Picture Perfect (19 page)

“Did it blow?” Elva asked fearfully.

“Damn right it did. I don't even know if I can get this rig out of here. Slide over, Elva, and gun it. I'll push from here.”

Elva did as she was told. The rig jockeyed back and forth and then was free.

“Okay, we're stopping right over there. There's room to back the pop-up under the trees. If it rains, we'll have some protection. I gotta put the spare on now before it gets too dark.”

Elva was out of the pickup like a whirlwind. “Let me help you. Where's the spare, Cudge? And the toolbox? Just crank open the top and I'll get it for you.”

“How come you're so helpful all of a sudden? You want to help, get me a beer and then shut up.”

In her haste to pop open the beer can, Elva shook it and bubbles of foam shot up, soaking the front of her blouse. With shaking hands she held it out to Cudge, who grabbed it from her and consumed it in one swallow. “Gimme another and don't shake it this time.”

He upended the second can, gulped down its contents in several noisy swallows, then tossed it into the brush. Before Elva knew what was happening, he had the spare tire off its rack on the rear of the pop-up. “If this ain't one hell of a mess,” he said disgustedly. “I didn't get the spare fixed the last time.”

Elva felt overwhelming relief. Now he wouldn't open the pop-up.

“I'm gonna have to unhitch the rig and try to make it into the nearest town to get the tire fixed. What time is it, Elva?”

She shrugged and looked at the sky. “Must be after five, at least.”

“I suppose they roll up the sidewalks early, so I better get moving. I want some supper when I get back. That greasy hamburger wasn't fit to eat. Help me unhook the camper.” Elva's hands were shaking so badly, she was next to useless. “Get out of here! You ain't no help at all. Okay, it's off. Now look, me and you, we gotta have a talk. I don't like the idea of leaving you here while I go into town, but I ain't got no other choice. This is my rig, see, and I gotta take care of it. It's all I got in the whole world—except for you, Elva. I want you to promise that you'll be here cooking supper when I get back. I shouldn't be gone more than an hour, two at the most.”

She'd promise anything as long as he left. “Okay, Cudge. I'll be cooking supper when you get back. Where else can I go anyway? Don't worry, just get the tire fixed and get back here. You know I don't like the dark.”

“First, I have to get my tool kit out the camper.”

A drowning fear engulfed Elva. She couldn't let him open the pop-up, not now. “Cudge, if the garage man sees you with your own tool kit, he ain't gonna do nothin' for you. You know how those guys are. He's gonna think you couldn't do it yourself, and you're only going to him as a last resort because you botched up the job. You don't like people making a fool out of you. You don't need it.”

An ominous roll of thunder helped Cudge with his decision. He threw the spare tire into the back of the pickup and climbed behind the wheel.

Elva's tongue was so thick she could only nod in farewell. Miracles—they did really happen, and at the oddest times. Somehow she just knew that roll of thunder had come from God.

She limped down the road, watching till the pickup hit the highway, then hobbled back to the pop-up, grasping at low branches for support along the way.

“Little boy, I'm going to let you out now. Can you hear me?” she gasped. Not waiting for a reply, she yanked viciously at the crank and lifted the top. The worn, khaki canvas unfolded like a flower. “Where are you? It's so dark I can barely see you. Come on, little boy, I'll help you.”

Davey wriggled out from his makeshift nest and slid down to the cardboard cartons. Elva quickly shoved them aside and reached for the boy. How wonderful he felt in her arms. He was okay. “You ain't bleeding, are you, little boy?” she demanded as she gathered him to her.

Davey let himself be hugged and petted. He liked it. He liked this girl who talked to him and told him not to be afraid. She was as scared as he was; he could tell by the way her arms were shaking, even if she was holding him tight. “No, I'm not bleeding. I told you, I get shots so I don't bleed. Can you call my aunt now and tell her to come and get me?” he asked hopefully.

“I ain't got no cell phone. All I can do is give you a flashlight and something to eat. We're real close to where your motor home was parked. You see those trees over there? That's where you were camped. And just over there is where Len—I mean, that's where we were parked. I think that if you go through the trees, you stand a better chance of finding the motor home than going to the highway. But you gotta get going. Cudge will be coming back pretty soon and I don't want him to find you here. I know it's scary in the dark. I hate the dark and don't like to be by myself, but you're gonna have to be brave. Do you think you can make it?”

She was hugging him so hard, Davey could barely breathe. With all his might, he pushed against her arms and gasped, “I think I can.” When she put him down he asked, “What's your name? I have to know so I can tell my aunt how you helped me.”

