Night Work

CHAPTER 10

People seldom remember things as they actually were. Either times were too happy, or simply awful. Frank would later recall that week off the road as perhaps the best of his life. It was a welcome break, but nothing at all extraordinary happened. Frank spent most of his time puttering around the apartment, shaking off the effects of the road and doing his best to drink as little as possible. He and Sandy went out to dinner a few times. They made love. They looked at a couple of houses that were for rent in the area. Sandy made it a point of not paying too much attention to the second or third bedrooms in the houses they inspected. But just watching her, Frank knew she was thinking of what color to paint the walls, where a crib might fit snuggly in a room, and if the rocking chair in her parents' house would look nice near the window, to sit in and rock a baby on those tender crying nights.

Late Saturday afternoon he and Sandy left for the party in New York. During the long drive Frank let her do most of the talking, preferring instead to listen thoughtfully and occasionally take his eyes from the road just long enough to admire her. Because Charlie had stressed that everyone dress casually, Sandy wore a pair of dainty sandals, and a simple cotton summer dress patterned with impressionistic flowers. She had applied only a little lipstick, and clipped her tawny, summer-lightened hair back into a no-nonsense ponytail. Frank had no special interest in women's fashion, but he loved watching Sandy get dressed, from the damp towel she casually wrapped around her slender figure after her shower to the final fully dressed young woman people recognized. His wife's beauty seemed effortless, as if it existed without her knowledge, and Frank often wondered what she had ever seen in him. In jeans, sneakers and a sweatshirt, Frank couldn't help but feel pale in comparison.

Charlie and Beth Rain lived in a modest house at the end of a quiet lane in Weygard, New York, a sleepy little town just moments over the Connecticut border. Four cars were parked in the driveway so Frank parked on the street.

"Now remember," he said patiently, "these may not exactly be the kind of people you're used to."

"I'll certainly do my best not to embarrass you."

"You could never embarrass me."

Frank leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. When he pulled back, she looked at him and crossed her eyes. "Don't worry, I think I can sip a glass of wine without spilling it down the front of me."

Charlie greeted them at the door. "I wasn't sure you'd show up," he said. "Come in, come in. You must be Sandy." Sandy nodded. "What're you doing with this bum?" Sandy smiled in an odd sort of way, to indicate that she appreciated his joke, if that's what it was, but didn't want to continue the conversation in the same direction. "Pretty and shy," Charlie chuckled. "You're a lucky man, Frank. Come on, let's get you guys a drink."

Charlie led them down a short hallway to a spacious living room, the obvious center of the house. Dark-colored vertical blinds shielded what appeared to be two sliding-glass doors. An enormous velvet sectional sofa dominated one end of the room. Charlie went to a professional-looking bar and began to fill glasses with crushed ice. "What'll it be?"

"Just a beer for me," Frank said.

Sandy glanced around. "Do you have any white wine?"

"Great, I throw a party and the Pope and Mother Theresa show up."

A cool, dark-haired woman with hazel eyes and a paper-white complexion appeared from another room, carrying a bottle of gin. "Don't pay any attention to him," she said. "Nobody does."

"Meet Beth," Charlie said evenly. "My adoring wife."

Beth smiled and shook their hands, revealing lovely white, even teeth. Sandy liked her instantly and was relieved there would be at least one other person besides Frank whom she could talk to. While Frank stood near the bar and talked with Charlie, Beth introduced Sandy around the room. The music was just loud enough to make it difficult to hear people's names as they were introduced.

Luther was sitting on the couch, one of his massive arms draped over his wife Claire's shoulder. He rose to greet Sandy, taking her small hand gently into his own which Sandy thought was roughly the size of a baseball glove. Claire was about Sandy's height, ten years older, perhaps fifteen pounds heavier, and infinitely worldlier. She also shook Sandy's hand, if for no other reason than to extricate it from Luther's grasp. Claire's thick brown hair was stylish, her designer eyeglasses unmistakably expensive and her manner bubbly and anxiously friendly, which seemed somehow to overshadow her rather average looks and slightly chunky figure. It was clear from her sassy attitude that Claire was more than a match for the towering man at her side.

Steve and Pepper Dalton were both in their thirties. Steve seemed to constantly smile with his blue-gray eyes, as if easily amused. He struck Sandy as the kind of man who knew he was attractive to women and made it obvious that the feeling was more than mutual. His light-colored hair was brush-cut, and he possessed the square-jawed good looks of a comic-book superhero. Just over six feet tall, he had a body that could have been sculpted from Grecian marble, and was dressed in tight black jeans, an even tighter tank top and a pair of cowboy boots. A former wrestler, Steve had worked briefly for Frank and Charlie before moving to the big league circuit. On the verge of stardom, a severe back injury had forced him to retire from the ring. He had recently signed with a major federation as a manager to several big name heels, and also occupied his time with a strip club he owned in Hartford. Sandy remembered seeing him on television, a loud-mouthed character not at all like the soft-spoken man she had just met.

