Too Mean to Die Read online

  “What’re you drinking, Johnny?”

  “Gin.”

  “How could I forget?”

  “I can tell you how you could forget.”

  She ignored the remark and said expansively: “Folks, I’d like you to meet my husband, Johnny Butsko.”

  Everyone stared as she took his arm and pulled him to the table where the bottles and glasses were. She lifted one of the glasses. “Straight up, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Tell me when.”

  She picked up a bottle of Fleischmann’s whisky and poured it into the glass.

  “That’s enough,” he said when it was half full.

  She handed him the glass and he took a sip, glancing around. Everybody was looking at him, including the gunnery sergeant. Somebody put the needle back onto the record, and Tex Benecke and the Modernaires came on.

  Dolly poured herself some whiskey and ginger ale. “When’d you get in town, Johnny?” she asked.

  “This afternoon.”

  “Where you been?”

  “Up to my ass in Japs.”

  She looked at him, saw the new scars on his face, and remembered how much she’d loved him, the toughest man she’d ever met. Sometimes she loved him and sometimes she hated him, but she’d never stopped loving his allotment, which showed up every month.

  “How long you gonna be in town?” she asked.

  “Seven days.”

  “You staying here?”

  “I hadn’t intended to.”

  “It’s your house, Johnny, just like you said. You can stay here if you want to.”

  “I don’t know if I want to.”

  “You should let bygones be bygones. You can’t carry a grudge forever.”

  “Who can’t?”

  “Well, maybe you can.”

  “There are some things a man just can’t forget.”

  “If he don’t want to forget, I guess he won’t.”

  “Sometimes memories don’t go away whether you want them to or not.”

  She wrinkled her forehead and shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about that. It won’t lead nowheres. Come on in the kitchen, where it’s quiet and we can talk in peace, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She turned away from him and walked toward the kitchen, and he looked at her big ass. She was really upholstered for comfort these days. She’d always been a big girl, but she’d gotten bigger. He followed her into the kitchen and looked at the old Frigidaire, the electric Donald Duck clock on the wall, the little Emerson radio that she listened to when she cooked and did the dishes.

  “Have a seat, Johnny,” she said. “Can I get you something to eat?”

  “Yeah, I’m a little hungry,” he replied, sitting in the breakfast nook. There wasn’t much room in there; he’d never liked the damn breakfast nook. “What you got?”

  “Would you like a chicken sandwich?”

  “That sounds good.”

  “With a little lettuce and mayonnaise?”

  “Sure.”

  She opened the Frigidaire door and took out the makings for a sandwich. “Well, I never thought I’d see you again,” she said, taking the cover off the glass container that held the chicken meat. “When I saw you out there I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

  “Who’s the gunnie?”

  She knew exactly who he was talking with, but pretended she didn’t. “The who?”

  “The Marine gunnery sergeant.”

  “Oh, that’s Jack.”

  “You going out with him or something?”

  “What if I was?”

  “So you’re going out with him.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  She looked at him angrily. “Well, what am I supposed to do, wait for you to show up? I haven’t seen you for two years, you son of a bitch, and I wrote you a letter six months ago, and I never got an answer.”

  “I never got no letter from you,” he lied.

  “You didn’t?”

  “No, but mail service ain’t so hot up at the front.” That was another lie, because the Army always was very scrupulous about mail, no matter what the circumstances.

  “What front was that, Johnny?”

  “Guadalcanal.”

  “I figured that’s where you were. They always send old Johnny Butsko where the shit is the deepest.”

  He smiled faintly. “Ain’t that the truth.”

  “Was it as bad there as the papers said it was?”

  “I don’t know what the papers said, but it probably was worse.”

  “Well, at least you’re still alive and kicking.”

  She finished making the sandwich and put the extra stuff back into the refrigerator, then carried the chicken sandwich on white bread to him on a dish. He rolled up the sleeves of his khaki shirt as she set the plate before him and sat down on the other side of the table.

