Ten

“What, no tape recording?” Annie said, as they entered Bobby’s dorm room. “I’m disappointed.”

She sat down on the sofa and looked around. “I noticed you’ve tidied things up a bit this time, Bobby. Believe me, I approve. I wasn’t sure what might come crawling out of the woodwork last time.”

Bobby sat on the piano bench, a safe distance from everyone else, including his date. “Just my annual pre-Mom’s Day cleanup,” he said. “It’s a burden, but it has to be done. Especially with my mother.”

“How’s your neck?” Annie asked.

“Fine.” In fact, it still hurt every time he swallowed, and there was an ugly blue-black bruise everyone would be admiring if he hadn’t worn a turtleneck sweater.

“And how’s Haji?”

“Better. He’ll be okay. Mostly just shook up. Wouldn’t you say, Mark?”

Mark was looking very spiffy tonight. In addition to his clean pink-and-blue madras shirt, he was actually wearing slacks instead of the usual bleached blue jeans. “Yeah. He’ll be fine. Hey, don’t be disappointed by the absence of a taped entrance, Annie. We’ve planned a lot of sick merriment for tonight.”

“Oooh, baby,” Annie said, rubbing her hands together. “Sick merriment. The best kind. Don’t you agree, Yvonne?”

Yvonne, Bobby’s date for the evening, did not respond; in fact, she had barely said three words all evening. She was wearing khaki fatigues, top and bottom. She had a small metal stud in one ear, and another in the side of her nose. Her hair was cut very short and had a streak of green down the middle, a style Mark had been carefully instructed not to refer to as butch.

Bobby brought in four glasses of passion, this time colored red (raspberry), and set them down on the coffee table.

Mark looked sternly at Bobby. “Miss-ter Beresford,” he said, “don’t you think it’s time we prepared tonight’s entertainment?”

“Indeed, Mr. Szasz, I think that would be most appropriate.”

The two men excused themselves, walked into the back bedroom and closed the door.

Mark fell to his knees, reached under the bed, and began assembling the paraphernalia. “You never told me how the makeup test went Wednesday.”

“Fine,” Bobby replied. “Better, anyway. It wasn’t a particularly difficult exam if you weren’t already nauseated. And I’ve had more opportunities lately to become accustomed to the company of cadavers.”

“That’s such a cold word, Bobby. To me, they’re somehow more than just cadavers. They’re…Fred’s friends.”

“Speaking of which, I don’t suppose you’ve found our dear departed Fred, have you?”

“I don’t know how I would. You think UPS is going to deliver him to my doorstep?”

“Unlikely.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll continue my search. There are only so many tunnels. If he’s still there, I’ll find him.” Mark paused. “If he’s there.” He snapped the gun barrels into place. “Not to be rude, Bobby, but where in the name of God did you dredge up Yvonne? Did you roll over a rock and find her squirming underneath or what?” He passed Bobby a pistol. “Granted, we can’t all be squiring Annie, but your dates are seriously deteriorating, and they weren’t exactly Bo Derek to begin with.”

“For your information, I found Yvonne on my front doorstep. She was delivering a pizza.”

“You’re joking.”

“Why would I joke? She was standing right there, and I didn’t have a date yet. It was a perfectly natural thing. I don’t know why you take such delight in ridiculing my dates.”

“She’s so…humorless,” Mark said. “She never cracked a smile all through dinner. She didn’t even laugh at my jokes.”

“So she’s shy. It’s not a federal offense.” Bobby handed Mark the plastic stoppers. “You got everything ready?”

“Yup. Let’s duck into the bathroom and get loaded.”

 

*****

 

Annie was becoming concerned about the menfolk’s absence. She hoped Mark’s spiraling desire to top whatever he had done before would not drive him to something too embarrassingly off-the-wall. Worst of all, though, since the guys had left the room, she was more or less forced to attempt small talk with Yvonne.

“So, Yvonne, are you a student or are you working?”

“Both.” Her facial expression did not change. In fact, Annie was not sure her lips had moved.

“You must be busy, if you’re doing both at the same time. Do you work here on campus?”

Annie watched very carefully this time and was able to discern the slightest parting of the lips. “I deliver pizza,” Yvonne said. She ran her fingers through her green streak.

