Marriage Read Online Free PDF Page B

turned toward him, her eyes lowered, afraid to meet his gaze. He let her stay that way and lit another cigarette. He leaned back and blew a thin stream of smoke at the video camera above him. “Come,” he said. He patted his knees. “Sit.”
    Trembling with fear and exhaustion, Kathy crossed to stand before him. His cold, dry hand was like a vice as he pulled her down on his lap. In his other hand he still had the open razor. With a swift, deft motion he drew the blade down the front of her blouse slicing off the buttons.
    She made an involuntary sound but was too terrified to move. “Please...please...” Kathy begged, “I...I’ll do anything you say. Please don’t.”
    Uzetta snapped the blade back into its sheath. “In America black men are shit,” he spoke in a flat, even voice. “Small ugly black men like me, who don’t speak good are worse than shit. Cannot have white woman, not even ugly white woman.” His grip tightened around her waist. “But now maybe Uzetta got him a white woman, very pretty, very rich white woman? Maybe Uzetta got him white woman to fuck?” It sounded more like a request than a demand, but Kathy could not be sure.
    “Yes,” Kathy said trying to keep the fear and loathing from her voice. “You have a...a...white woman. I...I...I’ll do what you say.”
    “Good,” he said. “Dat man, Abul, is weak. I could easy kill him.” He held the razor out to her and flicked it open again. “You take. Go into room with bed. Cut wires on dem cameras dare. Then you fix up self. Wear nightgown, shoes...you know...make pretty. Call Uzetta when ready.” She took the razor and for a moment thought of quickly swiping it across his neck. Reading her mind, he shook his head. “Uzetta no fool. You lose.” Kathy crossed to the bedroom. “Leave door open,” he called after her.
    She knew that Mr. Satomi would be furious if his video cameras were disabled, but she had no choice. The blade sliced through the cables easily. There were eight cameras. She had to stand on a chair to reach those near the ceiling. The bed that she and Jeff had shared looked so inviting. She wanted to crawl under the covers and wake up in the morning with Jeff next to her and this horrible nightmare over.
    She heard some muffled sounds from the living room as if Abul had awakened. She was tempted to go to the door, which was halfway open, but she was terrified of Uzetta. Instead, she looked through her closets, which had been supplied with some new clothes selected, no doubt, by Madam Khe. But the closets also contained the clothes she’d left behind, the things she had worn in the past. Each dress, sweater, skirt, evening gown, and nighty brought back painful memories.
    Her dressing table, she noticed, had been stocked with several shades of lipstick, glosses, mascara, oils, perfumes, eye shadow, and nail polish. Wearily, she removed her blouse, skirt and shoes. She applied make-up choosing bright red for her lips and light blue eye shadow. From the closet she took one of the new nightgowns, a shear pale yellow nylon. He’d said she was to wear shoes. She wasn’t surprised to see, that in addition to her loafers and sneakers and the dress shoes that had been hers, two new shoe racks were filled with a variety of styles, all, of course with four and five inch heels. She selected a pair, which consisted of little more than a thin vinyl strap across the base of her toes and another over her instep.
    Although Uzetta couldn’t see into the bedroom, he sensed that she was ready. “You want Mr. Uzetta?” he said loud enough for her to hear.
    She glanced around the room and stared at the bed where she and Jeff had first made love, remembering the many nights of playfulness and tenderness, the happy laughter and soft caresses. Now she was inviting this assassin, this ugly murderer of helpless women and children to her bed. She couldn’t do it. There was a point beyond which she could not go. Even the thought of Mary