"I've got to split!" He was in panic. Standing up, he pulled up his shorts and pants, zipped the fly and cinched up his belt. He started for the door.
Marcy was shrugging her dress down, smoothing it over her hips. She saw him move toward the door. "No! Wait! I–I'll go in f-first! When the light goes out… split fast!"
He drew back into the shadows, trying to make himself invisible. Marcy had more instructions for him.
"P-push your bike! D-Don't start it… un-until you're out of the a-alley!"
"Right!"
"Pay m-me!" she demanded.
"Wh-What…? Now…?"
"I–I told you t-to bring bread!"
"Marcy!" It was a high, female voice, strident and demanding.
"Coming… Mom!" she called back, then, "Give!" she snapped at him, her voice deadly.
Don fished out one of his fives and gave it to her. She didn't look at it; she crumpled it in her hand and made for the screened door of the pergola.
"See you around!" she said and was gone, walking toward the light at the back door of her house.
"Marcy?! Where are you…?" Her mother, again.
"Right here… Mom!" Marcy said, with some irritation.
Don watched as she came into the light. It shone through the thin material of her dress, showing her shapely legs. She might as well have been nude. He would have enjoyed it more, if he hadn't been so frightened. His heart was still pounding hard in his throat, and his mouth was dry from the fear. Christ! I almost flipped!
As he watched her go up the back step, open the door and go into the house, he had some second thoughts about having given her only a five. She hadn't actually named a price, but he knew that ten dollars would have been more like the going rate among the teen-age hustlers that seemed to throng Perry High School. Establishment, he knew, would never have believed the extent of the practice; the administration was blind to it, either because they couldn't see it, or because they didn't want to see it. The V.D. rate as reported regularly in the press was a good indicator, but it was laid to promiscuous sex… not to prostitution.
It's done, now! I should have laid the other five on her, but shit! I was in a hurry… and scared half to death! Anyway… we had to split… right in the middle of it! I could have fucked her in the cunt, tonight… if it hadn't been for her old lady coming home and breaking up the party! Damn it!
He was still under the narcotic influence of the pot, but he could think straight and his motor control of body was good, and as he waited for what seemed eons of time, the light in the Lunceford back yard was switched off.
"Damn!" he breathed. "About time!"
Slowly, he drifted out of the pergola and across the yard, sticking to deep shadow, until he gained the gate and went through it into the alley. It had taken him only a few moments to traverse the short distance, but the distortion of time, in his drugged brain, made it seem like miles and miles and hours of time to accomplish. It seemed to him that he moved in slow motion, every step taking an eternity, and it was as though he had no contact with the earth. He floated in a marijuana dream world… only this was a bad dream in which he had to run away… run until he could run no more… until he dropped from sheer exhaustion.
He was through the gate, now. He almost had it made! A car entered the upper end of the alley, its lights lancing ahead of it into the darkness. Don shrank back, kneeling down to hide behind the two garbage cans next to the fence. The car ground slowly down the alley until it was abreast of the gate into the back yard of the Lunceford place. The car stopped. A man got out and shone a flashlight on Don's motorcycle.
He got a glimpse of white-striped blue pants.
Pigs!
"Does it belong here?" a deep voice from the patrol car.
"Naw! Probably belongs to some kid that's making it with that youngest Lunceford girl!"
"Marcy? That the one…?"
"Yeah…"
"She's playing fast and loose!" the patrol unit driver said. "We'll have to take her in one of these days… then there'll be hell to pay because it's just a matter of time before they'll get her in a narc raid on one of those pot parties!"
The policeman with the flashlight got back into the patrol car. He lit a cigarette. "That bad?" he asked.
"Hell yes! She's a Lunceford… and Luncefords carry a lot of weight in this town."
The patrol car moved off down the alley; whatever else the driver had to say about the Luncefords was lost in the sound of the engine and the crunch of the tires on the gravel.
Don came out of his cramped place of hiding behind the garbage cans with a huge sigh of relief. He expelled the air, gratefully, convinced that he had been holding his breath for at least an hour. He leaned against the fence to calm himself. MAN! That was close! They would have busted me for prowling… and what could I have said? Nothing! That I was just diddling with Marcy… toked up on pot… and Frenching each other? They would have found the joints on me… and I would have been had! Christ! Who would've ever expected something like this to happen… It's just too close! Too damned close! If the man ever busts me… It's Juvie… and maybe C.Y.A.. Shit! I'm still shaking!
Out in the alley, now, he kicked up the parking stand on his big motor bike, grasped the handlebar grips and pushed it up the alley, in the opposite direction from the police patrol unit. Near the end of the alley, he started the engine and rode out onto the street. He gained the avenue in a few moments and headed for home.
A few blocks from the house, he decided not to turn into his street. He was still under the influence of the marijuana and didn't want to risk having either of his parents see him yet. He continued riding out the avenue into a semi-rural area where he turned off on a lane heading into the hills. He gunned the big bike up to the top of one of the steeper hills, dismounted, killed the engine and stretched out on the ground, enjoying the stillness and studying the expanse of the starry canopy over him. He stayed there for almost three hours, alternately dozing and being totally aware, all of his senses alive to everything around him… and in him.
Finally, he mounted his cycle, rode back down the hill and went home. It was well past 1:00 a.m. when he crawled into bed dead tired. He had had a full day… and night!
He saw Marcy Lunceford in the hallway during passing time. She was cool to his airy greeting, but he persisted.
"Get lost, Don!" she snapped.
"Marcy… I just wanted to tell you…"
"Didn't you dig…? I said split… get lost!"
He couldn't understand her manner. He had just wanted to tell her that he wanted to give her the other five he still carried in his wallet. It was too late, he guessed. Christ! I sure goofed it up with her!
After school dismissal, Don spent several minutes gassing with some of his acquaintances. The campus was almost deserted as he made his way to his motorcycle parked in the south parking lot. He had almost reached his big bike before he realized that something was wrong. Jack Roberts was seated in the saddle, obviously waiting for him. Two other students lounged near him. It was too late, he realized. He would have to talk to Jack!
"What's with, Jack…?" he greeted the pusher.
Jack climbed off the motorbike and faced Don Scott. He stood, easily, arrogantly, lazily alert before him.
"Marcy…" he said. "She tells me like you were making it with her last night…?"
"Yeah, Jack… I was over her house… why…?"
"Like she says, she gives you head… and you only lay a five on her!"
"Her old lady almost busted us… I had to split but fast! I thought I was giving her a ten!" Don explained.
"That's nowhere, man! Like she says she has to finger herself to bring it off afterward… and she's feeling like frustrated… so she wants another fifteen! Lay it on me for her!"
"Christ! I ain't got another fifteen… I got five!"