by Jada M Davis
The cook selected another pickle and began to slice it. “How much did Barbara make?” he asked.
“Two hundred.”
“That’s what I want to make.”
“O.K., cookie. I’ll give you the two hundred. Not that you’ve got me over a barrel, understand. It’s just that I like your looks. If you tried to talk now you’d be in trouble up to your neck. You waited too long, and they’d want to know why. But I’ve got a job and I don’t want trouble, so you get the two hundred. Understand?”
“Yeah.”
“Here’s the money.”
“Thanks.”
“If I hear any more out of you, cookie, I’m liable to pick you up on a charge of molesting children. In fact, we’ve had a couple of complaints about you already.”
“There won’t be a peep out of me.”
“Just make sure of that.”
Barbara was at the coffee urn. He smiled at her, and winked.
“What time do you get off?” he asked.
“Ten o’clock.”
He whistled. “Do you work all the time?”
“I had four hours off this afternoon.”
“I’ll pick you up at ten.”
“All right.”
He drove to the edge of town and had a beer at a drive-in.
Thinking of the day, the past days, he shook his head. It had been one long cat and mouse game, and he had been the mouse. The cat, some invisible force that seemed determined to trap him, had toyed and pawed, toyed and pawed, but hadn’t ended it.
It had been that way a long time. Closing in, closing in, time running out and closing in, closing in. Time, some huge pincer that would snap shut at some predetermined time, closing in.
He had another beer.
It would be a joke if he could figure out ahead of time just when the pincers would close and time would run out—and be gone just ahead of deadline.
That would be a joke. Smart, too. Manage to get the forty grand and blow just before the deadline.
He had another beer.
Time was a cat, a black cat with blazing green eyes, toying with him and pawing him, playing with him and getting a little closer and a little rougher all the time.
Wesley and Baldy and Laura, Ed Barrick and Cliff Barrick and Wesley’s landlady. Baldy’s sister and the waitress and the cook. Wesley’s car and the sheriff.
Closing in.
He swigged one more beer, paid the check, and returned to the Hall. On the way, nearly there, he changed his mind and drove to his room.
Better to see if his money, hard-earned money, was safe. He might not get the forty grand, but he had money, some money, a lot of money.
There was a bottle of liquor in the bureau drawer with his shirts. He poured, drank, poured, drank. Again. And again.
Head spinning, but no matter. No mouse like a drunk mouse and to hell with the cat.
The money.
Poor old Baldy. Old Baldy took most of that money out of safes. Store safes. Or was it saves? Safe, save, plural of mouse is mice and there’s only one cat and the plural of cats is kites, and to hell with the cat.
Half a glass. Neat.
Now the money.
See if the money’s safe, save, and be quick about it. Safe. That’s a hell of a word. All words are a hell of a word if you get right down to it.
Take Laura, for instance.
Hell in bed.
All there, no inhibitions, but maybe the little waitress would be better.
The money. In the lining of his top coat. He had split a hole in the pocket, stuffed in the money, sewed up the hole in the pocket and who in hell would think of looking there?
He went to the closet and found the coat. The money was still there, safe and sound, that word safe again, still there.
Why not blow? That’s a lot of money. Blow to Mexico and buy a ranch. Before the cat pounces.
Like hell!
Get the forty grand from Laura and then blow! No girl’s gonna take forty grand from Willa Ree and get away with it.
Take Laura along.
Take Laura and so what good is forty grand? With forty grand you won’t need Laura, for forty grand will buy all the Lauras in Mexico.
Another drink.
Something trying to close in, something big. Something. Everything going wrong. One thing leading to another thing and everything piling up, trying to close in. Like chain reaction.
Go see Laura. Maybe he should. Getting dark.
His head was spinning, but he felt good. He circled, avoiding busy streets, and was careful.
Laura was home. He saw the light.
For the first time in a long time, suddenly, he felt gay. Happy and gay, light hearted and gay.
“Maybe I love the girl,” he said and giggled.
That would be a good one.
But maybe it was true, for he realized he wanted Laura. Wanted to be with Laura, feel her close and hold her close—safe.
Safe?
He wanted her, desperately. He wanted to hold her in his arms, be held in her arms, and tell her all about it. Tell her all about everything.
Whistling, staggering a bit, he went inside.
She had been in the bathroom doing something to her hair. When she heard him open the front door she came out.
He whistled.
Grinned broadly and whistled.
She wore panties and bra and house slippers. And she was beautiful, tall and beautiful.
“Hello, honey,” he said.
“Good-by, Ree,” she said.
“To hell with good-by, honey. Tell you what, tell you what, let’s never say good-by. What say? Tell you what, Laura, tell you what. Let’s get a good night’s sleep and in the morning you get the forty grand and I’ll grab my top coat and we’ll head for Mexico. What say?”
He held his arms wide and stepped toward her.
She fiddled with her hair, stepped back.
“You’re drunk, Ree.”
