Cat In A Leopard Spot

“It’s odd,” Janice commented as she sat beside him on the long, cushy sofa after setting the pilsner glass on the tile-inlaid coffee table. “But I got the impression both of our pickups recognized my sketch, but weren’t saying anything.”

Matt nodded, sipping the smoky, stinging beer.

“I got the impression that you did too. And you weren’t talking either.”

Matt swallowed more beer faster than he would have liked. “Me? Know this Vince guy?”

“Yeah. It’s incredible that someone like you would know an obvious sleaze like him. Do they always do that?”

“Do what? And who?”

“Women. That stripper babe was wallpapering you. She could have come off one of those TV nighttime soaps. Bloody Mary! For gawd’s sake. Reddy Foxx.”

“It’s the Mr. Midnight persona, not me.”

“Did that broad know you were Mr. Midnight?”

“Broad?”

“Broad.”

Matt realized that on some primal level, Janice—levelheaded, single-mom-to-the-core, earthy Janice—resented the heck out of some semi-naked woman messing with her escort.

“That was an excursion into a Mike Hammer novel,” he said. “Too unreal. Vince. Rick. Reddy Foxx. And what was the muscle guy’s name?”

“Raf. Gave me the creeps. The kind where you wish you were packing an Uzi.”

“Janice!”

“Well, I did. Going there was a big mistake. No amount of money is worth getting slimed.”

“I have to agree.”

“So? Does it happen often?”

This was a perfect lead-in. “That’s what I need to talk to you about.”

She waited, never having sipped her beer. He felt like he was on trial.

“The reason I canceled coming over tonight for dinner in the first place is that I have a stalker.”

“Stalker?”

“A stalker. Must have picked her up from the radio show. The downside of fame, such as it is. It became clear this weekend that she was obsessively jealous of any women I associated with. Which means it’s dangerous for women to associate with me.”

Janice sat forward. “So that’s why you were so…distracted all night. Looking over your shoulder all the time. Made me think you were sorry you agreed to go along.”

“No. I’m glad you weren’t there alone. I was just…looking for a stalker.”

“In the car too. Always checking your rearview and side mirrors?”

He nodded.

“You’re not kidding. You’re being stalked.”

“What’s worse is that people who have anything to do with me are being stalked by default.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do? The police?”

“First, it’s considered funny when a woman stalks a man. The weaker sex, remember? Second, how many of those innumerable women who are stalked have to end up shot dead in a parking lot before the law can lift a finger against the stalker? Think it works any better for male victims?”

“Matt. That’s terrible.”

“I’m just beginning to guess how terrible it is.”

“That’s why you’re driving the funky old car tonight?”

“Borrowed it from my landlady. Figured no self-respecting stalker would suspect a pink Probe.”

“Matt. Is it that she-devil I sketched way back when?”

“Yeah. How—?”

“I just realized that was a face capable of extremes. How do you know her?”

“I don’t. She used to know someone I hardly know years and years ago. I don’t know what makes her tick. She just has it in for me, personally and generically.”

“Generically?”

“She hates priests. Ex-priests. But I think she’s mainly trying to get to someone else who’s unreachable. So I’m the prime substitute. Plus, she knows I don’t know how to handle this sort of thing.”

“You seem to be doing all right. Going undercover in a pink Probe.”

“That only works for a while. Believe me, I’ve seen anyone female around me, even a child, attacked by this woman.”

“And that happened last weekend?”

“Last weekend. Lost weekend. The last weekend of my freedom, that’s for sure. So I didn’t cancel dinner because I’m afraid to be alone with you. That’s what you thought, I know. I canceled because I’m afraid of what danger being seen alone with me will bring to you. Okay?”

“And tonight?”

“Tonight I’m taking a chance because I owe you an explanation. I did watch as best I could, and I don’t think anyone followed us.”

Janice sank her chin into her hand and contemplated the sour scenario. Suddenly she sat upright. “Well, that slut Reddy Foxx is in real trouble if your stalker somehow slipped into Secrets.”

Matt laughed, enjoying the feeling. “Thanks. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll associate only with fallen women from now on and let my stalker eliminate the femme fatales of the world.”

“Well, I guess they shouldn’t have to die for being cheap hustlers. I can’t believe it. Matt, do you realize how constricting life could be?”

He nodded. “But maybe my stalker has underestimated me. I came from a constricted lifestyle, remember? Maybe I can outlast her.”

“And in the meantime, your life is not your own.”

“That’s true. But isn’t free will often an illusion?”

“I don’t know. I’m just an artist, not a theologian. I’m going to miss you,” she said, lifting her beer glass for a toast.

He touched glass rims with her. “Me too. I guess I’ll find out a lot about free will in the next few weeks.”

“I’m glad you told me.”

“I’m glad too.”