Sintown Chronicles I: Behind Closed Doors (72 page)

Mack continued to watch from the church office window. Penny took off her coat, ran towards the goal without dribbling and made a lay-up. He groaned as he watched her braless breasts bouncing inside her sweater. He fully expected, even hoped, they would pop out of the low-cut garment any minute. Billy tried to imitate her, but threw the ball over the top of the backboard.

They continued the routine for thirty minutes. Billy finally made a basket. Penny hugged the shorter boy to her, smothering his face with her breasts. For the first time since he met Billy, Mack wanted to trade places with him.

Penny sprawled out on the ground to rest and Mack returned to his study.

“I'm not as strong as you are, Billy,” she laughed. “I'm afraid I'm badly out of shape."

Billy sat beside her. “Gurls ain't sposed to be strong,” he said seriously. He firmly placed his hand between her legs.

“Billy,” she cried out trying to pry away his hand, “don't do that."

He maintained his grip and began to squeeze. “I never seen a pussy. It feels good. Show Billy your pussy, Penny."

Penny continued to try to push his hand away. “No, Billy. You mustn't do this."

“I'll show you my dick,” he said, releasing her and unzipping his pants.

“No, no, no, Billy."

She was too late. She thought she had never seen an erect penis so long and so thick. She knew she would dream about it later. She turned her head away.

“I thought you were my friend,” he said.

“I want us to be friends, Billy,” she said, turning back towards him. She took his penis in her hand and came close to having an orgasm. She tucked it back inside his pants and zipped him up. “There are some things people must not do in public, and there are some things only very, very good friends do even in private."

“What's ‘in public’ mean?"

“Anytime you are someplace where other people might see you is ‘in public'."

“What's ‘in private’ mean? Someplace where nobody can see you?"

“That's right,” she said, smiling broadly at him.

Billy turned and looked at the church pavilion. “We can go behind there and you can show me your pussy."

“We're not that kind of friends, Billy."

“Is Billy a bad boy for wantin’ to see your pussy?"

She hugged him. “No, Billy. All boys are interested in, uh, what girls look like."

While in the embrace Billy squeezed her breasts painfully. “You can't touch me there, either,” she said, trying to pull away.

“Tits feel good,” he grinned, holding her in place with his left hand in a viselike grip on her neck. He slid his right hand inside her sweater and squeezed the naked flesh. “Billy never saw a real tit. Will you show me your tits, Penny?"

“No, Billy,” she said, finally managing to break free of his grasp. He looked so sad, she hugged him again. “Do you know what a secret is, Billy?"

“Sure. I know a secret."

“What secret do you know?"

Billy grinned. “Can't tell. It's a secret."

“If I bring you some pictures of girls who aren't wearing any clothes, will you keep it a secret?"

“Don't want pictures. Billy sees pictures in the Drug Store magazines any time he wants. Let's play basketball.” He jumped up, grabbed the ball and dribbled back to the goal where he successfully made a lay-up. “Billy gettin’ good,” he shouted as she clapped her hands.

“How in the world did you manage to talk me into this?” Jo asked as Randy drove the rental car through the gates of Evergreen Homes.

“Just lucky,” he replied.

“Randy Baby, your mother doesn't know about me. She doesn't even know I am coming with you. She'll think I'm your fiancé or something."

“She'll be delighted just to know I have a female friend,” Randy said as he guided the car into a parking spot directly in front of a sign that read, “Progressive Care Unit."

She shook her head. “I hate flying, and yet you not only convinced me to come with you but also persuaded me to get into an airplane."

He laughed as he opened the car door. “Beats traveling by car. We'll be home tonight in time for the eleven o'clock news."

“I'm not going in,” she said stubbornly. “I'll wait for you right here."

He ignored her, walked around the car and opened her door. To his surprise, she slid out of the seat without persuasion. “Do I look presentable, Randy?"

“You look fine, Mama Jo. Quit worrying so much."

Randy opened the door to the main entrance and they found themselves in a long carpeted hallway. On either side were offices and a pharmacy. Halfway down the hallway were patient's rooms.

