The way she said it stung. “Let's take today off and play a round of golf."
“We tried that, George. Neither one of us enjoyed it."
“Okay, then let's put on bathing suits and lounge around the pool all day. You can ogle the hunks and I'll check out the babes."
“Do what you like, George. I'm going to work."
He watched her leave the bedroom and shook his head. He rolled to the opposite side of the bed and stood up. Maybe, he thought, I've been getting up on the wrong side of the bed these last few weeks.
* * * *
It's hot as hell down here and it's only nine o'clock, Buzz thought as he struggled to move a chiffonier away from the wall. The folks should have air-conditioned the basement as well as the rest of the house. Damn, this thing is heavy.
He tugged at one corner and moved it a foot, went to the opposite corner and tugged it another foot. He studied the moldy piece of furniture. If I can get the damned thing cleaned up, somebody might buy it, he thought. The mirror alone should be worth something. He laughed. It's so filthy I can't even see my reflection.
He again tugged at one corner and then the other, leaving a two foot space between the bureau and basement wall. He wedged himself behind it and pushed. It moved two more feet.
Why is the blame thing so heavy? How can I ever get it upstairs? He walked around to the front and pulled on the long top drawer. It opened an inch. He forced his fingers under the end of the drawer, lifted and strained. It slid open.
“Well I'll be damned. Pop, you old pervert."
The entire drawer held back issues of Playboy magazine. He picked one up and let the centerfold drop to its full length. The beautiful blond model was clad only in a Santa Claus cap. He grinned. “I wouldn't mind having you in my Christmas stocking, honey,” he said aloud.
The doorbell rang. He tossed the magazine back into the drawer and headed for the steps. “Who the hell can that be?” he muttered.
“Good morning, Mr. Borders,” Buzz grinned as he threw up his hands in the classic surrender posture. “I didn't do it."
Borders smiled. “I'm not working on a case, Buzz. I went by the grocery store this morning and they told me you are no longer working there. I was wondering if you will permit me to put one of these signs in your yard?"
Buzz looked at the sign that private detective Borders was holding. “Vote Yes!” he read aloud. “I suppose that refers to the incorporation referendum?"
Borders nodded. “Since Leora is to be one of the charter council members, she put me to work campaigning for the proposal."
“I can't help you, Mr. Borders. Now if Mrs. Borders was going to be the mayor instead of that bitch, Deborah Andrews, I would be in favor of the referendum."
“Buzz,” Borders argued. “Don't throw the baby out with the bath water. We need to incorporate Dot. If we don't, Charlotte will swallow us up and we will lose all control of what happens to our little town."
“You think Charlotte will annex us? I doubt that. They are thirty miles away."
“That's nothing, Buzz. Dot is on the move. Property values are soaring. It won't be long before the money-grabbing vultures in Charlotte will realize how much tax money we can add to their coffers. It's just a matter of time."
Buzz shook his head. “I figure that somehow the main beneficiary of incorporation will be Tim Dollar."
“We'll all benefit, Buzz. What are you going to do if your well runs dry or your septic tank fails?"
“I have twenty-five feet of water in my well. If the septic tank fails, I'll put in a new one."
“I hope you'll reconsider before the vote."
“You people replace that snotty school teacher with somebody decent and I will reconsider."
“Mrs. Andrews does have rough edges, Buzz. I'll grant you that, but she's smart as a whip, well educated and knows parliamentary procedure. Buzz, the mayor doesn't vote on proposals unless the council is deadlocked."
“I don't want that woman representing me or Dot. As I said, replace her and I'll vote for incorporation."
“We can't do that without returning the revised charter to the legislature for approval. That could take years."
“What would happen,” Buzz asked, “if the bitch died or moved out of town?"
Borders solemnly replied, “I'm not sure."
Buzz grinned and threw up his hands defensively. “I can see that detective mind of yours churning, Mr. Borders. I hate the woman's guts, but I'm not going to snuff her."
