Just before Raoul leaves, Shirley seems to remember everything.
The sex was amazing.
Am
a
zing.
She is going to do that with him many, many more times, if he'll let her.
But first she needs him to save her marriage. To save her
life
.
"Wait a minute. Where are you going to go for that?" She looks at the wound on his arm.
"To hospital."
"Which one?"
"I don't know," he shrugs. "The nearest one."
She sits up and grabs her purse. "I'll call my doctor. He'll be fast and discreet. He'll be ready when you get there."
"Good. Tell him I crashed my bike."
As she talks to the receptionist at her doctor's office, she looks at him. A huge bronze beast. Scabs all over his head, open wound on his arm. Dark stubble on his rugged jaws. A halo of thick curly hair like a black-maned lion.
That brute of a man is going to fuck her daughter in a few hours. Her feelings turn on themselves suddenly. She digs around in her purse.
Soon the appointment is made. Raoul has directions to the office — only a few blocks away.
"Raoul?"
"Yeah?"
"Take this."
Still naked, she stands to hand him the lube. He smirks at her appreciatively as he slips it into a pocket on the inside of his leather jacket.
"Please be gentle with her," she begs, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him.
"Okay."
"Don't call her things like 'slut.'"
"I only do that with women who like it," he winks.
She looks away, ashamed for a moment that he knows that she likes it. This boy, she thinks, is going to be intolerable. But I need him.
"She's in love with you."
"I know."
He looks at Shirley X., standing naked before him, cheating on her husband to be with him, indulging in her submission to him, stealing money from her husband for him, begging him to be gentle when he fucks her daughter.
Maybe that's not quite love, but it's angelic compared to Scarlett's nonsense. She's a spoiled little rich girl who just wants attention. She'd do fuck-all for Raoul if there wasn't anything in it for her. She's blackmailing her own mother. She's a fucking little bitch.
His face must have betrayed his thoughts because Shirley tells him, "She's a bitch, but she's my daughter."
"Okay," he winks. "I'll be gentle. I promise. I'll be really sweet. I'll bring her flowers and everything."
"Thank you, Raoul. I'll make it up to you."
"I know you will." He bends down to kiss her lips. He whispers, "I'll be looking forward to it," and then, putting the lube in his jacket pocket, he disappears through the door.
—————————————
Sewn up by a doctor who doesn't explicitly question his story but certainly lets him know that he knows what a knife wound looks like, shot up with painkillers and a tetanus booster, thoroughly cleaned and bandaged by two pretty nurses who gave him their phone numbers and did their best to charm him, he heads home.
His head is a mess. He can only think clearly about one thing at a time. He feels himself moving through the world like an alien. Somewhere behind him, following him, is the knowledge that he's killed a man, maybe more than one, and if he stops for a moment, it'll catch up with him and overwhelm him.
Even before he's turned off the engine of his bike, the whole gaggle of sisters, cousins, aunts, grandmothers, and an additional dozen of their friends pour out of the house to worry over him.
Thank god for the bandages, he thinks. If they saw the actual wounds, they might actually try to confine him.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," he tells them, as the six fastest across the lawn hug him.
"You promised you'd be careful," they chide.
"I was careful," he winks, kissing foreheads.
"We're so glad you're okay," Sam and Reza kiss his cheeks.
"Your bike looks fine," Yvonne notes suspiciously.
"It is," he says. "It stayed behind while I went into the bushes alone."
"Not even a scratch," she says.
"Your sorority sisters invited me to the Chinese New Year's party," he tells her. "Would it be okay with you if I go?"
She feels the thrill of all the girls looking at her with jealousy. What is she doing, introducing him to an entire sorority?
But it frustrates her at the same time. He's more popular at the sorority than she is. She's started to hear rumors about last night's game of "Raoul Roulette," and even though it doesn't all make sense to her yet, it's clear that at least four or five of the girls think he's promised to sleep with him soon. If she upsets him and he doesn't show up for the party, she might even have to drop the sorority.
He will always have more of something she wants than she will ever have of anything he wants. Like all the women in his life, she's utterly dependent on him, and utter dependence means utter powerlessness.
"Of course," she says, turning away from the bike. The narrative is to be that he wrecked his bike. No one will even care if it's true, as long as he's okay.
"I'm going to pick up those flowers and take them to Scarlett," he announces. "But first, I need to eat. Have you ladies got any food for me?"
"Of course we do!" they all cheer, eager as ever to please.
—————————————
"Oh my god, Raoul!" Scarlett shrieks when she sees him. "What happened? Are you okay?"
He's left his bike, saddlebags unlocked, on the driveway right in front of the porch.
"I'm fine. I got drunk at a stripclub and fell into a thornbush. Otherwise I would've been here hours ago."
He holds out the purple and blue tulips that her mom had sent to him. "These are for you."
"Oh, they're darling!" she gushes, admiring them. As she hugs him gratefully, he realizes that she can't help herself. She'll always sound fake.
"Are your parents home?"
"My mom is. My dad is at work of course."
"Let's go upstairs. We need to talk about what happened last night."
He says it in a cold voice, making her nervous. Then he leans in and whispers, "And then I'm going to pop your little cherry, princess."
She gasps, smacks him on the shoulder with playful reproach, and blushes happily.
On the way up the stairs he taps her butt on every step, lifting her skirt each time. Screaming and giggling, she runs as if to get away, but at the top of the stairs he just reaches between her thighs and picks her up by her crotch, catching her body in his other arm.
She howls with surprise and delight, then covers her mouth with wide, embarrassed eyes.
"I bet your mom heard that," he teases, pressing his hand against her vagina as he carries her down the hall to her room.
Scarlett nods.
"It's okay," he assures her. "She knows I'm here and she knows what we're about to do. But we need to talk first."
Locking her bedroom door behind them, he drops her on the bed and sits beside her.
"I see you didn't wear panties," he observes. "Good girl. Take that blouse off now so I can see your tits."
"I thought you said we need to talk."
