Sintown Chronicles I: Behind Closed Doors (60 page)

“As you can guess, Big Willie is eating up his new job in Dot, and Louise is able to get around now without a wheelchair. She isn't exactly walking—she uses a walker—but she seems to be able to go anywhere she wants. Big Willie's talking about getting her one of those cars with hand controls so she can drive herself around."

“Man, that's great. How's your wife—Betty, isn't it?"

Bo nodded while taking a bite from his hotdog. “She's okay. Has more work than she can handle and loving every minute of it."

“And how about you, Bo? You like your new job?"

“It's going to be a hell of a complex if we ever get it finished."

Tad noticed the evasiveness of Bo's answer.

“You ever wish you had your job back at Tanglewood?” Tad asked.

Bo laughed. “I did a little while ago when I was riding around the blue course. This place has gone to hell since Big Willie and I left. The only maintenance worker I've seen is that girl out there fooling with the golf carts."

Tad followed Bo's eyes. “That's Francisca Bright—Fran for short. She came to work for us a month or so ago. Don't let that sexy little bitch fool you. She's strong as an ox and she don't fool around. Believe me, I've tried."

“Where's the rest of the crowd?"

“They all quit soon after you and Big Willie left. They didn't like the contract service Mr. Hathaway hired."

“You mean that girl is the only person you have working right now?"

“Well, the service ... hey, look who's here,” Tad said, standing.

Bo turned and saw the Park Superintendent approaching.

“Good to see you, Bo,” Mr. Hathaway said, extending his hand. Turning to Tad he said, “Did you fill him in?"

“No sir."

“Go get us a beer and bring Bo a couple more hotdogs. He still looks hungry to me,” Hathaway said as he sat at the table.

“Fill me in on what?” Bo asked.

“You don't know me very well, Bo. I don't beat around the bushes with a bunch of bullshit. The contract service I hired to replace Big Willie and you has been a disaster. All of the courses are in terrible shape. The county commissioners are on my butt about it. I've interviewed several guys, but I haven't found anybody yet. I want you back, Bo. I know you can do the job. I'll make it worth your while, and I'll find something for your wife to do, too."

Tad returned with the beer and hotdogs.

Hathaway continued, “Tad wants you back too. He called me as soon as you arrived today. He'll work with you to get a new crew and work things out."

“Damn, Bo,” Tad added. “You won't believe this, but I've been out on the tractor mowing fairway grass several times myself."

Bo chuckled. “Yes, I do believe it. When I was in the shed earlier I saw that the mower hasn't been cleaned or sharpened in a long time—probably since I left."

“How about it, Bo?” Hathaway said. “Will you take the job?"

“Do I have to give you an answer right now?"

“I need you yesterday,” Hathaway replied without a trace of a smile.

“I'll think about it,” Bo said. “That's the best I can do right now. Mind if I look around some more to see just how bad things are?"

“Thanks, Bo,” Tad said with what Bo thought was a tone of genuine appreciation.

“If you come back to us I promise you'll never regret it,” Hathaway added.

Bo spent the remainder of the afternoon riding the courses, including the par three. He wound up in Big Willie's old office, now covered with dust. He used his handkerchief to clean off the computer and booted it. He punched a few familiar keys and smiled when he found that all of Big Willie's course maintenance schedules and records were still there. It was beginning to get dark outside. He picked up the telephone and dialed his home telephone in Dot. After four rings, he heard his own voice saying “Leave a message after the beep."

“Hi, Betty. I guess you have your nose buried in Rita's crotch about now. I'm at Tanglewood. I'm going to spend the night. I'll see you sometime tomorrow."

Driving out of the park through the narrow tree-lined roads he could see, even in the twilight, that more of Tanglewood's maple trees were changing color than were those that lined Highway 13 near Dot. He was getting hungry again, and headed for the Burger King in Clemmons.

He sat in the Burger King booth for only a few minutes when he saw Fran approaching, carrying a tray heaped with food. She unloaded the tray on Bo's table without asking permission.

“I'm Fran Bright and you're Bo Nading,” she said as she put far too much salt on her burger—just the way Bo liked his. “They tell me you're going to be my new boss."

