Like A Hole In The Head

     "Is that right?" I was ready to explode. "What's with this boneless creep? Is he weak in the head or something?"

     "You frighten him, Jay."

     "You think so?" I sat forward, the blood rising to my face. "Not half as badly as I intend to frighten him if he goes on acting like a goddam prima donna! Where is he?"

     "I told him to stay on the beach until I had talked to you."

     "What's he doing . . . paddling? You realise he should be shooting, don't you? You realise if he doesn't learn to shoot fast we don't get the money? You do realise that, don't you?"

     She looked directly at me.

     "It's because I do realise it and I do realise how much this means to you that I'm trying to help."

     "You think it's helping to take this goof for a paddle?"

"You wound him up . . . I was unwinding him."

     "What do you mean . . . I wound him up?" My voice was a bark. "I couldn't have been nicer to the creep! I left him alone with you just so long as he would shoot. So what happens? You take him paddling!"

     "You don't seem to realise, Jay, that you frighten people."

     "Now you're going to tell me I frighten you too, aren't you?"

     She nodded. Her hands turned into fists. She looked very young, scared and vulnerable.

     "Yes. Since this happened you've become someone I don't know. Yes, you frighten me."

     I slapped my hands down hard on my knees. The sound made her start.

     "I'm sorry. I don't want to frighten you, but this is important to me. It's important to you. We haven't much time." I looked around for a way to ease the tension. "Have a beer?"

     "Yes, please."

     I got up and went into the bungalow. I got a beer and poured it into a glass. I took the glass out to her. She was sitting, staring across at the shooting gallery. I gave her the glass, then sat down. The tension had eased. I watched her drink. Her hand was unsteady. I waited.

     "You see, Jay . . . he doesn't want to shoot."

     I stared at her.

     "He doesn't want to shoot?"

     "No."

     "That's fine! That's marvellous! I only want to hear that to make this my perfect day!" I flung my half-smoked cigarette on to the sand. "So he doesn't want to shoot? Then what the hell is he doing here? His father said he would co-operate! His father said this goof knew the set-up. Now, you tell him he doesn't want to shoot !"

     "He's frightened of his father."

     I ran my fingers through my hair.

     "But he isn't frightened of you. . . that's something."

     "We are rather alike."

     "You're not ! Don't compare yourself with this goon, Lucy. I don't like it."

     "We think alike, Jay."

     I lit another cigarette. I had to do something, otherwise I would have flipped my lid.

     "I don't think so, but never mind. Let's get this straight. You've talked to him. Would you say he doesn't give a goddam if his old man loses half a million bucks?"

     "He didn't say that."

     "And he also wouldn't give a goddam if we lose fifty thousand bucks?" I leaned forward. Okay, I knew I looked ugly with rage, but who wouldn't flip a lid? "Well, I do ! So does his old man! So he's going to shoot if I have to kick him black and blue! He told his father he would cooperate and that's what he is going to do!"

     Lucy put down the glass of half-finished beer. She put her hands on her knees and stared at them as if she were seeing them for the first time.

     "You can't make him shoot, Jay, unless he wants to. You know that."

     "So I'll make him want to!"

A long pause, then she looked at me, her clear blue eyes inquiring.

"How will you do that?"

Yeah . . . the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.

     "I'll talk to him." I wasn't even convincing myself. "I'll make him understand how important this is."

     "He isn't interested in money, Jay. He told me so."

     "I can see that. It's not his money. It's his father's money and my money. Yes, I can see that."

     "Even if it was his, it wouldn't interest him."

     I forced myself to stay calm.

     "Now listen, Lucy, I've had punks like him before and I have turned them into riflemen. You go along with them so far, then you have to turn on the heat." I paused, hesitated, then went on, "I'm beginning to think Savanto had something when he said it would be better for you not to be here. I want you to pack a bag and go to Paradise City. I'll fix a hotel for you. I want you to stay there for nine days and forget Timoteo. I want you to go right away."

     She looked shocked for a moment, then she stared directly at me.

     "You want me to go because you will do things to that boy you would be ashamed to do if I were here. Is that it, Jay?"

     That was it, but I wasn't going to admit it.

     "Don't talk nonsense. This goof has to be handled. We don't have women around in the Army. I don't want my wife around now. This is important. I want you out of here!"

     "I'll get lunch."

"Lucy ! You heard what I said! I want you out of here!"

She got to her feet.

"I'll get lunch," and she went into the bungalow.

I sat still, on the boil, then I got up and followed her in.

She was looking at the cans lined up on the kitchen table.

"Is this what you want for lunch, Jay?"

"If it's okay with you."

She began opening the cans.

"After lunch I want you to pack and go."