“Sure I’m drunk. What the hell, you’ve seen me drunk before. Bit of drunk, maybe, I am, but what the hell, Laura? I mean it. I’m serious. I’ve got a good-sized roll, myself, and with the forty grand you’ve got we could go to Mexico and buy a ranch. Live like kings! Like kings, Laura! No more of this crumby town!”
“But I don’t have forty grand, Ree, and even if I had it I wouldn’t go anywhere with you. Your money’s got blood on it, Ree.”
“Oh, no, Laura.” He laughed and pointed a waggish finger. “You must be drunk yourself. There’s no blood on my money! It’s clean, green and crisp and clean!”
“You’d better go, Ree. I’m telling you, you’d better go. I know you’re an ex-convict, and I know you’re no good. You don’t care about me and never have. You never will. I was just someone to sleep with. So get out.”
He shook his head.
“Nope. Tonight we’re going to sleep with your head on my shoulder and I’m going to make you love me.”
“No Ree.”
“And tomorrow, Laura, we’re going to leave this crumby town. You’re going to take the forty thousand and I’m going to take my little old topcoat and we’re going to Mexico. We’ll buy us a ranch and settle down. We’ll live like kings, Laura!”
“What forty thousand, Ree?”
Laughing, he waggled his finger.
“You’re not so dumb, Laura, but you don’t have to play innocent with me! I’ll admit you were pretty smart to figure it out, though.”
“Figure what out?”
“About the chair.”
“What chair?”
“The red chair.”
“The red ch—”
“Wait a minute,” he said. “Wait a minute. Maybe you didn’t—”
“So you took forty thousand dollars from Wesley and hid it in the red chair.”
“It’s just a gag,” he said.
“It’s no gag,” she said. “Where did Wesley get the money? From you? Where did you get the money, Ree?”
“Go to bed,
” he said. “Sleep with your head on my shoulder.”
“Wrong again, Ree.”
He looked at her and forgot the money.
Almost.
“The trouble with me,” he said, “is that I never appreciate what I have. The first time, that is. You’re more beautiful than any girl I’ve ever seen.”
“Thank you just the same. But it’s too late.”
“Why?”
“I think I know what happened. You stole the money. And I’m beginning to wonder about that poor little burglar! I know there’s something about the Barrick boy. And you slapped me around! I loved you, Ree! I really loved you, but I know you played around with the Halliday woman while you were sleeping with me, loving me, and you played around with that cheap little blonde down at the Hall! You make me feel dirty, Ree! Dirty all over, dirty and scabby and whorey!”
“Laura,” he said. “Laura, I think I love you. I don’t know for sure what love is, but I think this is it.”
“It doesn’t matter. Maybe I love you, too, but it doesn’t matter! You’re filth, Ree, rotten filthy! I’m no angel, but I’m too good for you!”
“We’ll go away.”
“I think you’d better go.”
He tried to take her in his arms, but she pushed him away.
“To hell with you, then!” he said. “There are other fish in the sea!”
She laughed. “That’s you, Ree. You’d turn on your mother, if she didn’t do to please you.”
“Good-by, Laura.”
“So long.”
He slammed the door.
In town, with traffic heavy, he nosed into the curb and walked a block to the café. His head was spinning and he cursed himself for drinking on an empty stomach. Two cups of coffee helped, and he ordered a steak.
So Laura’s father had the money. He’d taken the chair and found the money.
Well, the preacher would be easier to handle than Laura would have been. At least he wouldn’t have to marry the preacher.
That Laura.
Long legs, beautiful body, and what a dream she’d been tonight.
The steak tasted like ashes, but he ate it all.
Have to go see the preacher, but not tonight. Tomorrow night. Tonight, the waitress—Barbara.
He had more coffee and smoked. His mouth hurt, his face hurt, and a couple of teeth felt loose. That damned Barrick! The steak was heavy in his stomach, but his head had stopped spinning. He decided to have a bath and change of clothes.
One eye was black. His face looked haggard, worried, eyes stary in the mirror behind the counter. He paid his bill and left.
The loose teeth began to ache.
He had a drink as he dressed and one after he dressed. His head was spinning again, but the worried look was gone from his face when next he looked in the mirror. Time to pick up Barbara.
He sat in the car until he saw her switch off the lights in the café then got out to meet her at the door.
She wasn’t any bigger than a minute.
“Tired?”
“A little.”
He helped her into the car.
“Where do we go from here?” he asked.
“I’ll have to change. I live on Oak Street.”
“Rooming house?”
“Garage apartment.”
“Oh.”
“Did you—fix things?”
“The cook? Yeah, I talked to him. He was just talking. When I got tough he admitted seeing things just like you did.”
“Good.” She laughed a shaky little laugh. “You know,” she said, “I’ve been worried all day.”
“What about?”
“About what happened. And if I did the right thing.”
“You did right, honey. Believe me, I’m pretty torn up about what happened. I’m not kidding... I wouldn’t have hurt that kid for anything in the world!”
“You’ve been drinking,” she said.
“Do you object?”
“It’s a waste of time,” she said.
“I guess you’re right, Barbara. I don’t drink usually, but I was upset because of last night.”
She pointed out the turn and told him when to stop.
