fumbled around the night table, looking for a cigarette. Her body gleamed in the flame from the match.
"This old doctor—he was an outlaw. Like us. I don't even know if he was a real doctor and all, but he had good hands. I was pregnant—maybe two, three months gone. I found out while we were holed up. I was just a big dumb old girl—never figured on getting pregnant. When the doc told me, I told him to go and get the baby.