Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows (59 page)

“Would that be so damn bad?"

“There's things you don't know about me."

“What things?"

Greta went back to the counter. “Afternoon, Mrs. Nickels. If you are planning to plant them tomato seeds, it's too late in the year. Mustard, turnip greens and maybe radishes might grow now, but not tomatoes."

The obviously pregnant lady blushed. “We have a nice, sunny, glassed in back porch. Randy loves tomatoes so much. I thought I'd see if I can grow them indoors and have garden fresh tomatoes for him all winter."

Greta nodded and rang up the sale. “Might work. How's them twins?"

“Growing like weeds, Greta. Leora is babysitting for me."

Greta counted out the change. “I don't read so good, Mrs. Nickels, but I'm getting better. I'm trying to read that book you and Randy wrote together. Did you really bite that guy's dick off?"

“Greta! The book is fiction."

“Yeah, but it seems so real, and every time I read a little, the pictures in my mind are of you and Randy."

“Makes a hell of a story, doesn't it,” Jo said as she winked and dropped the change and package of seeds into her purse.

“What was that all about?” Hank asked when Greta returned to him.

“That's Jo Nickels. Her and Randy run the Dollar Publishing Company. They just came out with a book they wrote together. It's kinda interesting the way they did it. She wrote one chapter and he wrote the next. She tells the story one way and he tells the same thing a different way. It's funny. They never see anything the same way."

“And in the story a woman bites off a man's dick?"

She nodded. “Sounds bloody, don't it?"

He clutched his crotch. “Sounds painful."

“You ever read books?"

“Yeah, when I was in prison."

“This is the first one I ever tried to read, cover to cover. You can have it when I'm done."

“You started to tell me something about yourself."

“Yeah. I was a prostitute a long time—a street walker—a common whore."

He smiled. “I knew that."

“The hell you did."

“Yep. You charged five bucks for a blowjob and ten for your pussy. I did you a couple of times in Fayetteville before they kicked me out of the service. I don't expect you to remember."

She grinned and pressed her hand between his legs. “I didn't expect
you
to remember. No woman can forget a huge dong like your's."

“Frank, baby, you're soaking wet,” June cried as she raced around the counter into his outstretched arms.

“It's hot as Hades out there, Lovely Lady.” He nodded towards Dottie. “Afternoon, Mrs. Frank."

“Dottie,” June said, “we're not busy. May I have a few minutes?"

“Sure,” Dottie said as she headed for the kitchen to give the lovers a moment of privacy.

June pressed her breasts against his chest as he kissed her hard on the lips. “You have time for a quickie? My apartment is two minutes away."

“Sorry, babe. I wanted you desperately last night, but I'm just too tired right now. How about a big glass of iced tea?"

She brought a large glass filled with chipped ice and a pitcher to the back booth and poured the tea for him.

“How'd it go last night?” he asked.

“I was scared to death,” she said as she slid into the booth, “but I got an A my first night. It seems I was the only one who read the assignment."

“That's my girl,” he said between gulps of the refreshing liquid.

“Frank, I have so much to tell you."

“As soon as you finish studying, and screwing me, you can tell me tonight."

“I ... I ... let me tell you what's happened."

He smiled and relaxed.

“Frank, Jay ... Professor Foster ... is a great teacher and he says I have a real future in bookkeeping. He wants me to go into private practice right here in Dot. He's going to help me get things set up. He's going to get me started. I need all your financial records to take with me tonight—your receipts, billing copies, checkbook—everything."

“Whoa,” Frank said. “Tonight? I thought classes met Monday, Wednesday and Friday."

“They do, but he's going to give me private help on Tuesdays and Thursdays."

“June, that just leaves the weekends for us, and you know I have to work all day on Saturdays."

“It's just for a month, Frank."

He sighed and poured a third glass of tea. “What's this about going into business? I thought you wanted to be a waitress and keep my books at night."