Pepper was a former dancer at Steve's club, only recently retired, and the white spandex body suit she wore with a paisley sash cinched around her waist explained why she had been such a popular dancer. Red Hot Pepper, as she had been known, was a tall peroxide blonde with a blinding smile and a chest that could have had its own zip code. Her eyes were heavily made up with blue eye shadow, and she wore the sort of lipstick that is applied with a brush, the color a startling red.

Sal Leoni was the final guest at the party. He was a sickly-thin, fortyish man with thinning, gray-brown hair. He wore dark glasses and sat by himself in a chair in the corner, oddly content to stare down the hallway at the front door. He seemed to be expecting something, or someone. "Nice to meet you," he said. He shook Sandy's hand formally, as though at a cocktail party at a European embassy. He all but clicked his heels. Despite the late August heat he wore a brown herringbone wool jacket, buttoned tightly. Sandy did not rule out that this odd man might be concealing a weapon.

Having circled the large room, Sandy and Beth found themselves back at the bar. It was obvious that Charlie and Frank had stopped talking about whatever serious matter they had been discussing as the women approached. Sandy noticed that Frank had put aside his beer and was now drinking some amber liquor on the rocks, probably scotch.

"Did you meet everyone?" Charlie asked Sandy with a smile. She nodded. "And you're still here?"

Beth rolled her eyes. "After Charlie has a few drinks he thinks he's Johnny Carson. More like Ed McMahon, I'd say. We'll be in the kitchen if you think of anything interesting to say." She led Sandy down another small hallway to the kitchen. Turning the corner, Sandy noticed Luther and Claire were now dancing together, more like hugging, really, as they swayed to some music other than that which was now on the stereo. Charlie and Frank had resumed their discussion, drinks and cigarettes in hand, their heads bowed conspiratorially together.

The kitchen was all white and stainless steel, immaculate and oddly intimidating. It looked like an operating room. Bread and vegetables were spread over a large butcher-block table. "I always wait until the last minute to get things done," Beth sighed.

"Can I help?" Sandy asked.

"You don't mind?"

"Don't be silly, not at all."

Beth folded her arms across her chest and smiled. "I'm glad you came."

"Thanks."

"Why don't you make a salad while I cut up the potatoes." Beth walked behind Sandy, around the side of the butcher-block to the refrigerator.

"Tell me about yourself," Sandy said quietly. "What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a nurse."

"What area do you work in?"

"ICU."

"That must be fascinating."

"At times." She smiled. "It's nice to have – I don't know – a direct impact on people. Especially kids. But it's never easy dealing with death, even when it's a constant aspect of what you do. After a while you force yourself to accept it as a part of life. If nothing else, death certainly doesn't discriminate."

Sandy found herself surprised at how articulate Beth was, particularly after having met her husband. They seemed an odd pair at best, and acted as if the main point between them was more tolerance than love.

"What about you?" Beth asked.

"I'm a receptionist."

"With a face and body like that, I would've thought you were a model, maybe an actress," Sal said suddenly. Neither woman had seen him enter the kitchen and were now surprised, unpleasantly. Sal grinned behind his dark glasses. It was a smile that didn't show his teeth, just a thin grim line of a mouth. His face was lined and unhealthy-looking.

Beth gave him a cross look. "Try not to scare the guests, okay?" Sal turned back down the hallway, stopping in the bathroom before returning to the living room. "Obviously Sal can be crude at times, and he's been known to have a rather peculiar sense of humor, but he's harmless, I guess."

"He's kind of creepy," Sandy said.

She watched Sandy as if expecting her to continue. When she didn't, Beth said, "So, you're a receptionist?"

"At a bank."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"Not especially."

Both women laughed, and began to prepare the food.

In the living room Frank and Steve were huddled near the bar. "How's the back holding up?"

"Some days are better than others, brother."

"How about the club?"

"It's taking up more and more of my time. We're packing them in though. I didn't plan to still be in the wrestling game at this point, but it's hard to walk away from the money I'm making, even as a manager." Steve mixed himself a fresh drink. "Charlie tells me you guys are tearing things up on the independent circuit."

Frank sipped his drink. "Can't complain."

"I've been trying to convince Steve to work part-time at the school," Luther said, joining them at the bar. "I could use some help with training, but he's too busy watching all those sloppy asses bounce in that dive he's running."

Steve laughed. "There isn't a sloppy ass in the bunch. They're tight, brother. And I mean tight."

"Why don't you guys go light the grill," Charlie said.

As though commanded, Sal opened the blinds concealing one of the sliding glass doors. He cautiously peered around the large deck and adjacent swimming pool as if expecting to find intruders.

