Frankenstein In Love Page 11

  “Not about a real live man. He is alive, isn’t he?”

  “Joni, please, don’t start that again.”

  “I’m just sayin’—”

  “Joni, he’s all I ever think about. He’s…well, it’s just so complicated. I know I should leave, but I just can’t right now. I know if I go I’ll never see him again.”

  “Tiffany, by this time you must be wearing out your welcome.”

  “Actually, I was invited to stay. Just today, in fact. And you know what? I think I might. At least for a while. You know, just to see what happens.”

  “Tiffany, if this guy feels the same way, he’ll come after you.”

  “Under normal circumstances, yes.”

  “Normal circumstances?”

  “Well, there’s a problem…” Tiffany heard a noise out in the foyer and whispered into the mouthpiece. “Joni, I think I’m going to have to hang up.”

  “Wait,” Joni said, scratching for a pen and paper. “What’s your number up there?”

  “Sorry, I don’t know. Just call the operator and ask for the Kessler residence up at Cat’s Paw. Bye.”

  * * * *

  Elaine opened the barred door and took Kirk’s breakfast in to him. Looking toward his bed, she saw him lying down with a bandaged wrist up over his eyes.

  He didn’t move.

  “Kirk.”

  Still no movement.

  She lifted her voice, “Kirk!”

  He was deathly still, and Elaine couldn’t hear him breathing.

  She clanked the tray down loudly and ran to him. “Oh, my God! Kirk!” she yelled.

  He lifted his head off the pillow and turned toward her. “What in hell do you want? Will you stop screaming?”

  “God, Kirk. You almost gave me a heart attack.”

  “Get out,” he said, getting up.

  “What are you so grumpy about?”

  “Should I show it to you?”

  “You mean your face? It’s been that way for ten years. Why are you all of a sudden so unhappy about it now?”

  “Wouldn’t you be?”

  “I just mean that since Tiffany’s been here, you’ve been more irritable and unhappy with yourself than usual.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Get out and let me eat my breakfast in peace.”

  “You know, you’ve been so mean to her, I don’t know why she even cares.”

  He jerked his head around. “What did you say?”

  “Just now?”

  “Yes.”

  “I said you’ve been so mean—”

  “No, after that.”

  She frowned, trying to remember her exact words. “I don’t know why she—”

  “She cares?” he finished for her. “About me?”

  “Well…yeah.”

  “Really? How do you know? Did she say so?”

  Elaine snickered. Seeing Kirk so excited over a girl reminded her of a gangly adolescent, pumping his sister for information. “Gee, I don’t know, Kirk, I’ll ask her in gym class and get back to you.”

  “Elaine!”

  “Oh, all right. But for God’s sake, get a hold of yourself, would you? You’re acting like a pimply little juvenile who still wets the bed.”

  “I wish pimples were all I had to worry about.”

  She picked up a slice of his toast, took a bite, and turned to leave. “Better eat up before it gets cold.”

  *

  While Elaine made her way through the shadowy darkness to the concrete steps, Kirk sat down at the table and began to eat. About halfway through his meal he noticed something sticking out from under his plate. Frowning curiously, he reached for it and pulled it out. As he unfolded the little piece of notepaper, he smelled Tiffany’s perfume gently drifting upward, causing him to inhale deeply and close his eyes in ecstasy. While floating on a cloud of euphoria he looked down and began to read.

  Dear Kirk,

  Please let me apologize for hurting you yesterday. If my kiss caused you any unhappiness, I’m sorry. It was just my way of thanking you for saving me from Quinn. I didn’t see a monster standing before me, and I certainly didn’t feel sorry for you. I kissed you because I wanted to. I’m afraid it was completely selfish. I know now I shouldn’t have been so bold. May I please come to see you and apologize in person?

  Tiffany

  Kirk felt the words he read were sweet, apologetic, and sincere. Holding the note in his hand, he rose from his chair and strode to his desk. He picked up a pen and leaned over, just about to write something on it when he remembered Tiffany’s face when she saw him without a gathering of shadows around him. The shock, the terror that crossed her face before she realized who he was, stabbed him, and when she kissed him—

  He glanced over at the mirror that replaced the one he had broken and remembered the dark night when it lay in shards. Glittering, mesmerizing shards. He turned from the desk and walked to the mirror. He watched the play of light and shadow on his hideous face.

