She fluffed a pillow for him and put it against the headboard while he rummaged for a pack of cigarettes, lighting one for himself and offering her one, too.
"No, thanks, I don't smoke… remember," she said, smiling over at him, relaxed… sexually satisfied, herself.
He drew smoke into his lungs and studied the glowing end of his cigarette, thoughtfully, then he said, "Dottie… I've been trying to figure you out… you're a damned beautiful woman… all alone, here in Phoenix… playing the part of a hooker… but there's something about you… you're not a real pro, at all. There's something domestic about you… like you ought of have a husband and kids…"
Dottie's eyes glistened. It was strange, this man's insight into her, his being able to look beyond the obvious, and she responded to it.
"I–I have two children…" she murmured.
"Boys…?"
"A boy… a-and a g-girl…"
"Husband…?"
She was thoughtful for a moment, trying to judge just how much she should tell this big, rangy stranger. Finally, she said, "He's basically a g-good man… but I–I…"
"… But, what…?" he prodded.
"H-He drinks… and can't hold a j-job…"
"… And, you've had to support him… and the kids?"
"I… I ran away…" she confessed.
It was his turn to be thoughtful before answering, "Well… I can see you had quite a burden… but why run away from it?"
Dottie turned away from him, her face to the wall, the tears running freely and unchecked, now. She sobbed, "Our l-lives… absolute m-mess… you'd n-never believe…"
"Why don't you try…?"
"Wh-What do you m-mean…?"
"Tell me about it… I listen good…"
Little by little, detail by sordid detail, he was able to draw the story from her, asking questions, listening to her answers, trying to see things from her point of view, but not making any comments. When her recounting of all that happened up to the point of her leaving and subsequent arrival in Phoenix was finished, he told her. "I can understand most of it… and I can sure see that you had had as much as you could stand… but there's one thing I think you made a mistake on… you should have gathered up that young daughter of yours and taken her with you…!"
It was the brutal truth. She recognized it for that, and she was immediately contrite, willing to admit that she was wrong. "Oh, God… you're right… that was when she needed me the most… wasn't it!" She was clear-eyed and decisive, now.
Later, dressed and ready to leave her, there in her motel room, Jack Leonard had made a decision to involve himself in Dottie's life. He said, off-handedly, "I've got to make a run over to L.A., tomorrow… how'd set with you if I stopped by, on my way back… and bring your daughter back here to Phoenix with me…?"
It was an answer to her unspoken prayers. "Oh, Jack… would you…? I know it's the right thing… now!"
"I'll need the address… and your daughter's name."
"Her name's Charity… Charity Scott… a-and… here, let me write down the address for you!" She was excited, almost girlish in her enthusiasm. "Maybe, I should write a note to her… explaining…"
"All right… it'll make it easier for me…" he agreed. Sitting down, he waited the few moments it took her to pen the short note.
Dottie gave him the envelope and an impulsive kiss. "Thank you…" she murmured.
As Jack left her, somehow, her kiss, when she gave him the envelope, was more meaningful than the frantic ones of two hours before as she came to full, sexual arousal under him. He couldn't have explained it… but he knew that that particular kiss was given to him, freely, by the real woman — a good woman, he knew, instinctively — who resided, simultaneously within the beautiful but life-used body of Dottie Scott.
Sprawling drunkenly on the couch, Gabe grumbled at the knock on his door. "All right… all right…" he mumbled, "I'm coming…"
He heaved himself, unsteadily, to his feet and staggered to the door. Opening it he saw a tall, spare man standing on the porch. "Yeah…?" he asked, trying to focus his bleary eyes on the stranger.
"Mr. Scott…?" Jack queried, amiably.
"Yeah… what do y' want?"
"Actually, I want to speak with your daughter, Charity…"
"She's not here…!"
"Where could I get in touch with her?"
"How'n hell would I know… she ran away…!"
"Ran away from home…?"
"Yeah… I don't know what got into her…" Gabe said, then, finally, focusing on Jack, he asked, "who the hell are you… asking all these questions?"
"Just a friend of a friend… passing through… thought I'd stop by and say hello…" he evaded.
"Name…?"
"I'm Jack Leonard…" He stuck out his hand.
Gabe ignored him. "Sorry… can't help you!" He started to close the door.
Jack stopped the closure with a big hand, asking mildly, "How about your son… maybe he'd know where she is?"
"Donnie…? He's in the hospital… all shot up… they took a.45 slug out of him!"
"Which hospital?"
"County General… why?"
"I'll stop by and see him…"
Gabe bristled. "What's your game? You're too damned interested in my kids! You a cop… or something…?"
"No… like I said, I'm a sort of a friend of a friend… just passing through Redfern… that's all…"
Jack Leonard turned to leave. "Thanks…" he said, anxious to be gone, trying to control an urge to slam a fist into Gabe's slack, drunken face.
"Who's this friend of a friend… you're talking about?"
The big man faced him again and said, "I don't think you'd know her… maybe you never did… really know her!"
"Well… what's her name… damn it?"
"Dottie!" Jack Leonard said. "Dottie Scott!"
He walked, quickly, to his car at the curb, got in and drove away toward the avenue.
Gabe came after him, shouting, "Dottie? Where the hell is she? WHERE IS SHE?"
His voice was drowned out in the roar of the big car's engine. He stumbled and fell, and could only watch as the car disappeared from sight. "Where is that bitch?" he screamed.
Once he gained permission to see Don Scott, Jack was able to gain his confidence, revealing where his mother was and telling him that she was safe and well; further, he explained why he was in Redfern, attempting to find his sister, Charity. He, also, related his conversation with Gabe.
"Was he smashed… as usual?" Don asked.
"Yes, I'm afraid he was!"
"… And, you say Charity split?"
Jack grinned. "Yes… Gabe said she ran away…"
"That's great!" Don smiled. "I was afraid she wouldn't make it… she was really afraid he'd…"
"Afraid…? Of what…?" Jack probed.
Don became serious. He asked, "You really want to help Charity… and Mom?"
"Yes… yes, I do…"
"All right… I'll lay it on you… give it to you like it is!"
"Okay!"
"I was trying to get Charity away… she was afraid our old man would try to rape her… that's why I tried that stupid robbery… to get some money, so's we could split! All she had was me… and I fucked up!"
"Do you know where she'd head for?"
"East! I told her to head for New Mexico!" Don told him.
"Why?" Jack wanted to know.
"L.A. and San Francisco are no place to be on the street, right now! Where it is is the communes… and New Mexico's the best!" Don said.
"Would she do it because you told her to?"
"I think so!"
"It's not much to go on, but I'll try!" Jack told the boy.
The big freight truck, pulling double trailers sixty feet long overall, a sleeper behind the seat and requiring the services of two drivers, ground to a stop alongside Charity where she stood at the side of the highway. She looked up, almost seven feet above the ground, at the man who leaned out of the side window and said, "Where are you headed?"