Steve caught Frank staring at Sal and nudged him gently with his elbow. "He's cool," he said quietly. "He's with me."

"If you say so." Frank shrugged. People like Steve always had partners, not the kind anyone ever saw or heard of, but rather the kind who sent men like Sal to tag along and watch over their interests.

As Sal slipped quietly outside, Charlie escorted Frank, Steve and Luther to the kitchen. He removed a waxy brown box from the bottom shelf of the refrigerator. "Ain't it amazing," he said, "what'll fall off the back of a truck." He opened the box to reveal a dozen slick red, thick London broil steaks.

"It's magic, Charlie," Beth said, lighting a cigarette.

Charlie kissed Beth's cheek as he left the kitchen, taking the steaks with him to the grill outside. It was a strange kiss, Sandy thought, an aggressive peck that seemed almost mean.

The afternoon had mysteriously ended and evening had arrived. Like boys at a summer camp, the three men stood in front of the gas grill tossing lit matches at it until it exploded with a ball of fire and a fierce popping sound. Sal stood off to the side, watching them without comment.

While the steaks sizzled, Frank headed back to the bar to get himself a fresh drink. He found Sandy in the doorway to the kitchen. "Having a good time?"

"The more I drink the more comfortable I get," she said softly. "They're different, but everyone seems nice. Except for Sal. What a weirdo."

"I know what you mean."

"Beth says he's harmless."

"I'm sure he is." Frank winked and moved across the room.

Sal had meanwhile been abandoned on the deck. He watched the grill with a disinterested expression, a cigarette dangling between his lips. Everyone had had quite a bit to drink, and most of the conversations were either dying down or becoming somewhat forced, artificial and dull.

"I think it's time to breathe a little life into this sucker," Steve said from the couch.

"Ooo," Claire said, crossing the room and joining him there. "Is it that time already?"

Pepper removed several small glass vials and a credit card from her purse, handed them to Steve then sat on the floor next to a coffee table in front of the couch. Steve emptied a generous pile of cocaine onto the table and began separating it into thin lines with the credit card.

Frank's eyes immediately shifted to Sandy. She was standing by the bar chatting with Charlie and Beth. Frank was used to seeing drug use – it was rampant on the road – but he could tell by the expression on Sandy's face that she was attempting to mask her discomfort.

"Who's getting in on this?" Steve asked.

Luther joined the others around the couch. Beth turned to Sandy. "Interested?"

"I don't think so." Sandy smiled nervously. "I haven't done coke since high school."

"That's okay," Charlie said, slipping his arm around her shoulder. "You and I can be the odd ones out."

Beth smiled, her eyes softened by the liquor. "Charlie used to put half the state of California up his nose. I'm sure he'd love to tell you all about it."

"How about you, Frank?" Steve asked.

Pepper leaned forward, purposely making her eye-catching cleavage more accessible to Frank, who had been inadvertently standing above her. "Yeah, how about it? Want some?"

"Maybe later," Frank said.

"That's cool." Steve rolled up a dollar bill and bent over to snort a line. "No pressure. We're all friends."

"It's here if you want it." Pepper smiled.

Fearful that Sandy might become angry, Frank joined her and Charlie at the bar. "You two look shit-faced."

"Isn't everybody?" Charlie grinned.

Frank thrust his empty glass at him. "Fix me another one."

"Is he this bossy at home?" Charlie asked Sandy.

"Much worse."

As Charlie removed his arm from her shoulder, his fingers gently brushed her behind. "I like her," he told Frank. "Why she settled for you I have no idea, but I like her."

"I think I'd like to get some air," Sandy said, her eyes smoldering and locked on Frank.

He followed Sandy out to the deck. Sal greeted them with a courteous nod and they continued on until they had reached the edge of the pool. A single floodlight illuminated the area. "What's the matter?" Frank asked her, his voice too low for Sal to hear.

"You were right," she said, hugging herself. "These people are a little too far out for me."

"I thought you were getting along with everyone just fine." Frank moved closer. "It looked to me like you were having a good time. What happened?"

"I just don't think I like the direction this party is headed in."

"You mean the drugs?"

"No," she said purposefully. "I don't mean the drugs." Frank stared at her blankly. "If this is what you meant by not wanting to expose me to the people you work with then – "

"Honey," he interrupted in a tone he hoped was soothing, "what the hell are you talking about?"

"Are you going to stand there and tell me that you had no idea what scene these people are into?"

Frank lit a cigarette and offered her one, but she refused. "I suspected," he admitted quietly. "But I didn't know for sure."

"How many drinks have you had?"

Frank shrugged. "Too many."

"Can you drive?"

"If I have to."

"Because I'm not sure I can."

He moved over to the railing and gazed into the woods. "Do you want to leave?"