  “God, how could she?” he whispered. “I’m a monster. A freak. How could she even bear to look at me?” Kirk felt tears brimming in his eyes as he again recalled that day in her room, and the horror on her face. It would haunt him until the day he died. Now he knew the truth. No matter how painful it might be, he knew she couldn’t want him. No one could. “The goddamned fuckin’ bitch just wants to flaunt herself in front of me. Show me what I can never have. Rub my face in it. She probably thinks I don’t even know how to write. Well, I’ll show her.” In his fierce anger, he took the pen and scratched out a word in big, bold letters across the bottom of the paper—

  BITCH!

  As soon as he wrote it, a surge of pain flooded him, and he fell down on the note and began to madly erase it. He tore the paper, making a mess as he tried to obliterate the awful word. He hadn’t meant it, he was angry. He kept erasing, tearing the paper so badly that he thrust the note away and laid his head down on the desk.

  *

  Later on that night when Elaine came down to retrieve his tray, she found the badly torn note on the floor, and picked it up as trash. Without thinking, she put it on the tray, not realizing that Tiffany would find it—and read it.

  Chapter 10

  TIFFANY sat at her dresser gazing down at the large, insulting word. She could only imagine the anger Kirk was feeling as he wrote it. He couldn’t believe she could have any kind of interest in him, so he was pushing her away. Laying the note down on her dresser, she stood up and began pacing, trying to think of what to do now. As she turned, she happened to glance down at an open magazine advertising a Broadway show. She immediately became interested, and reached down and grabbed it.

  Of course! Why hadn’t she thought of it before? There was a costume shop in Atlantic City. She threw down the magazine, grabbed her keys and her purse, and burst through the bedroom door.

  “Elaine!” she called out as she glanced around. “Where are you?”

  “In here, Tiffany!” the voice called out from Quinn’s bedroom.

  Tiffany turned toward the voice and went to stand in the doorway. “I’m going into Atlantic City. I’ll try not to be long, but if I’m not back by dinnertime, don’t wait on me.” She turned to go, but remembered something and paused as she dug a small square of paper out of her pocket. Grabbing Elaine’s hand, she pushed the note into it and squeezed it into a fist. “Elaine, in case I don’t get back, would you please see that this gets on his dinner tray?”

  Elaine slipped the folded paper in her pocket. “Sure, I guess. Why are you going into Atlantic City?”

  “To run an errand.”

  “But, Tiffany, what’ll I tell Quinn?”

  “Just tell him the truth, he’ll understand. Bye.”

  On her way out, Tiffany stepped into the study and called Joni.

  “This is a recording…” the nasally voice began.

  “Hi, Joni! Say, would you like to take a ride in
to Atlantic City with me?”

  “Only if you let me drive. I’ve got a new clunker.”

  “I don’t know, Joni. Can’t we take mine? I promised I’d try to be back by dinnertime.”

  “Well, all right, but you don’t know what you’re missing. As soon as she gets up to thirty-five she starts shakin’ all over and makes you feel like you’re doin’ the shimmy. God, can I pick ’em, or what?”

  Tiffany chuckled. “Okay, I’m leaving now. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

  “Right on.”

  Tiffany ran out the door thinking about how glad she was that she had Joni for a friend. Joni was a plump, fiery little redhead with curly, flyaway hair, and was crazy about those cheap, long, dangling earrings. She wasn’t gorgeous, but she was cute, and she was about the wildest and the funniest person Tiffany had ever known. For some reason she loved old cars and bright clothes. She was never one to answer the phone like anyone else. It was either “Yeah!” “What’s up?” “It’s your dime.” Or, her all-time favorite, “Take it away, Leon.” Her latest was the one about the recording. Tiffany knew she could look a long time and never find another friend like Joni.

