Mom nodded and disappeared with the kid.
“I’m not usually a wimp,” King Dave said to Nadine.
“C’mon, superman,” she said. She offered her hand. He grunted and pulled himself up. Nadine said, “Somebody else is tired,” and put her arm around his waist.
Instant hard-on. The dumb orange pecker. He leaned on her, pretending he was more pooped than he was, and good feelings filled him up slowly like honey pouring into a glass.
He let Nadine lead him out to the car. Maybe this was the secret to eternal life. Be horny and unsatisfied all the time.
“Want me to drive?” she said and he bit back a sharp answer.
“No, thanks.”
When they got to Nadine’s place he climbed out, making a big show of his disability, and walked her to her door.
“Thanks for coming out with me—us—today,” he said.
“You’re getting to be quite the gentleman,” she said, making dimples. “That’s twice in a row you’ve thanked me.”
“I am a gentleman.”
“For a stagehand,” she said, still smiling.
“All stagehands are gentlemen. You don’t understand us.”
“I guess I haven’t observed the breed near as close as I could.” She tipped her face up as he moved a step toward her.
His hands hung mere inches from those bike shorts. He twitched, but he didn’t touch. Why did you think A-hah when I went off on that moron permit guy?
“What?” she said.
He kicked himself for interrupting the mood. “Do you think I’m some bum who got handed his journeyman’s card and hasn’t done diddly since?”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” she said, and his heart sank. “But I think you’re a good father. And a good person.”
“Huh.” He stared down at her, wondering why he should believe her, feeling his heart thump.
Her eyes were full of light. The coral pink of her mouth glowed, like a licked lollipop. He bent his head and tasted it.
Time slowed.
She made a little moaning noise. Convulsively he grabbed with both hands, then forced his hands to relax as she leaned into him, asking for more with her open mouth. Wonderful mouth. Wonderful ass. He slid his hands up under the floaty shirt, thrilling at the sheer quantity of smooth skin, letting her boss the kiss so long as he could touch, touch it all, slide up and forward to cup those—
She broke loose. “Okay, I guess I have to go now.”
He hung his head, breathing through his nose to calm his heart. “Sorry about that, Nadine. Got away from me there.”
Apologize. Grovel today, get laid tomorrow.
Her head was still tipped up to his. Five days at the inside. He hoped he wouldn’t explode before then. The breeze seemed to carry a heat wave from her to him.
She touched his arm. “Got away from us both,” she whispered, and slipped inside her apartment building.
Chapter Nineteen
In the afterglow of Nadine’s kiss King Dave decided he had energy for a shower and another session with his good buddy the margarine tub. While he was bending carefully to see how much orange was left, his cell rang.
“Flaherty.”
“Yo, King Dave, this is Dammit over at the Shubert.”
“My man.” He turned on the bathroom light. Yeah, lots of orange left. He sighed. “’Sup?”
“Is it true you pounded some dork with a yellow card at the volleyball tourney today and your old man suspended you?”
White-hot humiliation scorched King Dave. News travels fast. “I didn’t touch him,” he said roughly. “Weasel did.” Wouldn’t be long now before everyone heard. His belly went cold as he imagined how the story might reach the old man’s ears.
“Huh.” Dammit went quiet.
Now he’d have to tell on himself, or Dammit would spread his own version. “I cracked four ribs at the Opera House the other night. That’s why I’m not working.”
“I heard you fell into a cake.”
King Dave tried to infuse humor into his tone. “That too. It was scrumptious.” He shouldn’t have to take this shit to his face. He was King Dave Flaherty. He said brusquely, “I didn’t save you any, if that’s why you’re calling.”
Dammit cleared his throat. “Uh, no. Listen, Lon Murphry broke his collarbone today slipping off the cherry picker. I need a rigger for at least six weeks. Mini road version of Rent.”
Wasn’t that just the luck? He would have killed for a chance to talk Dammit into letting him try out as a house rigger, and Dammit knew it. The break of the year and he couldn’t work.
Dammit said, “Somebody recommended this Ned Saakvitne guy. College kid from some three-digit local in the cornfields. You worked with Saakvitne on some job, right?”