“Brenda. Brenda Kopec. C'mon now, we have to get you ready and on your way. Cudge will be back soon. Are you hungry?”

“Starved,” Davey responded, with a weariness in his voice that made Elva clasp him to her again, squeezing and crooning softly. BJ's little face floated before her eyes. An acrid smell wafted into her nostrils. Dried urine. Poor kid. She thought about all the times BJ had wet his pants because he was scared. And the beatings, the constant beatings. As if a thrashing could make a little kid stop wetting his pants. Poor little BJ.

A quick glance at the sky told her the rain would arrive shortly. And then what? Could the kid find his way in the rain? It would be cold, and he'd get soaked in minutes. God, what if he started to bleed in the rain? “Rain, rain, go away, come again some other day,” she crooned.

“Here we go, you sit down and eat. You gotta be quick, BJ, and get away from here before Cudge comes back.” Elva's eyes were glazed and watery as she watched the little boy wolf down the cupcakes Cudge had just bought. Starved. BJ was always starved. He could stuff himself one minute and be looking for something else five minutes later. A bottomless pit was what BJ was. A bottomless pit who wet his pants when he was scared.

“Can I have something to drink?” Davey asked as he licked at his fingers.

“I saved my Coke for you. Drink it all, I'm not thirsty. It's kind of watery now because all the ice melted.” Davey gulped and gulped until the watery Coke was all gone. Carefully, Elva pulled at the hem of her blouse and wiped at the cupcake crumbs around his mouth. “There now, your mouth is clean and no one will know you were snacking.”

Davey sat quietly on the step of the pop-up, trusting the woman to help him. So what if she called him BJ? Grown-ups made mistakes sometimes. Not all grown-ups; he corrected the thought and sucked in his cheeks. His mother never made mistakes. Thunder roared overhead and he flinched. If you think a thing through to the end, you won't make a mistake. That's what his mother always said. Lightning danced across the sky, bathing Elva's face in eerie yellow light. Davey flinched again. Her eyes looked like Duffy's in the dark, all bright and shiny.

He inched his way to the end of the step and waited, his eyes on the trees. The woods were dark and gloomy, like on the cartoons at Halloween. He wondered what time it was. When the lightning flashed he saw on his watch that it was close to six o'clock. Davey frowned.

Elva saw the little boy check the time. Jesus. She didn't remember him being so smart, and where did he get a watch? A stolen watch would only get him another beating. BJ wouldn't steal, though. Or would he? She looked around. It was darker now; she didn't have time to worry about where he'd got the watch.

Davey held out his hand. “It's raining, Brenda, what should we do?”

“Come on, get inside, and I'll light the lantern. I have to get you ready to go even if it is raining. I don't have an umbrella,” she said fretfully. “I don't have a single thing that will keep you dry. I don't want you to get sick, BJ. You know there's no money for doctors.”

“Aunt Lorrie is a doctor,” Davey said helpfully. “If I can get to her, she'll take care of me.”

“Sometimes you talk crazy, BJ. We don't have an Aunt Lorrie, just an Aunt Stella and an Aunt Helen. Don't you remember? There, the lantern is on. Isn't this cozy, BJ? Just me and you. I hate the dark as much as you hate the beatings. I think I'd rather have a beating than be locked in a dark closet with the rats and roaches.”

Davey wondered if Brenda was making up a story so he wouldn't think about Aunt Lorrie. But he didn't want to be entertained. He just wanted to be out of here. He had to leave Brenda and the security of the pop-up, but first he had to get the flashlight she'd promised him. The one Mr. Sanders had given him was in his pocket, but he didn't think the light would be big enough to find a way through the trees.

Rain pounded the canvas roof. “It's raining hard, BJ. I don't think you should go out. Stay here with me. I hate the dark,” Elva said, hugging her thin arms against her chest.

Davey felt confused. He didn't understand. “If I stay here with you, the man will catch me. I thought you wanted to help me get away.”

It was Elva's turn to be confused. “BJ,” she said patiently, “I'm supposed to take care of you, and I will. But you have to stay with me. I won't let anything happen to you. Not again. The last time it was all a mistake. I won't let that happen again.”

“I want to go back to Aunt Lorrie. She's worried about me, I know she is. I want to go home.” He had an idea. “You can come with me, Brenda.”

“What time is it?” she demanded fearfully.

“The big hand is on the three and the little hand is on the six.”

Elva screwed her pinched features into a frown. “Quarter after six. God, Cudge will be back here any minute now. You have to get out of here fast.”

