Zeke

by Wodke Hawkinson

  Sue looked at his eager face and was put off by his squinty eyes, sausage nose, and crowded teeth. The thrill she had felt earlier was gone, replaced by resignation. Zeke wanted her to do this, and she wanted to please Zeke. She mentally shrugged her shoulders; she supposed it could be worse.

  “Take off your pants, honey,” Zeke encouraged her softly as he readied his camera. “Get on back there with Ernie now.”

  Sue listlessly slipped off her shoes and removed her jeans. She squeezed past Zeke into the sleeper with Ernie. His truck was nice, but there wasn’t a lot of room. She leaned back on the mattress, aware of Zeke taking pictures. Light tingles spread slowly between her legs; she could admit to herself she liked being looked at. There was nothing wrong with that.

  Ernie leaned over and studied her.

  “This is good,” he said, mostly to himself. “You’re prime, little lady, prime.” Without further preamble, Ernie buried his face between her legs and she closed her eyes. She pretended it was Zeke. The man was surprisingly talented and in spite of her reluctance, her traitorous body began to respond. At the same time, she also was mildly disgusted. Disgusted with herself and with Ernie. But most of all, with Zeke. She opened her eyes and gazed at Zeke with his camera.

  Sue tried to ignore what was happening, but Ernie was intent on pleasuring her, and he was succeeding.

  With a grunt, Ernie heaved his heavy body upward and crawled on top of her.

  Sue turned her head to the side to avoid his kiss. He smelled of coffee, fabric softener, and Old Spice cologne. Somewhere along the way, her body betrayed her and she had an orgasm. She hoped neither Zeke nor Ernie could tell.

  “By god, that was good,” the trucker exclaimed afterward. “You’re a peach of a gal. A real peach.”

  Ernie turned away from her, picked up his pants, and pulled a thick wallet from the pocket. Extracting some bills, he folded them and handed them to Zeke. “I threw a little extry in there,” Ernie said generously. “Best I’ve had in years.”

  Sue watched this transaction with revulsion. She had just been pimped out, sold. Sue turned to her side and quietly vomited into the pillow; neither man noticed.

  Zeke put his camera back into the case. “Let’s go now, Sue. We got to get back on the road.”

  Sue moved up front but didn’t slip into her jeans and shoes. She wanted out and fumbled with the door. Ernie had to reach over and open it for her. The three of them crowded into that small space made her feel claustrophobic and panicky. She stumbled down from the cab and landed hard on the cold ground before jumping to her feet and running half naked back to the van. Zeke stayed inside another minute and she heard the men’s muffled laughter before she closed the door behind her, shutting out the sound. Once inside, Sue dressed quickly and wrapped her arms around herself. She felt ashamed and dirty. What would her parents think if they could see her now? She was nothing but a prostitute, a dirty whore. She began to weep softly.

  The door opened and Zeke got in. He turned the key and opened the heater vents. “That was the most awesome thing I’ve ever seen!” He was exuberant, oblivious to her misery. “You ought to see the pictures I got, honey. Holy shit, they’re hot.”

  Sue huddled silently in her seat.

  Her distress finally registered with him. “Oh, baby. Now, don’t cry. You made that man’s day. His life. You made his entire life. And I witnessed it. Oh, Susie, you’re the best! You make me so proud.”

  She sniffed loudly, and he gave her a sharp look.

  “What’s wrong? If you keep acting like that, you’re going to spoil the moment.” Zeke frowned. “Aw, come on. Come here.”

  He reached for her, but she pulled back. “I just can’t get it out of my mind. What would my mom and dad think if they could see me now?” The shame rolled over her in waves.

  “You might find this hard to believe,” Zeke said, “but I think your dad would be proud. And maybe even a little jealous of ole Ernie. He’d probably wish it was him back there in that semi.”

  “Stop talking about my dad that way,” Sue croaked. “That’s just sick.”

  “Sorry,” Zeke said. “But, Sue, you should be proud of yourself; you’re like a Venus. A beautiful, sensuous woman. Oh, honey, I’ve never been so proud, watching you perform. It was breathtaking.”