Her response was not immediate. "Do you?"

He faced her. "It's up to you."

Sandy bit her lower lip. "As usual, you've come through with flying colors."

"What does that mean?"

"That was the wrong answer, Frank," she snapped, her voice breaking. "That's what it fucking means."

Frank pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. "Please don't get upset. If you want to leave, we'll leave."

"The right answer is: Yes honey, I want to leave."

"Fine, no problem, let's leave."

Her eyes searched his. "What the hell's happened to you?"

"For Christ's sake, no matter what I say it's wrong."

"You just don't get it."

Frank sighed. "Come on, we'll blame everything on me. I'll tell Charlie I'm not feeling well and we'll take off. We can stop, get a few cups of coffee somewhere and I'll be fine."

Sandy's face slowly twisted into an expression he had never before seen. "No," she said, spitting the word at him. "I think I want to stay."

Before he could reach her she'd crossed into the kitchen. Frank ran his hands through his hair and tried to shake off the effects of all the alcohol he'd consumed. He noticed that most of the steaks had begun to burn, but no one seemed to care, including the man left in their charge.

"Girl problems?" Sal asked flatly.

Frank looked at the steaks. "Those things are about as dead as they're gonna get."

Sal shrugged. "I told Charlie they were burning. He said he didn't think anybody was hungry anyway. It don't matter to me one way or the other."

When Frank returned to the living room, Sandy was sitting on the couch, sandwiched between Beth and Steve. He hesitated, watched his wife inhale a line of coke and then sit back as it hit her system. Steve looked over at him and smiled. "I guess she changed her mind."

"She's a big girl," Frank said, forcing a smile.

"Have you changed your mind?" Pepper asked, moving behind Frank, her breasts pressing against his back.

Frank ran a finger through one of the lines then put it in his mouth, brushing it back and forth under his upper lip. His gum line was completely numb by the time he reached the bar. "Where's that drink I ordered?" Charlie handed the glass across the counter to him. Frank gulped it down and handed it back. "Thank you. I'll have another."

Charlie laughed. "I'm not about to fuck with a guy who can do that."

"Doesn't that bother you?" Frank motioned to the cocaine on the coffee table. "Isn't it sort of like drinking in front of an alcoholic?"

Charlie handed him a fresh drink. "At my lowest point I was sitting on a park bench in L.A. I hadn't had a bath in more than a month – hadn't eaten in God knows how long. With a gun to my head I couldn't have told you where I was or even what the hell my name was. If it hadn't been for the cops busting me and forcing me into rehab, I'd be dead now. Whenever I get the feeling I might relapse, I remember that moment. The temptation leaves me like shit through a goose, my friend. Shit through a fucking goose. Nothing is worth going through that again. Nicotine and booze are all the drugs I need."

Pepper slid into the chair at the bar next to Frank. "Did somebody say boobs?"

"Watch out for this one," Charlie warned with a chuckle. "A woman like Pepper could ruin a man, if he's lucky."

"Wanna buy me a drink?" she asked Frank.

Frank glanced over his shoulder. Luther and Claire had started dancing again. Sal had returned from the deck and was sitting in a chair, his eyes taking everything in, and Sandy was still on the couch with Steve and Beth, each of them taking turns snorting lines from a fresh pile of coke. "Sure," he said, turning to Charlie. "One of whatever the lady wants, on me."

"Lady? Who the hell let a lady in here?"

Pepper hissed at him like a cornered cat and Frank felt her arm wrap around his back and fasten onto his shoulder. Charlie gave her the drink and left them alone. Frank could hear laughter behind him, but his mind was quickly fogging over and he feared for a moment that he might lose control. Steve seemed to materialize out of thin air to his left, the acrid smell of pot wafting all around him. They passed the joint between them twice, and Steve wandered off without ever saying a word.

"Are you as high as you look?" Pepper asked.

"Probably a little worse."

"Me too, let's get some air."

They made a quick stop at the coffee table and shared another line. Steve was looking through a tall rack of CDs, trying to decide which one to play next. Luther and Claire continued to dance until Charlie cut in. Unfazed, Luther strode to the bar. Beth and Sandy were still on the couch giggling like schoolgirls, oblivious to everyone else.

"Come on," Pepper said, tugging at Frank's arm.

The room titled and swayed more than once on their way to the deck, and once they arrived the cool air felt good.

Sandy watched them go then looked to Beth. "I don't think Pepper likes me."

"You're a woman, aren't you?" Beth smiled. "That's enough."

"She does look sort of – "

"Plastic," Beth interjected. "I can spot a pair of fake tits from across the room."

