Her tank top exposed her arms entirely and left her shoulders bare except for narrow straps. It was so tight that it hugged every curve and bulge. It didn’t reach down far enough to meet the waistband of her jeans, so Norman could see her skin there – and her belly button.
She wore the blue jeans low on her hips. They were faded almost white. The legs were cut off at the crotch, and the side that wasn’t blocked from sight by the denim bag had a slit going halfway up. Norman supposed she must have a matching slit on the other side though he couldn’t see.
He wondered if the slits were meant to be sexy. Maybe they were just there to make room for her thighs.
Her stocky legs were bare to mid-calf. That was where the boots began. Dirty white cowgirl boots with high heels and pointy toes.
Hasn’t she ever looked in a mirror?
If she’s ‘top-drawer,’ Norman thought, I’d hate to see what’s in the bottom.
An RV the size of a railroad boxcar came roaring down from the north. It angled across the centerline to give the girl some space. She vanished. The wind of the passing RV shook Norman’s Jeep. When he could see again, the girl was running across the highway.
A very controlled, measured run. As if she felt that running was required, but wanted to show that she was in no great hurry.
One hand, bunched in a loose fist, swung forward and back. The other clutched the shoulder strap of the denim bag that lurched and swayed at her hip. Her breasts seemed small for someone with such wide shoulders and full hips. She looked as if she had a couple of oranges trapped inside her tank top. They leaped around quite a lot.
‘Look at ’em go,’ Duke said.
‘What?’
‘What do you think? Man, I wouldn’t mind sucking on one of those.’
Before quite reaching their side of the road, the girl stopped running. A couple of casual strides and she stepped off the pavement. She turned and walked straight toward them. Smirking, swaggering, swinging her hips.
‘What a piece of work,’ Duke muttered.
‘A piece of work, all right.’
‘You’re a fag, all right.’
‘Am not. And look, don’t do anything . . . weird. Just leave her alone, okay?’
‘Oh, yeah. Right. Want her for yourself, huh?’
‘I’m a fag, remember?’
‘Yeah, we both know better than that. Tell you what.’ Instead of telling Norman anything, Duke swung open his door and climbed out.
‘Howdy!’ he called to the girl.
‘Howdy right back at you, guy.’
‘Your chariot awaits.’ He patted the top of the Jeep. ‘We’ll let you sit up front. Give me your bag, there.’
‘Thanks.’ She lifted the strap off her shoulder and swung the bag toward Duke.
He caught it. Climbing into the front seat, the girl smiled at Norman.
Her stare was fixed on him, so he couldn’t check her out the way he wanted to.
‘Hey,’ she said.
‘Hi.’
She smelled fresh and clean in a way that made Norman think of a breeze coming in off the ocean. Duke shut her door. He opened the back door, then flung himself in and set her bag on the floor.
‘Thanks for stopping,’ she said to Norman.
‘Glad to help.’
Duke’s face appeared between the seat-backs. ‘They call me Duke,’ he said.
The girl turned her head, and her nose almost touched his. ‘That’s a dog’s name, ain’t it?’ she asked.
Duke let out a howl.
She laughed and mussed his hair. Then she pushed his head out of the way. ‘Now, who are you?’ she asked, turning to Norman.
‘Norman.’
She repeated his name and slipped her hand up the short sleeve of his shirt. Her fingers curled under, nails lightly scraping his upper arm. Goose bumps scurried over him. He squirmed.
He gave her a nervous smile. ‘What’s your name?’ he asked.
‘Boots.’
‘Boots?’ Duke said. ‘What kind of a name is that?’
‘You’re someone to talk, aren’t you? Duke.’
‘I guess we oughta get going,’ Norman said, and started to check the traffic. When an opening came, he swung out, made a tight U-turn, and stepped on the gas.
Duke leaned forward. ‘Where you going, Boots?’ he asked.
‘No place much.’
‘You must be going somewhere,’ Norman said.
‘Nope. I just follow my boots. Get it?’
‘I guess.’
She raised her right leg and crossed it over her left knee.
She was looking at her foot, not at Norman. So he stared at the raised side of her thigh. It looked pale and very smooth. He wondered what she would do if he reached out and put his hand on it.
