Sintown Chronicles III: In Dark Corners

by David O. Dyer, Sr.

  He listened to the purr of the convertible's engine and watched the top slowly retract. He kept his eyes on the departing vehicle until it was out of sight, pushed the mower back inside the garage and filled the tank with gas.

  * * * *

  "I'm sorry, Miss Swanson, we have nothing available right now, but I'll keep your application on file. I'm afraid Wal-Mart will not be hiring additional help for at least another month."

  "Thank you ma'am. I need work now, but please call me as soon as something opens up. If I haven't found a job by then, I would love to work for you."

  Kmart said the same thing, she thought as she climbed back into the convertible. Nate was right. Finding a job this early in the season is not easy. She drove to the Kroger Grocery Store and filled out another application.

  "I'm sorry, Miss Swanson,” the tall blond-headed manager said. “We just don't have an opening right now."

  Jodi smiled. “I know, don't tell me. You'll keep my application on file."

  He grinned as he nodded. “There is one thing I want to mention to you."

  She looked up expectantly.

  "I have two tickets to the Statler Brothers show tonight. Will you join me for dinner and a concert?"

  Jodi's eyes focused on his wedding band.

  "Divorced for two years now,” he explained. “I wore that ring for seven years and put on a few pounds. Now it won't come off. I've tried soap and even oil."

  "A jeweler can cut if off in seconds,” she said. “You won't feel a thing."

  "Sounds like you speak from experience."

  Jodi nodded as she stood up.

  "If I get it cut off this afternoon will you go out with me?"

  "I don't think that would be a good idea."

  "If I find a job for you will you change your mind?"

  She glared at him and stalked out the door. She visited every tee shirt and souvenir shop in the pavilion area, but the response was always the same. Most didn't bother to ask for an application. Seeking a shortcut back to her car, Jodi cut through an alley and stopped dead in her tracks. A “Waitress Wanted” sign hung in a dingy window.

  She pushed her way through the door and waited a few seconds for her eyes to become accustomed to the dim lighting. Several men were cleaning tables and the floor. The stale stench of spilled beer attacked her nostrils.

  "Don't open ’til six,” a male voice near her elbow announced.

  She jumped and then laughed. “I didn't see you,” she explained. “I want to apply for the job."

  The man eyed her carefully. “I spec you'll do,” he said. He jerked his head forward towards the bar. “See Maude."

  Jodi made her way to the heavily made-up matron propped on a barstool and introduced herself. Maude took a long drag from her cigarette and stubbed it out. “Take your clothes off, honey. Let's see what you've got."

  "I beg your pardon."

  "This is a topless bar, sweetie. Wearing nothing but a g-string, you serve beers to horny guys. Pays ten dollars an hour plus tips. If you want to make, uh, special after hours arrangements with a customer, that's your business. From the looks of things, you should do real good. Of course, you're going to get your ass pinched a few times each night and it's not unusual for our girls to go home with bruised nipples. Now get your clothes off."

  Jodi backed away. “My mistake,” she said and she rushed out of the bar amid the snickers of its occupants.

  As she drove towards Murrell's Inlet a tall sign bearing the likeness of a smiling man's head, complete with chef's hat, caught her attention. “Smilin’ Ed's Bar-b-q” was in large type. Below it was “New Century Toasted Dogs.” She pulled into the half full parking lot and grinned back at the friendly sign. Okay, Smilin’ Ed. Let's see what you've got.

  She pushed through the door and the aroma that engulfed her immediately increased her appetite. The place was neat and clean but devoid of the usual amenities normally associated with a fast food restaurant. There were three men in line and Smilin’ Ed waited on them, one at a time. Jodi watched as Ed pulled a square bun from a steamer, splashed on a generous helping of a finely ground reddish meat concoction from a second steamer, and finished the thing off with a spoonful of what looked vaguely like cold slaw. He wrapped the sandwich in a square of wax paper and pushed it towards the customer who took the sandwich, ignored the cashier, and headed for the long soft drink box that lined one wall.

