Running With Monkeys: Hell on Wheels

by Diane Munier

  She sat up. “I love to go fishing. My dad…I haven’t gone in a long time.”

  “I know a place,” he said.

  “Yeah? Right now?”

  “You gettin’ any younger?” he said.

  The guys came out then, Jules’s food on a covered plate.

  “He’s got Bisbe, brother; pay up,” Audie was saying to Bobby.

  “Oh, that son of…” Bobby said.

  They were wrong. Isbe had him.

  Chapter 15

  The fishing trip turned into a cook-out in Isbe’s backyard. When they’d reached Isbe’s house, the girls were already baking, and they were less enthused about ponds and worms and crickets, so they easily prevailed on the men to come in for some food and fun.

  Audie and Bobby were already going inside before Isbe pulled Jules out of the car. “Stay here and we can dance on the patio,” she said, her head to the side as he followed her away from the Buick and onto the porch.

  He was two steps below her, and she took her little flat hat and put it on him. “Look at you, all dressed up,” she said.

  From inside, he could hear Francis and Dorie going on about how beat-up Bobby and Audie were.

  “We got jumped. Baby, we got jumped,” Audie was saying.

  Francis was asking if this happened when they went for their job. “I still don’t know what kind of job you go to at two in the morning.”

  “One like this, baby,” Audie said, and Jules was trying not to laugh.

  But Isbe was laughing at him, in that hat. When they got in, he made like he was going to pull her up to her room, and she resisted and laughed, and he kissed her, squeezed the daylights out of her.

  She pulled him into the kitchen then, but he’d looked longingly up those stairs as she dragged him along.

  “Look who I found,” she said, and Jules snatched the hat off his head, and Audie said he was about to French him he looked so cute.

  The fun included swimming. Jules and Audie went up to the gas station and the little store. They had a rack of swimsuits in the back, and Audie bought three of the same blue trunks, and Jules said, “Hell no.” He got yellow for Bobby and red for himself. They also got some soda, some chips, charcoal, hotdogs, and hamburger. They couldn’t buy alcohol on Sunday.

  They paid and raced back to the house. “Francis is wearing an apron,” Audie kept saying. “She wears an apron.”

  Jules just glared at Audie. He wasn’t touching that, whatever the hell it was.

  When they got back to the house, Francis was cooking and Dorie was pulling a pie out of the oven. “Is that apple?” Bobby was saying, like she’d birthed his child instead of made a pie. And they’d just eaten dinner, those two monkeys. But they were always hungry. And Jules still had foil over his dinner from Tillman’s. He pulled it off, and Francis took a look at it and said, “You’re not eating that.”

  Isbe looked next. “Give it here,” she said, taking the paper plate and tossing it in the trash can that sat under the sink.

  “Hey,” Jules tried to protest, but those girls were swirling around like they’d rehearsed this.

  “I’m going upstairs to change,” Isbe said.

  “We are?” Jules asked, following her.

  She was flushed scarlet for some reason.

  “You can change down here,” she said. “Not outside. I’ve got neighbors.”

  “Audie said they can’t see,” he reminded her, his foot on the first step as he grabbed her around the waist. He ran one hand down the side of her, the full skirt crushed on her hip. They’d been having fun, but he lost his smile and got serious. He moved his hand around back and snapped the garter that held up her nylons. He wanted to see it. He wanted her.

  Her hands were on his shoulders. She was a couple of steps above, a little taller. “I can’t believe you did that,” she said, and she grinned a little, but she was surprised.

  That was nothing. He was handsy. He rarely got stopped, but that was because the girls were usually as drunk as he was.

  This was sober Isbe. Maybe Isabelle. Was it the dress?

  “I like this,” he said, flicking her collar, “but get it off.”

  “I…will,” she said, eyes big.

  “Wear that suit you had on last night,” he said, the punk he was.

  Her pulse was fluttering. He smiled. Yeah, he was a handful. It wasn’t like his old man hadn’t tried to beat it out of him, but the prick inside just got stronger.