“I'm thinking about it,” he replied.

“I like working at Tanglewood. I like working outdoors. I can do anything a man can do and I can do it a hell of a lot better than most men."

“That's what I've been told."

“You married?"

“Yes. Wife's name is Betty."

“It's tough at first, but you'll get over it."

“Get over what?"

“Leaving your wife."

“I didn't say anything about leaving my wife."

“I can tell. I left my old man a couple of years ago. He wanted to turn me into a baby machine. Had my tubes tied since. I don't want any slipups."

“Isn't that a bit drastic? I mean, you might change your mind later."

“Nope. It wouldn't be fair to a kid to have me for a mother. That's not my thing."

“How long have you been working at Tanglewood?” Bo asked, not knowing what else to say.

“Do you want to fuck me?"

“What?"

“You've been looking at my tits since I sat down. You checked out my ass a couple of times at the course today."

“You're an attractive woman in an athletic sort of way,” Bo replied, “but sex isn't what's on my mind tonight."

“Suit yourself,” she mumbled with her mouth full of hamburger.

They did not speak for the remainder of the meal. Bo finished first, but made no move to leave.

“You need a place to crash tonight?” she asked as she began to put food wrappers and cups on an empty tray.

“Yeah,” he said, standing and taking the tray from her. “I thought I'd get a room at the motel."

“You're welcome to stay at my place if you want,” she said walking away from him.

He watched her buttocks sway inside the baggy workpants she was wearing, then hastened to empty the tray in a trashcan and rushed to his car to follow her.

“I'll be damned,” he said as she pulled into the graveled driveway of the doublewide.

“Betty and I used to live here,” he told her when they were inside the familiar structure.

“I know,” she said, unbuttoning her shirt. “Make yourself at home. There's beer in the refrigerator and I got cable hooked up last week. There might be something worth watching on HBO."

Her shirt dropped to the floor quickly followed by her brassiere. She kicked both to a corner of the kitchen and began removing her shoes. “You can sleep on the sofa or in the bed with me. Your choice."

She dropped her shoes and socks on the kitchen floor and pushed down her pants, which she added to the pile. Facing him, she scratched her crotch, reminding Bo of a baseball player coming to bat. “I love working up a sweat, but I hate the feel of it on my skin when it dries. I need a bath bad."

Bo watched her breasts imitate two servings of gelatin desert as she turned and headed to the bathroom, wearing only her panties which were anything but bikini style.

He got a beer and sat for a few minutes at the kitchen table, channel hopping. “Damn,” he said aloud. He took a big swallow from the frosty can, stripped off his clothes and pushed his way into the bathroom.

“What took you so long?” she asked, and then, letting her eyes lower to his crotch she squealed, “Gawdalmightydamn."

Bo woke before dawn with a pressing need felt between his legs in addition to the normal urge to urinate. He opened his eyes and knew instantly that the breasts that greeted him did not belong to Betty. Then he remembered Fran and smiled, enjoying her stroking fingers on his scrotum.

“Good morning,” she grinned.

In answer Bo took her head in his hands and pulled her lips towards his. She jerked away with a force he would not have believed possible. “Don't ever kiss me first thing in the morning. Your mouth smells like something crawled in it last night and died."

“You have a touch of dragon breath yourself,” he retorted as he sat up.

“I know. Why in the hell anyone would kiss somebody in the morning before both have brushed their teeth is beyond me."

She scrambled into a hands and knees position and wagged her tail like a bitch in heat. “Just give me a quick poke. I have things to do this morning."

Go to hell, Bo thought as he pumped his semen deep inside her. That's what I should have said. Go to hell.

Without a word of endearment Bo withdrew from the soupy heaven and went to the bathroom. She joined him while he was still urinating.

“Hurry up,” she commanded, “before I drip all over myself."

Bo shook his penis and pushed the toilet handle. She shoved him aside with her hip and sat obscenely on the worn seat. With her urine splashing into the swirling water she said, “There's a big syringe under the sink. Fill it with warm water and hand it to me."

Bo obeyed and watched in fascination as she cleansed herself. “What the hell are you staring at, dumb-butt?” she asked.

“Uh, mind if I use your toothbrush?"