  “Well, I feel like a total skank,” she said in a small voice.

  “You’re no such thing,” Zeke protested. “You’re a liberated woman, enjoying your sexuality. You have a right to do that, you know. You have every right to exercise your sexual freedom. It’s normal. Perfectly natural and healthy. Your body was designed for pleasure. Engineered for it. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have responded. And it did respond, Sue. You liked it, didn’t you? What Ernie was doing? I could tell. It was nice, wasn’t it?”

  He wanted her to say yes; she could feel it.

  “Maybe a little,” she mumbled. Privately, she recalled the experience with feelings of loathing. “But, Zeke, he paid to use me. What does that make me?”

  “That money doesn’t mean anything. Ernie just wanted to give something back, that’s all. Just a little gift for the way you blew his mind,” Zeke continued. “It made him feel good to give us some money. It’s not like you think.”

  Sue was quiet, but his words were working on her.

  “I know what you need,” Zeke said. “Let’s get in the back.”

  Sue sighed and made her way to the back of the van. Zeke followed her. He pushed their stuff out of the way and laid her down on the mattress.

  “He was just a proxy for me, a stand-in. You didn’t do anything wrong. It was me touching you, but with someone else’s hands, that’s all. It’s all good, Susie Q. Let’s just make love, right this minute, and it’ll erase that whole thing. It’ll be like magically undoing it. Oh, man, I want you so bad, I can hardly stand it. You got me so hot, Susie. I mean it, baby. I love you so much right now I think my heart is going to explode.” Zeke was all over her, hands everywhere. She liked it when he was mushy and sentimental for her. It didn’t take long for Zeke to work his magic.

  They Went That-a-Way

  Will walked across the hall to his partner’s office. Roxie Barnes was leaning over, checking the leaves of her potted plant and giving him a nice view of her healthy backside. He took in the sight for a moment, enjoying the vision before announcing his presence. Will liked Roxie. But office romances never worked out so he kept his thoughts to himself.

  “I need to run something past you; it’s about the Cox case.” Startled, she turned surprised eyes on Will. Roxie was short, compact, and prone to chubbiness, a condition she alternately fought with salad binges and indulged with fudge brownies á la mode. She favored jewel-toned clothes in comfortable styles, professional looking yet easy to move in. With her red hair and porcelain skin, she looked enough like Will that they had sometimes been mistaken for siblings, but Will was glad they weren’t.

  When Roxie had been studying for her license, Will was her mentor. They got along well, and becoming partners was a natural move for them.

  Roxie dusted her hands over the wastebasket and sat down behind her desk. Will took a chair on the other side.

  “At first, I thought her parents were just being neurotic. I mean, the girl hadn’t even been gone a whole day, and they’re already hiring me to look for her?” He shook his head. “But now I’m not so sure. Too many odd things about this case.”

  “That’s true. Just the way she left is weird. Abandoning the car, writing a note instead of just telling her parents she’s leaving, and going off with someone who’s using a dead guy’s identity.”

  “Exactly. That and sneaking around to hide the relationship. Why was that necessary?”

  “Maybe you’ll find the answers.”

  “I hope so.”

  He outlined his plan of action, encouraged by her occasional nod or “Mmm-hmm.” She played with the calculator for a few seconds.

  “We’re not going to make much on this one, are
we?” she said, after some consideration.

  “It depends on how fast I find her…but probably not.”

  “If you find her. Foolish girl, running off like she did.” She sighed. “Oh, well. And at least we’ve got the Morris Industries case. That’ll keep us afloat in the meantime. Let’s grab a map and move to the conference room.”

  Roxie calculated how far a person could hope to get in two days of hard driving. Will drew a radius on the map.

  “I just wish I knew which direction they went,” he said. “I’d leave today if I knew that.”

  “I suggest we canvass all the gas stations in town, starting with the ones on the edges,” Roxie said. “I’ll call Melvin and get him to help out.”

  Melvin was the college student they employed occasionally to help with footwork. He was seeking a degree in criminal justice and loved the job, even the dull clerical chores and errands. A tireless worker, his help had been invaluable many times in the past couple of years.

