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Sweating–cold swipes at my face. Somebody’s face–an old man.
Needle jabs eating up pain.
Arm pops = craaaazy bliss.
EVERYTHING–spinning, falling
Cheek rubs half blissed–thick beard stubble.
Time–light into dark, light into dark, light into dark.
A man wearing glasses–maybe a dream. Voices–dreamy, half real.
Music.
——–
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
Four days sedated.
The doctor, walking out: “I left you some morphine Syrettes. You’re healing up nicely, but you’ll need to get some bones set within a month or so. Oh, and a friend of yours left you a package.”
Numb throbs chin to forehead. Fresh newspapers-check the dates– January 22 to 25.
Mirror check:
My nose–smashed flat.
My jaw–bent sideways.
No eyebrows–scar tissue instead.
A raised hairline–scalp cuts ripped me balding.
Two new ears.
One eye squinty, one eye normal.
Dark brown hair gone pure gray inside a week.
Call it:
A new face.
Healing–bruises fading, sutures out.
I checked the package:
One blank passport.
One .38 revolver, silencer fitted.
A note, unsigned:
Klein–
IA found you, and I’ve decided to let you go. You served me very well and you deserve the chance I’m giving you.
Keep the money you took. I’m not optimistic, but I hope the passport helps. I won’t apologize for the way I used you, since I believe the Smith situation Side 245
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justified it. He’s neutralized now, but if you consider the justice you meted out less than absolute, you have my permission to follow it up more thoroughly.
Frankly, I’m through with him. He’s cost me enough as it is.
Indirect order: kill him.
Not HIM–THEM.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
“We used to be a great-looking pair.”
“That part’s all on you now”–Ioose teeth, painful.
“You’re different, David.”
“Sure, look at me.”
“No, it’s that we’ve been together for five minutes and you haven’t asked me to tell you things.”
Glenda: carhop suntan, close to gaunt. “I just want to look at you.”
“I’ve looked better.”
“No, you haven’t.”
She touched my face. “Was I worth it?”
“Whatever it cost, whatever it took.”
“Just like that?”
“Yeah, just like that.”
“You should have grabbed that movie contract way back when.”
Money bags by the door–time closing in.
Glenda said, “Tell _me_ things.”
* * *
Back to then, up to always–I told her EVERYTHING.
I faltered sometimes–pure horror jolted me silent. That silence, implicit: _you_–tell _me_.
Light kisses said no.
I told her all of it. Glenda listened, short of spellbound–like she knew.
The story hung between us. Kissing her hurt–her hands said let me.
She undressed me.
She slid out of her clothes just past my reach.
I roused slow–just let me look. Persistent Glenda, soft hands–inside her half-crazy just from looking.
She moved above me–propped up off my bruises. Just watching her felt wrong–I pulled her down.
Her weight on me hurt–I kissed her hard to rip through the pain. She started peaking–my hurt ebbed–I came blending into her spasms.
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I opened my eyes. Glenda framed my face with her hands–just looking.
* * *
Sleep–day into night. Up startled–a clock by the bed–1:14.
January 26.
A camera on the dresser–Pete’s ex-wife’s. I checked the film–six exposures remaining.
Glenda stirred.
I walked into the bathroom. Morphine Syrettes in a dish–I popped one and mixed it with water.
I got dressed.
I stuffed two hundred grand in Glenda’s purse.
The bedroom–
Glenda yawning, hands out, thirsty–I gave her the glass.
She gulped the water down. Stretches, little tucks–back to sleep.
Look:
A half-smile brushing her pillow. One shoulder outside the covers, old scars going tan.
I snapped pictures:
Her face–eyes closed-dreams she’d never tell me. Lamp light, flashbulb light: blond hair on white linen.
I sealed the film.
I picked up the money bags–heavy, obscene.
I walked out the door bracing back sobs.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Easy:
I took a bus to L.A. and got a hotel room. I had a typewriter sent up–one blank passport rendered valid.
My new name: Edmund L. Smith.
Picture valid: photo-booth snapshots, glue.
My ticket out: Pan Am, L.A. to Rio.
My wounds were healing up.
My new face was holding: no handsome Dave Klein showing through.