  * * * *

  Quinn sat in front of the library fire watching Venita dust the furniture, empty ashtrays, and straighten the books on the book shelves. He had a magazine spread out in front of him, but he wasn’t reading it. The thick smoke from his cigarette curled above his head as he wondered just how Venita would react to a little plan he had in mind. Quinn had decided that what Tiffany needed was a little competition. She needed to see another attractive female fawning over him, vying for his attentions. He’d started on his plan when he’d retrieved Tiffany’s car, had it all fixed up, and presented her with the keys. That little act had obligated her to him, as well as made him appealing. And now, with Venita’s help, he was going to see how she would react to the old Green-eyed Monster.

  Quinn watched Venita as she continued with her dusting. He could feel his temperature rise when she leaned over, her breasts almost falling out of her blouse. Feeling a thin sheen of sweat break out along his forehead, he rose from his chair, threw the magazine down and leaned against the mantle, finishing his cigarette. He turned his head slightly, his gaze narrowing on the cute little wiggle of her butt, and the outline of her nipples straining against the thin material of her blouse. While watching her, he could still hardly believe this was the thin, dirty, mousy little thing he saw every time he went over to the lighthouse. He remembered seeing her stand in shadowy corners as if she were scared to death. Who knew that once all that grime was washed off she would drive him crazy?

  Finally throwing his cigarette into the fire, Quinn spoke to Venita. “Venita, why don’t you take a little break? You’ve been working very hard and deserve to relax a little. Come on,” he said, taking her hand, “we’ll go to the kitchen and see what there is to drink.”

  Dropping her dustcloth, she smiled at him and nodded.

  Opening the refrigerator, he reached in and pulled out a Diet Coke, opened it, and gave it to her.

  She pulled her chalkboard around and wrote, Cherry Coke?

  He laughed. “I should have known. Have a teenager in the house, and you’ve got to have Cherry Coke. Sorry, there is no Cherry Coke.”

  She took what he offered, and drank as if she was very thirsty.

  Quinn turned a chair backward, lifted a leg and straddled it. With his arms draping the back, he leaned his chin down on one hand and watched her. He was fascinated by her baby doll lips as they pursed against the glass rim, and opened seductively to receive the cool liquid. After a hearty gulp, she touched the bottle against her cleavage and closed her eyes, almost moaning as she smoothed the cold glass along her skin. He watched, his gaze unmoving until the last of the dark liquid fell into her mouth. Putting the bottle down, she gave him a heavy-lidded smile that was far beyond her eighteen years. He, in response, lowered his gaze to her cleavage, and began his proposition. “Venita, how would you like to make a little extra money?”

  * * * *

  As Tiffany’s car sped down the coastal highway, Joni turned to her and asked, “Okay, spill it, what’re we goin’ into Atlantic City for?”

  “Well, I’ve got an idea, and if it works, it’ll mean a lot.”

  “Come on, Tiffany, that tells me nothin’. Wanna cut to the chase here?”

  “Joni, he’s so unhappy. I just can’t get close to him.”

  “Who the hell are we talkin’ about?”

  “Haven’t I told you about Kirk?”

  “Well, you mentioned someone on the phone the other day, but we were interrupted before you told me anything.”

  “He was in a bad car accident about ten years ago, and one side of his face got messed up.”

  “You mean this Kirk person?”

  “Yes. He’s Quinn’s brother. Younger by a year.”

  “He lives at the mansion, right?”

  “Yes, down in the basement.”

  “My God, in the basement? You’re kidding.”

  “Oh, Joni, I wish I were. Because of his face he won’t go out among people, or let himself be seen by anyone. I thought at first it must be pure vanity, but after meeting him, I think it goes a lot deeper than that. I’m not a psychiatrist, but it seems to me that a lot of it is guilt. He’s punishing himself for his parents’ death, you know? It’s like he’s dug a grave for himself and only comes out when he has to.”

  Joni crooked her arm around the bottom half of her face, bent her other hand up like a claw, and turned toward Tiffany. “You mean vhen he vants blood!”

  “It’s not funny, Joni. He’s really hurting.”