“I do. I did. Things are changing so damn fast. Frank, some of the guys were in here this morning drinking coffee—you know how they all show up about ten o'clock. I told them about going to school. I never said a word about going into business for myself. The barber started it. He said he desperately needs a bookkeeper and the dentist, what's his name—uh, Hartman—he said he needed my services too. Creasy Green said he was ready to sign on the dotted line right then and he has an empty room in his office suite I can rent. That old leech that runs the pharmacy said he would use my services if I don't charge too much. Frank, that's four customers plus you and the Super Save, and I haven't even tried to sign up any clients."

“What about Dottie? She counts on you."

She looked around to be sure there were still no customers in the diner. “When the guys left, she pulled me into the kitchen. She's going to close the diner. Well, that's not quite right. She's going to turn it into a pizza place with delivery and serve nothing but pizza and beer. She bought a Papa John's franchise. Frank, you know I can't stand the smell of that stuff and Dottie knows it too. That's why she went ahead and told me earlier than she meant to."

“Dottie's closing the diner? I can't believe it. There's going to be a lot of disappointed people in Dot."

“She wants more time off. As a pizzeria, it won't open until eleven. Of course, she's going to have it open seven days a week, but she's going to hire people to run it so she won't have to be here every day. She says she's going to do some traveling while the place is remodeled."

“Still..."

“Frank, there's more. Dottie is going to open a trailer park. She wants me to keep the books for her too."

He smiled as he slid out of the booth. “Looks like you're going to get rich before I do."

She grabbed his hand. “Don't think of it like that. Let's get married, Frank, right away. The garden shop and the bookkeeping business will be our businesses. We'll get rich together."

“We can think about it, June, but I'm not sure that's a good idea. We will both be up to our necks in work. We won't have much time for marriage. I think we should wait until our businesses are well established.” He turned to leave.

“Frank, don't go yet."

“Have to,” he called over his shoulder. “I have to get those records together for you."

“You missed a spot, Teach."

Deborah looked down at the sound of the familiar voice and her eyes widened. “Buzz, why do you have the prod? I haven't done anything wrong."

“I know, damn it,” he said as he ran the cold steel over the back of her leg. “I thought I'd sneak up on you and catch you wearing bib overalls or goofing off.” He stuffed the cattle prod into his back pocket. “Where'd the home entertainment center come from?"

“You like it?"

“Biggest damn TV I ever saw."

“That was the one thing I bought they couldn't deliver yesterday. I signed you up for one of those satellite services too."

“I saw the dish in the front yard. Do I get dirty movies?"

“I suppose. I ordered their full service."

Buzz started laughing.

“What's funny?"

“Come down off that ladder."

As she descended he picked up a rag and dipped it in a bucket of water. “You have more paint on you than on the garage.” He dabbed at splotches on her face.

“I am a messy painter. Damn,” she said taking the rag from him. “I dripped some on my boobs."

She soaked the rag in water again and pushed up her halter-top.

Buzz howled with laughter. “It ran down and coated your nipple. Funniest looking nipple I ever saw. Here,” he said reaching for the rag, “let me do that."

He wrapped the cloth around her nipple and twisted one way, then the other. A few flecks of white paint remained. He applied a clean part of the cloth and repeated the procedure.

She moaned.

“What the shit?"

“I ... I like for you to touch me. Buzz,” she said, “let's go in the garage. Make love to me, Buzz. I want it so bad."

His eyes narrowed. “Get your clothes off. Do it!"

“Oh, God, Buzz, do you mean it? Let's go in the garage."

“Get you clothes off right here, right now.” He pulled the prod from his pocket and watched her strip as he picked up the paintbrush. He held it low with the handle pointed towards her. “Hump it,” he demanded.

“Buzz, no!” She felt the point of the handle parting her labia—felt it slide inside her.

“Do it, damn it."

She moved her hips.

“Faster."

She propped her hands on his shoulders for leverage. “I ... hate ... your ... fucking ... guts. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!” She dropped to her knees, sobbing.

He pushed her head into the dirt and pressed the probe between her buttocks. He watched her muscles contract. “Damn,” he muttered as he stuffed the probe into his pocket. He knelt beside her and stroked the perfect mounds. He leaned forward and kissed each one gently.

She lifted her head and searched his eyes as he kissed each breast. “Buzz,” she moaned as she placed her hands on his cheeks.

