Kitten with a whip Page 3

  "You took forever," Jody said. "Did you really get me everything you said? I was beginning to think—what if you never came back?"

  'You don't trust anybody, do you?"

  "I trust you, David. But you know."

  He handed the two parcels back over his shoulder. He heard her rip into them, then the gasps of dehght. The station wagon swayed gently as she bounced up and down on the seat. She was so plainly pleased mat it seemed worth the nasty moments in the department store. "Oh, tiiese are wonderful! I never had anything so delicious in all my hfel All matching, blue, blue, blue—and look at all that lace. David, sweet, I could kiss your'

  "Never mind that. The important thing is, do they

  fitr

  '*Well, I can't strip right here, can I? People have been coming along the sidewalk and if—"

  "Okay. Hit the floor again." He started the car, wondering where he might take her. He drove about aimlessly but relentlessly in search of seclusion, a spot where a girl could dress from the skin out. Every street he turned onto was lined with homes, children playing, cars passing, husbands pushing power mowers, wives watering pet plants. Wryly, he thought, I haven't come up against this problem since my dating days. The easy way out would be to take her back home for a few minutes, but ... As the incident wore on, he was beginning to feel constantly more uneasy about his rash offer to help Jody. What did he think he was, a knight or something? And what he wanted most of all was to see her safely on her way, mission accompUshed. And out of his life forever. No, he wasn't going to take her home again.

  At last he discovered a hideaway they could use, a dead-end street that wound to a halt between a pair of brush-covered hills. Not a house was in sight behind them and at the dusty turn-around nothing stirred in the midday heat. He stopped the car. "Okay, Jody. It's safe here."

  "Coming up. Don't you peek now." She giggled happily. "I guess I couldn't complain, though, you being so nice to me."

  He didn't reply but sat staring straight ahead at the brown weeds. He heard the insioious rustle of fabric as she wriggled out of the nightgown and into the clothes he had bought. He grimaced as the idea—/ler idea; she'd

  Dlanted it. It sprouted in his mind. What did she look ike naked? And once, inadvertently as he lit a cigarette, le glanced in the mirror and saw a flash of bare arm and shoulder before he looked quickly away.

  He nearly jumped when she tapped him on the neck.

  "Would you zip me up?'* She had her back to him, the dress parted to the waist of the blue sHp. He did the job without touching her and she tmned to face him, smiling. "Say something nice now. About how good I look."

  "Darn good," he said slowly. They began to beam at each other. It was quite a transformation. In the nightgown she had been a frowsy youngster; in the blue outfit, hair straightened as best she could, Jody had turned into a sleekly mature young woman, with a definite bosom and waist and hips. He floated on an access of

  gride. She was something he had created. "Damn good," e mmmured. "Everything fits all right, then?^

  ''You bet. Except the bra's a httle snug. I guess Tm taking a bigger size now, huh?"

  He didn't comment on this but started the car. "I'm going to take you to a bus stop. From there, you're on your own."

  "Ill make out." She slid into the front seat beside him, erect and proud. "Oh, I'm feehng terrific, Davidl All new clothes, riding in a big car ... I wish it didn't have to end, ever.

  He said, "Here's ten bucks. That's enough to get you out of the county."

  She took it and patted his hand. "But I don't want you worrying about me getting by," she annoimced serenely. "Just tell me how much you spent at the store. You're going to get paid back some day, you know."

  "Forget it."

  "No, I mean it in big red letters. Some day when I'm rich I'll pay it all back."

  "The best thing for both of us is to forget it." He pointed ahead at a row of regal palm trees. "There's the bus^^ stop. They run about everv fifteen, twenty minutes." He braked the car beside tne waiting bench and, reaching across her, opened the door.

  Jody put her hand on the back of his neck so he couldn't straighten up completely. First came her husky murmur, "I wish I could do more for you right this very minute/' then came her full Ups, moistly, gently, pressed to his. "Thanks, David sweet. Thanks for everything." She kissed him again and this time her warm tongue slid gently across his mouth. Then she let him go.