“Please think about it seriously, Buzz. We have a strong council."
Buzz was tired of the conversation. “Maybe,” he said.
He went to the refrigerator, twisted a cap off a beer and returned to the basement. He thumbed through several issues of Playboy and pried open the middle drawer. “Hustler!” he exclaimed. “Hundreds of copies. Hell, if I can find a collector these things may be worth real money."
He struggled with the bottom drawer. “Whoa, here, Pop,” he said as he saw the right side of the drawer crammed with cassette tapes and eight millimeter movie reels while the left side was stacked full of a magazine with which he was not familiar.
He flipped open a copy and whistled. “Pop, you dog! This is real hardcore stuff.” He turned several pages and felt the bulge growing in the crotch of his shorts. He stopped at a full page, black and white photograph. He looked at it from several angles. “How in the hell can she twist her body like that? Man, I'd love to be the guy she's working on."
The doorbell rang again.
“Shit.” He tossed the magazine into the drawer and stared at it. “I'll be back,” he promised.
“Frank,” he said when he opened the door, “I wasn't expecting to see you this morning."
“I went by the store. They said you are not working there any more."
“I told you, I don't want to spend the rest of my life bagging groceries."
“Yeah, well, that's what I wanted to talk with you about."
“Come on in. I have some cold ones."
“At ten thirty in the morning? I don't think so. Besides, I'm trying to give it up—you know—set an example for June."
Buzz's countenance grew serious. “Yeah. She can't hold her liquor. How is she, Frank?"
“I think she's going to be okay. She's planning for the future. I took her to UNC at Charlotte yesterday afternoon to enroll in a bookkeeping class that meets at night. She wants to be my part-time bookkeeper."
“Hey, that's great, man. I'll ... I'll never forget that I am the one who got her into that mess."
“Like they say, hindsight is a wonderful thing. I'll never forget that you are the one who brought us back together. I owe you an apology, Buzz."
“Forget it, Frank. If June had showed the least bit of interest in me I would have been guilty of all your darkest thoughts."
“June and I did something else yesterday. I asked her to marry me."
“No shit?"
Frank laughed. “No shit. She said yes. I bought her a ring and everything."
The two men slapped hands.
“You told me you are interested in working for me, Buzz. Is that still true?"
“Well, maybe. I don't know much about it but I like working outdoors and I'm not afraid of hard work. I wouldn't want to be stuck inside the garden shop, though."
Frank shook his head. “Last night Maggie suggested that Greta might be interested in that job. I'm going to talk with her about it as soon as I leave here."
“The crazy woman who talks to ghosts?” Buzz laughed. “I thought she received a big reward for ratting on that Crow fellow, and besides, isn't she the Dollars’ housekeeper?"
“The night of the shootout, Greta told the Dollars she did not want to continue working for them. She stayed on until they could find a replacement. She did get a nice reward, I understand, but, except for weekends when she and Maggie do something together, she now sits at home alone."
“With her ghost."
Frank smiled.
“Maggie thinks Greta might like working in the garden shop. It won't hurt to ask, but how about you? I don't have the school contract yet, but the egotistical Mrs. Andrews did agree to a trial period. Tim Dollar has three new houses on Lumbermill Road ready for landscaping. I'm in a bit of a bind."
“What's today—Friday? Give me until Monday to think about it. I'm trying to get the house cleaned up and a bunch of junk ready for a yard sale."
“I don't mean to sound ugly, but I need some help bad. There are a couple of other guys who may be interested. If the job is still open Monday, and you decide you want it, it's yours."
Buzz pulled another beer from the refrigerator. “It's going to hurt when I have to start paying for this stuff,” he laughed. He glanced at the back of the kitchen where six cases were stacked. “That ought to hold me for a few days."
He hurried back to the basement, pulled a dozen issues of Slut magazine from the drawer and sat on the basement steps. Slowly he ogled the pictures in each issue.
