Sintown Chronicles III: In Dark Corners

by David O. Dyer, Sr.

  "I can help Cliff clean up Dad's Place,” Ally insisted. “It'll take my mind off the pain."

  There was an awkward moment at the police station when Cliff told the detectives he once served time, but suspicion was quickly removed when the girls explained the events leading up to the death of Frank Thomas.

  The expected call from Creasy Green was on Julie's answering machine when they returned. Cliff explained Carl Elliott's offer and begged Julie not to accept it. Her willingness to listen to his arguments came as a surprise and he was not certain he liked the fact that it was Ally's enthusiasm that caused Julie's unexpected interest.

  Ally was certainly a fine looking female specimen. Cliff could not help but notice her bedroom eyes and sultry voice, but the image of Julie, clad in sexy lingerie, and the memory of her fragile body quivering against his, impeded his ability to concentrate on the conversation.

  Julie's voice interrupted his reverie. “You can serve all your rib-sticking dishes."

  "No!” he blurted.

  The women fell silent and stared at him.

  He tried to smile. “Dad's Place should feature your mom's barbecue, Julie,” he explained.

  "Cliff, the recipe is lost. You know that."

  "We haven't looked for it. It's probably in the log cabin."

  "What's this about barbecue?” Ally asked.

  Julie handled the explanation and Cliff drifted back into private thought. Julie was certainly far more attractive than when he first met her. It was not just the new clothes. Her entire attitude was different. He was delighted that she was making such good progress with the Wal-Mart ads. He was happy that she now looked with favor on moving permanently to Dot to be close to the Holder Advertising Agency.

  "Huh?” he said, sensing a question had been directed to him.

  "Have you searched the house for the recipe?” Ally repeated.

  He shook his head. “Other than check out the house with Carl Elliott I haven't been in it. It's full of, well, things that might be private. I didn't think I should be nosing around without Julie's permission."

  "But you have the motel rooms ready for occupancy?"

  "They're clean, but need painting."

  "But they're liveinable?"

  All three laughed at Ally's coined word.

  "You can live in one, Cliff. I'll live in another and Julie can have the apartment."

  "No,” Julie disagreed. “The apartment has two bedrooms. You can stay with me, Ally, until we get the log cabin fixed up."

  "But you need to use one of the bedrooms as a studio."

  "There are a dozen motel rooms. I can use one of them as a temporary studio."

  "That would be inconvenient."

  "Okay, how about this. We're sharing a bedroom now. Why not share a bedroom in Dot? I don't snore do I?"

  Ally smiled and the decision seemed to be made.

  That's it, damn it, Cliff thought. That's what's wrong with this picture. They're sleeping together, for crying out loud. If it were another man I'd know how to go about fighting for Julie's affection, but how do you compete with a woman?

  "Aren't we getting ahead of ourselves?” Cliff objected.

  "Isn't this what you wanted?"

  "Yes, Julie, but Pretty Lady, you're moving too fast."

  "It's me, isn't it, Cliff?” Ally asked. “You want Julie all to yourself."

  Before Cliff could respond, Julie laughed. “I don't think so, Ally. Cliff had his chance with me and blew it. He's a nice guy, Ally. He's paid his debt to society, as they say, but finding a decent job is difficult for an ex-con. Cliff is solely interested in opening Dad's Place."

  Cliff retreated into his inner thoughts. No, Julie, he thought. I want to be the fulfillment of your dad's dreams. I do want to open Dad's Place. That's true enough. But I also want to be the father of your children, filling the log cabin with laughter just like your dad wrote in his letter.

  "Huh?” Cliff asked.

  Julie laughed. “You want a beer?"

  "Yeah, maybe that'll help."

  "Three beers coming up,” Julie joked, “right after I get rid of the last two I drank."

  As soon as Julie left the room, Ally sat beside Cliff on the sofa. “This has to be quick, Cliff. There's no time for playing games. Do you want to screw me?"

  Cliff's eyes widened. “You're a lovely lady, Ally, but..."

  "Julie's wrong about you, isn't she? You desperately want to get into her panties."