  “I will,” she said softly. She turned then and went slowly up the stairs, stopping, two hands on the rail and looking at him. He hadn’t moved.

  He shrugged. He liked the view. He bent to the side a little, ogling her legs, letting her know he’d like to look up her dress. If she didn’t move, he’d say it. As it was, he let his eyes go to her ass, then he looked directly at her.

  “You…need to behave,” she said, the queenie making a show.

  He laughed then. “Why can’t I come up? You afraid I’ll break something?” He lifted his brows and held a laugh in.

  She got it then and shook her head. “I’m locking my door,” she said, and ran the rest of the way up.

  He was laughing when he went in the kitchen. He was an animal. When she came down he’d be so good, she’d think she imagined it.

  The others were outside setting up, getting the fire ready. There was a brick pit built in the backyard. Some antique from the copper was his guess, when the old man was in his better daddy days. The guy had abandoned ship and left her here at sixteen. It was a big pay-out. But screw him.

  He looked around. Baked beans bubbled on the stove, and that pie had dripped syrup on the counter, and he took his finger and wiped it up and sucked it off and, “Shit…dat!” It was so good he could eat that whole thing, especially since they’d thrown his food out.

  Bobby was outside chatting up Dorie. He wore his trunks and an undershirt with smudges of things that might put him in jail, were they to announce themselves.

  He held a beer, and Dorie smoothed out a tablecloth on their picnic table. It was bright-colored with watermelon slices all over. She turned on the radio they had out there, and it was some old swing number, and she squealed and moved to get Bobby to dance.

  “Where’s my trunks?” Jules asked. Bobby went to a lawn chair and picked them up and threw them. Jules reached out the door and caught them while Little Bits danced by herself.

  He could hear Audie’s big mouth coming from Francis’s place. Francis laughed loudly at something that Gorilla said. He went into the living room and took the chance that Isbe wouldn’t catch him. He had his dick out when she came down, she’d never believe it was an accident. He wasn’t sure about it either.

  He changed and put his shirt on like Bobby did. That way they didn’t have to deal with the monkeys and the bruises until it was time for the water. But first, he wanted to eat.

  He gathered up his clothes, and he heard her on the stairs then, and he walked a few steps and was standing at the bottom, and she came down in her suit with some little wrap over it. She’d pinned up her hair. Her legs…how could she be so perfect? It’s like he’d stood over God’s shoulder and said, “Not like that…but that.” And God had listened. For once.

  Chapter 16

  He knew what she was doing. She got him busy on the barbeque. He liked that. He’d never cooked before he was in the army. They found that cellar, those hams, and shit. They’d start to cook, and those moogs came from all over for a bite.

  It kept his hands busy. That’s what she was after—a preoccupation. She told him he was fresh. He said, “Fresh?” like she was out of her mind. “I ain’t one of those mama’s boys. Thought you wanted something new.”

  “Jules,” she said, all aghast. Then she stepped close, and the suit, the suit was right there, nearly against him. She looked at his mouth and licked her lips. Then she walked away, and he yelled some kind of sound. And her hips were moving. She’d better watch it. He wolf-whistled, neighbors be damned.

>   He was just having fun. Not that he didn’t mean it. If she gave him an inch, he’d take her like she was Germany. He’d already begun. He was marching. He was fighting. Soon…soon…he’d be…what? Cause he’d hit a wall, and he didn’t want to think about it. He’d come to the place where he’d have to ask himself…what was he willing to do to keep her?

  Maybe he’d do anything.

  Even now his eyes darted over there. She was going back and forth from kitchen to table. She brought him a pan with some sauce she’d made. The pan was right under her breasts. He let his finger get close, then he stuck his finger in the pan and tasted. “You made this?” This girl! He’d like to pour it all over her chest and lick it off. But he looked right at her breasts and said, “Wow. Delicious.”

  She laughed. But she’d had a couple of beers.

  He poured some of his beer over the meat, and it sizzled. “That’s fuc…great sauce, baby. I’ll let the bar-be-que cool me off,” he called, fanning his shirt.

