Sintown Chronicles I: Behind Closed Doors (42 page)

Damn, she thought. He did see that. What else did he see?

“You have no comment?” Bo asked.

“I was trying to remember. I do not doubt you, but I just don't remember that. I was so excited I just didn't notice."

“Excited? Shit, I guess so. He's a nice looking guy. Did you let him play with your tits?"

“Bo, I don't deserve that. I was excited about the opportunity to earn some real money with my artwork."

“When you undress tonight look at yourself in the mirror. He was gripping you so tight you probably have a permanent impression of his fingers on your left shoulder."

“Bo, you're exaggerating. He asked me to try five different poses. I worked on them all day. I'm pleased with the results."

“Nude self-portraits?"

“Stop it, Bo. Get the folder out of my bag and see what you think."

Without enthusiasm Bo retrieved her handbag from the back seat and pulled out the art folder.

“Those Polaroid's are of the used car salesman Max wanted me to draw,” Betty explained.

“This first one is a good likeness, Betty.” He looked at the remaining pen and ink drawings and laughed in spite of himself when he came to the last one. “They're very good, Betty.” he said as he replaced the folder. Looks like she's telling the truth, he thought, but he did have his arm around her and later his hand was on her butt. No, maybe not. I couldn't really see his hand. Shit, there's no way a sharp looking guy like that would have any sexual interest in Betty, bless her heart.

“He didn't give me much time to work on them. He needs them tomorrow."

“How in hell does he expect you to get them to him so fast?"

“He said he would call me in the morning and if I have them ready he will come get them during the afternoon."

Bo thought something didn't smell quite right, but he didn't comment.

“Bo,” she said as she entered the off ramp with the hospital complex in sight. “He said if the sketches were satisfactory he would pay me $5,000 for them."

“Well, all right,” he said with growing enthusiasm and he patted her knee for emphasis.

She finally relaxed.

At the hospital, they learned that Louise was now in a private room, but visitation was limited to immediate family members. Willie Donaldson was on his way home for some much-needed rest. Bo looked up Big Willie's address in a telephone book.

“We could have saved time if you'd called the hospital before leaving Tanglewood,” Betty groused.

Bo tightened his grip on the steering wheel and said nothing.

“You sure you know where you're going?"

“I told you, I used to deliver newspapers in that neighborhood. I'll find it."

“What if Big Willie's asleep?"

“If you didn't want to come with me you should have said so."

“What's eating you, Bo?” she asked, afraid that she knew the answer. “It was a perfectly legitimate question."

“If we don't hear or see any signs of activity, we'll leave a note."

“I see a KFC ahead on your right. Let's get him a bucket of chicken. If he's already eaten something it will keep."

They went to the drive-through window and resumed their trip.

“I told you I'd find it,” Bo said as he parked behind the police cruiser in front of Big Willie's house. “You didn't have to ask the girl at the KFC for directions."

Betty and Bo remained in the car for a few minutes, hesitating to join the conversation on the front porch between two police officers and Big Willie until Big Willie noticed and motioned to them. The officers left as the Nadings approached.

Betty hugged the big man. Bo extended his right hand. Big Willie grasped it, and pulled Bo to him as he began to cry. He collapsed into a green metal chair and wiped his eyes with an already well-used handkerchief.

“The police have a lead,” Big Willie said as Betty and Bo sat on the porch swing. “About the same time Louise was shot, a car was seen driving down the street one block over. They were shooting at street signs. There was a witness who said three or four white men were driving a dark blue or black late model Corvette. Same caliber of bullet—.22. Kids out having fun, but it wasn't fun for Louise.” He began to cry again.

“How's Louise?” Bo asked.

“Lost some blood, has a concussion, and they tell me...” His emotions overwhelmed him and several minutes passed before he could continue. “The doctors said the bullet caught her at the base of the spine. She may never walk again."

Betty rushed to his side and, kneeling, put her arms around him.

“I ain't had much time to think about work, Bo. Is everything okay?"

