"I can see how that would be hard to take."
"Yeah. And have you noticed that all the rest of the Jones women have at least one kid each? And most have two or more. Sam says even Jack's wife is pregnant now."
"Yes. Eden says Olivia is four months along."
Billy nodded. "According to Sam, that's another link in the chain of frustration for Delilah. Until Jack's wife got pregnant, at least there was one other childless couple in the family. But as soon as Olivia has her baby, Sam and Delilah will be the only ones."
"I imagine that would be hard."
"Sam told me they feel like a pair of freaks."
"Oh, no…"
"Yeah." He leaned in a little closer. "You know, if you think about it, the number of babies in the Jones family right now is pretty damn eerie."
"Well, I don't know if I'd call it eerie. I mean, people get married and they have babies. It's the natural thing to do."
"Fine. It's natural. But not for Sam and Delilah, evidently. And that was making them both miserable. Added to that, Oggie lives with them. And Oggie wants grandchildren."
"He has grandchildren."
"You know the old man. He's never satisfied with plenty when he might be able to get more. Evidently he's made one too many remarks to Delilah lately, about how she's not fulfilling his expectations."
"I do love him, but he can be thoughtless."
Billy grunted. "Thoughtless. Right. Put it mildly, why don't you?"
"He means well."
"He means to get what he wants. Anyway, he's been making remarks to Delilah. And then there's that new clerk Sam hired. She's young and pretty. And she's been playing up to Sam."
"But Sam wouldn't—"
"No, he says he wouldn't. He swears he didn't. But Delilah's been feeling pretty damn insecure lately."
Prudence filled in the rest. "And seeing a young, attractive woman chasing after her husband has just added to her misery."
"Right."
"So she left him."
"Yeah. Evidently she dropped in at Sam's store this afternoon, and found him making way too friendly with the help."
"Making friendly? What does that mean?"
"Sam says it really wasn't anything. That he and Sharlee – that's the clerk, Sharlee – were just looking over some equipment catalogs together, laughing and talking. That Delilah got the wrong idea. But she stormed out. Sam followed her home and found her packing a bag. He tried to reason with her, but she wouldn't listen. She told Sam that Oggie had warned her about that clerk, that Oggie had said she would lose Sam if she didn't watch it, and now she knew that Oggie was right. She accused Sam of betraying his marriage vows. Then she left."
"Where to?"
"She took a room at the motel. And Sam just snapped. He went after Oggie – which doesn't surprise me a bit. Do you know that old man has been living with them for almost their whole married life? I figure if I lived with him for much longer than a half an hour, I'd end up trying to kill him, too."
"But did Sam actually hurt Oggie?"
"Hell, no. That old geezer has more lives than a black cat. First Jared stepped between them – and got his head bashed in for his trouble. And then I showed up. In the meantime, Oggie just backed and dodged – and somehow managed to come out untouched. When I got there, Sam hit me in the face a couple of times and threw me against the bar. That was when I knew serious action would have to be taken." He told her of the big jar of cherries and what he'd done with it.
"Poor Sam," she said when he was through. "Did he have to visit the clinic, too?"
"Naw. He refused medical help. By then depression had set in. He said if he ended up in a coma or something, maybe at least Delilah would come and sit by his bedside till he wasted away and died. Jack let us wash up a little, over there at the jailhouse. Then he locked us in. A few minutes later, Oggie showed up to say goodbye."
Prudence hoped she hadn't heard right. "Goodbye?"
"Yep. It was kind of sad, really. Sam wouldn't look at him, but the old man apologized for meddling, anyway. Then he said goodbye, said he was leaving for a while, maybe never to return."
"Oh, no. Do you really believe he would leave here for good?"
Billy waved the question away. "Hell, no. He'll be back. He's Oggie Jones and this is his town – I'm telling you, Prue. This is a hell of a family I've gotten myself in to." He was shaking his head – but his eyes were shining. He added, "Oh, and then, last of all, Rocky came by while I was in the cell to return my hat and my shades."