  "No! Yes. Damn it, Ally. I'm confused. I want to marry Julie but it looks like you and she have something other than friendship going."

  "You love her?"

  He nodded.

  "But she doesn't know?"

  "You keep your mouth shut, Ally."

  She nodded. “I don't think either Julie or I are lesbians, Cliff. There has been no sexual contact between us, but things may be heading in that direction. Last night a nightmare woke me. Julie was fast asleep, her body pressed close to mine and her hand on my breast. I liked it. Say the word and I'll bow out."

  Their eyes locked for several seconds before he responded. “I believe you really mean that and there's nothing I, personally, would like more, but..."

  "But?"

  "I love Julie enough to give her up if, uh, she finds greater happiness with someone else. Let's let this thing play itself out. Just allow me to have some role even if it turns out only to be that of a secret admirer."

  "You have a deal,” she said, offering her hand. “There's one more thing."

  "Yeah?"

  "You turn me on like no man I've ever known. I don't love you. I just want it to be my legs wrapped around you the next time you have sex."

  "Hey, you two,” Julie said as she came through the door empty-handed. “Let's sit at the kitchen table and write down our plans. I don't think I've ever been so excited in my entire life."

  Two days later, thirty miles from Dad's Place, Cliff glanced at the passenger in the shotgun seat of his pickup. They hadn't spoken since leaving Charleston. “This isn't right, you know."

  "I won't rape you."

  "It still isn't right."

  "You agreed to it."

  "I didn't have much choice. You should have stayed with Julie."

  "She'll join us in a week."

  "You should be spending the week with her. You have a relationship to work out."

  "I think,” Ally said, tugging on the jeans that fit just a little too tight, “I have a relationship to work out of."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Julie and I have known each other for a very short time. Circumstances threw us together and a bond developed. I won't deny that. It's just that, well, the relationship is moving in the wrong direction. Believe it or not, after thinking it over, I'm on your side, Cliff. I want to be Julie's friend, not her lover, and I want to be your friend too."

  "I wish I could believe that."

  "Give it a chance, Cliff. Julie is an artist. You and I are, well, business people. The thought of opening and running Dad's Place turns both of us on."

  "You don't seem too happy about it."

  "You're wrong. Give me a little time, Cliff. I am excited, but..."

  "Frank?"

  Moisture accumulated in Ally's eyes as she nodded. “I loved him once, Cliff. He wasn't always mean to me."

  Silence again reigned. Cliff snapped on the radio and smiled as the familiar voice came from the speaker. “She calls herself Delilah Delight,” he explained. “The show is Bawdy Talk. The things some people will say on the radio is unbelievable."

  I think it goes back to prehistoric days.

  I don't follow you, Candy.

  You know. In those days when a guy wanted a gal, he clubbed her over the head and drug her unconscious body back to his cave.

  Are you saying that cave-women liked being bonked over the head?

  Sure. It was the way of things back then. A good bonk was the prelude to a good boink.

  You may be right, Candy. Thanks for c
alling. This is Delilah Delight. You're listening to Bawdy Talk on WFNS, your friendly neighborhood station. Hello, Caller. You're on the air.

  Delilah? Is that you Delilah?

  Sure is, honey. What's your take on S&M?

  This here is Betty Lou and that ain't no made-up name. I'll tell you right now, some of the women what's been callin’ you today is tetched in the haid. Any man tries to put clothespins or mousetraps on my nipples is gonna get his ass whupped. You can count on that.

  Betty Lou, tell Delilah something. Have you ever whipped a man's bottom?

  Sure have, Delilah. More than once.

  Did you enjoy it?

  Huh?

  Did you enjoy hurting these men?

  Ain't never thought on it, but I reckon I did. That don't make me no sadist, though. I jest give them men what they deserved.

  Did they like it?

  Huh?

  Did the men you beat up like it?

  Hell no, Delilah. When Betty Lou puts a hurtin’ on you, you don't ask for no seconds.

  I believe you. Thanks for calling, Betty Lou. Hello, Caller, you're on the air.

