Below Kendall, at this point on the Dixie Highway, there were six lanes, and the traffic was swift and noisy both ways. Eddie began to laugh and shake his head.
“What’s so funny?” I said.
“The whole thing — what else? I know there isn’t a hellova lot to do on a Thursday night, but if I ever told anyone I sat around at the Burger Queen for two hours waiting for my buddy to pick up a woman at a drive-in movie—”
“You’d better hope it’s at least an hour and a half,” Don said.
“I know, I know,” Eddie said, “but you’ve got to admit the whole business is pretty stupid.”
“Yes and no, Eddie,” I said. “It isn’t really money, either. You and Don both know that we’d all like to take Hank down a notch.”
Don smiled. “I think you may be right, Larry.”
“I’m not jealous of Hank,” Eddie said.
“Neither am I,” I said. “All I’m saying is that for once I’d like to see old Hank lose one. I like Hank, for Christ’s sake, but I hate to see any man so damned overconfident all the time, that’s all.”
“Yeah,” Eddie said. “I know what you mean.”
Don snorted, and looked at his watch. “You’ll have to wait until another time, I think. It’s now eight twelve, and here comes our wandering overconfident boy.”
Don had spotted Hank’s Galaxie as it cleared the drive-in exit, and Hank, waiting to make a left turn, was hovering at the edge of the highway when I turned to look. He had to wait for some time, and we couldn’t see whether there was a woman in the car with him or not. He finally made it across and parked in the Burger Queen lot. We met him about halfway as he came toward us — by himself.
“How about a beer?” Hank said.
“We drank it,” Eddie said.
“Thanks for saving me one. Come on. I’ll introduce you to Hildy.”
We followed Hank to the Galaxie. When he opened the passenger door and the overhead light went on, we saw the girl clearly. She was about thirteen or fourteen, barefooted, wearing a tie-dyed T-shirt, and tight raggedy-cuffed blue jeans with a dozen or more different patches sewn onto them. On her crotch, right over the pudenda, there was a patch with a comic rooster flexing muscled wings. The embroidered letters, in white, below the chicken read: l’M A MEAN FIGHTING COCK. Her brownish hair fell down her back, well past her shoulders, straight but slightly tangled, and her pale face was smudged with dirt. She gave us a tentative smile, and tried to take us all in at once, but she had trouble focusing her eyes. She closed her eyes, and her head hobbled on her skinny neck.
“She’s only a kid,” Eddie said, glaring at Hank.
Hank shrugged. “I know. She looked older over in the drive-in, without any lights, but you guys didn’t set any age limit. A girl’s a girl, and I had enough trouble snagging this one.”
“It’s a cop-out, Hank,” I said, “and you know it.”
“Suit yourself, Fuzz-O,” Hank said. “If you guys don’t want to pay off, I’ll cancel the debt.”
“Nobody said he wouldn’t pay,” Don said. “But the idea was to pick up somebody old enough to screw. You wouldn’t fuck a fourteen-year-old girl—”
“That wasn’t one of the conditions,” Hank said, “but if that’s what you guys want, I’ll take Hildy home, give her a shower, and slip it to her. I sure as hell wouldn’t be getting any cherry—”
The girl — Hildy — whimpered like a puppy, coughed, choked slightly, and fell over sideways in the seat. “Nobody’s going to hurt you, kid,” Don said.
“She’s stoned on something, Hank,” I said. “You’d better get her out of there before she heaves all over the upholstery.”
Hank bent down, leaned inside the car, and pushed up the girl’s eyelids. He put a forefinger into her throat and then grabbed her thin right wrist to check her pulse. He slammed the passenger door, and leaned against it. His red, sunburned face was watermelon pink — about as pale as Hank was capable of getting.
“She’s dead,” Hank said. He took out his cigarettes, put one in his mouth, but couldn’t get his lighter to work. I lighted a cigarette myself, and then held the match for Hank. His fingers trembled.
“Don’t play around, Hank,” Don said. “Shit like that isn’t funny.”
“She’s dead, Don,” Hank said.
“Are you sure?” Eddie said.
“Look, man—” Hank ran his fingers through his fluffy hair, and then took a long drag on his cigarette. “Dead is dead, man! I’ve seen too many... too fucking many—”
“Take it easy, Hank,” I said.
“What do we do now, Larry?” Don said. Hank and Eddie looked at me, too, waiting. At twenty-eight, I was the youngest of the four. Hank was thirty-one, and Don and Eddie were both thirty, but because of my police background they were dumping the problem in my lap.
“We’ll take her to Hank’s apartment,” I said. “I’ll drive Hank’s car, and Hank’ll go with me. You guys go on ahead in the Continental and unlock the fire door to the northwest stairway. Meet us at the door, because it’s closest to Hank’s apartment. Then, while you three take her upstairs to the apartment, I’ll park Hank’s car.”
“Okay,” Don said. “Let’s go, Eddie.”
“Don’t run, for Christ’s sake,” I said.
They slowed to a walk. Hank gave me his car keys, and I circled the car and got in behind the wheel.
On the way back to Dade Towers I drove cautiously. Hank sat in the passenger bucket seat beside me, and held the girl’s shoulders. He had folded her legs, and she was in a kneeling position on the floor with her face level with the dash glove compartment. He held her steady, with both hands gripping her shoulders.
“How’d you happen to pick her up, Hank?” I said.
“Thursday’s a slow night, apparently,” Hank said. “There’re only about twenty-five cars in there. No one, hardly, was at the snack bar. I got a paper cup from the counter, and went outside to pour my beer into it. Sometimes, you know, there’s a cop around, and you’re not supposed to drink beer at the drive-in, you know.”
“I know.”
The girl had voided, and the smell of ammonia and feces was strong. Moving her about hadn’t helped any either. I pushed the button to lower the windows, and turned off the air-conditioning.
“That was a good idea,” Hank said. “Anyway, I got rid of the beer can in a trash basket, and circled around the snack bar to the women’s can. I thought some women might come out, and I could start talking to one, but none did. Then I walked on around the back of the building to the other side. Hildy, here, was standing out in the open, not too far from the men’s room. She was just standing there, that’s all, looking at the screen. The nearest car was about fifty feet away — I told you there were only about twenty-five cars, didn’t I?”
“Yeah. A lot of people don’t come until the second feature, which is usually the best flick.”
“Maybe so. The point is, nobody was around us. ‘Hi,’ I said, ‘are you waiting for me?’ She just giggled and then she mumbled something.
“‘Who?’ I said, and then she said, ‘The man in the yellow jumpsuit.’
“‘Oh, sure,’ I said, ‘he sent me to get you. My name’s Hank — what’s yours?’
“‘Hildy,’ she said.
“‘Right,’ I said. “You’re the one, all right. I hope you don’t mind magenta instead of yellow.’
“Then she asked me for some of my Coke. She thought I had a Coke because of the red paper cup, you see. So I gave her a drink from the cup and she made a face. Then she took my hand, just like I was her father or something, and I led her over to my car. It was dark as hell in there, Larry, and I swear she looked older — around seventeen, anyway.”