Davey didn't like the way Brenda's hands were shaking. He sighed. “I know. You said to go through the trees, right?”

“It's raining so hard. Let me think. The rain will slow Cudge down and he won't be able to see the holes in the road. Yes, through the trees. That way you won't pass him on the road. Will you be afraid to go through the woods?”

Davey thought about her question. The road and the bad man, or the woods and the rain and the dark. “No, but I need that flashlight you promised me.”

A sob caught in Elva's throat. She couldn't let him go out alone in the dark and rain. God, she was tired, almost too tired to think. Where was Cudge? Probably in some bar. For a moment, the thought pleased her. If he was in a bar, he wouldn't be coming through the door any second now. The kid was safe, for the moment. If he were in a bar, he would start off with beer and switch to boilermakers, and from there anything that came in a bottle. He would be good for a couple of hours. She and BJ were safe, for now.

A deep bellow of thunder sounded above them. Elva shivered and drew Davey into her arms for comfort. Streak after streak of lightning skittered overhead, lighting the inside of the camper. Elva swallowed hard. She feared thunder and lightning almost as much as she feared the dark.

“We're going to sit quietly for a little while so I can think. I have to think about what's best for you. Do you understand that, BJ?”

Davey nodded and relaxed into the crook of her bony arm. He felt almost safe. Almost.

T
he sky was darkening, more from the threatening storm than from the oncoming night. The roads were almost deserted, even the main road that led back to the garage. The occasional car that passed was going in the opposite direction; the drivers intent on getting home for supper after a long day on the job.

Cudge stopped the pickup in the bay area of the garage. He was relieved to see a dim light shining through the door. Quickly he climbed out of the cab in search of the mechanic on duty.

“Hey, fellah,” he said, trying for his most pleasant tone, “I've got a couple of tires what needs fixin'—could be I bent up the rim driving on a flat. I'm camped down the road and I left my wife there, havin' a fit because she's afraid of storms. I'll throw in a few extra bucks for you if you can fix it now.”

“Ah, sure, why not? I was about to close up for the night, but a fellah can always use a few extra bucks. Keeps the wolves away from the door, if you know what I mean. It's gonna take me at least an hour.” The tall, slim man wiped his grease-stained hands on the seat of his coveralls. “Why don't you go next door and have a beer? They got nude dancers in there for the after-work crowd.”

Cudge relaxed; the mechanic seemed more interested in the tire than in him. “Sounds good to me, I could use a cold beer.” Sensing that the man expected him to make some remark about the dancers, he added, “I haven't seen a good set of tits in a long time.”

“Ain't it the truth,” the mechanic said, grinning. “I thought my wife had a good pair when I married her. You should see them now—two lemons and all nipple. Hell, it don't hurt to look, so I go in every so often and get my fill. Ain't nothin' wrong in lookin', I always say.”

Cudge followed the man out to the pickup, where he retrieved the tire. Lowering his voice and looking over his shoulder, the man continued, “There's one little gal in there that's a piece of work. I ain't never been with her, but I heard about her. Calls herself Candy Striper and she's got knockers on her that'll knock your eyes out. You can watch her dance and dream a little.”

“Sounds like a waste of good beer to me,” Cudge grunted. Everywhere you looked there were perverts. “You said an hour, right?”

“More or less. When I'm done, I'll throw the spare back in your truck. But you'll have to pay up now, 'cause I'll be leaving soon as I'm done with your job.”

Cudge handed over the money, with some extra as promised. He walked across the gravel-topped parking area surrounding the bar. A weather-worn sign beneath the orange neon proclaimed BEER—SNOOKIE'S. The thrum of music blared as someone opened the door to leave. Cudge had been in bars like this before; the place smelled of beer and cigarettes, and sawdust littered the floor. There was a crowd at the curving bar but he spotted an empty stool.

Resting his elbows on the bar, he ordered a draft. He glanced around at the people; the place was packed. He grinned, thinking of what the mechanic had said about his wife's breasts. Hell, anything was better than Elva's—her hard little breasts reminded him of overgrown walnuts, and you had to look to find the nipple.

Tinny music pounded as two scantily costumed girls mounted a step-stool to get up to the beer-splattered bar. Cudge stared at their jiggling bodies but his thoughts were a million miles away. Well, a few, anyway. On Lenny. On Elva. On the blabber-mouthed kid. On how he was going to get out of this mess he'd gotten himself into. He knew he had to think of a plan. Naked bosoms and gyrating pelvises would have to wait for another day. It was getting late. Time for another beer and then he had to hit the road.