"The ones you lost, you mean."
"Right."
"And who, exactly, is Rocky?"
"Rocky Collins is more or less a fixture over at the Hole in the Wall. And as it turned out, I happened to leave my hat and shades at his place that first night I was in town. You remember that night?"
As if she could ever forget it. "So that's the whole story?"
"Yeah."
"Where's Sam now?"
"Home. Alone."
"And Oggie's really left town?"
Billy nodded. "He took off in his Eldorado. Probably for Tahoe or Reno. He likes to go both places and gamble, from what I heard."
"And Delilah?"
"She's still over at the motel."
It sounded so sad. Delilah at the motel and Sam at home, each of them all alone. "They'll probably work it out in the end, don't you think?"
He shrugged. "Who can say?"
The mood seemed so heavy suddenly. She tried to lighten it by teasing, "And you were quite the hero." She reached across and put her hand on his arm, right below his rolled-up sleeve. "You and your nice, big jar of maraschino cherries."
Before she finished the sentence, she recognized her mistake.
His eyes changed. She saw heat in them. At the same time, she felt as if all the breath had fled right out of her body. The rain on the roof sounded louder, more insistent, suddenly. And Billy's eyes looked way too soft.
Very carefully, Prudence withdrew her hand. They sat for a moment, listening to the rain and the beautiful, haunting music on the stereo.
At last, Billy said, "You do hide behind those glasses, don't you Prue?"
How many times had he asked her that, now? Several times, surely. And each time, she'd felt invaded. Offended. Insulted.
Because it was true.
"Tell me why."
Why. She thought of her mother, in the bathroom, putting on her makeup, spending hours on her hair. And of all her mother's boyfriends, who had started eyeing Randi when Randi was barely in her teens. And of herself – hiding, yes – behind her glasses, her hair pulled back so tight it hurt sometimes. Safe from men and their hungry eyes.
"Come on," Billy coaxed. "You can do it."
Prudence stared at Billy, wondering when the moment had come that she had started to like him, trying to remember that he was bad Billy Jones, a rouser and carouser, a seducer of women, born wild and not meant to be tamed.
"Come on," he coaxed.
And she found herself confessing hesitantly, "There's … a game that women play."
"A game?"
"For men."
"Women play a game for men."
"Well, I mean they play it to attract men. They … dress provocatively and they make themselves up just so. When women play the game, they aim all their energy at men, at pleasing them. At making men want them. My mother played that game. It ate up her whole life. And Randi … she was a master at it. But in the end, I think the game controlled her. In the end, when people looked at her, they didn't see what a beautiful person she was. They only saw the game."
"Maybe she wanted it that way."
"I don't believe that. I really think she wanted more. But she didn't know how to get it. She was trapped by the game, like most women are."
"And what about you, Prue?"
"I told you. I'm just someone who doesn't want to play the game at all. I want to live my life with dignity. I want fulfilling work and good friends. And to do the right thing
by my sister's little boy. Is that too much to ask?"
"Naw," he said, his voice low and tender. "Not too much. Not too much at all." He leaned closer. "If anything, I'd say it wasn't enough."
"It's enough."
"But what if you could have more? Wouldn't you like more?"
"No."
"Prue. More is always better than enough. And everyone wants more, no matter what they say."
"Not me."
"I don't believe that." He had her backed against the arm of the sofa again, just like last night.
She hardened her expression, stiffened her spine. "You're pushing me, Billy."
Slowly that devil's smile appeared on his lips. "I am. It's a fact. I'm in your face and in your space."
"Back off." She bit off each word sharply and clearly.
And he did. He withdrew to his half of the sofa, though when he got there, he went on watching her in a way that made her want to get up and leave.
Prudence folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them. In her mind's eye, she saw Nellie Anderson's pinched face, heard her dire warnings: "Just be careful around that man. I warn you. He will toy with you if you let him…"
She asked, very carefully, "What are you trying to do here, Billy?"