“Really. That must be fascinating. Pepperoni, sausage, the occasional anchovy…it’s really endless, isn’t it?”

The look on Yvonne’s face indicated that she didn’t deem Annie’s remark worthy of reply. “You’re his, right?” Yvonne asked.

“I beg your pardon?”

“The tall one. Mark. You’re his, right?”

Annie hesitated. “We’re…going steady, if that’s what you mean.”

“Right. Thought so. Going steady—a rite of bondage. You can see it in his eyes. He thinks he owns you, like a pair of socks. You’re chattel.”

Annie carefully considered several responses, but decided against all of them. “Bobby…hasn’t known you very long, has he?”

Yvonne blew air through her nose and made a snorting noise. It was a sound, Annie mused, that might be the Yvonne equivalent of laughter. “Not hardly. Not likely.”

There was a long silence. This was just too miserable to bear. “Are you guys ready yet?” Annie shouted.

“Ready when you are,” Mark shouted back. “Beresford, start the chainsaws!”

The hideous, deafening roar of two forty-horsepower engines filled the tiny dorm room. Annie and Yvonne clamped their hands over their ears.

“Chainsaws in gear!”

The door to the bathroom swung open. As the sound became clearer, Annie realized the chain-saw noise was coming from yet another of Bobby’s tapes. At that instant Mark and Bobby burst out of the back room, brandishing large red and blue water pistols that looked like props from Buck Rogers.

“Quick, while they’re disoriented!” Mark yelled. “Ready, aim, fire!”

Mark and Bobby leveled their guns and sprayed. A stream of water flew into Annie’s face. She let out a loud screech. Mark and Bobby continued spraying both women. The way the guns pumped water, they would be drenched in no time. Annie and Yvonne scattered, each to a separate corner, but there was no escape.

“You guys,” Annie screamed, “this really isn’t funny. These are good clothes!”

There was a clicking sound on the tape, and it switched from the chain-saw noise to B. J. Thomas’s rendition of “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ on My Head.” The guys looked at one another, smiled, and began singing along. As a result, they did not immediately notice the sure and steady approach of Yvonne.

When they did, it was too late. Yvonne walked directly into the line of fire, approached Mark, and stomped down on his right foot. Mark cried out, and in his moment of weakness, she wrested the gun away from him.

“Atta girl, Yvonne,” Annie said. “Show ‘em what for.”

Yvonne lifted her hard-won water gun and sprayed it directly into Bobby’s face. “Not my contacts,” he yelled, lifting his hand to block the spray.

Yvonne took advantage of his one-handed grip and yanked his water gun away from him. She tossed it back toward Annie.

“Now this is a balance of power I can appreciate,” Annie said. She ran to the other side of the room and fired her gun point-blank, as did Yvonne. Mark and Bobby fell back against the wall, protesting mightily, while the women proceeded to empty their guns onto them.

“Great plan, Ace,” Bobby sputtered, between blasts of water. “We held the edge here for at least thirty seconds or so.”

Mark made a pouty face. “Your date stepped on my tootsies.”

 

*****

 

Bobby wiped the water from his face and eyes. The barrage was at last over. After the women successfully drained both guns, all four of them fell onto the floor, exhausted. Convulsive laughter soon became exhausted moaning. Yvonne seemed pleased with herself, although she had yet to actually smile. Annie and Mark crawled closer to one another. They clasped wet hands.

“Well, that was great,” Bobby said, to remind them he was still here.

“I’m drenched!” Annie said, in mock anger.

“Well,” Mark said, “as long as you’re already wet, let’s go for a swim!” He jumped to his feet and lifted Annie into his arms.

“Swim!” she said. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”

“So what? Our clothes can’t get any wetter than they already are.”

“It’s half past eleven,” Bobby said. “The pool is closed after eight.”

“What a pack of nay-sayers! C’mon you party poopers—live a little!”

Mark ran out the door, carrying Annie. This is a mistake, Bobby thought. And, as usual, I’m going along with it. He followed Mark out the door, with Yvonne a few steps behind him.

They scrambled down the hallway and outside the front door to the nearby phys ed building. They went in through the side fire door and down the stairs to the basement pool.

The door to the pool was not locked, but it was dark inside. Bobby started to flip on the lights, but Mark stopped him.

“Leave the romance in,” Mark whispered.

