Chapter 10

Back in Denver we tried to go through the motions of normal life, but we were overcome by dread of what Jacquot would do. We tried making love a few times, but mom was nervous and I was limp. He must've wanted to draw out our agony because he waited almost a week before calling. I could tell it was him by the way Diana's usually open, active face tightened when she answered the phone. She turned on the tape recorder she'd brought from the office and asked, "What do you want?" She motioned me to pick up the extension in her room.

When I did, Jacquot must've heard a click on the line, because he said, "Sounds like the little motherfucker just picked up the phone, that right?"

I was silent.

"Who taught you to do that, huh? While I was in the joint fuckin' my fist, you two were fuckin' each other. Ain't that sweet. You must've been practicing a long time ... got quite a bag of tricks. Sure a lot of stuff you never did with me." Beneath the hatred, his raw voice held pain from being left out and unwanted, the ultimate family rejection. But I couldn't feel sorry for him. He was trying to ruin us.

"But your diddle days are over. I got a new job, much better pay. Professional photographer. I want to show you some pictures I took on my vacation. They'll make great postcards, send 'em to all your friends, your boss, everybody. When do you want to see 'em?"

"That won't be necessary," Diana said.

"Aw, come on. I thought you were interested in artwork. Some of these are pretty experimental."

"How much?"

"You want to buy the whole exhibit? A sold-out show. That'll cost you. A lot of people will be interested in these."

"How much?"

"Two hundred thousand."

Diana sounded like she'd been hit in the chest. "That's ridiculous. I couldn't begin to get that much." In 1968 two hundred thousand dollars were like half a million today.

"Hey, us artists got to make a living. And you're a banker's daughter. Hit up the old man."

"He won't give me a cent. He cut me off a long time ago."

"Then rob his bank. Hey, what's he gonna say when he sees the pictures? What's your boss gonna say? Incest is a heavy duty crime, bitch! You and little motherfucker goin' to prison. I got a nice shot of him branding your ass—now I'm gonna brand you both as freaks. Your lives are over. Over! Unless you come up with two hundred yards ... quick!"

Diana sounded broken, trapped. "Give me some time ... to see what I can do."

"I'll call you next week. And by the way, I know you're taping this. You can tape your pussy shut for all I care. Doesn't matter. No way can you go to the cops now. Nothing matters but your getting the cash. Small bills. Fast." He hung up.

We sank together onto the couch, mom sobbing, me trying to comfort her. Prison, I thought with a shudder. They won't even let us be cellmates.

"He didn't used to be like this," she said.

I wasn't in the mood to hear anything good about Jacquot, so I said, "He is now. That's all that matters."

"It's not all that matters," she insisted. "How he got that way matters too."

I let that go. "What are we going to do?"

She tossed it back at me. "What do you think?"

I mulled it over. "Is there any chance that grandpa would ... lend you the money? Maybe we could say I had some terrible disease."

She shook her head and bit her lip. "He'd want proof. He's a banker. They get instantly turned off when a person really needs a loan. That's when you can't get one. Besides, he's still pissed that I'm on the board of Lawyers for Peace. Says I'm dragging the family name through the mud again. He'd be convinced I'd give the money to the Viet Cong."

"Maybe"—I started speaking out a half-formed idea—"we could have Jacquot over here ... tell him we'll give him the money ... he comes over ... and I kill him."

"No!" Diana waved her hands to shut me up. "Don't even think about it."

"But wait, let me finish. We could make it look like self defense. He attacked us ... he's a crazy ex-con. We had to defend ourselves."

"Tommy, that's crazy."

I became suddenly furious that she'd discounted my idea. "It's not crazy. He's crazy! That's true. It is self defense. He's trying to destroy our lives ... and you're making excuses for him."

"Stop this! I don't want to hear it."