  Then he laughed. This was fun.

  She came back, a little taste of pie. She liked to feed him, and he liked her to. She made many trips. She brought him a spoonful of beans, macaroni and cheese, celery stuffed with pimento, deviled eggs. Another beer. And always a kiss.

  He fed her the first piece of meat. She had him blow on it. Then he blew on her cleavage.

  “Whoops,” he said. “Got lost.”

  She laughed. Her little white teeth as she bit into that meat cause the piece was too big…he was up close watching like he was putting the pin back in a grenade.

  Later he brought that platter of sauced meat to the table, and they sat then, and God…his sore jaw was aching happily as he ate and ate like the monkey he was. In between what he shoveled in, she fed him and watched as he chewed, watched his throat as he swallowed. She leaned in and whispered, “Such a good boy.”

  “You’ll think good…when I’m done with you,” he said back, and they laughed then. But man…

  Chapter 17

  They played badminton in the pool. The girls got the shallow end and the boys had to tread water while they tried to hit the birdie. It was hard to do on such a full stomach. Francis was afraid they’d get stomach cramps getting in the water so soon after they ate. Audie almost died laughing.

  “It’s not the water that gives you cramps…it’s swimming,” he said, doubled over on the side of the pool after leaving the water to retrieve the birdie yet again. The boys also had to do all birdie retrieving, as they whistled and cat-called too much if one of the girls went for it. Francis’s rule…as most of the rules seemed to be. But sometimes Little Bird went for it because no one was as quick. She wore a two-piece with a slice of her cute little stomach on display, but Audie would say, “Aww, ain’t she a cutie,” and Dorie would squeal and hurry back to the water like she’d been stung by a bee.

  Then she was stung, and Bobby went to her rescue, scooping her up and setting her on the picnic table. He got a penny out of his pants pocket, and after checking that there was no stinger, he laid the penny on the bite.

  Isbe came out of the kitchen with a baking soda paste. If the penny didn’t take out the pain, the baking soda would, she said.

  Julius had her now, wet and slick and soft and gorgeous. Her hair was streaming all the way to her waist. He loved that. He gathered her hair in his hand, squeezing the water out all along its length. He told her, “Don’t ever cut this.”

  When Dorie was better, Francis and Audie went back in the water, but Jules and Isbe were lying on towels while Bobby and Dorie sat at the table and Bobby had more pie. The sun was going down, and the music coming from the radio was mellow.

  Jules was on his back, Isbe on her stomach, raised on her elbows. He checked that no one was looking, then he ran his finger along the top of her suit and she gasped and slapped his hand. He rolled on his side, his arm under his head, and they were just looking at each other. “I can’t believe how well we turned out,” he said to her, and she dipped her head and laughed.

  “Were you ever spanked…or corrected? I mean…who raised you?” She was flushing red and laughing.

  “Audie,” he said, and she laughed some more.

  “You do have a mother?” she said.

  He flopped onto his back. “I have a father.”

  “What happened to your mom?”

  “Same as yours.”

  “Oh…I’m sorry.”

  He was back up on his elbow. “Don’t be. I hardly knew her.”

  “How old were you?” She was getting serious now. Crap, he didn’t want that.

  “I don’t remember. I was young.”

  “You don’t remember? Everyone remembers, Jules.”

  “Oh yeah?” he rolled back and pulled her half on top of him. “I remember you. Everything about you,” he said, backs of his fingers on her cheek.

  “You don’t know me, Jules. Not really.”

  “You don’t think so? Then tell me something.”

  “I told you already. I’m boring.”

  “Nada. Who’s the first boy you kissed?”

  “What? Third grade. Reginald Brule. He dropped his book in the aisle between our desks, and when I bent to pick it up for him, he leaned down and kissed me. I was so mad. I told my girlfriends, and we all ganged up on him, and his mom came and got him because he cried on the playground.”