  He rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, and she saw on his forearms the new scars that he’d got from hand-to-hand fighting with Japs on Guadalcanal. Without thinking about what she was doing, she reached out and laid her hand on one of the scars.

  “Jesus, Johnny, the things you must’ve been through.”

  Without replying, he lifted half of the chicken sandwich and bit off most of it, chomping away, not wanting to look at her eyes because he was afraid she might hypnotize him.

  “The fighting’s all over on Guadalcanal,” she said. “Where are you going next?”

  “I don’t know, but if I did I couldn’t tell you.” He put the rest of the half-sandwich into his mouth and sipped some whiskey.

  She looked at him and knit her eyebrows together. There was something about him that she just couldn’t stop loving, and she knew he loved her, but their marriage had been five years of fighting over everything. They used every trick in the book on each other, and at times he fell back on the violence that came so easily to him, while she’d done all the sneaky, shitty things that women do. The result had been a continual state of war until he’d shipped out for the Phillipines.

  “Johnny,” she said, “I wish we could get along.”

  He reached for the other half-sandwich. “We can’t get along because you like to fuck around too much, Dolly.”

  “Everything I’ve done I’ve done because of you.” She reached toward him. “Gimme a cigarette, willya?”

  He took out his pack of cigarettes and tossed them in front of her. She upended the pack, caught one, and put it in her mouth. He placed his Zippo on the table and she picked it up, flicking the wheel in front of her cigarette.

  He took a sip of whiskey. “What do you mean, you fucked around because of me? Why are you blaming everything on me?”

  “What did you expect me to do, sit home and twiddle my thumbs while you were away?”

  “No, but you don’t have to fuck other guys.”

  “I get lonely, Johnny. I can’t help it.”

  “That’s not my fault. A lot of women don’t fuck around when their husbands are away.”

  “A lot of women don’t have any life in them.”

  Butsko grunted as he put the last piece of sandwich in his mouth. It was true: A lot of women were dull, and Johnny didn’t consider them attractive. But he’d always been attracted to Dolly because she’d been a live wire. That’s why he’d married her; she excited him so. Even now she was radiating heat and light across the table.

  “The only way to deal with a woman like you,” Butsko said, “is to chain you to the goddamn bed. Too bad that’s against the law.”

  “You’re the only man I’ve ever really loved, Johnny.”

  “Knock it off, Dolly.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “How can I believe you? You lie so much.”

  “Let’s not argue. We’ve been over this ground a hundred times already.” She leaned forward and placed her hand on his. “We should stop talking and just go upstairs.”

  He grinned. “You think so?
”

  “Yeah.”

  “With all these people here?”

  “To hell with them.”

  Butsko pushed the empty dish away and looked at her, wondering what to do. He wanted to go upstairs with her, but he was also mad at her. She’d broken his heart too many times. But she still looked good to him. Her big tits filled out in front of her dress and she had a twinkle in her eye.

  She shook her head slowly. “You just can’t forget, can you?”

  “Guess not. A man likes to think that his wife is all his.”

  “I’m all yours right now.”

  “What about tomorrow?”

  “Why are you worried about tomorrow? Today isn’t over yet.”

  Butsko flashed on Guadalcanal, when the fighting was the toughest and he had thought he was going to die any moment. He’d be back in the war soon and maybe he’d run into that bullet that had his name on it. What the hell—he might as well take his pleasure where he could find it, and Dolly sure was a pleasure. He’d love to squeeze her big tits again, just like in the old days.

  “Is it that hard to make up your mind?” she asked.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  He slid out of the breakfast nook and looked down at her. She had a wise-ass smile on her face as she arose beside him.

  “Lead the way,” he said.

  She touched her lips lightly to his, sending a thrill up his spine. Then she turned and walked out of the kitchen. They passed through the living room, where the record player was blasting and Dolly’s guests were dancing and partying. Everybody noticed them, and some of the guests appeared amused, while others were perplexed.