King Dave thought. “Don’t think so. Waidaminit, down to the Arena? Peter Gabriel show, lots of swings and flying gear?”
“You were there,” Dammit said. “You tell me.” Now he got it. Dammit was covering his butt. Keep King Dave happy, ask his opinion, let him know he’d have had a chance, if he hadn’t just splashed lemon frosting all over the Opera House stage.
“I think I remember him. Really blond guy. Like, even his eyebrows are blond.” He hated this whole conversation. Here he was helping somebody else get a job he desperately wanted. But the words kept coming out of his mouth. Must be Nadine’s influence. Nice-ing people to death.
“That’s the one.”
Pulling his pants up, King Dave wandered to the kitchen and pawed in the fridge for a beer. “I remember him. He’s okay. Works neck down when it’s called for, but he’s no idiot. Knows his way around a chain motor. He was ground rigger for me on that job.”
There, if that wasn’t a Nadine number. Niceness to a fault. But he felt better for saying it.
“Thanks, King Dave,” Dammit said, which was gushing for him. “I figured you had the scoop.”
“No prob.” King Dave thumbed the phone off. Suckup. Well, at least Dammit called. Being benched in June stank on ice, but it wasn’t the end of the world. He’d be back to work in no time.
Nadine pushed a strand of hair off her forehead and looked at her pad. “That’s three spanakopitas with feta, a mushroom cheeseburg, two regular coffees, a large Coke, and an Old Style.”
“You’re a pro, Nadine,” said Weasel Rooney.
Anvilhead Arnie Baxter grunted.
“Gimme fries with the spanakopita?” said Bobbyjay Morton.
“Gimme a kiss, Nadine,” Bobbyjay’s uncle Rob the Snob Morton said, reaching to pinch her on the bottom.
She dodged his fingers and flipped her pad down on his head. “Buster, I know both your ex-wives. Keep it clean,” she said, unperturbed, and Weasel and Bobbyjay laughed.
She was in too good a humor to scold. Tomorrow she and King Dave were taking Davy Junior to the children’s museum. Her heart hammered. Her cheeks had felt warm all day long.
Rob the Snob reached for her bottom again. She dodged easily.
“Unhand my daughter, spawn of Beelzebub!” said a loud, angry, familiar voice behind her.
Nadine froze in her Stride-Rites. Her blood turned to ice. The pad and pencil fell from her nerveless fingers.
Daddy?
“Step up, son, and defend your woman!” Daddy commanded in a voice like a mighty church organ.
Nadine turned.
Her father, Pastor Fisher, stood over Rob the Snob looking like Moses on a good hair day.
Next to Daddy stood Bub Smith. In the flesh.
Rob the Snob glanced up at Daddy disinterestedly and went back to scarfing breadsticks.
The blood rushed into Nadine’s face all at once. “Bub?”
How had Daddy found her? She remembered that fake telegram and a rush of hot fury overwhelmed her. Had King Dave tried again and got it right? I am so going to make him pay for this.
Daddy looked stiff and unaccountably embarrassed. Bub looked embarrassed, but he always did.
“Daughter, come away
from this haunt of vice,” Daddy said. He looked down at Rob the Snob. “Is this man annoying you?”
“No,” she said. “And I have three hours left on my shift.”
These weren’t the first words she had planned to speak to him. She’d made up some grand speeches for her triumphal return. It never occurred to her that she would meet Daddy here, in her place of refuge—predictably, calling down the wrath of God on her friends.
In fact, Daddy seemed slightly out of place at Liz Otter’s.
He scanned the restaurant, red-faced, and she knew what he was thinking. Sleazy people. Loose women. Men wearing earrings. Men with long hair, tattoos, and worst of all, a bad attitude. The kind of attitude that looked right through you when you said, Haven’t seen you in church lately, son.
She imagined Daddy saying this to, say, Fuckdaluck Eddie or even King Dave Flaherty, and shuddered.
“Daughter, this is a den of iniquity,” Daddy said. “That young woman has a stud in her lip.”
“And another one in her tongue,” Nadine blurted.