  A short time later, a very agitated Melvin contacted Will on his cell phone and gave them their first real break on the Cox girl. He asked Will to meet him at the Snack Shack, a convenience store on the south side of town.

  “I found a clerk who remembers them,” he wheezed, excitement activating his asthma.

  “Okay, Melvin.” Will grinned. “Take a few puffs off your inhaler and calm down. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

  The clerk did indeed remember the couple. They had paid cash for a fill-up around ten o’clock the morning Sue disappeared. Several things stood out for the clerk. The first aspect of the encounter was the color of the man’s hair, jet black, unnatural looking. “I just figured he was emo or metal, you know.”

  The second thing that caught his attention was the fact that the guy was a famous reporter from New York. He had asked the clerk if he knew of any abandoned buildings or houses in the area. He had bragged that he and his wife were photojournalists who tracked down derelict structures and did photo layouts, with a focus on urban decay. But, he’d said they would consider rural sites also. Finder fees were available if they could use the site for a story. Unfortunately, the employee had no information on abandoned buildings.

  “Did you get a look at their vehicle?” Will asked.

  “Sure did. It was a van,” the young man answered, pleased with himself.

  “Okay,” Will said slowly. “Make and model? Color?”

  “Older, dark color, tinted windows in the back. That’s all I remember. Man, I see a thousand cars a day.”

  Will doubted that. “Could you venture a guess as to what dark color it was?”

  “Maybe blue, or green. Definitely not red, unless it was maroon. Yeah, it might have been a dark maroon. Or possibly brown. Not tan. Darker. Definitely not black, though. I’m sure of that.”

  Will’s patience was usually endless, but today it was in strangely short supply. He struggled to keep the irritation out of his voice.

  “Do you remember anything else about them?” Melvin crowded in.

  “Just that the girl was quiet. Didn’t say a thing the whole time. But it was her that paid.”

  “Did you see which way they went when they left here?”

  “Oh, sure. You can only go two ways, and they headed away from town.”

  Will thanked him and left the store with Melvin.

  “Melvin, my boy,” Will said once they were outside. “Remind me to give you a raise.”

  “You mean you’re gonna start paying me?” Melvin asked innocently.

  Will slapped him on the back. “Very funny.”

  Skirts and Dresses

  In the next town, Zeke pulled into a Salvation Army store parking lot and turned off the ignition. He turned to face Sue.

  She tugged at her uneven hair and peeked into the visor’s mirror, still unused to the feel of the short cut. After dying her hair, she hardly recognized herself. Her hair was now a flaming red, shining like foil, an unnatural shade somewhere between burgundy and fifties lipstick. The pale face staring back at her, topped by uneven bangs, chopped shaggy cut, and slap-in-the-face color, seemed that of a stranger. “What are we doing here?” Sue asked.

  “We’re going to buy you some skirts.”

  “Skirts? Oh, no.” Sue reacted with dismay. “I don’t wear dresses, Zeke. It’s just not my style.”

  “Why not?” His eyes were chips of blue ice.

  “I just don’t.” A knot of pain lodged in her throat and tears threatened. His words had resurrected another demon from her past, an excruciating memory.

  When Sue was a child, she’d idolized her Aunt Ginger, a vivacious bleached-blonde with big white teeth, a wide mouth, and a strident voice. Ginger always wore cherry red lipstick, dark mascara, and painted a fake mole on her cheek. A pert nose and bright green eyes rounded off her face. She slung her voluptuous figure around with the freewheeling stroll of a vaudeville stripper. She even painted her toenails. She was outrageous, fun loving, brassy, and adored by men.

  Ginger usually showed up at family functions with her friend, Marge, a slender rail of a woman with long dark hair, who wore peasant skirts and sandals, and talked endlessly of crystals, Tarot readings, and herbal remedies. They made an odd pair, but were close as two fingers on a hand. Sue’s dad affectionately referred to them as The Party Girls.

  Sue remembered when they arrived for a visit one Saturday afternoon when she was still young. Sue’s mother settled them at the kitchen table, then ran outside to pull the clothes off the line before joining them. As usual, Sue was excluded from the grown-up talk and had been sent to her room to play. However, she lingered near the kitchen door, peeking from behind the buffet in the dining room, hoping to listen in on the adult conversations she always found so fascinating.

