Body Rides (24 page)

Impossible. But he was absolutely certain that, if he ran down to his car and drove to his own neighborhood and located Karen’s apartment, he would be able to meet her in the flesh.

I must be out of my mind, he thought as he drove. He’d been thinking that, every so often, ever since the idea had popped into his head.

He knew he shouldn’t do it.

Karen was not likely to appreciate a surprise visit from a stranger in the middle of the night.

And Neal felt as if he were cheating on Marta.

Not that he expected or wanted anything romantic to happen with Karen. He’d be lucky if she even opened her door for him, and the odds of being allowed into her apartment were slim to none.

So why am I doing this? he wondered.

Just to see. Just to see what I can find. See how reality matches up. If I can at least get a glimpse of her . . .

I don’t need a glimpse. I know how reality will match up. Perfectly, that’s how. This is bullshit
.

But I want to do it.

I
am
doing it.

I must be out of my mind.

A few minutes after driving away from the curb in front of Marta’s building, he drove past his own building. He turned the corner, then entered the alley. He drove slowly. The area ahead looked clear: nobody skulking about. Nobody that he could see, anyway. No scavenger creeping along behind a shopping cart, no
Creeper sneaking through the shadows in his slouch hat and cape. No Rasputin.

He wondered where Rasputin might be.

As he drove by his own parking space at the rear of his building, he slowed and almost stopped.

I could just run up and check, he thought. If the bastard’s there, I can blow him away . . .

Maybe later.

Maybe never
.

I’ve gotta get him before he gets me, Neal told himself.

Yeah, but this isn’t the time to try it. He’s not there, anyway.

Make a run-through with the bracelet?

I didn’t come here for that. I came to check on Karen
.

He kept on driving, but felt guilty about it. He knew that he ought to visit his own place. If he stayed away from it, how could he ever hope to get the jump on Rasputin?

I’ll try it later, he told himself. But first things first. Make this reality check on the bracelet, and then I’ll know for sure.

I already know for sure
.

No, I don’t. Not a hundred per cent. This will be the final proof. Then I’ll never doubt it again.

He drove on past another building. The next was probably Karen’s. Its parking spaces were full. He pulled forward so he wouldn’t block them, swung close to the edge of the alley, then stopped. He killed the headlights and shut off the engine.

Then he climbed out of his car and walked to the other side of the alley. From there, he looked up at the stucco wall.

Is that it? he wondered.

He’d gone through Karen’s wall by accident, really, after an emergency swerve to avoid plunging into the bum.

This looked like the wall.

Glancing from side to side, he tried to judge the distance back to his apartment building, then from where he now stood to the place where he’d seen the bum with the shopping cart.

The distances seemed about right.

And Karen’s apartment was definitely not in the next building down. That place had balconies above the alley. There’d been no balcony on the wall he’d entered.

This has to be it, he decided.

Walking toward the rear gate of the building, he felt a strong mixture of dread and excitement. He had come on purpose, planning to pay a visit to Karen. But he was shocked, anyway, to find himself here. A strange but somewhat familiar sensation. He knew it from . . .

Amusement parks. Disneyland, Knott’s Berry Farm, Magic Mountain, Funland, the Santa Cruz Boardwalk. It had happened to Neal in all those places, at one time or another.

You get into line for a thrill ride – one of the scary kind that takes you way too high and drops you way too fast. You stand in the line on purpose, planning to take the ride. Wanting to take the ride. But suddenly, there is no more line in front of you. You’re next. And you suddenly realize the time is now and you’ve made a very large mistake.

You get a tightness in your chest and you want to cry out, ‘
What am I doing here? Let me outa here!
’

That was exactly the way Neal felt as he opened the rear gate, stepped through it, and shut it so gently that it didn’t make a sound.

Why don’t I just turn back? he told himself This is nuts. What if she shoots me or something?

He never turned back from the rollercoasters, either. Or from the huge and terrifying Ferris wheels. Not since being a grown-up. There was excitement along with the fear, and he always stepped aboard.

He glanced about as he made his way toward the stairs. This courtyard had no pool. A parklike area, instead: a lawn with bushes and trees, walkways, quaint lamp posts, and even a few picnic tables. It seemed rather old-fashioned and peaceful.

He saw no one.

He climbed the stairs slowly, quietly. His legs were shaking.

It’ll be all right, he thought. I’m not doing anything wrong.

I know that. The cops won’t know that, though. Nobody who sees me sneaking around will know that. I oughta get out of here before something happens
.

Try not to look suspicious, he told himself.

At this hour? Fat chance
.

Walk straight to her door as if you belong here.

The door nearest the top of the stairs was numbered 26. Neal realized that he didn’t know Karen’s apartment number, but 26
seemed to be located in the proper place – the northeast corner of the building, its rear wall facing the alley.

Off to the right of the door was a large picture window. No light came through it. Neal remembered Karen turning off the living room lamp before heading for her bedroom in the rear.

He wondered if she was still in her bedroom. Still kneeling on the floor in nothing but her bikini pants, hurting herself and crying her head off?

Who knows?

Not all that much time had gone by since Neal had left her there. Five minutes? Maybe a little more than that. Fewer than ten, though.

Halting in front of the door, he took a deep breath.