“I’ve come a long way to get you,” he said, looking pained.
“It’s nice to see you,” Nadine said, falling back on Sunday manners and hating it. “Why on earth is Bub here?”
Bub looked sheepish. Daddy straightened. “He’s here to make an honest woman of you.”
Nadine noticed Weasel and Bobbyjay avidly eavesdropping and thought how pleasant it would be not to have the entire Local watching while she committed patricide.
“Daddy—”
Daddy stepped back with his And now Bub Smith will read the collect for today gesture.
Bub shuffled his feet. “Nadine, your Daddy thinks, uh, that is, something I might of said gave him the idea—”
“That I’m a slut?” She took a deep breath. “Something you might have said to the whole town. You big fat liar.” Angry tears stung her eyes and her throat tightened.
“Where is my grandchild?” boomed Daddy.
The breath left Nadine’s body. Her eyes bugged out. “Gug?”
Daddy reached up to lay an arm across her shoulders. Suddenly she noticed he was shorter than she was by half a head. “Bub’s here to atone for his wickedness,” he said, raising a hand to silence a sputtering Bub. “He insists he didn’t get you with child last fall, and maybe it’s true. But your name must be righted. My grandchild must have a father.”
Nadine jerked away. “I did not have a baby!” she howled to Daddy, Bub, Weasel, Anvilhead Arnie, Bobbyjay, Rob the Snob, and two dyed-black-haired, stud-lipped waitresses.
Daddy stood there, his arm outstretched, looking foolish.
Nadine turned to Bub Smith. “Go home. I wouldn’t marry you on a bet. As I told you last fall.” The tears dried up in her eyes. “I’m not coming home. I like it here. These are my friends. I have a job,” she said, surprised at the pride in her own voice.
“But your reputation!” Daddy said. “What am I to tell people?”
“Tell them I came to Chicago and got a job,” she repeated. Why won’t you believe in me, Daddy?
“But they’ll all think you’re a loose woman,” Daddy said.
“They think it anyway. I bet Bub hasn’t ’fessed up to everybody,” she said, narrowing her eyes at Bub, who flushed crimson and backed up a pace. With all her heart, she wished she had the courage to accuse her father of two-facedness.
“I like it here. Please, Daddy, I know I should have told you where I went, but—” She glanced around. The whole Local would know all her secrets if she spoke another word. Plus everyone at Liz Otter’s. “—But, well, anyway, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. But I’m not going back to Goreville.”
Daddy’s face fell dramatically.
Now she was committed. Her whole body felt heavy with fear. What have I done? Inside her, a little girl screamed, No, no, I want to go home! Horrified, she stood straighter.
She looked Daddy right in the eye. “I’m staying here.”
Daddy’s fists opened and closed at his sides. His color went dark, then white, then spotty. She thanked heaven that there were so many witnesses. And that he seemed to realize that their opinion mattered.
“You have made your bed and you’ll have to lie in it,” he pronounced. “I hope you don’t end your days alone in regret.”
He turned on his heel and marched out.
Bub Smith backed up, raising his hand in a tentative wave. “Uh, bye, Nadine. Nice seeing you again.” And he fled, too.
Mechanically Nadine stooped to pick up her pad and pencil. Stiffen your spine, daughter. Look ’em right in the eye. With a hysterical gasp, she fell back on preacher’s daughter tactics.
She looked the other waitresses in the eye. “Mel, Diana, don’t you have tables to cover?”
They shut their mouths and went back to work.
“Drinks will be right up, boys,” she said to her own table. She forced herself to turn in their order. Forced her trembling hands to pour coffee, draw a Coke, take Rob the Snob’s beer out of the cooler case. By that time her hands were steady again.
“Thanks, Nadine,” Bobbyjay said in a subdued voice when she slid his Coke in front of him. He flicked her a look, then glanced away. So that was how Daddy’d found her. Bobbyjay Morton strikes again. Right now she hadn’t the energy to smack him.
“Thanks,” mumbled Weasel over his coffee.
Anvilhead Arnie didn’t say anything. Going by his glazed-over expression, he might have missed the whole scene.
