I don't know that I've ever seen Leroy smile before. Not a real smile anyway.
"I like sliding hookers and pealing out," Phyllis says.
"Come on," says Leroy. "I'll show you."
"Phyllis, you be careful," says Brenda.
I hear someone behind me, then feel some arms go around my waist, this hand go inside my shirt. That warm hand feels good against my skin, Bev's hand.
"Let me go with you and Trish," she asks from behind.
Brenda just went into shock.
*
I put ol' hitchhiking Bev in the backseat. Don't want to follow Leroy so we go on uptown, hit a few back streets, over by the show. Little kids everywhere in the dark. I stop for a minute, go in the Bowling Alley. No Curt. But it's not quite eight o'clock yet. Then we go over by the park along Kings Avenue, a police car spotlights some of the bushes, then turns left toward Main Street. I see something there in the dark. It moves out from behind a bush all humped over, running toward the road, maybe toward us. It's a man. I have to hit my brakes because I almost run over him. Trish screams. He crosses the road in front of my Chevy then comes up beside the passenger door. It's Charles.
I hear Trish catch her breath.
Trish jumps in the backseat with Bev. Charles gets in the front. Has a small box.
"It's the fuzz after me, Bobby," he says. "Get this Chevy moving." He's all dressed in black.
"What's in the box?" I ask.
"Something Leroy picked up for me," he says.
I laugh a little. "You mean it's a box of bubble gum? Or did he get you some rubber bands."
"Don't be so critical, Bobby. Leroy has potential. He did all right. He's my right hand man."
"Why are the police after you?" asks Trish.
"Who's the broad?" he asks not even looking back.
"You might remember my little sister, Trish."
"I know her," says Charles.
"Damn it, Bobby Ray. I'm not your little sister. You haven't got the brains of a Billy goat."
"Trish is all grown up," says Charles. "At least she thinks she is." He has this big smile on his face. "And just as pretty... No. No. Take that back, take that back." And he has turned around, looking at her real close now. "Even prettier than ever."
Jesus, Charles.
"I'm Beverly Morrini, Bobby's ex-girlfriend that he doesn't think enough of to even introduce anymore." And when she says it she hits me on the shoulder with her fist.
"Why, Bobby," Charles says, looking over at me. "You like girls with spunk. There may be hope for you yet. You've got a girl in this car, maybe two girls in this car, that hate your guts. And you haven't even kicked them out. Maybe there is some fight left in you after all."
"What are the cops after you for?" Trish asks again.
"Up to my old tricks. Lenny's tricks."
"What?" she asks.
"Just a little fireworks."
"We're looking for Curt. Got to take him home."
"No need worrying about him," says Charles. "I picked him up fifteen minutes ago. Took him home for you. The police were chasing him. Someone called the cops because he and a bunch of other kids were waxing windows. Lit a sack a shit on a doorstep."
We head over to Ventura Street, which runs all along the west side of town. The girls are whispering and giggling in the back. By the hospital where the rich people live, I turn right because Charles wants me to go by the Danish Creamery. What for, he doesn't say. I end up on First Street but just before I get to the Creamery, he says, "Pull over and cut the lights."
I roll down the window and listen to the clanging of milk cans ringing through the cold night air. I see the Creamery through the trees, even see some cane growing tall and green out back on the bank of the Ash Slough. Charles is sitting over there fooling with something in the dark, can't tell what and can barely see him because he's dressed in black, just see that blond curly hair. I get a sinking feeling that maybe he's playing with himself. But then he tells me to pull out and to leave my lights off. Then he rolls down his window and strikes a match like he's lighting a cigarette. Sparks fly and I think he just lit a sparkler. He dumps something out the window though, holding his arm down beside the car before he lets it go.
"Down the alley," he says.
I'm wanting to turn on at least the park lights, so I can see where I'm going.
"Keep the goddamn lights off," he says.
Then I hear an explosion, except it's so close it rocks the car, hear sand blast the rear end.
Trish screams again.
"Did the Creamery blow up?" I ask.
"Hell no," says Charles.
