A bouquet of roses and lots of thanks to Solo and SHaron for all their help scanning and proofing these classic stories of Constance Collins! This story originally appeared in the zine The Fix no. 7 which can still be obtained from In Person Press

Comments about this story can be sent to: VenicePlaceAngel@aol.com

From the Clandestine Reports of D. M. Starsky
Notes to be pitched as soon as I'm done writing them...
by
Constance Collins

I didn't know she was crazy. I mean, I never even considered that she might be seriously around-the-bend-nuts. And what do I know from crazy, anyhow? Norman Bates in his mother's clothes, or Joan Crawford in that movie where she axed her husband to death?

Cap'n caught up with me in the hospital waiting room. I was expecting the usual, 'No private parties' lecture, but all he said was "How's your partner?"

So I gave him all the usual double-talk the doctors had given me. Cap'n listened like it made sense to him, but I could see he was waiting for the rest of the story: how did this happen?

What the hell was I supposed to say? My partner's taste in women sucks? It's just that simple; the guy's got as much chance of picking a winner as Huggy does finding a get-rich scheme that'll really get him rich. And I certainly haven't noticed either of 'em hitting the big time.

I don't know why. Why he likes little-girl women who can't fend for themselves, who want the moon and sun (and H) to revolve around them, and whine like spoiled brats when somebody turns off the spotlight. Maybe they're afraid of the dark.

Maybe H wants to be the nightlight that keeps 'em safe from the shadows. He wants like hell to be the hero; I guess to do that you gotta have a damsel in distress.

And you know, they gravitate toward him. I don't think we've ever once questioned a hooker whose eyes didn't cling to him -- and it's not just how he looks, it's how he looks at 'em -- like they're all lost little flowers he'd like to take home and nurture.

And he would, ya know? If Diana hadn't gotten so nuts so fast, he'd'a tried to put her pieces back together.

It was weird; I was watching it all happen, watching her loony-tunes out, and all I could think was how sorry I felt for her. 'Cause she didn't seem to have any idea what she was doing, how she was just pushing him away with both hands.

It ain't easy to love H, not up close, 'cause it's so hard for him to take. An' I do love him, really, but -- you can't much do for somebody who just won't let you. I know that (I don't claim to understand it, but I do know it). But Diana just charged right in and started to doing for him and H just pulled back. That pushed all the crazy-buttons in her head -- triggered all her paranoid fantasies. Or, who knows, maybe they weren't fantasies, maybe she's got this whole horrendous past full of men using her and ridiculing her and that was all she knew from relationships. And H's retreat just pushed her over the edge.

I could see Cap'n asking himself why I didn't do anything, why I didn't know how screwed up she was; I've been asking myself the same thing. And the only answer I can come up with is that I misread all the signs.

When H found her in his apartment making dinner I could see he was pissed off. When we went out, she got all clingy, and watching him dance with Cathy she looked furious and terrified. I'd seen that same look on Vanessa's face. And when I asked Diana to dance, that "oh, are you still here" expression was a perfect copy of the one the ice-queen always gave me.

Maybe that's why I was so complacent. She was like Vanessa without the polish, without the hold on H's heart. She was trying to take possession of H a little too quickly, and it was obvious (to me) she wasn't going to last. I felt sorry for her, but I've watched H walk open-eyed into too many dead-end relationships; it was a relief to see him recognize a no-go for a change.

I do have some empathy for that crazy-love ('cause God knows how I feel about H isn't all that sane either) and I know how frustrating he can be; sometimes I wonder how long it's gonna take before I get that nuts. He frustrates the hell outa me, won't let me get close enough, either. So I can even understand a need to scream, "Look at me, look at me!" Do it myself, lots'a times, in lots'a different ways. But this was --

There was something in her voice when she answered H's phone, when she said it was too late, I knew she was getting off on playing out her sick little fantasy. Maybe this was what she'd always waited for -- a chance to strike out at somebody who' d hurt her.

Cap'n finally gave up and split, and here I sit playing bodyguard, watching H sleep so I can get some peace of mind myself. Can't trust luck for nothing where that partner of mine's concerned. I blink, and he's in trouble...

Well, he's awake. Time to pitch this drivel.

end