Frank leaned back against the railing and lit a cigarette, watching Pepper as she removed the sash from her waist and tossed it aside. She moved closer, her nipples and a black smudge of pubic hair visible through the thin material of the bodysuit. As if in slow motion she plucked the cigarette from his lips, took a drag herself before crushing it under the sole of her boot, then wrapped her arms around Frank's neck. Their faces touched, and her tongue found his ear.

The top portion of the bodysuit peeled down to her midriff easily. Pepper's breasts tumbled free in sections until Frank felt the tips of each between his fingers. He pushed on the small of her back and she arched it, thrusting her chest upward, twisting at the waist so he could take each breast into his mouth. She moaned, threw her head back and snaked one of her legs around his. They nearly fell, and she began to laugh.

"Maybe we should turn the flood light out," she suggested with slurred speech. "Or do you want to go back inside?"

"Go back inside?" Frank heard himself ask, heart racing.

She smiled, brushed a wisp of hair from her face. "Some couples only play – they don't go all the way. I don't know how far you and Sandy go."

The sound of his wife's name startled him and he had a sudden desire to find her. "This is just fun and games to you, isn't it?"

"Of course."

"Of course?"

"How can anybody take something like sex seriously?" she giggled.

Frank watched as she slid one hand beneath the bodysuit and between her legs. "Maybe we should go inside," he said.

"Are you sure?" Pepper reached out with her free hand and massaged his crotch, her eyes widening. "I don't think he wants to."

His face twitched into something that felt like a smile. "Go ahead. I'll meet you in there in a few minutes."

Pepper leaned in and kissed him on the mouth. He allowed her tongue between his lips and responded with his own. "Don't be long," she whispered, then glided back through the sliding doors and into the house, not bothering to cover herself.

Frank slowly made his way to one of the chairs on the deck and collapsed into it. Time, it seemed, had lost all meaning, and he sat quietly with his blurred thoughts.

"Are you all right?" a voice asked.

Frank looked up, hoping to see Sandy's face but finding Charlie's instead. "Yeah. I'm just really fucked up."

"Figured I better check in on you. You've been out here quite a while."

"I can't remember the last time I did coke," Frank told him, feeling as if the words had taken on lives of their own and were tumbling from his mouth without his approval. "Hell, I can't remember the last time I smoked a joint."

"You sure you're okay?"

"I just need a few minutes to get my head together."

"Pepper really likes you."

"I sort of figured that out."

Charlie grinned lasciviously. "Trust me, don't pass that up. It's not too often you get a chance to fuck a real live Barbie."

Frank nearly fumbled his cigarette bringing it up to his mouth. "Have you had her?"

"Couple times. She fucks like a bunny." Charlie lit a cigarette, handed it to Frank and lit another for himself. "As open-minded as Beth is she's not half as wild in bed as Pepper is. How about Sandy? I'll bet she throws a good one."

"Why don't you go ahead and take Pepper off my hands?"

"You really are wasted." Charlie shook his head and sat in a chair across from Frank. "What do you think of Claire?"

"Not my type."

Charlie took a hard pull on his cigarette. "What about Beth?"

"Very nice."

"Thanks," Charlie said, as if Frank had just complimented him on his wardrobe. "I think Sandy's fucking gorgeous."

Frank's eyes found him through a cloud of smoke. "So do I."

Charlie let the statement hang in the air for a while before he spoke again. "Remember that time you asked me if I ever partied with Delta Diamond or any of the other girls?"

"You told me you never shit where you eat."

"Do you think this is the same thing, though? I mean, we're business partners and all, but aren't we friends, too?"

"I don't know, Charlie. Are we?"

"I'm trying to be cool about this," he said. "Sandy was pretty uptight when you guys first got here, but she's really loosened up. Shit, she's wasted worse than you are. I can't tell if she's fooling around or really looking to get into it. I danced with her a couple times, rubbed a little ass, squeezed a little tit and she didn't seem to mind, but… hey, you think she'd go skinny-dipping?"

Frank drew a deep breath. "I doubt it."

"The pool's a great way to get things going," he said, licking his lips. "Some broads get all worked up once they're naked. It might make it easier for Sandy to get into it."

"And what if she does get into it?"

Charlie nervously cleared his throat. "Then… you know, whatever."

Frank's chest felt like someone was sitting on it. "You're asking for permission to fuck my wife?"

"Yeah." Charlie fidgeted in his chair. "I guess I am."

"Then you're asking the wrong person."

"Out of respect, I wanted to talk to you first."

"Respect."

"Hell, it's no problem if you wanna take a shot at Beth."

"What a guy."

"Trust me," Charlie said, "you won't be disappointed."

"This is your wife we're talking about."

"And if I don't mind her playing around with somebody else from time to time, why the hell should you?"

Frank looked at him. "I don't."

"Listen," Charlie said, pulling his patio chair closer, "Beth and I understand each other. We don't always like each other, but we do understand each other. When I'm with someone else, or she sees a body that turns her on, whatever happens, it's just sex. It's not love – shit, it's got nothing to do with love. It's sex for the fucking fun of it. You know what I'm saying?"

