Funland (29 page)
“Same here,” Cowboy said. “Far as I can see, nothing’s changed. I hate to lose you for a friend, and I hope it don’t come to that, but we got us a job to do here.”
Nate kept shaking his head while he listened to Samson and Cowboy. When they finished, he glanced around at everyone. “You’re all making a big mistake,” he said. “She’s turning you into a gang of thugs.”
Alone, he walked toward the stairs.
“Don’t even think about going to the cops,” Tanya warned.
He stopped and looked back. “I’m not trolling anymore,” he said. “But that doesn’t make me an asshole who’d snitch on his friends.” Then he started up the stairs and disappeared.
“Chickenshit bastard,” Tanya muttered. “Who needs him, anyway?” With a trembling hand she lifted her glass high. “No trolls,” she toasted.
“No quarter,” said Cowboy.
They all gathered in close around Tanya and clinked their glasses together.
Robin sat on the bed in the motel room, propped up with two pillows behind her back, and stared at the television while she waited for Nate.
There was a chance, she knew, that he might not come at all. Giving her the key, Nate had assured her that he wouldn’t make a visit. She had believed him, too. But telling him the room number had been a clear invitation.
He’d seemed surprised and confused.
For all Robin knew, he might have a regular girl. Maybe he was with her right now. Or maybe he was still working at the arcade.
He owns it, she reminded herself. He could get someone else to run the place, or he could even shut down early. He shut it early last night.
Come
on,
Nate. Where are you?
From the time Robin had arrived at the motel, she’d been expecting him to show up at any moment.
While she waited, she took the opportunity to use the laundry room downstairs. Wearing a T-shirt and gym shorts, she stuffed all her dirty clothes into the washer, started it up, then hurried back to her room for a shower. She wanted to be clean for him. But she took the shower fast, fearing that Nate might knock and she would miss him.
Maybe that’s just what happened, she thought now as she waited on the bed. Maybe he came, knocked, and left.
If that’s how it went, he’ll come back and try again. Won’t he?
Except for the time in the shower, she couldn’t have missed him.
She’d waited in the room while her clothes were drying. When she went to dinner, the balcony in front of her room was always in sight. She’d taken a booth at the window of the café across the street and watched for him.
Back in her room after dinner, she ached for a long, hot bath. While the tub filled, she stayed out of the bathroom so the noise of the rushing water wouldn’t prevent her from hearing Nate’s arrival. She arranged clothes on the bed so she could get into them fast: panties, a bra, and a pale blue dress she’d bought at a souvenir shop that afternoon before leaving the boardwalk.
With the water off and the bathroom door open, she didn’t need to worry about missing him. She settled down, sighing as the hot water wrapped her body. A bath was a rare luxury.
Most of the time, she kept herself clean by washing in rest rooms. Coffee shops and gas stations often had doors that locked, so she could strip down and do a good quick job of it. Occasionally she used shower rooms at public swimming pools and Y’s. Many beaches had outside showers for getting the sand and salt water off before heading home, and she took advantage of them when she could, though she had to keep her swimsuit on. Often she bathed in streams and lakes, which were always cold.
Only when she checked into motels did she get to take a hot bath in a tub. Usually once a month. If she could afford it.
Then she would take marathon baths. Often fall asleep in the tub. Wake up with the water cool and her skin pruned. And take another the next morning before checkout time.
Tonight she didn’t fall asleep. Though the caressing heat seemed to steal away all her strength, she wouldn’t allow herself to drift off. If she slept, she might not hear Nate’s knocking.
When the drowsiness threatened to overpower her, she left the tub. She dried herself with a threadbare towel. It was a tiny thing. She wrapped it around her waist. Though the corners met, there wasn’t enough for a tuck. She hung the towel on a bar and left the bathroom. She returned with her toothpaste and brush. She cleaned her teeth.
She took a fresh towel from its clamp on the wall. Sitting on the bed, she rubbed her hair dry. Her skin was hot and moist from the bath. A breeze came in through the open window, lifting the curtain, cooling her. When she felt dry enough so her clothes wouldn’t stick, she put them on.