Bobby thought swimming in the dark just sounded dangerous, but since they weren’t supposed to be there anyway, he acquiesced.

“Ladies first,” Mark suggested gleefully.

Annie shook her head. “No way in hell.”

“Well then,” Mark said, looking at Bobby, “I guess that leaves it to the manly men.” Mark and Bobby walked together to the side of the pool and, daintily holding each other’s hands, jumped in.

Annie and Yvonne looked at one another, shrugged, kicked off their shoes and plunged in behind them.

Bobby wiped the water away from his eyes, protecting his contacts, and made a mental note. Yvonne’s mood must be improving if she was willing to go along with this escapade. Her successful commando raid must have buoyed her spirits.

“Well, what’s it going to be?” Mark asked, treading water. “Tag, volleyball, Marco Polo? Dunking the womenfolk? Or should we just strip out of these bulky old clothes and have a little skinny dip?”

Annie jabbed her thumb in Mark’s direction. “This guy is totally out of control.”

Mark, however, did not hear, because he was already underwater making a beeline for Annie. He grabbed her legs and pulled her down into the water. From where Bobby stood, it looked as if she was also receiving an underwater smooch.

Mark burst through the surface and beat his fists against his chest. “Ahh-oooooh!” he sang out. “Werewolves of London.”

Bobby splashed Mark in the face. “Keep it down, you maniac. If we wake up some study nerd, he’ll call the campus cops on us.”

As if on cue, a red shadow passed across Annie’s face. “Too late,” she said, pointing.

In the high windows just beneath the ceiling, a red light was flickering.

“Cops!” Mark shouted. “Ruuuuuuuuuun!”

He tore out of the swimming pool and raced to the staircase. Bobby and the women scrambled out of the pool and followed close behind, doing their best not to slip on the wet pavement.

They poured up the stairs and ran to the rear entrance. Outside, they quietly edged around the building on the side opposite the police car and went through the back entrance to Hume House. They ran to Bobby’s room and slammed the door behind them. Just before they shut themselves inside, Bobby saw the campus cop car pull up outside Hume.

Bobby shut off all the lights. They pressed themselves in a heap against the door and waited. Bobby noticed that Mark and Annie were huddled very close. He considered trying a snuggle with Yvonne, but didn’t want to attract the cops’ attention with a domestic riot.

After a few more moments, they heard the distinctive sound of crisp, polished heels clicking down the hallway. The footsteps came directly to Bobby’s door and stopped.

Someone knocked.

“How did they know which room?” Bobby whispered. Mark drew a finger across his lips in a silent ssshhh.

Annie started to giggle. Evidently, the strain was getting to her. Bobby threw a harsh look her way. She stood up quietly and walked away from the door.

The knocking repeated itself. “Police,” a deep voice said. Bobby heard quiet, bemused chatter outside the door. After another moment he heard the crisp, polished heels moving away.

Bobby exhaled several minutes’ worth of breath. A grin crept across Mark’s face. Annie was still giggling; even Yvonne seemed somewhat amused. Maybe it was just the exuberant feeling of returning unscathed from the brink of the abyss.

“Why did the cops leave?” Bobby wondered aloud. “Why didn’t they come in?”

“They didn’t have a search warrant,” Mark said. “They just wanted to hassle us a little. Probably decided it wasn’t worth the trouble.”

“That’s a relief,” Annie said. “I was afraid my whole career in the OU Student Association was going up in smoke.”

“The UOSA would have to survive without Annie?” Mark said. “Now that would be a tragedy.” They exchanged a look.

“I still don’t understand how they knew which apartment we were in,” Bobby muttered.

Mark smiled and opened the door. Bobby looked outside. Suddenly, all became clear. Coming up the stairs and leading directly to his front door, Bobby saw an unmistakable trail of wet footprints.

He fell back into the room, shut and locked the door. He started to laugh. “How stupid. I didn’t even think.”

There was no response. Mark was on the floor beside the sofa; Annie was lying across his lap. They were snuggling and whispering, with intermittent short kisses.

Bobby turned away, embarrassed. He looked at Yvonne, but couldn’t imagine what he could say to her, and she was hardly likely to follow Mark and Annie’s lead on the floor. He felt out of place in his own dorm room. He couldn’t go into the back bedroom, not with Yvonne here, and he couldn’t stay here and watch Mark and Annie suck face.