The hallway ended in a large, circular area from which four more hallways emerged. One led to the dining room, recreation room, beauty parlor and barbershop. The others led to additional patient rooms. In the center of the open area was the nurses’ station. Lining the walls of this hub of activity were patients—some sitting in chairs, some in wheelchairs and some propped on walkers. Some patients were chatting with others, a few were staring vacantly into space, several were napping and three were talking to unseen friends, long deceased.

Jo took Randy's arm and whispered, “The place stinks of urine and disinfectant."

A white-haired, nearly bald old lady clutched at Jo's arm. “Thelma Lou,” she cried out in anguish. “Thelma Lou, is that you, honey? I've been waiting all day for you Thelma Lou. Where have you been?"

Quickly the old lady was wrapped in the black arms of a female attendant who lovingly said, “Martha, this is not Thelma Lou. Thelma Lou comes on Fridays. Today is Wednesday."

“I want Thelma Lou,” the elderly woman pleaded.

“I know you do, Martha, and she will be here Friday. I was just going out for a breath of fresh air,” said the attendant whose compassion no amount of money could buy. “Would you like to go with me?"

“That would be nice,” Martha responded with a big smile on her face.

While they waited for the nurse on duty to look up from her paperwork, Jo watched with admiration as the attendant wrapped the elderly lady in a warm coat, pulled on a colorful stocking cap and pushed Martha's wheelchair down the long hall towards the exit door.

“My name is Randy Nickels,” Randy said when the nurse finally lifted her eyes and smiled at him. “I understand my mother has been moved to this unit."

“Yes,” the nurse replied without needing to refer to a ledger. “She's in C42. Go down C hall,” she said, pointing out the direction with her hand. “It's the last room on the right. Your mother refuses to join the other patients here or in the recreation room. She says she doesn't belong here with these old people,” the nurse concluded with a chuckle.

Jo clung to Randy's arm as they walked down C hall. “I'm so nervous I may pee in my pants,” she said.

Mrs. Nickels was sitting at her desk; her back turned to the open door. “Surprise,” Randy called out as he approached, hugged and kissed her on the cheek.

She turned the swivel chair to face him. “Somehow I thought you might come today. Have a seat. Have a seat."

“Mom, I want you to meet my friend, Jo Birdwell. Jo and I are business associates in Dot. We're setting up a new book publishing house."

“That's nice,” she replied, dismissing Jo with a single glance.

Randy waved Jo to the only other chair in the room and sat on the hospital style bed. “Now, mom, tell me what's going on with you?"

“What's to tell? I'm an old lady. I have aches and pains. There's nothing new."

“There must be some reason they moved you into this unit."

“Oh, there's a reason all right. This outfit is money crazy. Somebody died, resulting in this empty room. They had a waiting list of people who wanted to rent my apartment, so they pretended that I need constant attention, moved me in here where they can charge me more and rented my apartment to someone else."

“Mom, there must be more to it than that."

“My own flesh and blood doesn't believe me,” she said. She swiveled around to her desk, took a cigarette from the pack and lit it. She swiveled back to face her company and, looking at Jo said, “He doesn't approve of me smoking. He thinks it is going to kill me someday."

Jo laughed and was relieved to see the sparkle in Mrs. Nickel's eyes.

“Do you remember Joe Allen Peterson?” Mrs. Nickels asked Randy.

“Sure,” Randy answered.

“Well, he's dead—and just a year or two older than you. He suffered a heart attack and dropped dead, just like that."

Jo shifted in her seat and tried to look interested as the personal reminiscences passed between mother and son. For thirty minutes she wore a pasted smile on her face. Not once was she included in the conversation.

“Randy, I have some errands for you to run,” Mrs. Nickels said as she turned back to the desk, opened the bottom drawer and pulled out five bankbooks secured with a thick rubber band. “I want you to go to my banks and get the interest posted to my pass books, and I want you to check on my furniture in storage."

“Mom,” Randy protested. “The banks send you monthly statements of interest earned, and your furniture is just fine."

“I don't know that my furniture is just fine and you don't either. I want you to check on it. Yes, the banks send me statements, but I don't trust them until I see the interest posted on my pass books."