“Fuck you."

“I already did that,” he replied reaching for the toothbrush.

“You touch that toothbrush and I'll bash your bearded face into the mirror,” she hissed.

Bo relented. He squeezed a glob of toothpaste on his index finger and swished it around in his mouth. Pleased with the result, he thought, as he rinsed his mouth, that he would give her a wet, sloppy kiss while she sat on the commode. Just at that moment, she made a sound as if she had eaten a gallon of pinto beans the night before. His ardor cooled instantly and he fled to the bedroom and dressed hurriedly.

In the kitchen, Bo opened cabinet door after cabinet door. Fran came in, wearing nothing but her oversized panties which reminded Bo of pictures he had seen of old-fashioned bloomers. She scratched her butt as she bent over, set aside her shoes, and scooped up the clothes she discarded the previous night."

“Don't you drink coffee?” he asked.

“I'm a coffeeholic,” she joked. “I have four or five cups every morning at Biscuitville in Clemmons along with a bacon and egg biscuit and sometimes a country ham biscuit too."

“You don't make a pot at home?"

“I don't cook, dumb-butt. There's a carton of orange juice in the refrigerator."

“Well,” he said looking at her clutching the bundle of dirty clothes to her breasts, “at least you do a load of laundry once in a while."

“The hell I do,” she replied. “I have a big cloth bag in the utility room that I stuff dirty clothes in. When it gets full I haul it to the Clemmons Laundry."

While she was putting away the dirty clothes, Bo poured a glass of orange juice and sat at the kitchen table. She joined him, still clad only in her panties, and drank directly from the orange juice carton.

“Here's the rules,” she said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “You pay the rent and utilities, keep the place clean, do the yard work, and stay out of my way. You're free to make coffee if you like, or cook meals, but you'll do all the bottle washing. Understand?"

“Aren't you getting ahead of yourself a little bit? I haven't decided to come back to Tanglewood, and I sure as hell haven't decided to move in with you."

She drank again from the carton and said, “You will do both."

“If I do move in with you, what role will you play in this relationship?"

“I'll fuck you when I feel like it."

She went back to the bedroom to dress and Bo found himself chuckling at this strange turn of events. “Hey, Fran,” he shouted.

“Yeah?"

“Looks like you've set yourself up to wear the pants in this relationship if I decide to move in with you. Who's going to be in charge at Tanglewood?"

“On the job,” she said approaching him, pulling on her tee shirt, “I'll let you pretend to be the boss."

“You would have made a hell of a man,” Bo said admirably.

“I'm a hell of a woman,” she replied shooting him a glance that would freeze molten lava, “and don't you ever forget it. I've got ovaries,” she concluded, clutching her crotch for emphasis.

“Where the hell have you been?” Big Willie scowled. “It's after ten o'clock."

“I should have called. Sorry,” Bo answered, slumping into a chair in the big man's office. “I needed time to think—to sort things out. I went back to Tanglewood yesterday and wound up spending the night. I came straight here this morning. I haven't even been home yet."

“I knew you were are Tanglewood. Betty called last night looking for you. She called back later and said you left a message on the answering machine."

“Mr. Hathaway offered me your old job. I'm going to take it."

Big Willie nodded and slowly rolled the unlit cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. “What about Betty?"

“She'll be okay. She's in love with her job, and she and Rita have gotten pretty close. I expect Betty will move in with Rita after I'm gone."

“They ain't eatin’ each other are they?” Big Willie said with a huge grin on his face.

“Who knows?” Bo shrugged his shoulders.

“Holy shit,” Big Willie exclaimed, his smile turning to a wide-eyed expression of surprise. “So that's what's been botherin’ you."

“Don't jump to conclusions, Big Willie. I'm a very real part of the problem. Things just happened too fast for me. I guess they still are."

“You sure about all this Bo? I mean going back to Tanglewood?"

“Big Willie,” Bo said, moving his hand in an arc towards the golf courses. “This is your dream, not mine."

“What is your dream, Bo?"

“I don't know. I guess I don't have one yet. I have an idea it may wind up involving a long, loud fart,” Bo replied laughing.

“That doesn't make any sense."

“It wasn't supposed to."