1980 - You Can Say That Again Read Online Free PDF Page B

Stevens.’
    He went to the box, opened it to display a complete make-up kit. From it he took a pair of calipers, a scratch pad and pencil.
    ‘I have to measure your face, Mr. Stevens. Forgive me for inconveniencing you,’ he said.
    I held my head still while he took measurements, noting the results on the scratch pad.
    As he was taking the measurements between my eyes, I became aware that he was whispering. Between his gush and his whispering, his conversation went like this: ‘Marvelous eyes, so full of personality. I’ve been kidnapped! Who are these people? Mr. Stevens! Your features are so regular! This dreadful woman terrifies me! I have been a prisoner for more than two months. Now allow me to measure your ears. Just turn your head to the right. Who is she? Please tell me. That’s perfect. Now the left ear.’
    I realized this aged queer was in the same predicament as I was. He had been kidnapped to turn me into Harriet’s son.
    ‘I don’t know,’ I whispered. ‘I’m supposed to impersonate her son. I ‘ve been kidnapped too.’
    Then looking beyond him as he was measuring my left ear, I saw Mazzo had come in silently. The sight of him, staring at me, scared the hell out of me.
    Charles, seeing my change of expression, looked over his shoulder. I felt his fat frame tremble.
    ‘Ah, Mazzo!’ he exclaimed in a thin, shrill voice, ‘I have finished. All will be perfect!’
    Mazzo moved into the room. On his arm, he carried clothing. He gave Charles his hungry tiger look, then he showed his rat teeth at me in a smile.
    ‘Put these on, palsy,’ he said.
    He tossed a suit onto a chair.
    ‘Of course,’ Charles said. ‘The clothes.’
    Aware that I was now sweating, I stood up, stripped off my clothes and put on the suit Mazzo had tossed on the chair.
    This was some suit: a dark grey mohair that must have cost a bomb. It fitted me like a glove. Charles, his eyes frightened, fluttered around me, patting the suit, then he drew back.
    ‘The clothes will be no problem.’
    Mazzo smiled at me.
    ‘You’re lucky. They didn’t fit the other jerk.’
    I took off the suit and put on my own clothes while the two of them watched me.
    My mind was darting around in sick panic, Jesus! What have I walked into? I thought. I looked at the wilting, sweating Charles who was smiling at Mazzo like a dog expecting a beating.
    ‘The hair,’ Charles said. ‘That needs attention. I must do that. Please sit down, Mr. Stevens.’ He went into the bathroom and returned with a towel which he draped around my shoulders.
    From his box, he produced a comb and scissors. He began to snip while Mazzo prowled around the room. Between the snips, and while Mazzo was at the far end of the room, Charles breathed words, leaning forward, his lips nearly touching my ear.
    ‘They are paying me so much! I’m so frightened! What has happened to the other man? I put in hours of work on him.’
    Then Mazzo came back and stood over us, and he remained standing over us so this frightening one-way conversation had to cease.
    Finally, Charles stood back and surveyed me: his tinted lidded eyes pools of fright.
    ‘Yes! Perfect!’ he exclaimed. ‘Now, the limp. Mr. Stevens, please give me your right shoe.’
    I took off my right shoe and gave it to him. He went to the table and sat down. From the box, he took a small screwdriver and levered off part of the heel of my shoe. Again from his box, he produced a leather wedge which he screwed to the heel.
    All this took a little time. I just sat, watching him, while Mazzo stood watching me and Charles.
    ‘Let us see,’ Charles said. ‘Please put on the shoe and walk to the window and back.’
    I put on the shoe, stood up and walked to the window. The thick wedge he had screwed to the heel of my shoe threw me slightly off balance. I found I was walking like a man with an injured leg. I limped back and stood, waiting.
    ‘Perfect,’ Charles said.
    At this moment, the door slid back and Mrs. Harriet came