{Jackie}
That afternoon, I had done five tattoos. I had kept up with Danny, which seemed to be the highlight of my entire day.
He stopped by my station at about seven-thirty and said, "Ready to go home?"
Twenty minutes later, I was making my way down the dark hallway to my bedroom.
I picked up a pile of mail that had gathered on my vanity table, and sorted through it quickly. Four bills and nine pieces of junk mail.
I went to my closet and pulled out my formal blue dress. I liked the way it made my eyes look. I also found a thong in the same color, a pair of black swede pumps, and the sapphire ring Grandma Gwendolen gave my mother on her wedding day. My clothes for the evening set, I went into the bathroom and locked the door.
Somehow, being in the confined space of the bathroom made me feel at ease. I started the shower. I took off my watch and earrings, set them on the sink. Closed the toilet lid, undressed and set the folded clothes on top of the lid. Ah, routine.
I got in the shower and started to relax a little. I felt as if I were on a pendulum, swinging between anxiety and exhaustion. I didn't have time for a very long shower, but I made the most of it. I tried to lose myself in the steam and rushing water, the fragrances of soap, shampoo and conditioner. As I rinsed the conditioner out of my hair, I stood listening to the roar of the water on my ears. I turned the water off. Suddenly I was paralyzed by fear.
There was a noise outside the bathroom.
I stood there, afraid even to reach for my towel, shivering and dripping wet. There it was again, muffled, but definitely a noise. On the other side of the bathroom wall? In the kitchen? Or was it in the hallway?
I tried to open the shower door as quietly as possible. It made a creaking sound that I was sure could be heard in New Jersey. Cursing under my breath, I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around me. I looked at my watch -- eight-fifteen. Too early for Danny. I looked around to see what I could use for a weapon. Other than a nail file and a bottle of hair spray, not much. It wasn't even aerosol hair spray. So this was going to be my reward for being concerned about the ozone.
Suddenly the noise came again. I wailed. It was someone knocking loudly on the front door. I heard a muffled shout through the door that sounded like my name. I made a run for the door and stood to one side.
"Who is it?" I shouted.
"It's Danny. Are you okay?"
I opened the door. He was standing there red-faced, coat open to expose a formal shirt and stripped tie. "Jackie, are you all right?"
I nodded, standing back to let him in.
"Jesus Christ, woman, you really make my goddamn job tough, you know it? What the hell took you so long to come to the door? I have a bone to pick with that guy who drives the Mustang around here. Son of a bitch almost rammed the side of my car a minute ago."
"Oh, I'm sorry," I said, trying to regain my composure.
"Ih, for Christsakes."
"Look," I said. "I was in the shower. What are you doing here so early? I told you to be here at eight-fourty."
"You're aging me rapidly, babe."
I went back to get dressed. The process was must faster without the temptation of sleep. Danny's scare and the warm shower had fixed that. I managed to get dressed and put my hair on top of my head in what I thought of as some kind of prissy Hollywood fashion.
Danny called to me just as I was coming down the hallway. He stood there, an absolute hunk. He seemed a little surprised to see me, and I saw him look me up and down.
"You look very nice," Danny said with a smile. "The blue in the dress looks good with your eyes."
I rolled my eyes and continued toward him to kiss his cheek.
We walked out to his car, he opened the passenger door and helped me into his car -- I tried not to be too clumsy about it.
As we drove off, Danny looked up into the rearview mirror. "Are you nervous?"
"What's there to be nervous about?"
He laughed. "I just want to be sure that you feel comfortable. I've never been to one of these things so don't ask me for advise."
We drove along toward the beach, where the gold and pink hues of the sunset colored the sky above darkened streets.
"So," I said as way to start a conversation. "How did you get into tattooing?"
"My father was an artist. Drawing has always been something I take seriously. Tattooing came naturally to me."
"How did you end up in New York City?"
"I was married once. We lived on the coast. My attraction to the ocean and the weather lasted longer than her attraction to me, I guess."
"I'm sorry."
"No need to be. That was years ago. I moved here to get away from old memories and was surprised when I got the job at Live Wire."
By then we were on the long road that led out to the cliffs. There were no other houses now, just trees towering over the road. About two hundred yards from the house, we came to a guard house and a gate. A yawning guard took a look at Danny's invitation and lifted the gate arm. Danny pulled over to one side and parked.
We got out of the car and walked toward the house. The Sheffield estate was huge. A three-story Victorian home in the earliest years of their reign over NYC.
A butler directed us around a corner to the back of the house, which faced the twinkling lights of the city below.
It was a warm night for January. Dozens of people chattered and glasses clinked; the cocktail hour was well under way. Danny managed to nab a couple of glasses of wine and we walked out to the far railing of the veranda. The lights of New York City glimmered.
From all around us came the sound of inconsequential conversation, small talk from bigwigs. Several times Danny was approached by beautiful whores dressed in expensive, poorly cut dresses. He would introduce me as his girlfriend, a certain amount of flirty chitchat would ensue, and then he would break off with a polite, "Excuse me a moment." I turned to watch the city lights.
"Don't get too near the edge, my dear, it's not as solid as it looks."
"Why do these girls keep bothering you?" I asked, focused on the world beyond the railing.
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