The Savage Girl - Alex Shakar [121]
Because the smarmy bastard was scared shitless, she thinks, but says instead, “Because I’m the only one who can properly underscore the dire consequences of your failing to accept.”
He leans down, bringing his head within inches of hers. His narrowed eyes bore into her.
“These ‘dire consequences,’ ” he says slowly. “Please explain, Ursula.”
“You’re aware, I take it, that the FBI is building a case against you for willful destruction of currency.”
“Frankly, I wish they would prosecute me,” he says. “But they never will. They know if they do they’ll just be giving us free publicity. The money’ll come rolling in by the truckload.”
Ursula takes a breath.
“Which is probably why they’re getting ready to bust you on kidnapping charges instead.”
Chas cocks his head, startled. “Kidnapping?”
“They think Ivy’s the next Patty Hearst,” she says. “And they think you’re the Commie scumbag who’s brainwashed her into committing acts of economic terrorism.”
He stares at her, his eyes wide and incredulous. She holds her breath, not daring to move lest some random bit of body language betray her.
He shakes his head. He’s not buying it.
“That’s positively asinine,” he says.
She flinches but holds his stare.
“What a bunch of baboon butts,” he goes on. “To think our tax dollars support those shitheels.”
He’s buying it, she realizes. The story fits snugly into his overall conception of human intelligence.
“It doesn’t sound all that asinine to me,” she says, her nervousness putting a sharp edge in her voice. “In fact, to me it sounds pretty damn close to the truth. And with my help they say they won’t have any trouble making the charges stick. They’re pressuring me to testify against you, Chas. And you know, I’m really having a hard time figuring out why I shouldn’t.”
Chas leans forward, flustered. The accusation seems to hurt him more than she anticipated. “Ursula, listen to me. Whatever else you end up believing about me, you’ve got to understand, except for getting Couch to convince her to model again, I never put any ideas into your sister’s head. If anything, she put ideas into mine.”
“Well, you know, Chas, I’ve been working pretty closely with you and Ivy both, and I’m beginning to remember the course of events very differently from you!”
Her tone has become increasingly shrill with agitation and she’s ended up yelling in his face, her shame and fear turning to rage.
“You’re blackmailing me,” he says, astonished.
“I want my sister back!” she shouts, a feverish tremor in the words. She’s half crazy with adrenaline. A part of her even hopes he’ll spring on her, just so the tension in her can find some release. She’ll put up a good fight. She’ll scar him for life before she goes down.
But he doesn’t spring on her. To her utter bewilderment his thin lips curl into a half smile, and his eyes sparkle as he lets out a voiceless laugh, a slight rush of air. Then he turns, walks back to the coffee maker, and pours out two cups.
“Cream and sugar?” he asks.
She’s too startled to reply at first. He turns and looks at her questioningly.
She swallows, feeling for her voice. “Yes. Please,” she says.
He opens the refrigerator, takes out a carton of half and half, and pours some into both cups. He seems more than anything else relieved to have found out she doesn’t actually believe he brainwashed her, relieved to know he’s dealing with blackmail, pure and simple.
“I started taking cream a while ago,” he informs her. “Helps a little. Think I’m getting an ulcer. Been working too hard, I guess. Taking it all much too seriously.”
He brings her cup over along with a sugar bowl and spoon, sets them gently in front of her, then gets his own cup, carries it around the counter, and sits down in the stool next to her.
“Nice briefcase,” he remarks, caressing it lightly with his fingertips. “Very businesslike. Lambskin?”
She nods, feeling herself blush.
“Appropriate,” he muses. “Ursula Van Urden. Wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
He brings the cup to his lips. “I probably need a little vacation