  The next customer in line ordered two toasted dogs. Ed broke out into a lengthy banter that had something to do with baseball as he moved to a specially built grill on which rested a dozen hotdogs, half covered in simmering water. He removed an oblong bun from another steamer and coated the inside with what appeared to be melted margarine. He forced the bun onto a silver, wedge-shaped object and within a minute removed it. As he placed a hotdog in it, Jodi saw that the inside of the bread was now a golden brown. Using what looked like a paintbrush, Ed applied a layer of catsup and mustard, spooned on a few chopped onions and topped it off with the funny-looking slaw. After making a duplicate, Ed wrapped each hotdog in separate wax paper squares and this customer also ignored the cashier and headed for the soft drink box.

  As Ed chatted away while preparing two barbecue sandwiches for the next man, a customer approached the tired looking woman, sitting behind the cash register. “Two dogs, a que and a pint of chocolate milk,” the man said and then belched loudly.

  "Four fifty,” the cashier replied, reaching for the offered five dollar bill.

  "Haven't seen you before, Pretty Lady,” Smilin’ Ed sang. “What'll it be?"

  Jodi couldn't help but reflect the smile. “I'll have a que, a dog and a job, please."

  Ed dug a square bun from the steamer, examined it, tossed it in the trash and pulled out another bun. “The wife's been on me for months to hire some help. You have any experience?"

  "Nope."

  "Why do you want to work here?” Ed laughed. “Are you that desperate?"

  Jodi returned his laughter. “This seems to be a happy place and I think I'd like working here."

  Ed wrapped the barbecue in wax paper and headed for the grill. “You have a health card?"

  "Where do I get one."

  "At the county health department in Conway,” the cashier replied. “Give her the job, Tubby."

  "Now Mama, settle down,” Ed joked as he spooned on the slaw. “I can pay minimum wage, but with overtime the pay isn't too bad. We work twelve hour days, seven days a week."

  "We can pay ten dollars and you can work a forty hour week if you prefer,” Ed's wife corrected.

  As he wrapped the hotdog in waxed paper, Ed continued his non-stop chatter. “It's my face on the sign but I reckon you know who runs the place. Afraid we don't offer any extras like insurance and paid vacations, but when can you start?"

  "May I think about it, Smilin’ Ed?"

  "See, Mama, you scared her off.” Ed looked beyond Jodi and said, “Man, you look powerful hongry today. You gonna start with two or three ques?"

  "Better make it three, Smilin’ Ed,” the next customer in line replied.

  Jodi slipped away from the counter, pulled a bottled Pepsi from the soft drink unit and sat in the corner booth. She sank her teeth into the saucy ground pork sandwich and sighed. In less than three months I'd be as fat as Smilin’ Ed, she thought, but it's a definite possibility.

  * * * *

  Nathan heard the study door opening and quickly clicked the “minimize window” icon.

  "I picked up a couple of hot dogs on the way home,” Jodi said, dropping a white bag on the conference table. “I'll get you something to drink."

  Nathan glanced at his watch. “It's after two. I fixed a tomato sandwich earlier."

  "Toss them in the trash then. To be honest, they weren't very good—the slaw tastes a lot like sour kraut."

  "Don't go,” Nathan said softly to her back as she reached the door. “We need to talk."

  Jodi took a deep breath and faced him.

 
"What did I do that was so terrible?” he asked.

  "Nothing. It was my fault."

  "Please sit down, Jodi."

  "I'd rather stand."

  "Where have you been?"

  "Out."

  He stood and approached her. “What do you mean it was your fault? I honest to God don't know what you're talking about."

  He reached for her hand, but she moved to the table, turned a chair in the wrong direction and straddled it. “I see you managed to cut the grass."

  He sat opposite her and pulled a wax paper wrapped hotdog from the sack.

  "Did you find a good mower at Kmart?"

  He knew she was being facetious. “How did you know the mower had no gas?"

  "I'm a rocket scientist."

  "I'm serious, Jodi. How did you know?” He bit into the hotdog and began to chew.