Then she brushed her hair in front of the big mirror over the bureau.
She was pleased with the way the dress looked. It was a short-sleeved pullover. It hung almost to her knees.
A dark blue emblem above her left breast showed a silhouette of the Ferris wheel with the Hurricane roller coaster in the background. Both owned by Nate’s family, she thought, smiling. It read “Funland” above the illustration, “Boleta Bay, California” below it.
The dress was soft and clingy. In the shop, she’d been concerned that it might be a nightshirt until she noticed that one of the clerks wore an identical garment.
It does look like a nightshirt, she thought as she studied her reflection.
She went to her pack and took out her freshly laundered belt. The belt was woven of bright reds and blues to match her banjo strap. She tied it loosely around her hips, its ends hanging down the side of her left leg. Now the dress looked like a dress.
She put on her necklace of white shells. The V neck of the dress was wide and low enough to let the necklace show. In the mirror, the shells resting against her tanned skin looked as white as her teeth.
Slowly she turned around, watching her reflection.
She looked like Robin the tourist or Robin the coed. Certainly not like Robin the street musician.
Cockless Robin.
Poppinsack.
Her skin went hot.
The bastard.
Don’t ruin it thinking about him.
Hope you rot, you…
Forget him.
Nate, where
are
you?
Robin saw that a new program was starting on the television, and realized a full hour had passed since she’d finished dressing. She climbed from the bed. At the window she parted the curtains and looked outside. Night had fallen. Must be nine, she thought.
He’ll come, she told herself.
And no more than a yard away, he walked past the window and did a double-take when he saw her, and Robin wondered if her mind were playing tricks. Nate stepped up close to the screen. A smile tugged a corner of his mouth. “I guess you’re here, all right.”
“I guess so.” She hurried over to the door and opened it.
He stood on the balcony, staring in at her. “You look…very nice.”
“Thanks. Come on in.”
His eyes shifted and he glanced into the room behind her. “Maybe we should…would you rather take a little walk? It’s nice out tonight.”
She felt an odd mixture of disappointment and relief. “Okay. Sure. Just a minute.”
He waited while she put on white socks and tennis shoes.
“How’s the room?” he asked.
“Great. I love it. Especially the bathtub.”
She snatched the motel key off the dresser, stepped onto the balcony, pulled the door shut, and tested the knob. Then she turned to him. “I don’t have a pocket,” she said.
Nodding, he took the key from her and slipped it into a pocket of the chamois shirt he wore like a jacket over his T-shirt.
“Now, don’t lose it.”
He smiled. “I’ll try not to.”
They began walking side by side along the balcony. There was no fog, but the night was cool and breezy. Nate probably felt just right in his heavy long-sleeved shirt and jeans. Robin, in her thin dress, shivered.
She thought about going back to the room for something warm to wear. But she didn’t want to ruin the way she looked by putting on her windbreaker or sweatshirt. The chill wasn’t that bad.
They trotted down the stairs and crossed the motel’s parking lot.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Anyplace but Funland,” Nate said.
“Good choice.”
At the sidewalk, they turned their backs to the distant amusement park. The street was brightly lighted and noisy with passing cars. People were all around, entering and leaving stores, walking by.
“Did you close the arcade early?” Robin asked.
“No. My brother-in-law’s working it. Where would you like to go? Are you hungry?”
“Not right now.”
“How about a movie?”
“It’s fine with me if we just walk. Maybe we could get off the main drag, though, and find someplace a little more peaceful.”
“Good thinking.”
They were in the middle of a block when a troll staggered around the corner. He started toward them, shambling along with short, unsteady steps, scowling and shaking his fists, blurting gibberish in an angry voice.
“Why don’t we cross here,” Nate said.
“Good thinking.”
He smiled and took Robin’s hand. They waited for a break in the traffic, then hurried to the other side of the road. When they got there, he didn’t let go of her hand.
“I’m getting a little tired of those people,” Robin said.
“Everyone’s tired of them.”
“Maybe the trollers have the right idea.”