  “So the Kessler’s have a monster in their basement. Wow.”

  “Stop it! He’s not a monster.”

  “Say, you’re really sensitive about this, aren’t you?”

  “If you could just see him. You can tell he was very handsome at one time. He resembles Quinn, but his eyes are more expressive and so sexy. But his mouth, oh, Joni, his mouth is delicious!”

  “Yep, I see all the danger signs. You’re fallin’ for this creep.”

  Tiffany exploded. “He’s not a creep!”

  Joni leaned back. “Sooorrry!”

  After Tiffany’s blowup she drove in silence for a while creating a heavy silence between them. Finally, she said, “Gosh, Joni, I’m sorry, but I’m so tired of everyone calling him names. It’s all I hear. Just the other night his own brother called him Frankenstein, and refers to him as a freak, an insect that lives under the stairs. Can you believe it? An insect, for God’s sake. He seems to have no compassion for him at all or his situation. That’s one of the reasons I hate him.”

  “Do you feel any attraction at all for Quinn?”

  “I did at one time, but since I’ve been there I’ve seen a side of him I can’t accept. Not only is he cruel, but he’s rough, and brutal. He’s the kind of man that if he can’t have something, he tries to take it. He’s the real monster, Joni, an absolute snake.”

  Joni snickered. “Quite a little twosome you’ve got yourself mixed up with. One’s Frankenstein’s double, and the other, Mr. Universe.”

  “I told you—”

  “I know.” Joni sighed. “Hey, I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay…I guess.”

  As the city began to come into view, Joni asked, “Do you know where you’re going? I mean, what street?”

  “Look for Congress Street. It’s near a place they call Downtown Crossing. The place we’re going to is a little hole in the wall that you might miss if you blink.”

  “What’s the name of the place?”

  “It’s a costume shop. Stage Door, I think.”

  “A costume shop? We’re goin’ to a friggin’ costume shop? What for?”

  “You’ll see.”

  All at once Joni jumped. “There! There it is. Quick, turn here!”

  Tiffany turned immediately, an
d managed to maneuver her car into an angled parking space right in front. After they got out of the car she browsed in front of the window taking in the different costumes displayed. She saw big witches’ hats and capes, wolfman fur and fake blood, vampire teeth, capes, wigs, stage makeup and props. Tiffany didn’t see what she was hoping for and felt sort of let down, thinking for the first time that they might not have what she wanted. As soon as they went in, they were welcomed by a deep southern drawl coming from the back of the shop.

  “Welcome, ladies, how can I help y’all?”

  Tiffany was put off for a moment, surprised by his southern accent. He sounded like he belonged way down in Texas.

  “I’d like to see a—”

  “How de do, ma’am,” he said, and frowned. “You know, you seem awful familiar. I know,” he said, cocking his head and gazing at her, “since you come into my costume shop, you must be one them there actress persons. Am I right?” He smiled as if proud of himself. “I hit right on it, didn’t I?”

  “Actu—”

  The man indicated the displays. “Well, we got all kinds. Anything you might want, we got. By the way—” He wiped his hand off and extended it toward her. “My name’s Billy Ben…Billy Ben Cook. I come from the great state of Texas. I been livin’ here about five years now. Course you couldn’t tell me from a native, seein’ as I lost my accent right away.”

  “Oh, yes, I can tell,” Tiffany said graciously.

  “You can call me Billy.”

  “Thank you…Billy—”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Tiffany Lovelace.”

  When Billy heard the name, his smile turned to surprise. “Tiffany Lovelace! Of course, I knew I’d seen your face before. You’re my Matilda’s favorite author. She reads all your books. I have to admit I sneak a peek at ’em once in a while myself. Don’t want the wife to know it, though. She’d call me a sissy or something.”

  “Billy—”

  “Hear you moved to that little town just north of here, what’s it called?”

  “Mystic Island.”

  “Yeah, that’s it. How do you like it?” All at once his smile dropped. “Say, ain’t you missin’? Seems I heard somewhere that you was missing. Got blowed away, or somethin’ like that.”