"Was that us? Did we do that?"
Charles, he isn't saying anything.
"What do you have up there?" asks Bev and she sounds like she aims to get an answer.
"Dynamite," says Charles.
"Oh, good god," says Trish.
*
We're over by the little league diamond, and I'm watching the Police Station over on Second Street but it looks deserted. One police car parallel parked out front. That and the front door with the lit up "Police" sign is all I see. Trish leans over the backseat to watch Charles light the fuse to the second stick of dynamite. He's showing her how to put the fuse on the cap and insert it in the waxy stick.
"Careful, careful, Charles," she squeals.
Bev is up close behind me trying to see what he's doing. She's so close that I feel her breath on my neck, smell Juicyfruit. I turn my head to see what Trish is up to and feel Bev's soft hair on me just as she kisses me lightly on the cheek.
"What did you do to him?" Trish asks real quick, and I wish Bev hadn't done that. "Did you kiss him?" she asks again and laughs like it's the biggest thrill she's ever had. "Bobby Ray got kissed. Whoopee!"
"Lean back, Bev," I say, "and shut your mouth, Trish."
We're two blocks away when the dynamite goes off, but it's so loud that it sounds like it's inside the car. Must be breaking windows out of people's homes. Hope nobody gets hurt.
*
Now I'm standing beside my car with both hands on the cold metal roof and my legs spread, feet are firmly planted in the dirt and gravel of Farnesi's parking lot. Red light is reflecting off my white tuck 'n roll. Looks like blood everywhere. Brock, the policeman that graduated from CUHS ten years ago and played halfback on the football team, keeps running his hands up and down my legs from my shoes all the way to my balls. He's spending so much time up there I am beginning to wonder about him. Charles is spread-eagled on the ground on the other side of my car. He jumped out when the fuzz pulled us over, and they put a gun on him, told him to hit the ground. He hasn't been up since. I don't know if they're going to let him up. They've searched him three times and keep asking for his pistol. Two other policemen drove up a few minutes after they stopped us and started searching my car for dynamite. They have the front and back seats out on the ground now.
Every time a carload of kids makes the U here at Farnesi's, they give us a long stare. Melvin and Eugene parked a little ways from us a couple of minutes ago but haven't gone inside. They're leaning up against Eugene's car watching the action. Trish and Bev are standing over by the police car. Bev has the last few sticks of dynamite up that big fluffy dress of hers. Trish looks like a little angel.
*
So the cops couldn't find anything and had to let us go. Charles says he's going to kill Brock. Says Brock doesn't know who he's screwing with. It's late and we are at the graveyard now, out on the corner of Avenue 23 1/2 and Road 14 1/2. This is where Lenny is buried. It's turned cold and the wind is kicking up a little. Thomas has a crew of kids unloading a mess of stolen pumpkins from the back of his pickup. When Charles saw that Thomas had Chelsey, a colored kid, with him, he got real quiet. Smiled like he was thinking a long ways off. Then he got real serious. "No. We better not," he said. "The dynamite is enough excitement for tonight." But then when he saw that the colored kid was Chelsey, Charles' attitude changed completely. He walke
d over and shook hands with him. Started asking him about his sister. They must have talked for ten minutes. I tell you, Charles knows Chelsey. Must of known him a long time.
I have my car lights shining on them so they can see to unload the pumpkins. Trish is with Charles. He's doing the watching this time, and Trish is putting the firing cap in the stick of dynamite. Bev's standing next to me not talking, but something heavy is worrying her mind. Thomas is standing at the backend of his pickup telling them how to unload, like the big asshole he is. Brenda's standing next to him with her arm on his shoulder.
I can't stand to see her touch him. I walk up beside them.
"Brenda," I say.
She turns around.
"God, don't you ever quit? What is it this time?"
Thomas looks around and sees that it's me, so he ignores me like I'm a little kid.
"I still need to know."
"Know what? I can't believe I have to put up with this, after all you've done to me. We're not friends, Bobby."
"I need to know why Helen slapped Charles at Lenny's funeral. I'm serious, Brenda."