Nate said nothing. At the corner, he led her to the right. The street ahead sloped upward, but it didn’t look steep. A lone car was approaching. All the other cars in sight were parked at the curbs or in driveways. The houses were small and close together. The only person in sight was a woman walking her dog.
“This is a lot better,” Robin said.
“It’s a nice town. Mostly. It has a lot going for it.”
“The downtown section is pretty ritzy.”
“A lot of artists and poets and things. And people with money who like the atmosphere.” He looked at Robin. “You’re a poet.”
“Not
that
kind.”
“Yeah, your stuff makes sense. At least from what I’ve heard. But this is still a good place for…creative people. A lot of bookstores, and the university. Coffee shops where you can sit all day and write. I think Funland is great. I see too much of it, but I get a kick out of the place. It’s wild and picturesque and trashy.”
“You like trashy, do you?”
“In its place. But there are a lot of different sides to Boleta Bay. You can’t judge it all by a couple of bad experiences on the boardwalk.”
“You with the Chamber of Commerce?”
“It’s just that Funland is its own thing. The whole town isn’t…seedy. It has a lot that’s nice about it.”
“Are you saying I shouldn’t be in such a hurry to leave?”
“Yeah.”
Robin felt a quick spread of warmth in the pit of her stomach. She squeezed his hand.
“Are you going anywhere?” he asked. “I mean, are you on your way to Hollywood or something?”
She laughed. “Hardly. I’m just a roving minstrel girl.”
Cockless Robin.
The echo of Poppinsack’s voice, this time, seemed faint. Being with Nate, she supposed, had robbed it of the power to upset her.
“If you don’t have any real destination,” he said, “why don’t you stay around for a while?”
“I guess I could.”
They crossed a deserted road. Nate led her onto a walkway that traversed a park. The park was dark except for a few lamps along the walk. In the spray of glow beneath each lamp was a bench.
From here she could see several of the benches.
Each was empty.
“Where are all the trolls?” she asked.
“There’s a neighborhood patrol. They’ve discouraged the riffraff.”
“Sort of like a grown-up version of the trollers?”
“Not much. They’re good citizens. From what I’ve heard, the trollers aren’t much better than thugs. That’s why I don’t want you sleeping down near the shore. That’s where they hunt. The boardwalk, the beach. I know you’re not a troll—”
“Well, thanks.”
Nate halted and faced her. He took her other hand in his. Holding both, he stared into her eyes. He was frowning. “It’s nothing to joke about. They
hurt
people, and they might hurt you if they catch you around there at night.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Robin asked. She wished her heart would slow down. But it kept racing. Because she knew what was going on here. Nate planned to fix it so she could stay. Because he wanted her to be with him.
Jesus!
Trying to keep her voice steady, she said, “You’re asking me not to leave town. At the same time, you’re saying I might get attacked by the trollers if I stay. And I already know the bums are dangerous. So I’m risking my butt if I sleep on the beach. You can’t put me up in a motel every night.”
“We’ll find you a place to stay.”
“That would take money. I’m in short supply of it. And I’m not going to let you pay.”
“I’ll give you a job. We’ll put you on the payroll.”
“I don’t know, Nate. I…My music’s important to me. It’s
me,
you know? If I had a real job…”
“A job doing what you do now. But not down at the end of the boardwalk. In front of my family’s concessions. The arcade, sometimes.” He smiled. “So I can hear you. And see you. But mostly over by the Hurricane and Ferris wheel. The lines can get awfully long for those rides. You’d be entertainment for the people while they wait. We’ll pay you an hourly rate. Start you off, say, at seven bucks an hour. You still go ahead and collect from them—wouldn’t want to cheat your audience out of the joy of showing their appreciation.”
“And I’d keep the tips?” she asked.
Smiling, he said, “What do you think this is, a charity?”
“I hope not. I can’t see paying someone just to help your customers pass the time of day.”
“At quitting time, you turn over a percentage of your take. Forty percent. And you keep sixty, over and above whatever we pay you.”
“It’s awfully generous, Nate.”
“Hell, it’s good P.R. Once word gets around, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if people don’t start coming to Funland
just
to hear you.”