  Delilah, I'm not good at expressing myself, but I have something I want to say.

  Who are you, honey?

  Just call me Mouse.

  Okay Mouse. I take it you like mousetraps.

  Sometimes. A little pain at the right time and under the right circumstances gets my juices flowing. The problem is, some men just don't know when to stop.

  "She's right, you know,” Ally said quietly.

  "You're kidding. You are a masochist?"

  "Sometimes. That's what initially brought Frank and me together. Sometimes he just didn't know when to stop."

  Delilah, or whatever your name is, my name is Reverend Ralph R. Rice, pastor of the Idols Road Pentecostal Holiness Church. I hope you and all the people who call in and listen to your program enjoy pain because you are all predestined to hell and eternal torment.

  Sorry, Reverend, you reached the wrong number. This is Delilah Delight and the program is Bawdy Talk. We'll be back after these messages.

  Cliff snapped off the radio and pulled into the parking lot. “Home, sweet home,” he said as he set the parking brake. “I know it doesn't look like much, but a coat of paint will do wonders."

  She rested her hand on his thigh. “Cliff, it's beautiful!"

  Chapter Nine

  Cliff opened his eyes, still half asleep. Something wasn't right. The green numerals glowing on the alarm clock on the bedside table revealed it was six in the morning. He sat up, stretched and inhaled deeply. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee caught his attention. He slipped out of bed and glanced down at the protrusion in the crotch of the boxer shorts he wore as pajamas.

  That won't do, he thought. Quietly he slipped into the bathroom and emptied his bladder. That seemed to return things to normal. He pulled on a white T-shirt, slipped into his customary jockey shorts, and tugged on blue jeans. Barefooted, he opened the bedroom door and smiled at the sound of Ally whistling a tune he did not recognize.

  "Other than the seven dwarfs, I've never known anyone who actually whistles while she works,” he joked as he entered the kitchen.

  Ally turned from the stove and grinned. She reached for the coffeepot and asked, “Did I wake you?"

  "The coffee did."

  "Good. That was my plan. How do you like your eggs?"

  He took the steaming cup from her. “Cooked."

  "Fried or scrambled?"

  "If you're doing the cooking, it's your choice,” he joked as he sat at the kitchen table and watched her crack two eggs and expertly empty the contents into an iron skillet. “Where did the frying pan come from?"

  "It was in one of the boxes you unloaded last night. I never have been able to cook a decent meal in a non-stick pan."

  "Not that I object, but how did you get in? I know I locked the door before I went to bed last night."

  "The key you gave me is a master. I think it probably opens all the motel doors."

  "Did you sleep well?"

  "Yeah. You?"

  "Like the proverbial baby. Ally, I'm glad you're feeling better."

  "What makes you think I'm feeling better?"

  "You were whistling earlier and now you are grinning. The swelling in your lip has gone down."

  She nodded as she flipped the eggs. “This is the first morning I have awakened without excruciating pain.” She placed a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him along with a tub of butter. She nodded towards the toaster. “Should pop up any second."

  "I think the first thing we need to do this morning is move you in here and me into the motel unit. We really should have done that last night, but I was just too damn tired. Driving does that to me. Then we should clean out the spare bedroom for Julie's studio."

  Ally glanced briefly in his direction. “May I offer an alternate plan?"

  "Sure."

  "Let's don't waste daylight. You get started on painting and I'll tackle the cleaning of the store and restaurant.” She brought her own breakfast plate to the table. “We can work on your project tonight."

  "Suits me, but may I offer an alternate to the alternate plan?"

  Ally laughed.

  "I like company when I work. Besides, your cleaning project will involve lifting and moving heavy furniture and fixtures. I'm not saying you're a weak female, or anything like that, but I don't think your physical recovery has progressed to the point where you can do all that heavy work."

  She nodded, swallowed and said, “You're probably right. Okay, what do we do first—paint or clean?"

  "Your choice."

  "You know where my interest lies."

  He nodded and sipped his coffee. “Ally, we got off to a bad start and it was my fault. When I went to Charleston, I didn't know about you. The way you and Julie looked at each other threw me a curve. Can we start over?"