The music ended just as the bartender slid Cudge's beer down the length of the bar. Cudge took a long swallow and looked around. He hated dumps like this. Someday he was going to get all duded up and strut into a first-class cocktail lounge and drink champagne. He'd have a pearl-gray Lincoln Town Car, like undertakers drove, and a cigar clamped in his mouth. Cigars always added a touch of class, especially if they were Havana cigars. He'd go to Canada to get them if he had to. He shook his head at his fantasy. This bar was his speed, and he'd never move on. The lousy cops would be on his tail anytime now. No point in fooling anyone, least of all himself. He had to get rid of Elva before dawn and travel light. Even if it meant ditching the pop-up and coming back for it later. He was shaken from his thoughts by a sweat-soaked man beside him calling out, “C'mon, Candy, show an old man how it's done.”

“And after I turn you on, what am I going to do with you?” the second girl from the end shouted over the music.

“The same thing you did last week, baby. I got thirty bucks if you're interested.”

The girl laughed and swayed her hips and cupped her breasts, making them stand erect. Cudge's interest peaked. He nudged the guy sitting next to him. “You got into her?” he demanded.

The man stared at Cudge. “She'll take on anything, mister, as long as you got thirty bucks. She locks in on thirty for some reason. Not a penny less. She likes two tens, a five, and five ones. Anything else is a problem for her.” His round brown eyes stared at Cudge. “She gives you your money's worth, too. You interested?”

“Not if I have to pay for it,” Cudge snorted. The day he'd pay a hooker would be the day he tied his cock in a knot.

“You're in the wrong place then, buddy. Candy don't hand out no freebies. She's putting her baby brother through medical school.”

My ass she is, Cudge thought to himself.

“She likes her money up front too. You can't get around old Candy—she's a businesswoman.”

Cudge took a better look at the prancing woman on the bar. “Old Candy” was right, but for looks she wasn't half bad. Better than scrawny Elva, at any rate. He'd been to bed with a bag of bones for so long, he'd almost forgotten how nice it was to be cushioned between a pair of thighs that had some meat on them. Her belly was slightly rounded and fleshy; it jiggled as she danced. Nice to slap his own belly into, he thought, feeling a sensation of life in his loins.

Thirty bucks. That's what she wanted. A dollar for each year of her age. Still, she did have a nice smile. Friendly. There hadn't been too many friendly people in his life lately, God knew. And her legs were long. Real long. Long enough to wrap around a man when he was . . . Cudge laughed at himself then, a dry, humorless laugh that made the man beside him turn to stare. What did he care?

Candy's bright smile took in everyone at the bar. Her skin was white, pale white, almost translucent under the blue-tinted lights. Again Cudge felt that stirring below his belt as she gyrated, her breasts bouncing. A long time ago, he'd seen one of the old-fashioned burlesque shows. The stripper had worn tassels on her breasts and could make them twirl in different directions at the same time. He bet Candy could do that; he'd love to watch her try.

“You got thirty bucks?” he asked the sweating man next to him.

“Right here,” the man said, slapping the bills on the bar.

“You a gambling man?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“I got thirty bucks that says I can get Candy to leave here with me with no cash up front. A freebie. You want to cover the bet or not?”

“You're on, man. I've known Candy a long time, and she don't give it away.”

“Hey, Candy, come on over here,” Cudge shouted.

Candy Striper stared down the length of the bar. A new dude. Looked loaded. Been a while since she'd lain with someone she didn't know. What the hell. His thirty bucks was just as good as anybody's. She didn't like his eyes though. Pig eyes. And he had tattoos. She didn't like tattoos either. Candy weaved her way among the bar glasses till she was standing in front of the man. She squatted down so he could whisper in her ear.

She laughed delightedly. “You putting me on?”

Cudge shook his head. “Tell my sweaty friend here that you're coming with me and you're givin' me a freebie.”

“You heard the man,” Candy told Cudge's neighbor, who was watching her with a shocked expression.

Cudge scooped up the money and put it in his shirt pocket. When you were on the run, thirty bucks could be the means to an end. “C'mon, let's go.”

“Not so fast. I got a job to do here.”

“Yeah, well, forget it,” he answered. “I can't wait around all night.”

“Listen, I got a break coming after the next set. Twenty minutes at the most and then I'm all yours. Have another beer and watch me dance while I warm things up for you.”

Cudge almost told her to forget it, but the promise in her eyes stopped him. And what was waiting for him back at the pop-up? Elva? Skinny, scared Elva. She would be there when he got back, cowering inside the pop-up, cheeks streaked with tears, body shaking with every clap of the storm.

