Come Out Tonight - By Richard Laymon Page 0,115

how’ll we get Toby’s address?” Pete asked.

“Let’s just call the number,” Jeff suggested. “Maybe Sid’ll answer the phone.”

“Yeah,” Pete said. “Great idea. And I can tell him how I owe Toby fifty bucks from an old school bet…”

“We should be able to do better than that,” Sherry said.

“We’d need an awfully good story before someone’s

gonna cough over a street address.”

“Unless he’s a moron.”

“Toby said a few things about Sid,” Sherry told them. “The guy doesn’t sound like a moron. He might be cooperative, though. Sounded like he and Toby aren’t exactly the best of buddies.”

“But what if Toby answers the phone?” Jeff asked.

Sherry shook her head. “The one thing we don’t wanta do is lose our element of surprise.”

“That’s right,” Pete said. “If Toby’s home, we’re totally shot down.”

“So how do we find out his address?” Jeff asked.

“Maybe we don’t,” Sherry said.

Pete scowled. “There’s gotta be a way.”

“Not necessarily,” Sherry said. “There isn’t always a way. At least not a good way. Sometimes no way at all.”

“Maybe we oughta just call the number and take our chances,” Jeff said. “Know what I mean?”

“I don’t know,” Pete said. “That might be worse than doing nothing.”

Sherry drank some more of her Bloody Mary. Frowning, she set down the glass. Then she looked from Jeff to Pete. And sighed.

“What?” Pete asked.

“I know how to find the house,” she muttered. “No phoning involved.”

“How?” asked Jeff.

“I’m not sure I wanta tell.”

“Come on, Sherry.”

“If we knew,” said Jeff, “we’d tell you.”

“Are you guys looking to get killed?”

“We’re gonna kill him,” Jeff assured her. “If we can find his sorry ass.”

She shook her head again. “How about this? How about loaning me the car and the pistol? You guys wait here and I’ll go over to his house and…”

“No way!” Pete blurted.

“I was hoping…” Her voice died away.

“Hoping what?” Pete asked.

She took a deep breath, but it must’ve hurt. She winced, then exhaled slowly. “I wanted to take care of this alone. I still do.”

“You mean like take down Toby?” Jeff asked.

“Yeah.”

“It isn’t gonna happen,” Pete told her. “You’re too messed up to go after someone like him. And even if you weren’t, we wouldn’t let you.”

“Yeah. I know. I know how much you guys…care about me.”

“Actually, we just wanta get in your pants.”

“Jeff!” Pete snapped.

Sherry made a quiet laugh and said, “I know. But it’s a little more than that. A lot more. I’ve been at the mercy of you two guys since you found me. You’ve seen every inch of me…and touched most of them. It must’ve been pretty tempting.”

“Nah,” Jeff said. “What could’ve been tempting about that?”

“But you never let yourselves…well, you held back. All you ever did was try to help me. You’re a couple of damn nice guys and I think you’d probably do almost anything for me. But I won’t have you die for me. So far, things have gone okay. You’ve risked yourselves, but we’ve been lucky. We haven’t run into Toby yet.”

Pete felt a chilly tingle on the nape of his neck.

“Eventually,” Sherry went on, “I’m gonna find him or he’s gonna find me. I don’t want you to be around when that happens.”

“We want to be around,” Pete said.

“How you gonna stop us?” asked Jeff.

She almost smiled. “I had me a little plan. Didn’t exactly work out, but almost.”

“What sort of plan?” Jeff asked.

“I came up with it after you guys got done patching me up and I left the message for my parents. You’d already offered me a Bloody Mary,” she reminded Pete. “When I told you I was ready for it, Jeff said he’d like one, too. I didn’t think it’d happen. I’d already pegged you as a straight-arrow…”

“Thanks a lot.”

“Nothing wrong with that, for God’s sake. If I had my way, everyone would be that way.”

He felt himself blush.

She just thinks I’m a straight-arrow, he told himself. If she knew what was really going on…

“But then you came out with three Bloody Mary’s,” she continued. “I couldn’t believe it. But that’s when I got the plan. It was simple—I’d drink you guys under the table. You’re sixteen and you’ve probably never taken more than sip or two of liquor in your entire lives.”

“Oh,” Jeff said, “I wouldn’t be so sure…”

“Yeah, right,” said Pete. “You’re a real booze-hound.”

“Anyway, I’ve been drinking maybe a little more than I should for a few years, so I’ve built up some tolerance. I knew I could handle a few Bloody Marys, no trouble at all. But not you guys. Pretty

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