"I–I can take care of myself!" she snapped, closing the door hard. Inside her bedroom, she finished it for herself, "I–I'll have to… from now on!"
Don studied her closed door, for a moment, and observed to himself. "Too much… but hell… things are kind of strung out for her… I guess…"
He arose, went out to his motorcycle, kicked the engine into roaring life and headed out for his high school. He felt a measure of sympathy for his sister, but he had his own problems to work out. The sooner he split this bad scene the better!
"Lady, you got a problem… best I can tell you got some burned valves… maybe some bad bearings! Can't tell until we open it up…"
"H-How much would it cost me… t-to get it going, again?" she asked.
"Oh… maybe $175.00… might go as high as a couple hundred…" the mechanic told her.
"And, how long would it take to… fix it?"
"I'd have to have at least two days…"
Mentally, she calculated, casting her assets against the expense of the repairs and her forced stay. There would barely be enough money for it, but she wouldn't have money to continue her flight.
"All right… I–It has to be repaired…" she said, making her decision. "Is there a good m-motel near here…?"
"Sure… right down the avenue… be glad to run you down there in my pick-up."
He helped her with her luggage, carrying it into the room for her. It wasn't his usual services; hell, she was traveling alone and in trouble, and it didn't hurt business to put himself out a little.
Dottie stopped him at the door. "Thank you ever so much… Mr…?"
"Davis… Bill Davis…" he said, smiling.
She arched her eyebrows at him and smiled, "C–Could we make a deal… on the car repairs…?" she asked. "I–I'm alone and…"
Her invitation was instantly clear to him. He looked at her, admiring what he saw and said, "Lady… I really can't afford something like you… I'm just a plain old knucklebuster with a wife and four kids! Why don't you try some of the downtown cocktail lounges… the hunting's a lot better!"
Turning away from him, unable, now, to look at him, she said, "Th-Thank you Mr. Davis… I'll pick up my car when you're finished."
The mechanic left. He was elated. Damn! What a woman! It's too bad I'm such an old stick-in-the-mud married man! She'd really be something! Oh, well… I can dream! That evening, she dragged herself out, wearily, taxied downtown, found the most likely looking lounge and went in to sit alone… but only for a while.
She turned two tricks, satisfying both johns, in all particulars to the tune of fifty a piece, finally saying goodnight to the second one, an aging, loan company executive at two in the morning. To get rid of him, she had to promise that she would see him, again, some three days later.
"Of course, I'll be here… about ten in that same place… The Palo…" she stumbled on the name. She had had a couple more drinks than she was used to drinking. "… That club where I met you…"
"The Palomino Club…" he corrected.
"That's right… how could I forget… Then, it's settled… Three days… ten o'clock… the Palomino Club… Goodnight…" she smiled.
Her smile slid off her face as soon as the door was closed behind her. God! I'm tired!
She stuffed the bills into her purse. It would take another night like this one to get her out of Phoenix. As she stepped into the shower to wash off some of the unseen filth, she imagined was clinging to her skin, she saw herself in the mirror and smiled ruefully at the reflected contours of her lovely body. Well… I'm on my own… completely and absolutely! All I've got is me… and a beautiful shell of a body… and to keep going… I'll have to make it on my back… with a cock in my cunt…! And, there were no tears. She had already cried them all.
"Has my wife shown up here…?" he demanded.
"No… not yet."
"I'll be damned!"
He rode the bus home, getting off on the avenue and walking the few blocks, his anger increasing with almost every step. He stormed into the house, shouting, "Dottie! Dottie… you bitch… where the hell are you?"
Charity heard him coming and prudently locked the connecting door from the bathroom to her parents' bedroom. She was standing at the sink, half-nude, washing her hair.
She heard her father in their bedroom as he slammed around and came to the realization that his wife was gone. He tried the bathroom door, found it locked and shook the door. "Dottie… are you in there?" he bellowed.
"No… I'm here!" Charity said.
"Where's the hell your mother?"
"She split!"
"Talk English!" he demanded. "It looks like she's left!"
"That's right, Dad… she's gone!"
"Where? When did she leave? Did she leave a note… or anything?"
"I don't know where… She left early this morning… and, no… she didn't leave a note!"
"God damn it! You must be mistaken! She just wouldn't take off… just like that… with no explanation!"
"Well, she did… and I am not mistaken!"
There was a short silence on the other side of the door, then he asked, "How come you're not in school?"
"I just couldn't go to school, today," she said, "because… it isn't every day… a person wakes up and finds out that her mother…" she paused, catching herself, before she went on to finish, "… has left… Gone… for good!"
"Yeah… yeah… I–I guess you're right… Charity…" There was a trace of sadness in his voice, now, maybe even of understanding. He fell silent, and she heard him sit down, heavily, on the bed.
Gabe didn't know what to think. He didn't really have any concrete proof that Dottie had been selling her body to men… acting the whore. There had been only the allegation that salesman had made, before he had jumped up to fight the fellow for having made it. True. He had always been a little too hasty with his fists. The time in jail had cooled him off and dried him out, and he had wanted to hear it from Dottie, herself. He was going to confront her with it. When she had not shown up at the police station, then finding that she had left him, with no explanation, only served to condemn her the more, in his mind. Christ! Maybe it's true! Instead of punching that guy… maybe I should have bought him a drink and thanked him for telling me the truth! I'd be the last one to know… it seems like your friends will never tell you… even if they knew!
Morosely, Gabe went into the kitchen, found a can of beer in the refrigerator, opened it and sucked on the alcoholic brew.
Hell, I guess it was just a matter of time before Dottie would have pulled up stakes, anyway. I haven't been very much of a husband… or provider for her and the two kids.
He congratulated himself that he was able to be as objective as he was being at that moment. A flashing thought that he dismissed almost as soon as it appeared across his mind. I'll have to do something, I suppose, about getting a job to keep some food in the house… pay the rent… and all that crap… but to hell with that, right now. I'm just going to get drunk… and forget all about it!
Searching his pockets, he found enough money to buy a pint of cheap liquor. He didn't care what it was, just as long as it was alcohol.
After he finished off the can of beer, he got up and walked out the door, headed for the liquor store down on the avenue.
Charity heard him leave and decided that she would not stay in the house, alone with him. She had been too much aware, lately, of his leering looks. Her newfound self-knowledge concerning her own sexuality, her desirability, made her worldly-wise, quite suddenly. It would he just horrible… If he tried to… to do something!
Hastily, she dried her hair, tied a kerchief around it and dressed herself in jeans and blouse. She was not sure where she would go, but she would not return until Donnie was there, in the house, with her. Donnie would understand, she was sure; she would tell him of her fears… even somewhat unfounded as they may be… and ask him to see to it that she was never, never left alone with their father.