I guess she can tell that this really means something to me because she walks a ways away from Thomas with me. "Why don't you ask Charles? He's just standing right over there."
"He's the reason I want to know. I don't trust him, Brenda. Not interested in his answer. Not yet. Helen's the only one who can tell me that I can trust."
She shakes her head, watches them unload pumpkins. "Alright. If I see her again, maybe I'll ask. Okay? I could call her, I guess. But I'm not making any promises."
"I sure appreciate it."
"You're not my friend, so don't bother me anymore." When she walks back to Thomas, she casts a worried glance at Bev.
They're stacking pumpkins on the blacktop just inside the cemetery gate. Since the gate is closed and locked, the pickup is pulled up real close to it. Leroy and Wayne are in the pickup throwing them down to Melvin and Eugene, who're on the ground just inside the gate. They throw them so fast some smash. Leroy throws some so hard, they don't even try to catch them. Charles and Trish are inside the graveyard placing the dynamite. Brenda puts her arm around Thomas' waist, lays her head on his shoulder. I'm going to have to do something about that.
Charles stands next to the stack of pumpkins that's almost as tall as him. "After this, everybody heads home. You kids got that?"
I don't hear any objections.
*
When the dynamite goes off, we are watching on Avenue 23 1/2 from inside my car with the motor running. I see a flash, feel the concussion and the car rock just before we catch a few seeds and a string of pumpkin slop on a side window. I move on out toward the Boulevard, figuring I'll take Charles back to town to get his jeep.
"Take me home first, I don't want to go back to town," Trish says. "I've got to get home."
"You can wait till I go home," I tell her. She's not running this show.
"You worthless piece of pumpkin guts," she says. "Just can't stand not having it your way."
"Don't bother taking me back to town," Charles says. "Take me home. If I go near my jeep tonight the fuzz 'll get me. My father 'll take me to get it tomorrow."
So I make a U, go the other way on 23 1/2. We cross the Berenda Slough at the place where Lenny died.
"X marks the spot," he says.
I wonder what he means by that? More and more, I just question everything about Charles.
I pull into the dirt yard in the front of Charles' place with his little shack off to the right, a barn on the left where his father milks cows. The ground is all uneven and the barn looks like it's a hundred years old. The right end of the barn, just to the right of a haystack, Charles uses as a garage. There's a car in there and my lights reflect off of its bumper. It's Lenny's car. I would recognize it anywhere. Charles opens the door, steps out. I nod for Trish to look at the barn. "See the Hudson?" I whisper to her."
"Oh, God, Bobby Ray," she says. "It is Lenny's."
"Come on, Trish," says Charles. "I'll take you home."
"Oh no you won't," I say.
But Trish is out the door in a flash.
"Trish!" I say. "Get back here."
"I need to get home."
"I'll take you. Right now."
"You take Bev home. I'm going with Charles." She slams the door.
Ah shit! Not only do I have to take Bev home alone, like they've planned all evening, I finally realize, but I have to leave Trish alone with Charles. And I can't do anything about it.
"Okay if I get up front?" asks Bev.
"Sure," I say. "Might as well play it all the way to the end."
Coming out of Charles' place, I go out County Road and head toward Highway 152. Bev's sitting all pushed up against the door like she's afraid of me. I look over at her.
"You two had this set up, didn't you?" I ask.
"Don't know what you're talking about."
"Do too."
"It was good being with you again."
"You weren't with me."
"I don't mean it like that. It just felt good being around you."
I make a left on Robertson, head out further into the country. We don't talk until I see her house.
"You've changed, Bobby. Brenda's come between us?"
"Can't expect things to be like they were."
"She doesn't want you, Bobby. I do."
When I pull up in her driveway, I notice the milk barn off to the left of the yard, the shed straight ahead with the little Ford tractor parked inside, and the yard all flat and covered with gravel. Everything looks like it has a place. Everything with a fresh coat of paint. Even the tree trunks are straight and have whitewash up to where the limbs start. I stop and leave the motor running, the lights on, so she'll know to get out and that I'm not coming with her to the door. I have to get home to make sure Trish is alright.