Rob the Snob cracked his beer one-handed and patted Nadine awkwardly on the bottom with the other. “You tell ’em, tiger.”
She was physically incapable of the dexterity needed to step away from Rob’s hand. But she looked him right in the eye. “Anything else before I bring your order?”
His mouth opened, shut, and opened again. “Nope.”
She didn’t let herself go to the restroom to cry. She didn’t let herself slump. No tears escaped her eyes, and when Mel asked her by the Bunn machine if she was all right she stiffened her spine and said, “Fine, thanks. You’re sweet for asking.”
Mel rolled her eyes and walked away.
Nadine fled after her shift, flinching at honking cabs, cringing when people squashed her on the bus, yelping when a cockroach ran over her foot as she dropped her keys at her front door. It was as if all her city smarts had disappeared.
When she got upstairs to her apartment she curled up on the chair in her tiny kitchen and shook. So this was what it felt like to be on Pastor Fisher’s wrong side.
Her life was officially over in Goreville. Would he go home and say he’d found her grave in Chicago? What horrid death would he make up for her, to satisfy his rage and humiliation?
I hope you don’t end your days alone in regret. Coming from Daddy, those words were a curse.
She covered her mouth with her hands. A little cry escaped. She wanted to go back to work. Wash her face, change into a fresh uniform, and go straight back to Liz Otter’s, where they liked her and things were normal. That’s the lie of the big city. No matter how horrible your life is, someone else is having a normal day. I want to be one of them.
If she went back to work, she would be one of them. Weasel and Bobbyjay would stop by, and they’d laugh about today, and Bub and Daddy would fade into a world they couldn’t imagine. Maybe she could rewind the day and replay it without Bub and Daddy.
If she could survive the night, she could rewind it tomorrow with King Dave.
That sounded heavenly.
I hope you don’t end your days alone in regret.
She leaped to her feet, raised her fists, and cried aloud, “Darnit, I’m a city girl now! And I’m gonna act like one!”
Anger took over from grief, and a clean cold rage filled her, driving away all the hurt and regret and longing.
King Dave didn’t disapprove of her. He wanted to touch her. He made her feel beautiful. He might be a goof-off, but he surely could kiss. She would bet he did other things well
, too.
She realized her decision was made.
It was time she put King Dave to the use his Lord had apparently designed him for.
She nuked spanakopita and baklava for her supper.
What could she wear tomorrow? Something washable. Anything within ten feet of Davy Junior got sticky. But something King Dave would like. Something, she thought with a shiver, that would come off quick.
Shoveling spinach pie and honey-nut pastry into her mouth, she felt her strength and optimism returning. She rinsed the dishes and went to her closet.
Sure wasn’t much here. Memory ambushed her: sitting at the kitchen table with Momma flipping through Fredericks of Hollywood catalogs. Now those were clothes. King Dave would approve. Too bad Fredericks didn’t make emergency deliveries.
But there was a Salvation Army down the block, open’til ten. Her hand fell from the hangers.
Chapter Twenty
King Dave set out to pick up Davy Junior feeling optimistic. Five whole days had passed without him making a goat of himself. No photos had turned up in the mail. He’d stayed sober. They took the tape off his ribs and he could now bend over without agony. His pubic hairs had responded to the margarine. He hadn’t punched anybody or got bitched out by the old man or pissed Nadine off.
Of course he hadn’t seen her in five days, either. Whenever he saw a kid running in a park, or the afternoon sun filtering through trees, he remembered the silk of her bare skin under his hands, and life seemed okay.
Tonight. Whatever it took. If he had to crawl on his belly like a reptile, he would feel that skin again. He would make her crazy, like that night in the piston room. He wanted to hear her laugh. He stepped on the accelerator and the Camaro roared.
He stopped at Mom’s house first, to see if she would trust him not to drop his own son on his head.
“Where’s Nadine?” Mom said.
“Daddy, Daddy! I taught Smedley how to play baseball!” Davy Junior wrapped himself around King Dave’s legs.
“She’s next. I’m picking Davy Junior up first today,” he said, holding his breath mentally.
Mom narrowed her eyes. “You dumped her already!”
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