"I know what you're saying," Frank said. "I'm not stupid."

"Nobody said you were." Charlie sighed. "I just figured you knew what kind of party this was."

Frank shrugged. "I guess I did."

"In all seriousness, Frank, I didn't mean no disrespect." Charlie leaned forward and gave him a pat on the shoulder. "I'm only human. Forget I ever mentioned it." Charlie stood up. "I'm gonna go see if anybody wants to go for a swim. Hey, no hard feelings, right?"

"No hard feelings," Frank said, waving him away.

Uncertain of how long it had been since Charlie had left him alone on the deck, Frank checked his watch. The tiny numbers all seemed to melt together, and the overwhelming stench of charred meat was making him sick to his stomach. He considered going back into the house when the intrusive sound of laughter distracted him. He looked back, saw the others filing out through the sliders, music from the stereo in the living room still blaring.

Pepper was the first one to cross the deck. She stopped just long enough to kick off her boots and wiggle out of the lower portion of her bodysuit, then dove into the pool. Water flew up and splashed onto the surrounding deck, spraying the area.

"What a surprise," Claire said, stumbling from the house with a drink in each hand, wearing only a bra, panties, and a pair of sandals. "Pepper's the first one in."

Without comment, Charlie drunkenly strolled off the edge of the deck and fell into the pool fully clothed. Beth and Sandy stood a few feet away, laughing hysterically. "Now you know," Beth said, "why Charlie rode the small bus to school."

Luther quickly stripped down to his underwear and jumped into the water. The three women moved back to avoid the enormous splash just as Steve and Sal emerged from the house.

"Come on in," Pepper shouted to no one in particular. "The water's really warm."

Treading water not far away, Charlie said, "That's cause I just pissed myself."

Sal made a quick visual sweep of the area before sitting across from Frank in the chair Charlie had occupied earlier. Despite the dark glasses, Frank knew he was watching him. "You don't look so good."

"I'm wasted," Frank told him. "What's your excuse?"

Sal stared at him blankly until Pepper's girlish laughter turned their attention back to the pool. Luther hoisted her up over his head and tossed her back down into the water.

Claire rolled her eyes. "What the hell is she screaming about? Those tits could've kept the Titanic afloat, for Christ's sake."

"You're just jealous," Steve said, playfully tweaking one of her breasts through her thin bra. Claire laughed, seemingly oblivious to what he had done.

Frank shifted his eyes to Sandy, looking for a reaction, but she and Beth, both barefoot but otherwise clothed, had wandered over to the far side of the pool. They were drinking and talking quietly, neither one particularly steady on her feet.

"Hey," Steve said, a joint between his lips as he studied the grill through glazed eyes. "We forgot about the steaks."

"Here." Claire handed him one of her sandals. "Eat one."

Steve took a hit from the joint, passed it to Claire and started getting undressed. "You coming in?"

"I'm right behind you," Claire said, choking.

At the prodding of Pepper, Steve began a comical striptease, removing a piece of clothing and swinging it over his head before tossing it aside. Once he was nude, he grabbed Claire by the wrist and cannonballed, dragging her with him to the applause of the others. When they emerged from the water, it was together, arms locked around each other's necks. They remained that way, floating toward the center of the pool.

Luther and Pepper drifted to the opposite side and resumed their roughhousing, leaving Charlie alone. He swam to the edge of the pool, pulled a black rubber tube into the water with him and after several failed attempts, managed to get himself on top of it in a prone position. At some point he had taken off his clothes, and they now glided away in different directions along the surface of the water. He rolled over onto his back, feet dangling in the water, arms folded across his fleshy midsection, and floated about aimlessly.

"Why sit here with me?" Sal asked. "Go have some fun."

Frank answered without looking at him. "I don't swim."

Apparently satisfied with the response, Sal turned and watched as those in the water removed whatever sparse items of clothing they still had on and threw them up onto the deck.

Beth and Sandy were sitting at the edge of the pool, their feet in the water. "Hey, girls!" Charlie screamed to them, his speech so slurred that it was barely discernable. "Get naked!"

"Hey, Charlie," Beth sighed. "Get fucked."

"I'm trying!" Charlie laughed.

Beth smiled at him. "Best of luck."

Sandy found herself laughing, but wasn't sure why. Her head was spinning, and she was purposely trying to avoid making eye contact with Frank.

"Are you okay?" Beth asked, gently touching Sandy's thigh.

Sandy giggled. "I'm smashed."

"Come on!" Charlie yelled again.

"Let's go," Beth said. "Before shit-for-brains wakes the neighbors."

Sandy looked at her and smiled. "You first."