  She shook her head. “You had it tilted on one side, but gas was not leaking gut of the tank."

  "Jodi,” he said in surprise, “this thing is delicious."

  "It's called a New Century Toasted Dog. Their special slaw sort of grows on you. They put it on their barbecue sandwiches as well."

  "You must think I'm a real screw-up."

  "Takes one to know one,” she said with no humor in her voice.

  "Am I a screw-up in bed also? Were you faking it?"

  "No,” she said.

  "Then what?"

  "It's me. I've already said that."

  "Hey,” he said with a forced laugh. “You heard no complaints from me."

  "When you felt that woman up at Kmart, did it arouse you?"

  He dropped his eyes. “I didn't mean for that to happen."

  "Did it arouse you?"

  "Of course it did."

  "Then it was me who screwed-up. If it was right—you and me—you wouldn't want to even look at another woman."

  "That's ... that's just plain nuts, Jodi. Of course I'm going to look at foxy ladies. Don't tell me you don't give a few men a second glance yourself. But just because I like to look doesn't necessarily mean I want to climb in bed with them."

  "You're a sore loser, Nate. You pouted when I beat you three games bowling, when I proved to be a fast learner at the driving range, when I played well at the par three course, when I found mistakes in your manuscript and when I caught the flounder."

  "Jodi, I..."

  "I'm a sore loser too, Nate. I've been a loser all my life. I've had so much experience you'd think I'd be used to it by now."

  "In the few days I've known you, you seem to be a big winner to me. Hell, you can do everything better than I can."

  She stood and began pacing the room. “My dream was to come to Myrtle Beach and turn my life around. So what happened? I wrecked my van and nearly burned up in it."

  "You met me."

  "I met you earlier at the gas station when you undressed me with your eyes."

  "Reality proved how poor my imagination is."

  She ignored the compliment. “You risked your life, pulling me from the van and then covering me with your body when the thing exploded. I thought I'd found my knight in shining armor."

  "My armor is rusty?"

  "I rushed you into my fantasy without letting you in on it. Losers do that sort of thing."

  "What did you expect from me?"

  She stared out the window toward the inlet. “In my fantasy, we enjoy each other's company, compliment each other, practically read each other's minds, have beautiful sex together and live happily ever after. Maybe I read too many romance novels.” She faced him. “We did have beautiful sex, but then the next thing I knew, two women were chasing you and one of them turned you on. Did you bag Miss High Cheeks at Kmart this morning?"

  "Without warning, you shut me out of your life, Jodi. To answer your question, I didn't go to Kmart this morning."

  "How about last night?"

  "I was ticked off last night. You moved to the guestroom and locked me out. You want the truth? I'll tell you the truth. I went to Kmart last night and managed to get Mariah's telephone number. There was one little problem. She was enjoying someone else when I called."

  "Poor baby,” she said sarcastically. “Maybe you'll get lucky tonight."

  He stood and, although he was trying desperately to control his temper, his voice level rose. “You turned a cold shoulder to me, Jodi. You wouldn't touch me or even carry on a decent conversation. You moved into the guestroom and locked the door. How did I get to be the bad guy?"

  "Oh, you're not. I said it was all my fault."

  "You say it but you don't mean it."

  "I'm looking for a man to love—not a tomcat."

  Oh, boy. There's that word. “I'm not going to pretend that I love you, Jodi, but I do like you. I like you a lot—maybe too much. You must know that by now. I opened my home and my life to you. You obviously don't agree, but I think we fit together nicely. In time, I think I could come to love you."

  "Don't do me any favors, big man."

  He smiled.

  "Bad choice of words, wasn't it? You've already done more for me than you should. Look, Nate—I said it was all my fault. I got fact and fantasy screwed up in my stupid little brain."

  "I think I would like to help you turn fantasy into reality if you'll give me a chance, Jodi. If I promise to never again look at another woman, will you let me back inside that shell you've thrown up around yourself?"

  Her eyes flashed. “Don't make promises you can't keep. Nate, you were looking at dirty pictures on your computer when I came into the study just now. You're a tomcat. You can't help yourself. Sometimes I think all men are tomcats."