He squeezed his crotch and moaned. It's been two days since Maggie stretched her lovely legs for me, he thought. He climbed the steps as quickly as his painful erection would allow, picked up the telephone and dialed the number for the Korner Kafe.
“Korner Kafe.”
“Maggie?"
“Buzz. What's up."
“I ... uh ... I was just thinking. It's been a couple of days now and I thought maybe you could break away and help me christen my new bachelor pad."
“Now?"
“Yeah."
“Are you nuts? We're in the middle of our lunch rush hour, Buzz."
“Oh. Yeah. When does the rush hour end?"
“Buzz, I've been thinking. The sex is great, but there has to be more to a relationship. When are you going to take me out on a real date?"
“I took you to a club."
“That wasn't a date. It was a disaster."
“I guess it was."
“Buzz, I'm busy. Call me later."
“Okay,” he said, but she had already hung up.
He looked at his watch. I should eat something, he thought, but, hell, I'm not hungry.
He returned to the basement, pulled another dozen copies of Slut magazine from the drawer and returned to the bottom of the steps. The first issue he picked up fell open and his eyes bugged.
“Holy shit!” he exclaimed. “It can't be.” He turned a page, then another and another. “It is her! Damn!"
He looked at the date on the cover. Ten years ago, he thought. She would have been nineteen or twenty.
He flipped back to the photographs. “Damn. She's doing three guys at once.” He turned the page and laughed. “That's one happy doggie."
He read the legend.
Daisy Chain is hot, horny and, as you can see, ready to take on all cummers. She's a college co-ed and plans to one day teach high school English. Wouldn't you love to be a student in this gal's class?
Buzz searched through the tapes and film reels and smiled as he triumphantly held a cassette in his hand. The title was “Daisy Chain Does Dixie."
He took the steps two at a time, detoured into the kitchen for another beer and raced up the steps to his second story bedroom. He pushed the tape into his VCR and sat at the foot of his bed as he watched the familiar woman do her thing.
His mind was racing, but he no longer was aroused.
* * * *
George knew the bedroom was chilly. He was the one who turned down the air-conditioner to sixty-eight degrees, but perspiration drenched his body. He screamed as he ejaculated and eased his chest to Dottie's fleshy breasts. When he regained his breath he said, “I really tore that thing up tonight."
She tapped the top of his head with her index finger.
“What are you doing?"
“Beating your brains out."
He rolled off her and jumped to his feet. “Damn you, Dottie Frank,” he shouted. “I gave you flowers and a wrist corsage. I took you to Charlotte's fanciest supper club. We ordered their finest wine. I caressed and kissed every square inch of your body for over an hour. I screwed you for seven damn minutes. What else do you want?"
“Did you actually time it, George?"
“Hell yes, I timed it. What do you want, Dottie? I've done everything I know how."
“Maybe it's not you,” she said as she sat on the edge of the bed, stemming the flow of his semen with tissues.
“You're damned right it's not me. You lay there like a corpse. You don't kiss me. You don't caress me. You don't move. You don't even pretend to enjoy it."
“I'm not an actress, George.” She headed for the bathroom.
“You don't have to be a damned actress, Dottie. All I'm asking is that you try—that you participate."
She turned and glared at him.
His eyes fell to her sagging breasts, her protruding belly, the gray tangle of pubic hair, the tissues jutting out from her labia.
“Do you remember the first time we slept with each other, George?"
“Of course I do."
“Do you remember what you shouted when your orgasm came?"
“What are you talking about?"
“You shouted, ‘Maggie!’ and you did it again tonight. You're not fucking me, George Bennett. You're screwing Maggie Skinner. She can have you."
“That's not true,” he shouted as she closed the bathroom door behind her. He paced the room and stood next to the door. “Did I ... did I really do that?"
“Yes, you did, George."
“If I did, I'm not aware of it. Can't we talk about this?"
The toilet flushed and the tap in the sink opened.
He scooped up his robe, put it on and turned as he heard the door open.