Beth slipped out of her dress, revealing a lean, taut body with skin as smooth and white as porcelain. Still sitting next to Sandy, she unhooked her bra and placed it neatly on the deck. Her breasts were small, the pale pink nipples stiffened in the night air. Still wearing a pair of cotton panties, she slid gracefully from the edge of the deck into the water. She turned onto her back and smiled up at Sandy. "Your turn."

"Yeah, Sandy!" Charlie barked. "San-dee! San-dee!"

Sandy laughed as her eyes drifted around the pool. Luther and Pepper's playfulness had become far more intimate, and Steve and Claire were kissing, locked in a drunken, sloppy embrace that seemed to last forever. Struggling to her feet, Sandy nearly lost her balance and fell into the water. She looked across to the far side of the deck and saw Frank staring at her as he slowly got up out of his chair.

"Sandy," Frank said, not certain if he'd only thought her name or actually spoken it.

With eyes that appeared she no longer had full control over, Sandy looked down at her feet. She bent her toes upward and studied them, riveted by their very existence. Frank noticed a delicate gold ankle bracelet he'd bought for her as it caught the light. "There's something unidentifiably erotic about being barefoot," she mumbled. "Don't you think?"

"There's something identifiably erotic about you!" Charlie laughed and splashed the water with his hands, clearly amused with himself.

Frank swallowed hard. He tried to clear his mind and think of something to say, telling himself to put a stop to this before it got out of hand, but his body refused to cooperate.

"Why are you being such a quiet little mouse?" Sandy suddenly demanded, yelling across the pool at him. "What's wrong? Pussy got your tongue?"

Her outburst caught the attention of the others, and they all slowly drifted to the middle of the pool, watching her silently.

"Do you wanna leave, Frank? – I dunno, it's up to you!" Sandy seemed incapable of preventing herself from laughing. "Turn around and look the other way, Frank. That's your specialty, isn't it?"

Frank watched as she looked at him defiantly, grabbed the hem of her dress, and in one quick motion pulled it off over her head. She had not worn a bra, and now stood clad only in a blue satin thong. Her fingers released the dress and it fell to the deck in a heap. Slowly, as if only just realizing what she'd done, Sandy crossed her arms over her chest and attempted a smile.

"It's all right," Beth said, swimming closer to the edge and holding out her hands. "Come on."

Sandy took her hand and slowly entered the pool. They treaded water together, their faces nearly touching, Beth speaking to her in a tone too soft for anyone else to hear.

Frank staggered back through the sliding glass doors. His mind told him he was walking quickly, but his feet moved as if trudging through quicksand. He followed the beat of the music, sound, sight and smell gradually merging as he crossed into the living room. He stood firm for a moment, allowing his eyes to adjust to lighting he had originally perceived as dim, but that now seemed unnecessarily bright. He found the bar, mixed a drink and emptied it with a single gulp. After somehow managing to successfully maneuver himself onto one of the barstools, he poured another drink and lit a cigarette. In the distance he heard a loud splash, and then another, followed by laughter.

It was some time later when Frank was distracted by voices behind him. Initially he'd mistaken the giggles and whispers as figments of his own imagination, but when he looked back over his shoulder he realized he was no longer alone in the room.

Luther, Pepper and Claire were lying on the sofa; tangled together in a naked heap that made it difficult to tell where one body ended and another began. Frank shifted his eyes, found Sal standing in the doorway, his face expressionless. "Feeling better?" he asked.

"Where's Sandy?"

"Charlie's still floating around in that tube. I better get him out of it before he drowns."

Frank slid off of the stool. "Where is she?"

"She went off with Steve and Beth," he said, pointing to the ceiling. "The stairs are at the end of the hallway off the kitchen. I can show you if you want."

"Fuck off." Frank stormed past him and headed for the kitchen. He found the stairs and climbed them, nearly losing his balance twice before reaching the top. At the end of the hall was Charlie and Beth's bedroom, the door open sufficiently for him to see that no one was inside. Frank stumbled to his right, focused on a closed door, and stared at it for a time.

When he heard muffled voices, he quietly pushed the door open a crack.

Steve was nude, sitting in a large soft chair in the corner of the room. Beth and Sandy, both topless, had knelt facing each other on the floor in front of him. All three were still wet from the pool and seemed unaware of Frank's presence. Beth leaned closer and kissed Sandy tenderly on the forehead, cheek and neck, her hands slowly gliding across her shoulders onto Sandy's breasts. Shaking, Sandy hesitantly touched Beth's hips, and then her buttocks, pulling her closer until first their breasts met, and then their lips. Beth gently took one of Sandy's breasts into her mouth and massaged the other with her palm.