“Okay, do your thing, baby,” he told her, assuming his most debonair manner. “You ain't got nothin' I can't wait for.”

A half hour later they left the bar. Outside, in the wind and rain, he looked at Candy. “How far do you live from here?”

“Behind the bar. This dump used to be a motel and those little one-room cottages are still out back. Were you serious about Las Vegas? I never been outside this town, much less to Las Vegas. Do you really know show people there who can get me a job on the stage? When are we leaving?”

“Right after you give me your freebie.”

“Man, you can have all the freebies you want if you take me to Las Vegas. On the hour if you want. I gotta be honest with you though. I got this little problem. I don't mind giving if you don't mind getting.”

“What the hell?” Then it dawned on him what she'd said. He had a condom in his wallet that he'd been carrying around for just such an emergency. He wasn't “getting” anything he didn't bargain for. “No problem.”

“Where's your motor home? I like those things—all the comforts of home. You don't look like a rich promoter.”

“Now, did you ever see a rich promoter?” Cudge demanded as he hustled her around the side of the bar. “I parked it behind the garage. This looks like the kind of neighborhood that means trouble.”

“You scared me there for a minute. I thought that pile of junk over there was yours. I wouldn't be caught dead riding in something like that.” She motioned to his Chevy pickup, which was parked in front of the garage bay.

Cudge's eyes narrowed. “Wouldn't you now? Probably belongs to some hard-working slob who's sitting in that bar watching you gals toss your tits around.”

Concentrating on keeping her balance on the gravel in her incredibly high heels, Candy led him toward the cottage nearest the road. A slat-ribbed dog near the door growled to show he resented their intrusion. Cudge watched the dog while Candy dug in her purse for the keys, clutching the edges of the sweater she had thrown over her shoulders to hide her nakedness.

“Don't let the dog bother you, honey. Just like the rest of us, he's only looking for a good meal.” The door swung open and she reached inside for the light switch. “'Course, things are different out in Las Vegas. Nobody, but nobody, goes hungry out there. Say, how long did you say it would take to get there?”

“I didn't,” Cudge answered, his voice harsh. He didn't like answering questions, especially ones that challenged his lies. Besides, if she was dumb enough to think she was good enough for Las Vegas, she deserved anything she got.

“Here it is, home sweet home. Should I pack first or do you want to ball? Don't make no difference to me.”

“You got any alcohol around here?”

“Wine. A whole gallon. You want some?”

“Get it out, I feel like getting drunk. The guy sitting next to me at the bar said you'd take on anything for thirty bucks. Is that right?”

“Thirty bucks is thirty bucks. I just close my eyes.”

“How come you sell yourself so cheap?”

“I really need the money. I'm putting my kid brother through medical school,” Candy said, uncorking the jug of wine.

“You need a better story than that one.”

“I'm not putting you on. My kid brother, Jackie, is going to be an orthopedic surgeon someday. If you get me a job on the line in Las Vegas, I can send him more money. He's having a real tough time. Do you know, just one medical book costs seventy-five dollars, sometimes more! Here,” she handed Cudge a full glass of wine. “I think I'll have some myself to get in the mood.” She poured herself a glass, then took a sip. “So, how do you like it, anyway?”

“The wine? It's vinegary.”

“No, not the wine. Sex. How do you like your sex? I don't want you to be afraid to tell me what you want.”

“What—are you kiddin'? Afraid? Me?” Cudge laughed until his eyes started to water. When he'd settled down, he glanced around the room. This dump was no better than that furnished apartment he'd left in Newark. The iron bed in the corner looked like George Washington could have slept in it, and the sheets probably hadn't been changed since.

There was a Panasonic radio-CD player on the table. Candy's brightly polished fingernail pressed the “on” button and Kenny Rogers started to sing “Lady.” Candy casually shrugged her sweater off her shoulders. She always enjoyed watching the really cool-acting guys get excited when they got her alone. But something about the way this one was looking at her with those pig eyes of his worried her. Suddenly she realized that she'd been a gullible fool, and that he was nothing but a drifter with a silver tongue. He was no more a big promoter than she was Miss America. Still, a girl had to have hope, and working in a dump like Snookie's turned those hopes to needs.

“You were fibbing to me about Las Vegas, weren't you?” she asked, hearing the quake in her voice. The guy's eyes widened, then narrowed, and his expression turned evil. Candy decided she definitely should have stuck with the men who frequented Snookie's. There wasn't one who would go out of his way to do anything for her, but none of them scared her. She had to get out of here, away from this man.