She walked to the side of the bed, picked up her clothes from the floor and dumped them on the bed.
“It's your imagination, Dottie,” he said.
She stepped into her bloomers.
“Dottie. What are you doing?"
“I'm going home where I belong."
“Dottie, don't do this,” he pleaded as he rushed to her side. He tried to hold her, but she resisted. He put his hand on her breast. It felt like a cold, clammy, overripe tomato.
She pulled away and struggled into her brassiere.
“Dottie, please. Let's talk about this."
“There's not much to talk about, George. You remember I told you at the beginning I will not marry a man who cannot satisfy me in bed.” She slipped into the white silk blouse, sat on the edge of the bed and began to roll on her hose.
“I'll ... I'll go to a specialist—what do they call it—a sexologist. I'll read books. I'll learn to please you."
She stood and hiked up her skirt as she stepped into her high heel shoes. “I'm not Maggie Skinner,” she said, “and I know what I look like in my birthday suit."
“Dottie. Maggie is just a child—a friend—an employee."
Dottie nodded. “She's a child all right—a friend—a damn good employee—and has the body of a goddess. And you, George Bennett, are an old fool."
He felt helpless. His chin fell to his chest. “I admit that, Dottie, but I tried."
She smiled as she fastened the buckle of her belt. “You don't have any idea what I'm talking about. George, the girl is nuts about you."
George shook his head. “She's twenty years younger than I am. Hell, she's dating that Adams boy now."
“The Adams boy is a substitute. Unlike me, she's a young woman with physical needs. You threw her out. She had to do something."
“I didn't throw her out. She left because she thought I was in love with you."
She smiled. “What did you just say?"
“I ... I don't remember."
“You said she left because she thought you were in love with me. If you do love me instead of Maggie, you would have said she left because she knew you were in love with me. Get it, George?"
“You're wrong, Dottie. Don't do this. We can have a wonderful life together."
�
�Not with you humping me while thinking about Maggie Skinner, we can't.” She put her hands on his face. “George, I'm not angry. We gave it a try. It didn't work. We can still be friends."
George tried to smile. “That will be an improvement over the way it used to be."
She nodded, spread her jacket on the bed and smoothed out the wrinkles.
“What about our business, Dottie? We're still partners, aren't we?” He picked up the jacket and held it for her.
She slipped her arm into the right sleeve. “I talked with Susan Kimel this afternoon. Our partnership contract can be dissolved if you are in agreement."
“You talked with Susan? Today? You planned to break up with me tonight?"
“What I planned was to give it one more chance, George."
“Dottie, please. Don't end our business relationship too."
“I want my diner back, George. For now, that's the life I want to lead. I may sell it one day and retire, but this is not the time."
“What about the trailer park? We were going to convert your land into a trailer park. Dottie, you need my money to do that. Oh, hell, what am I saying? I'll give you the money."
She smiled. “You would, wouldn't you? I can't take your money, George. Once we have water and sewer in Dot, the bank will loan me the money for the trailer park. With social security and rental from the park, I think I can survive financially, even if I do sell the diner someday."
“You're a sharp businesswoman, Dottie Frank. You will get the loan if water and sewer come to Dot, but I wouldn't bet on that happening. I'm beginning to hear rumblings of discontent."
“It'll happen. The Dollars want it. Their influence is on the decline in Dot, but we still dance to their tunes. I just wish you were the choice for mayor instead of that damned highfalutin school principal."
Reluctantly George put on his clothes and drove Dottie to her home. They did not speak. He walked her to the door. She unlocked it, reached inside and snapped on the light. She turned to him. “I'm sorry it didn't work out, George."
“Dottie. Don't do anything hasty. Give yourself time to think about it."
“I want our partnership dissolved tomorrow morning, George. Susan is expecting us.” She bussed his cheek lightly. “George, if you have any feeling for me at all, please sign the papers in the morning."
Sintown Chronicles II: Through Bedroom Windows Page 37