Steve sat forward in the chair and Beth turned, bent over, and took his erection into her mouth. Sandy either fell back against his chest or leaned into it; Frank couldn't be sure. Steve's free hand caressed Sandy's breasts, gently gliding over her taut stomach before disappearing inside the front of her panties, a soft tuft of pubic hair greeting his fingers as her legs parted slightly. He rubbed in a slow, rhythmic motion, waiting to penetrate her until his fingers had grown moist. When he eventually sat back in the chair, Sandy followed, lowering her mouth onto his erection and sharing him with Beth.

Frank hadn't been certain any of this would actually happen until the exact second that it did. Emotions surged through him – too many to focus on one specifically – and he was certain he'd pass out.

Instead, he turned and moved slowly down the hallway, his heart smashing against his chest, his head throbbing from a pounding headache. He hesitated at the head of the stairs, heard moans and laughter from the room below. He felt like a caged animal, and let the wall support him.

At the edge of the darkness halfway down the staircase, Sal appeared. He stood silently watching for a time, then with an almost militaristic stride, climbed the remaining stairs and joined Frank at the top. "Are you all right?"

Frank glared at him, focusing to remain upright.

"They in there?" He motioned to the bedroom behind them with his chin. "Yeah," he answered his own question a moment later. "Look, I've seen this kind of thing a lot. Sometimes it gets too much, not everyone can handle it. You want me to – "

"I want you to leave me the fuck alone, Sal," Frank growled. "That's what I want."

His mouth twitched into the slightest hint of a smile. "No problem, asshole."

Frank steadied himself against the wall as Sal moved by him. He didn't bother to look over his shoulder. He knew where he'd gone.

After what seemed an eternity, Beth strolled from the room totally nude. "Hey, Frank," she said evenly. "Where have you been? Knee deep in Pepper, no doubt."

Frank moved to the side so she could pass, offering no reply as she descended the stairs and drifted into darkness.

The smell of his breath, stale from marijuana and liquor, was nearly intolerable. Groggy one moment and relatively alert the next, her awareness of the situation seemed to come in waves. Gliding backwards, Sandy felt two strong, callused hands tighten around her waist and realized that she had been propped up into a sitting position.

"Yeah," someone said, the voice distant and distorted. "Fuck her, man."

She looked down and saw Steve lying beneath her. He was inside her.

"That's it, baby, that's it," Steve said beneath her, his lips moving but slightly out of sync with the sound drifting about. His hands clutched her waist and she felt him pushing deeper.

She slumped forward and collapsed next to him on the bed, curling into a fetal position as if to go to sleep. "Stop," she sighed.

Undeterred, he rolled her over.

"You do her mouth yet?" the other voice said.

"Before you got here."

"Soon as I catch my breath I'm gonna stuff it in there again."

"You almost drowned her last time, dude. Big Sal, still the man!"

Laughter, joyless and dirty, echoing around her followed by more bursts of hot breath. Large hands tightened around her again, and the world began to spin. Nothing seemed real. Swallowing was nearly impossible, her mouth mucky and covered in thick cum still dribbling from her lips, a physical memory, residue of the man belonging to the other voice. The man who had opened her mouth with rough hands and put himself inside her, telling her to suck, holding her head and pumping his erection deep enough to gag her, even when she'd gone along with what he'd wanted, before finally releasing, emptying himself into her.

"It's okay, honey." Another voice – Steve's voice? "Roll over on your tummy, okay, baby?"

"Wait." She struggled to raise the volume of her voice but felt too weak. "Please… wait."

"Its okay, baby." A hand stroking her forehead, feigning tenderness, Steve's voice pretending to sooth. "Help me turn her over. Let's fuck her ass, man."

"Please…" Her voice? Had she spoken, was she only thinking? Was any of this real? "Stop… stop."

"Did you hear what she said?"

Steve turned; surprised to see Frank standing in the open doorway. "Hey, man, I – I ah, I didn't know you were watching. If you're gonna get off come on in and have some – "

"Did you hear what she said?"

His smile slowly vanished. "Yeah," he said softly.

"Then get the fuck away from her."

Steve slid off the bed as Sal casually zipped his pants. He motioned for Sal to follow him, gave an apologetic nod and slipped quietly from the room.

Sandy was sprawled out on the bed, her head lolled to one side, resting against a pillow. Her eyes searched for Frank, and when they found him a quiet whimper escaped her. Unable to look at him now, she rolled over, gathering the sheets along with her.

Frank turned away, noticed a full-length mirror on the far wall. Someone he had never seen before stared back: hair mussed and eyes bloodshot, remnants of cocaine still smeared beneath the nostrils. His eyes dropped. His pants were undone, and a sticky wetness had gathered between his legs.

Frank turned and vomited into a small wastebasket.

Supporting himself against the wall, he shut off the light and sank to the floor.

Tears came to him first in the form of small sobs, increasing in intensity until his entire body shook and he wept like a child.