But Bev is not opening the door. She scoots over beside me.
"Bobby," she says. And damn if she doesn't reach up and shut off my ignition. Punches off my headlights. "I'm betting my life on you. You know that?" And then she takes my hand in hers, rubs my palm against her cheek then sticks my thumb in her mouth. Her tongue is slick as a snake's belly. "I'm betting on you and me. Some people are meant to be together. That's the way I see it." And now she is unbuttoning her blouse part way. "That's the way I see us. So I don't mind what you do to me anymore," she says as slips my hand inside her bra.
More in there than I thought.
"As a matter of fact, I want to do everything with you. If you can think of it, I want to do it." Then she slips my other hand under her dress, inside her panties. "I want your hands everywhere on me. I don't want anyplace on my body where you haven't touched." She spreads her legs a little and it's wet down there. "You are the only one that has ever done this to me, Bobby." Then she unbuttons a couple of my buttons and sticks her hand down inside my pants, inside my shorts. When she has a good hold on me she says, "You are the only one I have done this to. Now we are one. There's no escaping it. But we're not making love till you come to me."
I button my pants while she buttons her blouse.
"I'll be waiting for you."
She opens the door and slides out, waits for a minute standing there with the door open. Starts crying.
Wouldn't you know it?
Just before she slams the door shut, she says, "I love you, Bobby."
First time in my entire life anyone ever said that to me.
*
I'm home now but standing outside in the dark. Been standing here for an hour and a half watching the stars turn overhead. Must be about two-thirty. I just couldn't bring myself to go to bed because Trish isn't home yet. I turned off the porch light so Papa and Mama would think we're home. Then I went to Trish's bedroom, but sure enough, she wasn't there. So I checked on Curt. I guess Charles really did bring him home. He was sound asleep. At least Charles did something right. But what could Charles be doing with Trish? She's just fourteen.
Maybe I should see if I can find them. How could I let him take her? He was supposed to bring her straight home. Maybe he couldn't get his jeep started. He has Lenny's car too. I've got to talk to him about that car. I don't like him having it. I've let Papa and Mama down again. They depend on me to watch after Trish. Why would Trish do this? This is crazy. Maybe... He better not hurt her.
I keep thinking about where Bev put my hands on her body. I can't believe I just sat there. I want to go back to her house, sneak in a window or something. I can't imagine how good lying in bed next to her would feel. I bet she's warm all over and wrapped up in quilts right now, and here I am, standing outside freezing.
Finally, I see some lights turn off the Boulevard onto our Avenue. The lights are close together, so I imagine it's that old Plymouth Charles' father uses as a work car. I step back behind the oak tree when he gets close. They're in Lenny's Hudson. He cuts the lights before he pulls in, but I still see the faint glow of the dash lights on their faces. Trish looks around inside for some of her stuff. He's looking around with her. Oh shit! I can't believe where he's putting his hands. She kisses him. I pull back behind the tree. Can't watch anymore. She is only fourteen. I walk around behind the house a ways. I'm still glad she's home. At least she's not dead.
I hear dogs barking in the distance and a compressor's hum. I know the neighbors are starting to milk cows. Charles drives off, and I wait a little before I go back around front. I figure she's inside by now but when I get close to the front door, she's still standing in the shadows straightening herself up, buttoning a couple of buttons on her blouse. I figure she must have noticed me standing here so I call to her, quiet like.
"Trish," I say.
But she jumps like she's been shot. Then she sees it's me. "Goddamn you," she says, and her teeth are clenched. "What are you doing out here, spying on me?"
"I was worried." And I walk a couple of steps closer.
"Keep away from me," she says and I notice that she's trembling, but it's not just her hands or maybe her lips shaking like they sometimes do when she's real mad, but her whole body. It's like a tremor running through her over and over.
"I just want to make sure you're alright."
"I'm not. I'm real sick. Just keep away from me."
I get an image, like from the Bible, of a leper talking to me. But I take another step toward her anyway.
She spits on me.
"Keep back or I'll hurt you," she says.