"What do you think I'm trying to do?"
She smoothed her hair, straightened her blouse. "If I told you, you would only laugh."
"Tell me anyway."
She shot him a challenging glance. "If you keep after me, I will. I really will."
"Good. Go on. Hit me with it."
She made herself look at him full-on, right into his glittering green eyes. "It appears to me that you are trying to seduce me."
That shut him up. For a minute, anyway. He gaped at her.
And then he threw back his head and laughed. It was a deep, rolling laugh and it lasted a long time. Prudence waited it out. Eventually the laugh wore down.
He gave her one of those long, insolent looks of his, a look that started at the crown of her head, went down to her shoes and then back up again. "Seduce you, huh?"
"Yes." She refused to be cowed by his ridicule. "Yes, I believe that you are trying to seduce me. Am I wrong?"
He pretended to consider, making a big show of furrowing his brow and scratching his chin – carefully, because of the bruise there. She wanted to demand again, Am I wrong? But somehow she made herself sit there and wait. Finally, when her patience felt stretched right to the breaking point, he answered her.
"No, Prue. I'd say you pretty much hit the old nail right square on the head."
* * *
Chapter 11
« ^ »
Once the words were out of his mouth, Billy felt pretty damn stunned that he'd said them. After all, he'd only put it together himself just a minute before. She'd asked if he was trying to seduce her. And it had been like one of those light bulbs going on over the head of a character in a cartoon.
He wanted to get it on with Prue.
He wanted to take off her glasses and let down that red hair. He wanted to get naked with her. And he wanted to do it ASAP, because ASAP was always how he wanted the things he wanted.
All those sappy strings were irritating him. "Where's the damn remote?"
"Right here." Prudence picked it up from the coffee table and handed it to him. He pointed it at the stereo and the music stopped. Now only the rain filled the silence between them.
He tossed the remote down. "So, what do you say?" He felt impatient with her, suddenly. She didn't look as if she was going to be throwing herself into his arms anytime soon. "You don't want to be seduced?"
She blew out a weary breath. "Oh, Billy."
Damn, she was an irritating woman. "Oh, Billy what?"
"I thought I just explained it to you. I don't want to play any of those games."
The damn rain bugged him, the way it drummed away. No change in rhythm, just a steady, nerve-flaying, never-ending roll.
"Billy, are you listening to me?"
"Who turned off the music?"
"You did."
He grabbed the remote and pointed it. Something livelier this time, he thought. A little zydeco. Seconds later, a bouncy accordion riff drowned out the rain.
She was watching him, looking grim. He suggested, "It could just be fun, you know?"
She hitched in a gaspy little breath. "Fun?"
"Yeah. Fun. You're a woman. I'm a man. I'm single, so are you. We're both one hundred percent free of entanglements and that means no one gets hurt."
"But I just told you—"
He put up both hands, determined to get through to her. "No. Wait. Listen."
"This is insane."
"No. It's not insane. It's natural. It's good. You don't want to play any games. And I don't, either. You can be … just you. I don't want you to dress any other way, or to paint your face. It's true I wouldn't mind if you would let down your hair and get a new pair of glasses. But even if you won't make those two tiny concessions, I gotta admit it. I still got a thing for you. You get to me. You … irritate me. But in a way that makes me want to get down. So what do you say we go with it? Right now would be fine with me."
She just went on staring at him.
He said, "Your mouth's hanging open, Prue."
She snapped it shut, then instructed, "Find someone else."
He tried to stay patient, though patience was not an activity at which he excelled. "That's not the point. It's not just … anyone. I've been there and done that. It gets old, I'm telling you. No. It's strange, it's impossible. But it's you. You get to me. I thought it was because I hated you. But now I see it was only attraction. That I was fighting it. And that's pretty stupid. I mean, why fight it? Why not just go with it and see what happens?"