  He sat straight, amazed. She was smiling as she stepped out of the station wagon and slammed the door. She was smiling as she said, "Good-by now."

  He nodded his good-by. He swung the car around in a circle on the highway, pointing it toward Knoll Valley. As he passed Jody, she waved gaily, no sadder than he at the parting. David rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth. What do you know! he wondered. A guy your age getting kissed by a youngster and—well, tefs face it—sort of enjoying it. She kissed you like she meant it, too.

  He raised his eyes to ^the rear-view mirror but Jody Drew was gone, vanished with the bus stop around a bend in the road. David gave an amused grunt and pushed harder on the accelerator, headed home. The adventure was over.

  Chapter Three

  He didn't go directly home. To his surprise, he found in himself still too much exhilaration, a longing to fly, to roam, to mingle. Certainly he was glad to be rid of Tody Drew but me risks and alarms of her predicament nad stirred him up so that the last thing he wanted to do was return to nis empty house. "Glad to know IVe got some adrenalin left in me.'* David chuckled. "Been keeping myself cooped up too much, I guess. Let's see . . ."

  He turned on the next cloverleaf and took the broad road up to Mesa Gardens, an immense tract area of flat-roofed homes that looked Hke a wilderness of tree stumps, each sprouting a television antenna. He got lost the usual couple of times before he came to Sid Wright's house.

  He knew Sid fairly well, from playing handball together and from occasionally seeing him at the plant. However, they had made social calls on each other-meaning complete with dressed-up wife—only once a-piece; for some reason that hadn't panned out. The fact that Sid's plant badge was a yellow one signifying that he was on an hourly wage ana that David carried a candy-striped, or annual wage, badge might have made a social difference under other circumstances, but not in this case. When it came down to cases, Sid probably made a Uttle more per annum than David did. And Sid, a skilled mechanic in Final Assembly, had offered to repair David's power mower. So Davia had at least one reasonable place to go and be gregarious at this hour on Saturday morning. David's own skills and training were such that although he was helping design a rocket that—on paper—would be able to circle the moon, he still couldn't master the whims of the gasoline engine.

  Hearing noises from around back, he didn't bother to go to the front door but followed the flagstones to the

  rear of the house. On the concrete slab patio, in the shade of the aluminum roof, Sid was playing a gasping game of ping pong with his eldest boy. He was David's age but had married younger and both his sons were in their early teens now.

  "You look like a coronary," David said to announce his arrival.

  "Thank God somebody showed up," Sid said. "Run along, son."

  The boy grinned at David and went into the house. Sid, a burly man generously furred with blond hair, got a handkerchief out of his khaki shorts and began to mop his face and chest and legs. "Sit down." He motioned to the place of honor, the redwood chaise longue. He settled his own body in one of the wicker basket chairs and tried to catch his breath.

  "You know, it*s getting pretty humiUating," Sid said finally. *The kid had me nineteen-five and showing no mercy. I set out to raise Httle gentlemen, not a pack of wolves."

  "You should have had girls. More decorative, and no challenge to your masculinity." For no reason at all, a picture flashed into his mind—Jody*s face, very close . . . "You just didn't think ahead, boy."

  Sid grunted. '*You can say that again. I just got back from an
overnight hike with Wayne*s troop. Never again. Not that the boys were any trouble but I lost fifteen bucks playing poker with their dads. Helen*s ready to kill me. Oh, how*s your wife?"

  "I got tired of her whining and kicked her out." David grinned amiably along with his Httle joke, then realized, disturbingly, that a sort of veil had dropped over Sid*s eyes. His friend, at that instant, was a total stranger, if not an enemy. "She*s in San Francisco. Her mother*s sick, better now."

