The Voice of the Night

11

Midnight.

They cycled down Hawk Drive to Broadway and followed Broadway until it ended at Palisades Lane. They stopped at the head of the wooden steps that led down to the public beach. On the other side of the narrow street, elegant old Spanish houses faced the sea. The night was still. There was no traffic. The only sound was the steady pounding of the surf fifty feet below them. From here they would go separate ways: Roy’s house was several blocks north, and Colin’s lay to the south.

“What time will we get together?” Roy asked.

“We won’t. I mean, we can‘t,” Colin said unhappily. “My dad’s coming up from L.A. to take me fishing with a bunch of his friends.”

“You like to fish?”

“Hate it.”

“Can’t you get out of it?”

“No way. He spends two Saturdays a month with me, and he makes a big production out of it every time. I don’t know why, but I guess it’s important to him. If I tried to back out, he’d raise hell.”

“When you lived with him, did he even spend two days a month with you?”

“No.”

“So tell him to take his fishing pole and shove it up his ass. Tell him you won’t go.”

Colin shook his head. “No. It’s not possible, Roy. I just can’t. He’d think my mom put me up to it, and then there’d be real trouble between them.”

“What do you care?”

“I’m in the middle.”

“So let’s get together tomorrow evening.”

“That’s out, too. I won’t be home until ten o‘clock.”

“I really think you should tell him to shove it.”

“We’ll get together Sunday,” Colin said. “Come over about eleven. We’ll swim for an hour before lunch.”

“Okay.”

“Then we can do whatever you want.”

“Sounds good.”

“Well … see ya then.”

“Wait a minute.”

“Huh?”

“Someday soon, if I can arrange it for us, you want to get a piece?”

“A piece of what?”

“A piece of ass.”

“Oh.”

“Do you?”

Colin was embarrassed. “Where? I mean, who?”

“You remember those girls we saw tonight?”

“At the Pinball Pit?”

“Nah. They’re just kids. Teasers. I told you that. I’m talking about real girls, the ones in that movie.”

“What about them?”

“I think I know where I can get something that good for us, a girl just like one of those.”

“You been drinking?”

“I’m serious.”

“I’m Colin.”

“She’s got a beautiful face.”

“Who?”

“The girl I think we can get.”

“Jeez.”

“And really big boobs.”

“Really big?”

“Really.”

“Big as Raquel Welch?”

“Bigger.”

“Big as weather balloons?”

“I’m serious. And she has a pair of gorgeous legs.”

“Good,” Colin said. “One-legged girls never turn me on.”

“Will you stop it? I told you I’m serious. She’s hot stuff.”

“I’ll bet.”

“She really is.”

“How old is she?”

“Twenty-five or twenty-six.”

“First of all,” Colin said, “you’ll have to put on a false mustache. Then you can stand on my shoulders, and we can dress up in one suit, just one suit to cover us both, so she won’t realize we’re only a couple.of kids. She’ll think we’re a tall, dark, handsome man.”

Roy scowled. “I’m serious.”

“You keep saying that, but you sure don’t sound very serious to me.”

“Her name’s Sarah.”

“A beautiful, twenty-five-year-old girl won’t be interested in you and me.”

“Maybe not at first.”

“Not in a million years.”

“She’ll just need some persuading.”

“Persuading?”

“You and me together should be able to handle her.”

Colin gaped at him.

“You willing to try?” Roy asked.

“Are you talking about-rape?”

“What if I am?”

“You want to wind up in prison?”

“She’s hot stuff. She’s worth taking the chance.”

“Nobody’s worth going to prison for.”

“You haven’t seen her.”

“Besides, it’s wrong.”

“You sound like a preacher.”

“It’s a terrible thing to do.”

“Not if it feels good.”

“It won’t feel good to her.”

“She’ll love me by the time I’m done with her.”

Blushing fiercely, Colin said, “You’re weird.”

“Wait’ll you see Sarah.”

“I don’t want to see her.”

“You’ll want her when you see her.”

“This is all jive.”

“Think about it.”

A cream-colored van went by on Palisades Lane. A desert scene, framed in grinning skulls, was painted on the side of it.

They heard loud rock music and the high, sweet laughter of a girl.

“Think about it,” Roy said again.

“I don’t need to think about it.”

“Beautiful big boobs.”

“Jeez.”

“Think about it.”

“This is just like that story about the cat,” Colin said. “You wouldn’t ever kill a cat, and you wouldn’t rape anyone, either.”

“If I knew I could get away with it, I’d sure as hell get me a piece or two of that Sarah, and you’d better believe it, good buddy.”

“I don’t.”

“Two of us working together could get away with it. Easy. Real easy. Will you at least think about it for a couple of days?”

“Give up, Roy. I know you’re putting me on.”

“I’m serious.”

Colin sighed, shook his head, glanced at his watch. “I can’t waste time listening to this baloney. It’s late.”

“Think about it.”

“Jeez!”

Roy smiled. The odd, metallic light played a trick on him, transformed his teeth into fangs; the cold glow of the mercury-vapor street lamp tinted his teeth blue-white, darkened and emphasized the narrow spaces between them, made them look ragged and pointy. At least to Colin’s eyes, Roy appeared to be wearing a set of costume-party teeth, the ugly wax dentures you could buy in a novelty shop.

“I’ve got to get home,” Colin said. “See you Sunday at eleven?”

“Sure.”

“Don’t forget to bring your swimsuit.”

“Have fun on your fishing trip.”

“Fat chance.”

Colin rose on his bike, jammed his feet on the pedals, and pumped south on Palisades Lane. As the wind shushed over him, as the relentless crash of the surf echoed off to his right, and as his fear of being alone at night returned, he heard Roy shouting behind him:

“Think about it!”