"Billy, I do not want to have an affair with you."
He decided maybe the zydeco was a little too lively. He pointed the remote again. Got Elvis. "Love Me Tender."
"Billy, do you hear me?"
"I hear you, Prue." He dragged in a breath. "So I guess you're saying, not tonight, huh?"
"I'm saying not ever." Her eyes looked wide and scared and her face was flushed. A few strands of hair had escaped their scraped-back imprisonment and curled along her forehead and at her temples.
He said, "I really do want to kiss you. Maybe we could start with that. With one kiss."
"No."
He pointed the remote once more. For quiet. Into the silence and the endless drumming of the rain, he said, "You're really telling me no."
"That's exactly what I'm telling you."
"Not just for tonight. For good. Period. Zippo."
"Exactly."
"This could create tension."
She jumped to her feet and threw up her hands. "Tension? There's already tension. Do you think it's a picnic for me, having you here?"
He sat back and considered. "Well, I never really thought about how it's been for you."
"Oh, I'm sure you haven't." She windmilled her hands. "You never think. You just … act on your appetites. You get an urge and follow it. Feel an itch and you scratch. You never think of consequences. The morning after does not exist for you. For you it's always the night before!"
He grabbed one of her flying hands. "Prue."
"Don't!" She tried to jerk away.
He held on. He liked holding her hand. It felt good. Right. "Prue. Come on. If you're not interested, you're not interested. It's okay." It wasn't, not really. But she didn't have to know that. Her face was all screwed up tight. "Are you going to start crying on me?"
Her sweet, wide mouth quivered and her eyeballs had that swimmy look behind the lenses of her glasses. "No, I am not."
"Sit down." He tugged on her hand.
She just stood there. He thought of Jesse, that afternoon, hunkered down on the sidewalk, refusing to budge.
"Come on." He tugged again.
And she just sort of crumpled back down beside him. Once she was seated, she jerked her hand away, then
scooted over against the armrest and held onto it as if it might save her from his evil self.
"Prue, look—"
She cut him off. "You know my sister loved you! She told you she loved you."
"Huh?"
"Randi told you she loved you. Admit it. She did."
He wondered what it was about women. When they were upset, they felt no obligation to stick to the subject.
"Billy. She told you. She told me she told you."
"So?"
"You made such an issue out of how she dumped you. But we both know why she dumped you. Because she told you how she felt about you, and you didn't care. So she said that she wanted to stop seeing you. "
He wished he hadn't turned off the stereo. He picked up the remote again – and she shot him one of those just-you-try-it looks of hers.
He tossed it down. "Why the hell are we talking about Randi?"
"You know why. You can't just … tell me you want to sleep with me, and then not face up to what you did to Randi."
"I can't? Watch me. And, by the way, sleeping with you wasn't really what I had in mind."
"Oh, right. Fine. Play word games with me now."
He'd had about enough. He stood. "Look. This was a bad idea. Just forget I even brought it up, will you?"
She stuck that nose of hers high in the air. "I'd be glad to."
He said, "We'll get through the rest of my two weeks, somehow. And then we'll make some decisions concerning Jesse. And that will be that."
"Fine. Good night."
He started for the guest room.
"Wait."
He should have known. She just couldn't leave bad enough alone. Slowly he turned to face her again.
"Admit it. Randi told you she loved you."
He would have slapped his own forehead in frustration, if he wasn't afraid he'd open the gash there again.
"Admit it, Billy. I just want to hear you admit it."
"All right. Fine. She told me she loved me."
"If she dumped you, if she didn't tell you about Jesse, it was because you didn't care. Admit it. You didn't care."
He wasn't admitting that. No way. "I did care."
"You didn't."
He looked at her straight-on and he said it out flat. "I cared. Just not the way she wanted me to. And she gave me no choice about Jesse, no choice at all. You know that as well as I do."
The Taming of Billy Jones Page 12