He pulled her tightly to him and probed her mouth with his tongue. He pulled back and dropped his eyes.

“Buzz,” she said softly, “surely by now you must know that I love you."

“Finish the damn garage, clean yourself up, make your rounds and meet me at the Korner Kafe at seven. You want it so damn bad. Tonight the boys at the pool are going to hump a school principal's slimy slit."

June parked in front of building A. I shouldn't be here, she thought. He's going to force me. I know he will. Hell, that's why I am wearing my diaphragm. I should go back to Dot—back to Frank. He looked so pathetic when I broke our date for tonight.

She pulled the key ring out of her purse and inserted the ignition key. But I can't leave, she thought. I need Jay. If I piss him off, he'll flunk me. Why do I care? It's not a credit course. I do care, damn it. For the first time in my miserable life, I'm excited. Imagine me with a business of my own—people depending on me, respecting me.

She shivered as she recalled the gentle touch of Jay's hands on her breasts. What I am going to do? If I don't go in, I may lose the business. If I do, I'll betray Frank. If Jay doesn't force me, I may force him. What's worse—lose the business or lose Frank? She reached for the ignition switch.

Damn, she thought. There he is. He must have seen me from his window. He's waving. He looks so good in that blue tee shirt and red shorts. Look at those legs. They're not muscular, like Franks, but God how I want to caress and kiss them.

She sighed. It's too late now, she thought. She dropped the keys into her purse and opened the door.

Jay carried the three grocery bags full of scraps of paper and Frank's checkbook. She lugged the computer and her purse, both hung from her shoulders.

“Sorry about the mess,” he said as they entered his apartment. “The cleaning lady is sick. I thought we'd work at the kitchen table. I have more room in there."

She eased the computer case onto the table and opened the straps. “Looks like your cleaning lady has been out sick a long time. What's wrong with her?"

He smiled as he pulled a handful of paper from one bag. “The main thing is that she exists only in my imagination. I don't often have guests, June. I clean up once a month. Honest."

She chuckled but then noticed the scowl on his face. He was glancing at a handful of papers from the second bag. “What's the matter?"

He pulled scraps of paper from the third bag, glanced at them and tossed them back into the bag. “It's a bigger mess than my apartment,” he said. “It's going to take days to straighten all of this out."

“I ... I'm sorry."

He plugged in her laptop and sat at the end of the table. “This may be a first for me, June."

“What do you mean?"

“I am about to suggest to a foxy lady that she may as well leave my apartment. There's nothing you can do to help tonight. Perhaps I will have things far enough along that you can help Thursday night."

“Oh, no,” she said a little too quickly. “I must return Frank's records in the morning—at least the accounts receivables and his checkbook."

“Well, all right!” he said as he playfully clapped his hands. “You read your assignment for tomorrow night."

“I did, but what did I say that tipped it off?"

“Accounts receivables,” he replied.

“Oh, yeah. Receivables are records of money or other goods people owe Frank."

“Exactly. You've earned tomorrow's A already. Look, maybe I can get the receivables and checkbook data loaded tonight. I'll do my best."

“Thanks, Jay.” She watched him slip a silver disk from a plastic container. “What's that?"

“The software package I told you about last night,” he said as he pushed the disk into her CD ROM drive. “It'll take about twenty minutes to load. I went by the student store this afternoon and bought it for you. You owe me a hundred and eighty bucks."

“Jay, I'm sorry. I didn't bring any money with me."

“No hurry,” he replied as he gazed at the changing messages on the computer display. “I'm feeling very solvent tonight. There's beer, Pepsi-Colas and maybe some orange juice in the fridge. Get me a brew and help yourself to whatever you like."

June opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a can of beer. She reached for a second, then hesitated. What the hell, she thought, and she pulled out a beer for herself. She popped the top on one and handed it to Jay. “What did you do today?” she asked. “Make a bundle on the stock market?"

He smacked his lips after tasting the cold beverage. “Don't play the market, but I do buy and sell collectibles. You remember I told you I bought some things from your neighbor's yard sale?"