  Ally smiled, but did not answer.

  "Did you mean what you said?"

  "Probably. What are you talking about?"

  "Well, for instance, you said you just want to be Julie's good friend, not her lover."

  Ally nodded. “And your friend too, Cliff."

  He looked at the ceiling for a moment. “Did you also mean it when you said I, uh, turn you on?"

  "I also said I wouldn't rape you."

  Their eyes locked. “You turn me on too, Ally, but damn it, I love Julie. It's ... it's been a long time since I've been with a woman. We're going to spend a lot of time together for the next seven days. My willpower is going to need some help."

  Ally's eyes beamed. “What a wonderful compliment. What can I do to help—wear a bag over my head?"

  His eyes dropped to his empty plate. “Put on a bra."

  "You're kidding."

  He kept his eyes down as he shook his head.

  A pounding on the door and a booming voice interrupted. “Hey, Cliff. You up yet?"

  "Crap."

  "Who's that?” Ally asked.

  "Carl Elliott—the guy that wants to buy Julie's land. He's going to be mad as hell that I talked her out of it.” He took a deep breath and shouted, “In the kitchen, Carl."

  Ally stood as the muscular black man showing a mouthful of perfect white teeth entered the kitchen. “Carl Elliott, ma'am,” he said, extending his hand. “I reckon you must be Ally Thomas."

  Ally allowed her hand to be swallowed in his. “I am, but how did you know?"

  "Miss Julie called me last night.” Carl turned to Cliff and frowned. “I ought to whup your scrawny white butt but I can't very well do that with this lovely little lady watching. Besides, I know something I don't think you know just yet."

  "How do you like your coffee, Mr. Elliott?"

  "Black is beautiful, ma'am,” he said as he reversed a chair and straddled it. “Name's Carl."

  "Look, Carl,” Cliff said apologetically. “I know you wanted to buy Julie's land, but you know I wanted her to keep it. I had to do what I coul
d."

  "Yeah, I know. But that don't mean I like it."

  "Julie is winding things up in Charleston and will join us in a week or so. In the meantime, Ally and I are going to work towards reopening the businesses."

  "Thank you, ma'am,” Carl said, accepting the steaming mug of coffee from Ally. “Dad's Place,” he said, turning his attention back to Cliff.

  Cliff smiled. “How did you know that?"

  "You have wax in your ears, boy? I told you I talked with Miss Julie last night. I have a painting crew that ain't got nothing to do for the next couple of weeks. If it's okay with you, I'll send them out here this morning. I'll send along a gofer too. He might be of some help."

  Ally laughed. “What's a gofer?"

  "Guy's name is Roger Bruister. He's about Cliff's age, I reckon, maybe a little older. Might make a fair carpenter one day but right now he goes for whatever anybody needs."

  "Carl, you know we can't afford professional help."

  "Sorry, Cliff. I keep forgettin’ you don't know what me and Miss Julie talked about last night. She called to tell me she decided not to sell the place and filled me in on her plans. Sarasue got on the extension and put in her two cents worth."

  "Sarasue?” Ally asked.

  "Carl's wife,” Cliff explained.

  Carl went to the coffeepot for a refill. “One thing led to another. Miss Julie agreed to sell us about two-thirds of the land for a subdivision. We'll work out the details after she gets here. Me and Sarasue will pay for it with both cash and services."

  Ally, now washing dishes, turned to face the men. “Services?"

  "We're gonna help you and Cliff get the motel, store and restaurant ready to open."

  Cliff grinned. “I'll bet you let her twist your arm and force you to agree to remodel the log cabin too."

  Carl chuckled and looked at Ally. “Cliff knows I'd pay Miss Julie to be allowed to work on that classic house.” Turning back to Cliff, he continued, “Miss Julie is gonna let us have a little piece of land on the opposite side of the pond to build our own log cabin."

  Late in the afternoon, Ally and Cliff, sipping Budweisers, perched on stools at the counter with perspiration seeping from every pore of their bodies.