Not about to find out. No way!
She wiggled her boot. ‘See how it’s pointing? Down the road. That’s where I’m going now. With you guys.’
Norman glanced again at her thigh, then forced himself to look through the windshield. ‘Don’t you have some kind of a destination in mind?’ he asked.
‘What for?’
‘I mean, aren’t you trying to get someplace?’
‘Anywhere I am, that’s fine with me.’
Norman smiled at her. She smiled back.
Her eyes give me the creeps. And it’s not just the makeup, he told himself. Something was wrong with the eyes themselves. In a way, they looked like perfectly normal brown eyes. They had no physical defect that he could see. But they seemed to have an emptiness.
Cow eyes, Norman thought. Cow eyes and a pig face.
Cut it out. She’s not so bad. Maybe she’s just dim-witted or something.
He returned his gaze to the road, but his mind stayed on Boots.
Why on earth, he wondered, does she want to use all that makeup?
Maybe to hide the emptiness. Instead of hiding it, though, the gaudy makeup seemed to highlight it. Like an elaborate frame around a blank canvas.
Bull. She’s some sort of low-life white trash. Probably thinks gobbing her eyes with that stuff makes her look glamorous. Bet I could screw her.
Who’d want to! She’s creepy, repulsive, and probably diseased.
I oughta try and get rid of her, Norman told himself. Her and Duke. What am I doing with these creeps in my car? Get rid of them both. And soon, before they pull something.
‘I’ve got an idea,’ he said. ‘Since we aren’t in a big hurry to get anywhere, why don’t we stop for a while next time we come to a decent stretch of beach?’
Duke clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Good thinking. Let’s do it.’
‘Can we have a picnic?’ Boots asked. She sounded as if she’d always wanted a picnic. But had never had one.
‘Sure,’ Norman said. ‘We’ll have a picnic on the beach.’
‘Let’s stop and pick up some stuff,’ Duke said. ‘We’ll have us a real party – beer, the whole nine yards.’
Boots clapped her hands. ‘This’ll be wild. Oh, you guys are the greatest!’
Her enthusiasm made Norman feel a little sad. The whole point of the picnic was to get her and Duke out on the beach so that he could lose them. But here she was, acting like a waif who’d been cheated out of every picnic ever promised.
Probably never had a Christmas, either.
She’ll get her picnic on the beach, Norman told himself. I won’t ruin that for her. Snacks, a few beers. Then Duke’ll probably start putting some moves on her . . . and then it’ll be so long, been good to know ya.
The gas station where they stopped for their picnic supplies had a full-size convenience store. Instead of pulling up to a pump, Norman swung into a parking place near the front door.
With any luck, he might miss out on the picnic after all. He shut off the engine, then reached into his back pocket and took out his wallet. He removed a twenty-dollar bill. He held it toward Boots.
She plucked it free. ‘Twenty buckaroos!’
‘Why
don’t you go in and pick out whatever you want?’ Norman looked over his shoulder. ‘What sort of beer should she get?’
Frowning, Duke scratched at one of his sideburns. ‘Can’t go wrong with Bud.’
‘Maybe you should go in with her.’ To Boots, he said, ‘You aren’t twenty-one, are you?’
‘I’ve got a license says I am.’
‘You can help her pick something, Duke.’
Duke reached between the seats and squeezed Boots’s shoulder. ‘You got something you want me to pick, darling?’
Grinning, she tilted back her head. ‘Wanna pick my nose?’
God, Norman thought. She’s a regular Dorothy Parker.
Boots and Duke both seemed to find the exchange hilarious. Norman shook his head. He had to smile, but only because they were being so moronic.
After they’d settled down, Norman said to Duke, ‘While you’re in there, why don’t you see if they have any of that Wolfbane jerky?
‘You’ll howl for more!’ Duke blurted, and then howled hysterically. Boots joined in with a shrill howl of her own.
These two are meant for each other, Norman thought.
But then Duke said, ‘Let’s all go in.’
‘Yeah!’ Boots cried out. ‘That way, we can all pick what we want.’ She waved Norman’s twenty-dollar bill. ‘I’m buying!’