Oh, man, he thought. Gotta be out of my mind.

He rapped the door gently with his knuckles. A quick, furtive series of five taps, hopefully loud enough to be heard by Karen but not so loud as to alarm any of her neighbors.

At this hour, he thought,
any
knock is alarming.

He waited. No sound came from her apartment.

Had she heard him? Was she cowering on her bedroom floor, listening, fear spreading through her?

Give it one more try. Make it sound nice and friendly.

He rapped on the door again, five times and gently like before.

Then he waited again.

She’s not coming, he decided. Either couldn’t hear me, or she’s scared and hoping I’ll go away. Or maybe she’s calling the cops.

I oughta blow it outa here
.

One last shot, then I’ll go.

He spoke one word softly to the door. ‘Karen?’

A moment later, her voice came. Little more than a whisper, it sounded as if she assumed he must be a friend. ‘Who is it?’

‘My name’s Neal. I’m an old friend of Darren’s. He used to talk about you. All the time. I always wanted to meet you, Karen, and . . . I know it’s horrible to drop in on you like this. I mean, this late. But he said you’re sort of a night owl, anyway, and . . . I’m driving down from San Francisco. I have to be in San Diego in the morning. I just thought I’d stop by for a minute, since I was sort of passing through the area, anyway.’

A light suddenly came on above the door. ‘Hang on a second,’
Karen said. The door opened until the guard chain stopped it. Through the four-inch gap, Karen peered out at him.

That’s Karen, all right
.

His earlier visit hadn’t been a dream. This was Reader, Karen. No doubt about it.

Behind her glasses, her eyes looked puffy and red from crying. She wore the big, white T-shirt. Neal wondered if she’d put it on quickly after hearing the knocks.

‘Have we ever met?’ she asked.

He blushed. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Are you sure? You seem . . . I don’t know . . . a little familiar.’

‘So do you, actually.’ He smiled, still flustered, but feeling a little amused that he’d been able to speak the truth. She looked familiar, all right.

‘Your name’s Neal?’ she asked.

‘Right. Neal Darden.’

My God, I told her my real name! Am I nuts?

‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘I just thought I’d drop by. I’ve always wanted to meet you, so I figured I’d give it a shot since I was passing through. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.’

Staring at him, she sniffed.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘I’d better get going, now. I just wanted to stop by and say hi . . .’

‘No, wait.’ She shut the door. Neal heard the chain rattle. Then the door swung open wide. Karen stepped backward, saying, ‘Come on in.’

He hesitated. ‘I shouldn’t. It’s late, and . . .’

‘No, please.’ She hurried over to the lamp and turned it on.

Neal stepped into the lighted living room.

The
living room.

‘I guess I can stay a minute,’ he said, and shut the door.

On the lamp table was the paperback,
The Wild Buccaneer
, exactly where Karen had put it before going to her bedroom.

‘What can I get you?’ she asked. ‘A Pepsi? Or I could brew up some coffee . . .’ She shrugged. She seemed nervous and fidgety but pleased to have him as a guest.

‘Oh, no thank you.’

‘You sure?’ She waved her arms. She was almost
bubbly
.

This is so odd, Neal thought.

Being in Karen’s actual presence confirmed the truth about the bracelet, but seemed very strange.

Not long ago, he’d been inside her. He’d read the book with her. He’d seen everything she saw, felt everything she felt, even viewed the scenes running through her imagination. He’d watched her strip naked to try on her white bikini. He’d even been a secret audience to her memories of Darren’s
thing
plunging between her oiled breasts.

And there they are, he thought.

He could see the shape of them through her T-shirt. He turned his head away.

‘Are you okay?’ Karen asked.

He shrugged. ‘I think I’ve got a little fever.’

‘Could I get you some aspirin?’

‘I’d better just get going.’

‘No, sit down and rest a while.’ She gestured toward the sofa.

‘Well . . .’ Neal walked over to it and sat down.

‘Let me at least get you a Pepsi.’

‘All right.’

She hurried away. Neal sighed, relieved to have her out of sight.

What the hell am I doing here? he wondered. I found out she’s real. That’s all I came for.

Get out now. Make a run for it.

No, no, I can’t do that to her
.

Would it be any worse than staying? he asked himself.

He had already invaded her privacy –
demolished
her privacy. In a way, staying would be like toying with her. If he fled, however, she would be hurt, puzzled, maybe even frightened.

I’ve got a lose-lose situation here, he thought.

Not necessarily.

Be nice to her, polite, play it out, try to leave her pleased by your visit.

And don’t let her find out you’re a fraud!

Moments later, Karen came into the living room with a glass of Pepsi in each hand. She walked carefully. Her breasts, between the
glasses, wobbled and bounced a little. The ice cubes in the glasses made tinkly sounds.

Her T-shirt, though very large, didn’t reach down past the middle of her thighs.

Neal forced himself to look up at her face.

She was blushing; she must’ve noticed the way he was checking her out.

‘I guess I probably woke you up,’ Neal said, trying to give himself an excuse for staring at her T-shirt.

It seemed to work. She smiled and tilted her head a bit. ‘No. You got me just in time.’ Stopping in front of him, she held out one of the glasses.

Neal said, ‘Thank you,’ and took it.