  “I just get sad every time I see that girl,” Ginger mumbled after Sue left the room. “It’s a damn shame.”

  “Don’t you worry now, her face will catch up to her nose someday. Happens all the time,” Marge said wisely.

  “Do you think Linda and Frank even realize they have an ugly child?” Ginger snapped her chewing gum.

  “No child is ugly, Ginger,” Marge admonished. “Don’t let your brother hear you talk that way. It would tear him up.”

  “I just feel sorry for them, is all,” Ginger continued. “Dressing her up in those frilly dresses and putting ribbons in her hair. Poor little thing. It’s like planting flowers around an outhouse.”

  “Just stop that,” Marge scolded, her expression superior. “There are more important things in this world than good looks. She has inner beauty. Like every human soul, she has a cosmic value in this universe. So what if she’s plain? At least she’s not fat. Now Harold’s boy, he’s got some real problems.”

  “No doubt,” Ginger agreed, admiring her glossy nails. “No doubt.”

  Sue had slunk away and hid in her room. She’d cried into her pillow until there were no tears left.

  Off and on, for a week afterward, she’d crept to the mirror and examined her face. Even into young adulthood, Sue hated Aunt Ginger, while another deeper part of her still admired the woman. She’d suffered silently the pain of her first serious heartbreak.

  The injury from those words had stayed with her like a splinter that’s buried itself deep, often forgotten, but always there. Afterward, she’d refused to wear ribbons in her hair anymore. She asked her mother to buy her some blue jeans, and gave up the frilly dresses she had loved.

  Her parents had assumed she was entering a tomboy phase. Overnight, she had become a quiet child, almost withdrawn. But she consoled herself, thinking, at least I’m not fat.

  She had never told anyone what she overheard, and she vowed she never would. But now Zeke stared at her with irritation, expecting an explanation.

  “I asked you a question, Einstein.” He rudely shook her elbow as if pumping it would produce a response.

  “I know,” she said, moving her arm out of his reach. “Just a minute, I...I...need to th
ink.”

  “What’s wrong with you?” Zeke asked. “You act like I’m asking you to kill a puppy or something. What the hell?”

  “It’s just that I’m not comfortable in dresses,” Sue said quietly, tears dripping from her cheeks.

  Zeke was baffled. He gently took Sue’s head in his hands and turned her face to his. “And that makes you cry? We’re gonna get to the bottom of this,” he pronounced. “And right now. This is just plumb freaky, Sue.” He stared into her eyes.

  Sue broke eye contact, and looked down.

  Still Zeke gripped her head, the pressure of his hands increasing slightly. “Give. Now.” An ominous tone crept into his voice. “I make a simple suggestion and you go nuts on me. I want to know why.”

  “Okay.” Sue sniffed loudly.

  Zeke released her head and stroked her hair tenderly. “That’s better,” he said. “Now, why don’t you like to wear dresses?”

  “I’m too ugly to wear dresses,” she whispered. Her voice was so soft he had to strain to hear her.

  To her surprise, Zeke laughed. “Ugly? Honey, you aren’t even in the neighborhood of ugly. In fact, you can’t even see ugly from where you are.”

  She glanced up hopefully, checked to see if he might be baiting her. But he looked sincere.

  “What the hell makes you think you’re ugly?” he asked, annoyance replaced by curiosity.

  Haltingly, Sue told him about the conversation she’d overheard between Aunt Ginger and her friend so many years ago. Speaking about it opened the wound and the pain felt fresh again, like the day it happened. She surprised herself as bitterness flowed from her, almost choking her at times.

  She followed the recollection with a reminder about Mean Eugene, and then filled him in on her years of orthodontia and the anguish that resulted from being either ignored, or bullied, by all the boys in middle school. She was weeping by the end of her tale, her stomach rebellious.

  Zeke was quiet for a minute, his hands drumming softly on the steering wheel. Sue sat with head hung and played with the buttons of her jacket.