  Sid laughed in his belly, a little more than was necessary, as if to make up for his spUt second of withdrawal into his secret tnoughts. "Living all alone, huh? Bet your house is a wreck, what with a party every night, whisky and dancing girls.'*

  "Oh hell, yes." A moment before, David had had a companionable urge to tell his morning's adventure to

  his friend—but not now, not even in strictest confidence. Not that Sid would pass it on. But he reaUzed that Sid was not likely to believe the true story, the innocence of it. Sid wasnt himself, David Patton; Sid Wright was somebody else with a different background and desires and present problems. Sid would interpret the interlude with Jody as he, Sid, would have played the leading role. And David was learning again a lesson that he had learned before and would undoubtedly come up again, a new discovery each time—he didn't really know anybody else. It was difficult enough to know yourself. "Why, would you beUeve it, last night I stayed up to nearly eleven o'clock, watching TV?"

  Sid sighed, mock-sorrowful. "Real playboy, about my speed. How about something to drinx?"

  "Well, a beer, maybe. I can't really stay. I just stopped by to—"

  "Hey, Helenl" Sid boomed. "Send one of the Idds out with a beer for our company. And a gin and tonic for me.

  A shape stirred behind the screened upper half of the Hollywood door that led into the kitchen. Helen's voice said sweetly, "Oh hi, Dave." Then, "Sid, you're not really going to start drinking gin at this hour."

  Sid said nothing. He simply turned his head and stared at the kitchen door for a moment. Helen's murky outline moved away. The refrigerator door was opened and slammed shut.

  Sid wasn't smiling. David said, "Well, I just stopped by to see if you've completely ruined my power mower yet."

  "Relax and have a drink. You're not going to do any mowing in this heat. Might stunt your growth."

  "Yeaii, but I'm a week behind in my yardwork. The weeds in my backyard are getting taller man die house. Ill be getting a ticket as a fire hazard." Weeds and weather, the lingua franca of the suburban householder.

  "They'U keep,' Sid assured him. "Oh, I heard a joke on the line yesterday I been saving for you." David relaxed; he hadn't particularly wanted to go, anyway, but it was socially correct to give Sid an opportunity to get rid of him if he wanted. This done, he could linger

  with a clear conscience and with his escape route already established whenever he wished to use it. He wanted to be with people for a while, be a part of them—and although there seemed to be something in the air between Sid and Helen this morning, he was comfortably certain that it wouldn't be allowed to materialize in front of company. Married couples in his circle only quarreled privately at home or wholly pub-Hcly at cocktail parties; there was no middle way, apparently.

  So David fastened an anticipatory smile on his face and Sid said, "Well, this fellow went into a department store and up to the first counter and asked the clerk-she was a girl—Do you keep stationery?" And do you know what the girl said?"

  Helen Wright came out the back door. "The girl said. Well, I do at first, but then I just go wildl* Dave, if you laugh at that. 111 lose all my respect for you."*

  David laughed anyway, to make up for Sid who was gazing at his wife with a cast-iron expression. Helen put her tray on the low redwood table between them. The tray contained two glasses and two punched-open cans of beer. Sid looked at that next and then got up and went into the house.

  "How's everything with you, Dave?'* asked Helen as she poured the beers.

  "Fine, thanks. Weather's sure something, isn't it?"

  Helen pulled up a wicker chair for herseLE and crossed her legs. She wore a blue shorts and halter outfit. David had never seen her in shorts before. Her legs were long and slim and dead-white except for a small zigzag blue mark high inside her right thigh. It was no more than a broken vein but it was the first thing you noticed when you saw her legs. David got his eyes back to his beer and took a long drink and said thanks, how good it tasted.

  Helen was smiKng at him and he wondered what the reason was. He was never quite sure what to make of her. At first, she had struck him as rather usual, an angular red-headed woman sUghtly taller than her husband, not quite pretty. Her most distinguishing feature was the slant of her eyebrows which were plucked into the thinnest lines David had ever seen. They

  reminded him of insect feelers, and it was his wife's opinion that there was no hair there at all, only the two winged pencil lines. No, she wasn't pretty but those times when she kept her mouth shut and simply looked at you with those emphasized, almost Oriental, eyes made nim suspect that there was more to Helen than she wanted to put into words.

  Sid emerged from the house again, a gin and tonic in his fist. He stood between them and poured half of it down his throat before he spoke. "Didn't I say she was mad at me?"