As Norman entered the store with his laughing companions, he supposed that it was just as well he hadn’t been left in the Jeep. He would’ve sped off – and he’d have missed out on the picnic.
In a way, he was looking forward it.
He looked forward to it even more when Boots stopped in front of a sunblock display.
‘Let’s get some of this,’ she said.
‘Okay.’
‘I like the oily kind,’ she explained.
Norman and Duke looked at each other.
With their help, she picked out a coconut oil that promised ‘a full, rich tropical tan’ but not much protection against the sun.
Roaming the aisles, they came upon a section with beach gear: plastic buckets and shovels, beach balls, goggles and snorkels, and a small assortment of towels and swimsuits.
‘Do you have . . . something to wear?’ Norman asked. Boots nudged him with her elbow.
‘I got me a fabulous little bikini. Just you wait!’ She winked at Duke, and he winked back at her.
Oh, man, Norman thought.
Turning to Duke, he asked, ‘Need anything?’
‘You mean like trunks? You kidding me?’
‘Maybe we should get some beach towels,’ Norman said. ‘Even if nobody goes in the water, we can use them to sit on.’
‘And lie on,’ Duke added, glancing at Boots. They each chose a towel.
After wandering through the rest of the store and picking out what they wanted, they went to the counter.
That was where the jerky was. While they waited in line, Norman studied the labels on the containers. He couldn’t find any Wolfbane so he decided against buying jerky here.
They bought the towels and suntan oil, two cold six-packs of Budweiser, packets of pre-sliced hard Italian salami and sharp cheddar cheese, a box of Ritz crackers, sacks of Cheetos and onion-flavored potato chips, and a package of chocolate-covered Oreo cookies.
When Boots saw the total price, she made a face and waved the twenty-dollar bill at Norman. ‘I don’t think this’ll do it,’ she said.
‘Not even close,’ Norman admitted. As he slipped his MasterCard out of his wallet, Boots shrugged and stuffed the twenty down a front pocket of her cutoffs. He raised his eyebrows.
‘I’ll keep it warm for you,’ she said.
Chapter Nine
Norman drove slowly past a sign that read BEACH PARKING. He steered onto the unpaved lot. Except for a couple of cars, a van and a small RV, the lot was deserted. He could see several people scattered about on the long stretch of beach. The sky was almost cloudless. The Pacific looked deep blue, the curling ridges of the incoming combers as white as snow.
‘Ooo,’ Boots said. ‘This is so fabulous. I just can’t hardly wait to sprawl out in the sun. Now you guys run along and set up the picnic, and I’ll just change in the back seat and catch up to you in a little bit.’
‘We better stay and guard you,’ Duke said, smirking.
‘Yeah,’ Norman said. ‘It might not be safe.’
‘You guys.’ She shook her head. ‘Shame on the both of you. You’re just angling for a peek.’
‘Us?’ Norman asked. He smiled and hoped that his disappointment didn’t show. Despite his negative feelings for Boots he wanted very badly to stay – to stand ‘guard’ outside the Jeep and sneak glances at Boots while she stripped butt-naked in the back seat.
She knows that’s what we want, he realized. Maybe she isn’t as stupid as she looks. Or sounds.
‘You guys just go on and take all the goodies with you, and I’ll be along in a minute.’
‘Let’s go, Norm.’
Norman frowned over his shoulder at Duke. ‘Are you sure it’ll be safe to leave her alone?’
‘Aah, nobody’s around. Come on.’
‘Don’t go and worry about me,’ Boots told them. ‘Any fool tries to jump on me, he’s gonna die screaming.’
The words shocked Norman. ‘Jeez,’ he said. ‘You’re a mighty tough little thing, Bootsy-girl.’
‘I ain’t so little, but I’m plenty tough.’
‘We better haul ass, Norm, ’fore we make her mad.’ Then Duke reached over the seat-back and mussed her hair.
She laughed. ‘Quit it!’
After raising the windows, Norman shut off the engine. He pulled out the ignition key and stuffed the key-case into the front pocket of his shorts.