  "I was not looking at dirty pictures, Jodi."

  "Then why did you blank the screen the instant I came into the room?"

  "You're determined to make me a villain, aren't you?"

  "I just asked a question."

  He marched to the computer and restored the screen.

  Jodi could not control the chuckle. “I have to admit, that's not a dirty picture, but what is it, Nate?"

  "It's nothing."

  "It doesn't look like nothing to me."

  "It's computer program code written in C++."

  "I thought you were out of the programming business."

  "I am—or was. When I sold my little company, I agreed to stay out of business for three years. That time limit has expired."

  "So you're working on a new program?"

  He nodded. “I've forgotten so much, Jodi. It's tough getting back into the swing of things. Selling my business was the dumbest thing I've ever done. You think you're a loser? I'm the biggest loser of all time."

  Jodi didn't mean to do it, but she subconsciously placed her hands on his shoulders, kneading them gently. “It made you a wealthy man, Nate."

  "It turned me into a manual writer."

  "Nate, I don't know the details of your personal finances, and I know appearances can be deceiving, but it looks to me like you don't have to work another day in your life."

  He faced her and did not try to take advantage of the softening of her shell. “That's what I thought when I signed the contract. It didn't turn out that way. Unless I'm doing something worthwhile, unless I'm accomplishing something of which I feel proud, I'm ... I'm ... miserable."

  "So you write computer manuals to feel a sense of accomplishment."

  He nodded. “It gives me something to do and sometimes I can fool myself into believing I'm doing something important."

  "But programming is your first love."

  He nodded.

  "Is this program important?"

  "If I can make it work it will be."

  "And it will make a lot of money?"

  "Tons of it."

  "You don't need more money."

  "Being paid for my work is ... is..."

  "Confirmation of your self worth?"

  Nathan's facial muscles relaxed and his eyes reflected warmth. “How'd you get to be so damned smart?"

  She grinned. “I a
lready told you. I'm a rocket scientist.” She turned away from the computer and stretched. “It's been a long day, Nate. I'm going to soak in the Whirl Pool."

  "Will you go to dinner with me tonight?"

  She propped on the table and the grin disappeared. “Nate, why wouldn't you eat dinner with me last night?"

  "Now wait a minute, Jodi. You were the one who..."

  She interrupted. “Why would you not share with me the flounder I caught? Why was it so important to go out to eat?"

  "I told you from the beginning that I like to eat out at night."

  "I wanted to show you what a good cook I am. Is it impossible for you to compromise?"

  He glanced at his watch. “You think we have time to catch another flounder?"

  "That's not the point, Nate. Money and appreciation are similar commodities. You want to sell your work to validate your self worth. I want appreciation for the same reason. Why were you not happy for me when I almost bowled a perfect game? Why didn't you hug and congratulate me when I had the hole-in-one? Why did you not compliment me when I spotted errors in your manuscript?"

  He studied the floor. “Because I'm an egotistical, self-centered knight in tarnished armor. Jodi, if you'll give me another chance, I'll try my best to polish my act."

  "Why?"

  "What?"

  "Why would you do that? What's your motivation?"

  "I, uh, I like you and want you to like me too."

  "Good answer,” she said as she moved towards the door. She paused and, without turning around, added, “I sure could use a good back rub."

  "Are you inviting me to join you in the WhirlPool?"

  "Whatever."

  Nate grinned as he unwrapped the second hotdog. “I'll join you in a minute."

  Chapter Seven

  Jodi hunched her shoulders and sighed deeply as Nathan's fingers worked around her shoulder blades. She knew those fingers would soon be spidering her breasts and she wasn't in the mood. “Are you ready for a ‘what if’ scenario?"

  His fingers slipped to the area she expected. “I have a ‘what if’ of my own,” he said, closing his hands tightly and forcing the flaccid brown nubs to protrude. “What if you face me and ride the bucking bronco?"

  "Did you ever have a woman want to make love to you but you were not ready?"