“It’ll take a little while,” she said. “I’ll have to take a bath and fix my hair.”
She expected him to wait in the car.
He went around and opened the door, took her by the arm and walked down the drive leading to the garage. He felt the hesitation in the stiffness of her arm.
“You didn’t need to get out,” she said. “It won’t take but a minute. Could you just wait in the car?”
“And let you go in that dark house by yourself? What kind of gentleman do you think I am?”
“I do it every night.”
“But not tonight.”
He followed her up the outside steps and waited while she unlocked the door.
“I don’t know what Mrs. Callon would think if she saw you going inside with me,” she said. “She’s my landlady. She teaches Sunday School and is the president of the PTA, and I just don’t know what she’d think if she saw you going....”
“Don’t worry. She’ll never know.”
She closed the door before switching on the light. It was a one room and kitchenette apartment, with a couch that made into a bed, an overstuffed chair, a worn rug, bookcase, coffee table and dresser.
“Sit down,” she said.
“Thanks.”
She rummaged in the dresser and he stifled a chuckle as she rolled panties and bra into a small ball and tucked them under her arm. She made a trip to the bathroom and returned without the underclothing.
“How old are you?”
“What?”
“I said, how old are you?”
She was at the closet, selecting a dress. She turned around and made a face.
“I’m twenty.”
“Ever been kissed?”
“Once or twice.”
She spread the dress on the couch and returned to the closet for a housecoat.
“It won’t take long,” she said, and went into the bathroom.
He heard the splash of water, fragments of her song.
She had wanted him to wait in the car.
Quiet in the bathroom.
He grinned.
She had left the housecoat with the dress on the couch.
“Would you hand me my housecoat, please?” she called.
“Sorry.”
The bathroom door opened a crack, and her head appeared. She smiled and wrinkled her nose.
“Be a good boy.”
“Sorry.”
“Please. I’m cold.”
“Sorry.”
She stamped her foot. “I’m cold!”
“You’ll have to get your own housecoat.”
“I’ll stay in here all night.”
“It’ll be awfully uncomfortable.”
“Stop teasing,” she begged. “Really, I mean it.”
“I’m not teasing, little one.”
“You’re not—you wouldn’t—”
“Don’t play hard to get.”
“Look,” she said. “Please. I’m not that kind of girl. Forget the rest of the money, Mr. Ree, but please go.”
“I can give you something better than money.”
She threw the door open and made a dive for the housecoat, bare legs flashing and black hair flying.
Ree grabbed the wrap and held it behind him, but she picked up the dress and rushed back into the bathroom. He followed, grabbed at her, caught a shoulder, a smooth bare shoulder.
She wrenched away, and he saw the red mark of his fingers on her flesh.
Her eyes were wide and frightened when she turned to face him, and he stepped back to look at the small perfection of her body.
She stood, defiant and unashamed.
Upturned breasts, hidden by bra. Pink, bare flesh dimly visible through the sheer pink panties.
He put out his hand and took her by the hair.
�
��Please,” she said, left arm instinctively covering her breasts. He pulled her hair.
She let her arm drop.
“Please,” she said.
He caught her in his arms and bent to kiss her.
She lifted her head and stared into his eyes, and then she kicked him, hard.
He rolled on the floor, doubled hands to crotch, groaning and trying not to retch.
“Go!” she screamed. “Go away!”
He got to his knees, felt pain lessen, subside.
“Not now, baby! Not now!”
She tried to push him away from the bathroom door, but he shouldered forward, still on his knees, and held her tightly.
“Not now,” he panted. “Not now.”
“I’ll scream!”
“What would your landlady say?”
He wrapped both hand around her knees and pulled her to the floor.
She fought savagely, crying silently, and clawed, writhing, at his face.
“I’ll kill you,” she said. “So help me, I’ll kill you!”
She bit him.
“I’ll tell them I lied about the fight!” she said. “I’ll tell them you paid me to lie! I’ll tell them! I’ll tell them!”
“It’s too late, baby.”
She gave up. Exhausted, too tired to cry, she went limp in his arms.
“I’ll kill you,” she said. “So help me, I’ll kill you!”
“It would be worth it,” he answered. “So help me, it would be worth it.”
Chapter Twenty-five
Swing pounded on the door, but Ree didn’t answer. At last, irritable, he got the landlady to unlock the door.
Ree had gone to bed fully dressed.
“You must have had quite a night.”
“I did,” Ree said, fingering the stubble on his chin.
“Well, so did I. While you played, I collected.”
“How’d you do?”
“Good. Damned good. The money’s in the car.”
“Bring it in and figure the divvy while I clean up.”
He had finished shaving and was taking a shower when Swing finished the count.
“Hey, Ree!”
“Yeah?”
“It comes to fourteen hundred and four dollars!”
“Not so loud.”
Swing came to the door. “Seventy of them paid off.”
“Figure up the cuts. Messner gets ten per cent of the total, so if fourteen hundred is one fourth, the girls took in fifty-six hundred. Ten per cent of that is five hundred and sixty. Take five-sixty from fourteen.”