Unexpectedly, Yvonne spoke. “Do you mind if I go into the bathroom and dry my clothes?”

“No,” Bobby said. “Please do.”

She walked into the bathroom.

Great, Bobby thought. Now I’m totally alone with Romeo and Juliet. He started toward the back bedroom.

“Bobby,” Mark said quietly.

“Yes?”

“I think we must be going. You understand. Wet clothes and all that.”

Bobby nodded. He certainly did understand. Little doubt about the look in Annie’s eyes tonight. Mark didn’t even need the new song.

He watched silently as Mark and Annie closed the door behind them.

 

*****

 

While Yvonne was in the bathroom, Bobby got several dishrags from the kitchen and tried to dry himself off as best he could. About ten minutes later he heard the bathroom door open.

“Where did the other two go?” Yvonne asked.

“Home. Ostensibly to change clothes.” He paused. “We won’t see them again.”

Yvonne walked over to the sofa. She repeated her strange snorting laugh. “I suppose this is all part of the master plan,” she said, curling her lip.

“What?”

“Do you think I’m an idiot? Some kind of airhead sorority girl you can twist around your finger like Silly Putty? First you loosen me up with a lot of candy-coated alcohol, then you really get the ol’ adrenaline pumping, running around with water guns and jumping into swimming pools, making damn sure I get wet, necessitating the removal of key articles clothing. Then, the first time I duck into the bathroom, you give your partner-in-crime the signal to clear out and leave the two of us alone. Have I got the scenario about right? Now you’re going to dim the lights, put on some soft music, seduce me with your alleged charm, fuck me blind, and kick me the hell out of your room? Right?”

Bobby didn’t know where to begin. “Look, Yvonne, I’m not going to pressure you to do anything you don’t want to do—“

“Don’t give me any of that sensitive-male Alan Alda crap. You can’t fool me. You’re all sexual fascists.”

Bobby flopped down in the chair. “It’s not like that, Yvonne. I mean it. Frankly, it’s been a stressful week and I’m totally exhausted. I don’t even want to…” He almost stammered, but caught himself. “…You know.”

Yvonne lifted her chin. Her lips twitched for a moment. “And what’s the matter with me? Do I frighten you? I suppose you can’t handle a woman who doesn’t twitter and coo and play along with all your sick patriarchal male ego games.”

She paced back and forth between the coffee table and the sofa.

Bobby experienced a strong sensation of déjà vu. Why did this always happen to him? Was he some sort of wacko-female magnet? Or were they all like this?

“Look, Yvonne, maybe this whole evening is a mistake.”

“You don’t know what you’re missing out on,” Yvonne said. She was practically growling now. “You don’t know what you could have had!” With that, she bent down, grabbed Bobby by the collar, and yanked his lips against hers.

It was like kissing a steamroller. She kicked the coffee table out of the way and pulled Bobby down onto the floor, all without ever breaking lip contact. The steamroller plowed ahead, all over his face, his sore neck (ouch!), the lobes of his ears. As she pulled him close to her, Bobby realized that while she was in the bathroom, she had removed her bra, and perhaps other undergarments as well.

She was becoming even more vigorous, and Bobby, realizing that he was after all on top, felt obligated to do something. He began unfastening the buttons on her shirt.

She moaned something—he wasn’t sure what it was, but he decided to take it as “yessss.” Her chest was heaving, in rhythm with her presumably passionate moaning. It was really kind of frightening, Bobby thought, but he tried to be brave about it. He freed the last button and pulled her shirt open.

“What the hell is this?” he said, staring at her.

She frowned, then followed his eyes. “What Oh, a tattoo, what else? Come on.” She yanked his face down to her chest.

“Just one minute,” Bobby said. For some reason, this bothered him. He propped himself up on his arms and took another look. “Why would you have a tattoo of a gila monster on your left breast?”

The corners of her mouth turned up, ever so slightly. “Most of the other fleshy locations were already taken.”

“You mean this isn’t the only one?” He pulled her right arm out of the dangling sleeve of her shirt. Sure enough, he found a tattoo of a rippling American flag, with a banner emblazoned across it: LIVE FREE OR DIE.

“How many of these do you have?”