I rushed on, seized with the idea. "We can figure out a way. You know the law. And I'll be the one to actually do it. We can make it seem like it was his own weapon ... a switchblade or something ... that he attacked us with. I'll stab myself a couple of times to make it look real. The cops'll believe it."

Diana pulled away from me and stood up angrily. "You've totally sunk down to his level. And it won't work. I've seen enough blackmail cases. He'll have a copy of the pictures hidden somewhere. And he'll leave word with somebody. If anything happens to him, the pictures go to the DA. Then we go to jail—for incest and murder."

As soon as she said it I knew she was right, but I was still too mad to admit it. "But what are we going to do?"

"I don't know, but we're not going to kill him."

I frowned. I still liked the idea.

She must've known that because her tone turned urgent. "Tommy ... I mean Tom, I'm sorry ... you have to promise me you won't do anything like that. Ever. I really need your promise."

"OK, I won't. Promise."

"You won't promise ... or you won't do it?"

"I won't do it," I said with irritated slowness. "I promise." I still wanted to though.

Mom sat back down beside me. "Here we are fighting. It's exactly what he wants ... to drive a wedge between us."

I saw she was right and I was playing into his game, but I couldn't apologize or say anything. I took her hand, and we sat still for a while. I put my arm around her.

She squeezed my hand, but her face turned even sadder as she said, "Remember I used to worry that we'd be punished ... that something terrible would happened to us? Now I guess it has."

"No, don't buy into that," I told her. "We'll find a way out of this. Why don't we just disappear? Look, we could drop out, move somewhere else, change our identities ... just like the Weather Underground."

"It's an idea." She mulled it over. "But then I'd have to stop being a lawyer. And what else could I do?"

"You'd find something. And I could get a job." I was getting more enthused. "We'd be new people. We could even ... get married!"

Mom looked at me lovingly. "That's so dear of you," she said, tears running down her face.

I held her close. "Why not? We could change our ages too. You look twenty-five."

"Thank you. You're certainly my biggest fan. Getting married! You sweetie. I'd love to be your bride and stand up in front of the world and say 'I do' to you." She kissed me. "We'll think about it. The thing is, going underground would put us at the rock bottom of the economic pile. And that's a hard place to be in this country. I couldn't prove I had any degrees. I'd be a terrible waitress. And I really love practicing law. But not as much as I love you. We'll keep it as a possibility."

For now we were too nervous and frightened to decide what to do. We had to keep the drapes shut all the time. We couldn't hold hands or walk arm in arm in public like we used to. Having to hide hurt us, but not as much as jail would. Mom's face stayed tense and strained, and she gnawed on her thumb so much that I threatened to paint it with that liquid pepper they use to break children of the habit. She drank three glasses of wine at dinner rather than one. We still couldn't make love.

Diana calculated that with all her savings and borrowing from friends she could raise about $45,000. There was a chance Jacquot would settle for that, but she knew once she started paying him it would never end.

Finally we realized we needed to get away to someplace where we could think clearly and be ourselves again. Someplace remote and different, yet not too far away. We decided to fly to Key West for a few days. Mom drove to the airport while I peered out the rear window: No motorcycle. I walked the aisles of both the jumbo jet to Miami and the commuter plane to the Keys: No Jacquot.

Key West turned out to be the perfect place—the mood there is so free and easy. It's a very accepting town, maybe because of all the gays. And maybe because it's hard to be uptight in the tropics—puritanism seems to be a northern disease. Amid the palm trees and sultry air we felt we could let our guard down. No one stared as we snuggled close in restaurants and smooched on park benches like other lovers.

The weather was ferociously hot, and Diana's clothes weren't light enough. In one of the little boutiques I bought her an almost see-through cotton blouse, leather sandals, and a suede miniskirt. It made me feel great to spend the money from my soda-fountain job on her. We looked so much alike that it was obvious we were mother and son, so the boutique staff gave us indulgent smiles, as if to say, How sweet. They did seem a little shocked when I went into the try-on booth with her, but they were too sophisticated to say anything.