“It scared the crap out of me when Mr. Hathaway called me to his office, but, yeah, everything's okay."

“I told him you could look after things ’til I get back."

“He gave us a couple of guys from the grounds crew to help out."

“I have the schedule on my computer."

“I found it. Tad helped."

“Tad?"

“Yeah. He quit calling me Token too."

“Tad?"

Both men laughed. Big Willie unwrapped a fresh cigar and stuck it between his teeth.

“Have you eaten anything, Big Willie?” Betty asked.

“I ain't been hungry ’til I started smelling that fried chicken you brought,” he answered and he laughed again.

“You need to eat and get some sleep, Big Willie,” Bo said as he stood up.

“Bo, I don't know how long I'm going to be out of work. I won't be worth much ’til I know Louise is going to be okay."

“Don't worry about it."

“The only thing that worries me about the job is that you'll be so good they won't want me back,” Big Willie joked.

“I don't think there is any danger of that."

“Listen, you're gonna run into things you don't know how to handle, and I'm going to be hard to catch on the telephone. I'll try to call you every morning about seven o'clock and answer any questions you have."

Betty kissed Big Willie on his cheek and stood up. “Big Willie, there's something I want you to do for me."

Both Bo and Big Willie looked at Betty in disbelief.

“I want you to let me fix you something to eat every night and do a little housework until you get things straightened out. I don't want to cause you any trouble. If you'll let me have a key, I'll come over after work every day."

“I'll keep your yard work caught up,” Bo added.

Tears returned to Big Willie's cheeks. He looked at the two young white people a full minute before simply saying, “I think there is a spare key in the house."

Betty squeezed into the shower with Bo, but found him unresponsive. As she soaped her breasts, which usually turned him on, he said, “Your hair is growing back. Must be three or four inches long. It looks thicker, too."

“I don't know what to do with it,” she said, rubbing her soapy breasts against his chest without getting the desired result. She licked his nipples while lathering his buttocks. He refused to touch her. She squatted and took his flaccid penis into her mouth. This never fails, she thought.

She was right.

Big Willie put on his pajamas after showering. He was exhausted, but the bath temporarily refreshed and awakened him. He opened his laptop and plugged the telephone line into the modem. He checked for e-mail and, as he expected, found there was one message from Sarasue. He grinned when he read the name. Once she explained that her mama and daddy argued over her name when she was born. Mama wanted Sarah and daddy wanted Sue. They compromised.

Why haven't you answered my last e-mail, you sexy hunk? Was it that big of a shock to learn that I'm white? I still have tits and a pussy and you haven't lived until you've experienced what I can do with my tongue.

Big Willie clicked the “reply mail” icon and typed his answer.

No, it doesn't matter to me that you are white. I just found out that my two best friends are white. What does matter is that I told you from the beginning that I love my wife. True, she won't have sex with me, at least not as often as I would like, but that's not all her fault. I've put on right many pounds and a big beer belly since we were married. She was seriously wounded last night in a drive-by shooting. She's in the hospital. This e-mail fantasy romance has been fun for both of us, but it's time for it to end. I never meant for it to go this far in the first place, and with Louise knocking on death's door, it makes me feel dirty and guilty. I love her, Sarasue, with no pretense involved. I wish you well, but it's over.

Bo rolled over and began to massage Betty's naked back. “Honey,” he said softly, “I had a rough day and I took it out on you. I'm sorry. You wanted to share exciting news with me, but my mind was elsewhere. I think my news was exciting too, but you never did say anything about it. I think I received a real pat on the back from the Park Superintendent himself when he asked me to fill in for Big Willie. True, its not going to put $5,000 in our bank account, but it's a mighty big step for me anyway, and who knows what it might lead to?"

She pretended to be asleep. You're a nobody just like your daddy and you always will be, she thought. You didn't get a promotion you dumb ass, you were walked on. They didn't offer you one additional penny for all the extra work they piled on you. I have a chance to be a somebody, and damn it, I deserve it. I'm going for it. Whatever it takes, even if I have to screw Max Holder six times a day and once an hour on Sundays. He may not be hung like you, Bo, but he sure as hell knows how to use what he has.