“Seven. What’s it to you? Come on—“

“Seven? My God, why would anyone want seven tattoos?”

“I was in the Army. Everyone was doing it.”

Bobby was incredulous. “You were in the Army? You never told me you were in the Army.”

Yvonne propped herself up on one arm and pulled her shirt back over her chest. “What do you mean I never told you? I’ve only known you for a few hours. What’s your problem, anyway?”

“What do you mean, what’s my problem? I can’t believe we’re rolling around on the floor, being intimate and stuff, and you haven’t even told me you were in the Army. And you have seven tattoos!”

Yvonne looked at him as if he were an unpleasant bit of gristle caught in her teeth. “I don’t understand what the big deal here is.”

“The big deal is—what’s next?” Bobby sputtered. “You’ve probably got a bullwhip in your back pocket.”

“Don’t be so intolerant.”

“I am not intolerant. I haven’t even mentioned the metal stud in your nose, for God’s sake!”

Yvonne stood up and began rebuttoning her shirt. “You are seriously mental, you little shit. Do you realize that? Total fucking mental case. Asylum fodder.”

“Oh, now, listen to this. I suppose this is how people talk in the Army, huh? Wait, save it. My mother will be here tomorrow. She’ll really enjoy this.”

Yvonne pressed her finger against Bobby’s nose, pushing him backward. “This is just an excuse, isn’t it? One big fucking excuse.” She began lacing her shoes. “You’re scared of me because I act like a real woman, not some namby-pamby idiot cheerleader.”

She pressed so close to him she was practically spitting in his face. “You’re terrified of me, aren’t you? Probably fucking impotent. So you decided to save face by pulling out earlier than most, drooling over my tits a little while and then starting up this ridiculous anxiety attack over nothing.”

She marched toward the door. “You little asshole. I’m going to spread the word about you to every woman on campus. You’re going to be the laughingstock of OU.” She was bellowing like a drill sergeant. “What am I saying? You already are the laughingstock of OU!” She slammed the door behind her.

Bobby stared at the door, rubbing his cheeks with both hands. “I suppose this means a second date is out of the question,” he mumbled.

“I suppose you’re right,” said a voice from the back bedroom.

Bobby’s head jerked up.

It was Mark.

 

*****

 

Bobby almost jumped out of his chair.

“What are you doing here? I thought you left!”

Mark walked into the kitchen and poured himself some raspberry passion. “I came back. Crawled through the bedroom window.”

“I didn’t hear you.”

“That would defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?”

Bobby stared stonily at him. “And what was your purpose?”

“Well,” Mark said, “I told you if you weren’t more forthcoming about your date-type activities, I’d have to pursue corrective measures. For the sake of the Code.”

“You were spying on me!”

“I prefer to say I was conducting an independent investigation. From your bedroom. And the closet.”

“You were in the closet?”

“Well, for a minute there, I thought you two were headed for the bedroom. For a brief moment.”

Bobby’s face became pale. “How long have you been back there?”

“Long enough.” His eyes twinkled. “I heard the whole sorry tattoo tirade.”

Bobby felt as though at any minute he might start ripping his hair out. Or Mark’s. “I don’t believe this,” he said. “What if we had gone in there to…to…well, you know.”

“That’s what I was hoping for.” Mark reached inside his jacket and withdrew a miniature camera.

“You are sick,” Bobby said. “Truly, genuinely, undeniably, and irredeemably sick!”

“Hey, buddy, the first time is a moment to be treasured. I’d thought you’d like a little memento for your scrapbook.”

“Totally, irreversibly sick.”

“Look who’s talking. I’m not the one who practically had a coronary over some poor girl’s tattoo.”

Bobby tried to block the strangulation fantasies out of his mind. “I don’t understand why you came back here anyway,” he said, as calmly as possible. “I thought you were taking Annie home.”

“I was. I did. She wanted to turn in early.”

“And this excluded you?”

“For the nonce. But fear not. Big plans are in the offing. Lifestyle changes.” He raised his eyebrows significantly.

“Care to elaborate?”

“No. Care to give me that look of self-righteous outrage again?” He held up the camera. “For the record.”

“Go to hell.”

“Did I tell you I got a picture of you slobbering all over Yvonne’s boobies?”

“You did what?”

Mark snapped the picture.