Then they all got out of the car. After the paper sacks were unloaded, Boots climbed into the back seat. Duke started to shut the door for her, but she stopped it with her foot.
‘You want me to smother to death in here?’ she asked. ‘Norman rolled up the windows, you know. It’s not that I’m fond of having a door open while I strip down bare-ass, but I sure don’t aim to bake to death.’
‘Roll your window down,’ Duke told her.
She thumbed the switch. Nothing happened. ‘See? I can’t.’
‘It doesn’t work when the key isn’t in,’ Norman explained.
‘See?’ she said again to Duke.
‘So put the key back in,’ Duke told Norman.
‘I can’t. Not if I’m leaving. You know? Somebody might steal the car.’
‘Not with me in it,’ Boots said. ‘I’ll just lock up and bring you the key when I’m done.’
‘I don’t . . . uh, think that’d be a very good idea.’
‘He’s scared you’ll take it,’ Duke said.
‘Me?’
‘No,’ Norman said. ‘It’s not that.’
‘Like hell it’s not.’
‘I’d just be awfully nervous. I mean, somebody might come along and . . .’ He shrugged. ‘Anyway, it’s my dad’s car. If it was my car, you know . . . but it isn’t.’
‘Norman’s a very nervous guy,’ Duke pointed out.
‘I could stay until you’re ready,’ Norman offered. ‘I could just sit in the front seat, you know, and run the windows for you. And I wouldn’t have to look at what you’re doing back there. I could even do something like cover the rearview mirror, if you want, or . . .’
‘Cover the mirror with what? Your underpants? Never you mind about that,’ Boots told him. She didn’t seem angry. Smiling, she flapped a hand at him. ‘You just take your keys with you and go on. I’ll be just fine here with the door open.’
‘I’d like to help.’
‘I know. That’s all right. Everything’s dandy. You guys, get!’
‘Come on,’ Duke said.
Arms loaded with the paper sacks from the store, Norman and Duke turned their backs to the Jeep and headed for the beach. Norman had an urge to look over his shoulder, but he fought it. What was the point
, anyway? He wouldn’t be able to see anything, not with Boots in the back seat.
As they walked onto the sand, he said, ‘Don’t you think we should’ve stayed?’
‘Nah. She knew we wanted to get our jollies watching her strip. She just don’t trust us enough yet. For all she knows, we might be the sort who’d jump her.’
Norman forced himself to smile. ‘If we did that, she’d make us die screaming.’
‘Tough little bitch. Love it. You get a look at her eyes?’
‘You mean the makeup?’
‘I mean the whole nine yards, buddy. She’s not a gal you’d wanna piss off, if you know what I mean. What we gotta do is play along with her. She’ll loosen up, once she gets to know us. Before we know what’s hit us, we’ll be fucking her lights out.’
‘You think so?’
‘I know so.’
‘Jeez.’
‘You bet.’
Not me, Norman thought. I’ll be jumping in the Jeep and taking off, first chance I get.
They walked a distance farther before Duke said, ‘Here looks good to me.’
‘Me, too,’ Norman agreed.
They were about fifty feet from the water; the sand was dry and soft. They put down the sacks, spread out the towels, and sat down. Right away, Duke peeled off his T-shirt. He had a very good tan, for April in Oregon. He’s probably been traveling around, Norman thought. Out in the sun a lot. Lifting weights, too.
On Duke’s left upper arm was the tattooed slogan BORN TO RAISE HELL.
Figures.
The only real surprise was that a guy like Duke didn’t have more tattoos. He must’ve decided that BORN TO RAISE HELL said it all.
Unless he’s got others somewhere I can’t see them. Norman decided to keep his own shirt on, at least for now. A cool breeze was blowing, so he didn’t feel hot in spite of the bright sun. And he knew he wouldn’t look good, shirtless next to Duke. He had no tattoo, no tan, and no prominent muscles. He did remove his shoes and socks, though. He looked at Duke’s heavy black motorcycle boots. The side buckles gleamed like silver.
‘Are you a biker?’ he asked.
‘Not anymore. Not since I totaled my Harley.’
‘You had a Harley?’
‘You gotta be kidding. What else is there?’