Stacking in Rivertown Read Online Free PDF Page B

from St. Pat’s and put it in a cup next to her bed. Before each play, she would light it and blow it out three times.
    I began sitting with her, never going down to a play without doing the candle. After awhile, I got a cup. We’d light the candle three times, then I’d turn the cup over, thinking of the dangers buzzing everywhere.
    So I take the candle and cup out of my bag, setting them both on the floor. I perform our ritual kneeling. It’s the first time I’d ever done it alone, which almost starts me crying. I sit quiet then, trying to get up my nerve.
    After a time, I leave the room, pulling the doors shut behind, feeling a bit floaty in the head. I take the elevator down and hit the restaurant. A table is reserved for Elizabeth Boone.
    My waiter flirts to beat the band. He wants me to order a large spread. I’m sorry to disappoint him, keeping it light. A salad. No wine. Alcohol and Ben never mixed for me. I did acquire a poisonous taste for smack. Ben didn’t mind. He was the one that got me started, handing it out for a reward like it was candy.
    I’m forcing myself to eat when the concierge arrives, offering me a note on a small tray. I wait for him to leave before I open it.
    It says: “Finish up quick and return to your room. We need to talk.”
    Something must have gone wrong. Maybe they didn’t like me. I charge the meal to the room. The waiter helps me up, smiling hopefully. I blow him a kiss and grab my purse, then head for the elevators.
    As I’m going up, I think I might lose that nice salad. One to five, I say to myself. Count one to five and then start again. Don’t mind the lights. (I tell myself this because I’m seeing a few lights roving in the air.) One to five.
    The elevator opens. My heels
tick, tick
over the marble entryway floor. I’d thought the play was going to be a grab. Now I’m not so sure. I walk into the anteroom, closing the doors behind me and dropping my purse on a boringly tasteful table. Then I stroll into the sitting room, expecting to see Ben.
    Across the room, and sitting with drinks in hand like they’re in their own home, are a man and woman wearing masks that look like something out of a costume ball. I stand, shocked. That goddamn Ben has tricked me again.
    That’s when they get me.
    The first guy jerks back on my mouth so hard, I bite my lip. So I’m thinking, shit, shit, shit. So much for leaving the face clean.
    He stuffs a wad of cloth deep into my mouth. I fight hard. Ben appears out of nowhere, similarly masked, and helps them hold me down on my back.
    One of the boys, a blond Aryan type sporting a Lone Ranger mask, holds my mouth and starts fondling. That’s when I get a nasty surprise. They begin taping me.
    Tape is playing dirty for Ben.
    I try to scream, shooting a nasty look at him.
    “Shut up, bitch,” the blond says as he’s taping my mouth. He slaps me good and hard a couple times after he’s done.
    From the look in Ben’s eyes, a mixture of anger and delight, I’m beginning to get the feeling this isn’t play. He leans down and slaps me a good one. They tape my eyes, then turn me over, taping ankles, knees, and my wrists behind. I hear somebody laugh and I’m slapped on my ass, and then they all three stand back from me. I’m breathing hard and still kicking.
    What do you think? Ben says. I hear the lovely couple walk over to me. Ben kicks me.
    Turn on your side, he says.
    I turn, curling my knees up. Ben grabs my hair and turns my face toward them.
    Perfect, a woman says.
    She’ll do fine, a man says.
    You could start on her here. It’s Ben’s voice.
    I feel hands on my breasts. I struggle, trying to get away. I’m pushed over and held tight to the floor on my back.
    A knife cuts my dress open from my neck down to my waist. My bra is cut in front and pulled back.
    Someone’s touching my head and my cheek. Hands move down to my nipples.
    You’re beautiful, the woman says. We’re going to have a little fun with you