  One of them was angry. He was Jack Crane, the Marine gunnery sergeant who was Dolly’s current boyfriend, or at least that’s what he thought. He looked down the hall and saw Dolly opening the door to her bedroom, with Butsko standing behind her, his hand on her waist. Jack felt the temperature rise underneath his collar. She couldn’t just slough him off like that, after all the presents he’d given her and all the money he’d lent her without ever expecting to get it back.

  He set down his glass and walked down the hall. Butsko and Dolly heard him coming and turned around. Jack had had drunk too much and wasn’t in a sensible mood. The booze had loosened his inhibitions and permitted him to get angry.

  “Where the hell you going!” Jack said.

  Dolly looked at him with disbelief. Had he lost his mind? At that moment she realized for the first time that Jack was a big asshole.

  “Mind your own business,” Dolly said. “Go back to the party.”

  “This is my business!” Jack replied. “You just can’t walk out on me like this!”

  “You’re drunk. You’d better sit down someplace.”

  With a glance at Butsko, who was surprisingly calm at this point, she walked into the bedroom. Butsko followed her. She turned to close the door, but Jack pushed hard and it flew open again, causing Dolly to lose her balance and stumble backward. Jack stood hulking in the doorway with his wide shoulders and florid face. His light brown hair was shorn to a quarter-inch in length, and his ears were large and protruding.

  “What the fuck you think this is, Dolly?” Jack demanded.

  “Who the hell you think you’re talking to?” she replied.

  He pointed at her. “I’m talking to you! You can’t just throw me away like an old shoe!”

  “Get lost, Jack,” she said. “You’re making a nuisance of yourself.”

  “Whataya mean, ‘Get lost’!” He stormed into the bedroom, balling up his fists. “You’ve cost me a fortune, you fucking cunt! You can’t treat me this way!”

  “Hey,” Butsko said softly, “that’s my wife you’re talking to. I think you’d better calm down.”

  Jack looked at Butsko and sneered. “Your wife? Don’t make me laugh! She’s screwed just about every soldier, sailor, and Marine who’s ever been to Honolulu! Your wife? She’s the town pump, for Chrissakes!”

  Butsko’s movements were surprisingly swift for such a big man. At one moment Butsko was standing a few feet away from Jack, and in the next moment Butsko was charging like a wild bull. Butsko dived on Jack, grabbed him by his shirt, and threw him against the wall. There was a tremendous crashing sound and the dresser shook, Dolly’s perfume bottles toppling over. Jack bounced off the wall and came back at Butsko, swinging.

  Butsko blocked the first punch and hammered Jack in the gut, while Jack punched Butsko in the mouth. Butsko hooked up to Jack’s head, and Jack threw a punch that Butsko caught on his shoulder, but Butsko’s hook was more powerful, staggering Jack. Butsko slammed Jack in the mouth, splitting his lip open, and Jack reached deep inside himself for a killer punch that landed squarely on Butsko’s nose, busting it up.

  The pain and blood drove Butsko wild. He ran toward Jack, drew back his arm, and threw an incredible blow. It hit Jack on the chin and lifted him off his feet, sending him flying into the hallway. In another part of the house women screamed and men came running.

  Jack lay on his back in the hallway, trying to get up, and Butsko jumped on top of him, straddling him and punching him in the mouth until another Marine sergeant dived onto Butsko. Behind him came yet another Marine sergeant, who also piled on.

  Butsko fell onto his back under the weight of the two Marine sergeants, who tried to pin down his hands and punch his lights out at the same time. Butsko, in his rage and pain, thought it was just like those hand-to-hand battles with the Japs on Guadalcanal. With a mighty roar he swung around and broke loose, delivering a backhand punch to one of the Marines, and then heaved hard with his belly, pushing the other Marine to the side.

  Butsko snarled and jumped to his feet. One of the Marine sergeants was on his knees, and Butsko kicked him in the teeth, then darted in the direction of the other Marine, who was on his feet, raising his arms to protect himself. Butsko punched toward his face, but the Marine’s fists were raised to protect himself and he blocked the blow, although its force shook him up. The Marine swung down with a hook to Butsko’s kidney and landed on target, but Butsko was too angry to feel pain. He grabbed the Marine by the throat and squeezed hard, and the Marine clawed at Butsko’s hands, drawing blood, but Butsko didn’t let go.