  “He’s probably ruined,” Jules said. “I’d of punched the little deviant. I could punch him now if you want. Look him up…”

  “Jules…are you…are you guys doing something? I mean…I’m a cop’s daughter. I got a feeling—you know? That’s why…my dad…he’s got the eye. I couldn’t risk—I mean, you guys are so beat-up…”

  “Hey…you want to know me?” He held her chin.

  Her smile…it got him every time. “Well, yeah I want to know you, you big lug. What do you think we’re doing here?”

  He laughed, and she leaned toward him and kissed him. He moved toward her and kissed her again.

  “Believe me…I’ve got something you need to know, I’ll tell you. Like...you’re beautiful. And…I’m nuts about you. How’s dat?” He was feeling pretty proud of letting her know. She dropped her head and laughed again, and when she raised it she was flushed and teary-eyed.

  “You’re kind of full of it,” she said.

  “What?” he pretended offense. “Hey,” he touched her chin again, “I don’t bullshit on the stuff that matters… and you matter.”

  “I…” she looked away, embarrassed.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I just feel…you know…what I said last night…when I drink…I get…” He remembered all right. The Quad 50. She kept looking at the tattoo on his arm. She traced over it with her finger. She was avoiding his eyes. And she should be…lying like a dog. She wasn’t drunk when she told him the second time—after she’d puked.

  “I got no problem with what you said. It’s a free country. You didn’t sign any papers or anything,” he tried to tease her.

  “I bet you think I just say that to guys…and I don’t…I never have,” she said, looking at him now.

  “It’s just me, huh?” he grinned.

  She hit his arm. “Don’t make fun.”

  “I’m not,” he protested, laughing. “Like you said…you were drunk.”

  “I wasn’t drunk, drunk,” she said. “Jules…I knew I was saying it.” He toyed with her hair. Now what? Now he wasn’t looking at her. “I mean…if I wasn’t drunk…I wouldn’t have said it. I…would have held it,” she said.

  He looked at her, those eyes, those lashes like mink.

  “We got to give it time. Maybe you’ll change your mind.” It sounded weak, but maybe she would.

  “I’m a pretty serious person…about things that matter,” she sort of quoted him. He could see she was serious. For all his bullshit, he took her seriously.

  “What do…” he took in a big breath, “I mean, I ain’t ready…I gotta get set up.” He wasn’t feeling as
confident now. He didn’t want to write on the wall for her, “I’m a moog.”

  She pulled away and sat up, threading her fingers through her long, tangled hair.

  He went onto his back again. It hurt his heart to watch her. The sky was gray and pink with the sun dipping. It was big and vast, and every living thing was beneath it. And he was a pinprick, on this towel next to Isbe, and he needed to do something, be something. It was all coming so fast.

  “You don’t have to go bananas, Jules. I can’t help how you make me feel. Just…don’t hurt me…okay?”

  Now he sprang up. “Hey, Isbe…baby…you think I’d hurt you?”

  He pulled her to him. She was crying a little. Shit! He didn’t see this coming.

  “I just…” she was saying, “I can’t just have sex with you. I’m not like that. But…you expect it cause… you’re a soldier…but I’m a good girl…but I’ve been such a slut.”

  “No, no, no.” He was rocking her a little, smiling and thinking, what in the hell?

  “I was just horsing around,” he said, trying to comfort her somehow. But crap…

  “No…I…I like it…love it.” She pulled back and looked into his face. “I just…what do you expect?” she said.

  He laughed at this. It was funny cause hell…he’d take the blue ribbon if she’d offer it. She had offered it just the night before. But this was her serious, in spite of the three beers she’d downed.

  “I don’t expect a damn thing! This…just like this.”

  She beamed at him. Man, he’d hit the bull’s eye.

  “You mean it?”

  He was ready to say yes, but he choked a little and had to cough. “Shit…it got so serious in here,” he laughed.

  “But we should talk about these things, right?”

  “If you want,” he said. “But all this repeatin’. I don’t like to say shit twice.”

  “I’m sorry, Jules, but…I mean…I’m only doing it when I get married.”

  He wanted another beer. Or a cigarette. Or a beer and a cigarette and a shot.

  He’d asked her last night what she wanted him to do…propose?