Randy sighed. “It's about lunch time. While you are eating, Jo and I will go get ourselves a bite and do these errands for you if it will make you happy."

“Jo will have lunch here with me as my guest. I want some time alone with her."

“Mom,” Randy said as he stood up, “go easy on Jo. She's a friend and doing me a favor by keeping me company on this trip."

“I may be sixty-eight, but I'm still young enough to turn you over my knee and give you a good spanking. And that's exactly what I'll do if you don't mind me and get your tail out of here."

Jo laughed, but Mrs. Nickels shot her a stony glance and said, “I wasn't joking."

Randy kissed his mother on the cheek and looked at Jo. “What do you think of all this? It'll take me about two hours to run these errands. Do you think you can stand the old girl that long without me here to protect you?"

“You run along, Randy Baby,” she replied while glaring at Mrs. Nickels. “I have never run away from a fight in my life."

As soon as Randy was out of the room Mrs. Nickels instructed Jo to pull her chair closer. “My, you are a sexy thing,” the elder lady observed. “You're a whore my son picked up somewhere in North Carolina, aren't you?"

Without hesitation Jo spat out, “Yes."

“Is he any good in bed?"

“I don't know."

“What the hell do you mean, you don't know?"

“I mean I don't know. Randy won't sleep with me. In fact, he told me he is still a virgin. I think it has something to do with him being left at the altar."

“Damn,” the elderly woman said. “I thought you said you were a hooker."

“Randy befriended me on New Year's Eve. We were on the brink of a major winter storm. He took me in, bought me some decent clothes and fed me. We sort of accidentally stumbled into this publishing house thing."

“He was telling the truth about that? I figured he was selling drugs or something."

“He was telling the truth. He has been writing pornographic novels to make a living until now. He didn't want you to know."

“Are his books any good?"

“I've read two of what he calls his good stuff—literary fiction he calls them. I think they are great, but he can't find a publisher. That's why he moved to Dot. He heard that a rich dude down there was in the process of starting a new publishing house and he thought that maybe they would print his good stuff. As it turned out, he and I are going to be the ones who actually get the business cranked up."

“I want to know if his dirty books are any good."

“He has let me read only one."

“Did it soak your panties?” Randy's mom asked.

Jo laughed. “Thoroughly,” she responded.

“How the hell can he write about something he's never experienced?"

“He has a vivid imagination."

“That he does,” Mrs. Nickels agreed. “When he was just a little fellow he had two imaginary playmates—Gigi and Noyanee. How he came up with those names I'll never know, but he played with them for years as if they were real people."

Mrs. Nickels reached for another cigarette. “You shouldn't smoke, you know,” Jo said.

“I've got to die of something,” Mrs. Nickels replied, exhaling a cloud of gray fumes. “It may as well be something I enjoy. Nobody ever dies of old age anymore."

Jo laughed. “I hadn't thought about it, but I guess you're right."

“You like my boy?"

“Yes, I do."

“Do you love him?"

“I don't know."

“Does he like you?"

“I think he does, but again, I'm not sure."

“You live with him?"

“Yes."

“But you don't fuck him?"

Jo laughed at the unexpected word from the dignified elderly lady. “Believe me, I've tried everything I can think of."

“You need to wear see-through blouses and those pants the youngsters wear these days that show off a woman's private parts."

“I do,” Jo laughed. “We went out yesterday and bought me something presentable to wear for this visit with you."

“Then there's just one thing left."

“And that is?"

“You are just going to have to rape him."

“Come on now. How can a woman rape a man?"

“Some prostitute you are,” Mrs. Nickels joked. “Every man has an erection early in the morning just before he wakes up. You be there and jump on it—literally. Surprise him in the shower and fondle his balls. Pull off your shirt, rip away the newspaper he is reading and force a nipple in his mouth. Use your imagination, honey. Unless I miss my guess, if you screw him real good one time he'll be your slave forever."

“You're quite an old bird,” Jo said.

“And you're the dumbest whore I ever met,” the old lady laughed. “Seriously, Randy needs a strong woman in his life. I'm no longer available. Go for it."

“If you're talking marriage, I'm not the woman you would want for a daughter-in-law."