  “Stop it!” Dolly screamed. “You’ll kill him!”

  Butsko heard her and came back to his senses. He loosened his grip and let the Marine, whose face was blue, drop to the floor.

  A crowd of women and servicemen were in the hallway, and one of the women screamed: “You killed him!”

  Butsko turned to face her and she jumped on him like a wildcat, trying to scratch out his eyes. She succeeded in digging red lines across his face, and then Dolly shrieked and grabbed her by her long hair, pulling her backward. Another woman in the hallway jumped on Dolly, and then another woman, who was a friend of Dolly’s, jumped on that woman.

  Meanwhile Jack had picked himself up off the floor and was reaching into his pocket for his jackknife.

  “Watch out!” somebody yelled.

  Butsko turned around and saw Jack pull the jackknife out of his pocket, but before Jack could open the blade, Butsko grabbed Jack’s wrist with one hand and belted him in the mouth. Then another Marine jumped Butsko from behind and Butsko threw him over his shoulder into the crowd in the corridor. Women yelped and men got out of the way as Butsko went after him. The Marine got up and ran away toward the living room, and Butsko followed, tackling him from behind. Both of them went crashing into the table that held all the booze, and it tipped over, bottles and glasses flying everywhere.

  The first Marine followed Butsko into the living room, saw him tussling with one of his buddies on the floor, and picked a lamp off an end table, raising it up in the air behind Butsko. He smashed the lamp against Butsko’s head and Butsko fell to the floor, unconscious.

  “I got him!” the first Marine shouted.

  Jack came staggering into the room. “Where is he?” He looked down and saw Butsko lying on his stomach. Ja
ck took out his jackknife and opened the blade. Women screamed and Jack held the knife in his fist with the blade pointing downward. He raised the knife in the air and was about to plunge it into Butsko’s back, when Butsko came to.

  “Look out!” somebody yelled.

  Butsko rolled over suddenly as the knife came down, and it stabbed into the floor. Butsko bounded to his feet, saw a whiskey bottle lying intact on the floor, picked it up by the neck, and smashed the bottle against the wall.

  Jack pulled his jackknife out of the floor and turned to face Butsko, who advanced with the broken whiskey bottle in his hand.

  “You’re a dead man,” Butsko said.

  “We’ll see about that!” Jack replied, getting into a knife-fighter’s crouch.

  At that moment Dolly burst into the room, her dress torn and her hair all messed up. She took one look at the both of them and her eyes widened.

  “Stop that!” she yelled.

  “Stand back,” Butsko replied.

  Dolly leaped forward and got between the two of them, holding up both her hands. “I don’t care if you beat each other to death, but no knives and no broken bottles!”

  Both men hesitated, because to get at one another they’d have to go through Dolly.

  “Well,” said Jack, “I ain’t dropping my knife unless he drops that there broken bottle.”

  “I ain’t dropping this bottle unless he drops that knife,” Butsko said.

  Dolly was getting furious. “You’re both like a couple of goddamned kids! I said drop those things, both of you!”

  Butsko didn’t want to do it, but be thought be should take the chance. He was liable to kill Jack, and that would have very serious consequences. “Okay,” he said, and he let the broken bottle fall to the floor, where it shattered.

  Dolly looked at Jack, “It’s your turn now.”

  With a victorious shout, Jack pushed Dolly out of the way and charged Butsko, driving his knife toward Butsko’s heart. Butsko dodged to the side and grabbed Jack’s wrist with both his hands. He kneed Jack in the balls, elbowed him in the eye, and slammed Jack’s wrist against the wall. The knife fell out of Jack’s hand and Butsko picked Jack up, raised him over his head, and threw him at the plate glass window in the living room. Jack crashed through the window, landing with shards of glass on the front lawn.