She drifted off to sleep where dreams of fame and fortune waited.

Betty spoke excitedly into the telephone. “Yes, Max. I finished all five and I think they are good. Bo liked them too. What time do you expect to be here this afternoon?"

“I'm already here. I had some business in Statesville this morning and just decided to drive on over to Clemmons. I am at the Ramada Inn, room 128. I'll have a hamburger waiting for you when you get here."

“Why don't you just drive out to the Park and pick them up?” she asked, as if she didn't already know.

“We can discuss business better in privacy. I'll expect you shortly after eleven.” He hung up.

“Take your clothes off while I look at these pictures,” Max demanded, taking the folder from her.

“What?"

He raised his eyebrows and peered at her.

“Max, look. I'm an artist, not a whore."

He tossed the folder on the table and glared at her. “You'd like to be an artist. I have the power to make you a successful artist, but there's a price to be paid. I'll compensate you fairly, but you are going to be my personal plaything, my damn sex slave, or there's no deal. You've heard of women sleeping their way to the top. This is your chance at the brass ring. Grab it or get off the carousel."

“Max, I'm married. You're married."

“Yeah, right, but that didn't stop you from balling me yesterday morning.” He continued to glare at her.

“I want you to buy my caricatures. I want it badly, and I admit I like the way you make love to me, but I didn't count on you treating me like this. I thought I was something special to you, as you are to me. Sex slave? At least let me think about it."

He opened the motel room door. “Get your bony ass out of here and think about it the rest of your life, you bucktoothed scarecrow. Special? Shit. You have big tits and you're young enough that your pussy hasn't yet been stretched out of shape, but that's it."

She stood motionless for a minute, the tears forming in her eyes pleading with him. It was not the fact that he was requiring sex in exchange for buying her artwork. She understood that was a part of the deal, but it was humiliating to be treated as if she were a piece of trash. Reluctantly she removed her uniform jacket and began unfastening the buttons on her shirt. He closed the door, picked up the folder and carefully studied the five drawings. When he looked up, she was lying on the bed with the sheet pulled to her neck.

“These things are good,” he said as he began to undress. “We'll use your drawings on letterheads, notepads, posters, banners—all sorts of things—in addition to the TV commercial."

Naked, he looked down at her and whipped the sheet from her cowering body. “Pull your knees back to your tits and split them apart.” He stretched out between her legs. “I want to watch you lick your own nipples,” he said.

She tried, succeeded, and the pleasant sensation surprised her.

“If this ad campaign is as successful as I think it will be,” he continued while savagely groping her other breast, “we will do several more TV spots and will need new caricatures for each. Suck it, don't just lick it,” he demanded.

She pursed her lips over the erect tissue, but it slipped out of her mouth. He bit it hard. She tried to jerk away but he held on causing even greater pain. She thought he might have entered her, but he was so small she wasn't sure. “Max, please use a condom,” she said, pressing the breast against his mouth to relieve the pressure.

“You're on the pill aren't you, slut?” His eyes seemed unfocused.

“Yes, but...” She felt his semen spurt inside her as he moaned loudly, sadistically pinching and pulling both nipples.

He rolled over on his back. “Get in the shower. I'll join you in a minute."

He gave her time to cleanse her vagina and when he entered the shower Betty soaped his penis, as he demanded. She felt it grow erect, but could not see it. Her hand completely covered it.

“Bend over, bitch. I want your asshole."

This time she felt him enter her, and it hurt.

He slapped her buttock cheek sharply. “Move that ass, Betty. Screw me, damn it."

He saw her blood on his penis when he finally withdrew. “Work on stretching that thing and it won't hurt so bad the next time,” he grinned. “Grease up a brush handle or cucumber if you don't have a dildo."

As commanded, she sat cross-legged on the bed, holding the cold burger in one hand and masturbating with the other while he watched and ate. She was amazed to see him once again get an erection. She correctly guessed what he had in mind for her desert.