  Helen said in a very gentle voice, "Now, that's not true. I'm sure Dave's wife tries to look after his health, too."

  Sid finished the rest of his drink and went into the house again.

  David said, "Yeah, Virginia's a great one for greasing chests. Around our place, anybody sneezes, tney get lubricated from here to here in nothing flat."

  Helen smiled, still contemplating him. "Sounds like fun."

  Sid came out with anothergin and tonic. Helen glanced at him but didn't speak. The best David could come up with was, "You sure have a lot of luck with roses. Virginia's great with everything else but we're sure a flop with roses."

  Helen murmured, "All it takes is a lot of tender care. You treat them as if you love them."

  "Oh boy," said Sid under his breath.

  David was trying to think why he was talking so much about Virginia and it came to him that it was a defense. He was instinctively reacting as if Helen were making a play for him. At that, he began to laugh at himself. It had been a wild morning, all right. He'd been kissed by a sexy teenager out of gratitude but that didn't give him any call to think he was bowling over the entire opposite sex. He thought, the heat's got me, I guess, or Tm pentup. All I want is for Virginia to come home so I can have somebody to talk to and 1 hope she's not too tired after her trip to go to bed. As for thinking that way about Helen, what do I think I am —the Don Juan of Knoll Valley?

  Sid took a couple more gulps of his drink and began

  to grin at his wife. The gin was getting to him and he slapped her Hghtly across her pale thigh. ''You start treating me with that tender care, baby, or—'

  "Don*t call me baby, for God's sake,' Helen said. "All I want you to remember when you wake up this afternoon is that the money you lost last night was your hi-fi money, not my drapery money. Darling."

  "As I was sayiag—"

  "And I*m not mad at you."

  "As I was saying—or I'll do what Dave did and get rid of you."

  Helen raised her improbable eyebrows and David explained his wife's whereabouts. "Well," she said speculatively. "I won't make the usual old cracks about what a mess the place must be in because it probably isn't. But—"

  "No," said David quickly. "I've kept the house pretty well picked up." His smile was careful and premeditatea. ''You wives keep us honed to such a fine guilty edge in this day and age that we don't dare be careless."

  He didn't know what the smoldering Uttle trouble was between Sid and Helen but he was glad to be able to cast a dart for Sid's side, right or wrong. All Helen did was ignore it. She said, "But you must be at such loose ends, all alone and so forth. Started talking to yourself yet?"

  "No, just been having myself
a smoky old time, reading, watching TV—"

  "Smoky?" Helen asked. "What does that mean? I think I've heard the boys say that."

  Once again she was gazing at him as if she knew everything—or wanted to. "I don't know," David said. "Expression I picked up somewhere. At the plant, I guess."

  "Must have been from another candy-striper," said Sid, controlling a belch. "Sounds too tippy-toe to have come from a union man."

  David laughed. "The only thing I got against yoxir yellow badges is your lousy snobbery. You bums loaf all day and if you get caught at it, you call it a grievance and it gets reviewed by seventy-seven committees. You ought to learn to Uve dangerously. Why

  up in the Brains department, where I work, all they have to do to fire me is tap me on the shoulder and point toward the door/'

  "Live dangerously, hell," snorted Sid. "Get organized, boy. By the time a grievance gets reviewed, you re old enou^ for the pension plan, anyway."

  David was enjoying Kidding around with Sid but Helen leaned forward into the conversation. "I got the baby-sitter all right," she told her husband.

  "Good deal." Sid studied the bottom of his glass, as if trying to decide if he should go for a third one. "Helen's making me take her to Tijuana tonight. You know, my penance for last night." He chuckled happily and slapped her thigh again.

  "Maybe Dave would care to come along, dear," Helen said sofdy.

  "Why, that's a wonderful ideal" Sid beamed as if nothing finer had ever happened to him. "The three of us could reaUy turn the town over."

  "Well . . ." The idea was appealing. One night out while his wife was away, something to tell Virginia about when she came home so she wouldn't think he was completely a vegetable. But David felt uneasv about it. If this thing between Sid and Helen should come to a head . . . ^'d better not."