His gun hand went limp in his pocket; something like relief coursed through him.
She leaned over and looped her arm in his.
“Don’t you remember me? I’m Cindy Lou.”
“Cindy Lou...”
“Cindy Lou Comfort. But maybe you didn’t catch my name. Year or so ago, in Jefferson City? It was at that place out on the highway.”
Shit. It was coming back to him.
She touched her hair. “I had my hair all cut off, then. During a break, you and me sat in this little dressing room under the stage and kissed and stuff.”
He’d felt her up. He’d felt up Cole Comfort’s daughter. Cole Comfort’s underage daughter.
“I remember you, Cindy Lou,” he said, his mouth dry, his dick erect.
“Is that a pistol in your pocket,” she grinned nastily, “or are you just glad to see me?”
“You’d be surprised.”
“I think that was a good idea you had,” she said.
Hellfyre began playing “We Ain’t Gonna Take It” by Twisted Sister.
“What was that?”
“Leaving here quietly.”
And they did; her arm around his waist and his around her shoulder.
13
Cindy Lou just couldn’t believe her luck. Running into the keyboard player from the Nodes! She loved that band; when she heard they broke up it made her sad. They’d always played a lot of oldies and some new wave and even a little heavy metal. And they jumped around on stage, and the guys were really cute. Especially that keyboard player. He reminded her of Duane, from the seventh grade, who popped her cherry. He was a little blond hunk, too.
They stepped outside into the chilly air, walking side by side, arms around each other. You could smell the river. You could see it too, moon dancing on the little waves. Real romantic, Cindy Lou thought, surprised at herself, surprised she could get it up after last night. But she put that out of her mind.
“Where do you want to go?” Cindy Lou asked.
“Where are you staying?”
“At the Holiday Inn.” She paused, then added, “With my daddy. He’s here on business.”
“I see.”
“We better not go back there. He doesn’t even know I’m out.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He’s been keeping me cooped up at that motel, and finally when he wasn’t looking I just took the pickup keys and went.”
He led her to a sky-blue van.
“We could just climb in back of there,” she said.
“We could. It’s not fancy, but I got some blankets back there.”
She smiled, hugged his waist. “This used to be your band’s van, didn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
She pulled away from him, traced her finger on the side of the van. “You can almost see where your name used to be. The Nodes. You guys were real good. What happened to that girl that sang with you?”
“Toni? We were still in a band together till recently. She’s up in Minneapolis playing in one of Prince’s groups.”
“Really? That’s cool! That Prince guy is so sexy.”
He opened the rider’s side of the van and she climbed in and crawled between the seats in front into the back of the van, where the cold metal floor was warmed by several quilts and blankets. Some corduroy pillows were piled up against one side. Jon got in on the driver’s side, turned on the engine, started the heater going, locked the doors, and joined her.
“It’s going to take a while for that heater to get going,” he said, sitting on his knees, watching her as she arranged a little makeshift bed out of the quilts and blankets. At the head of the “bed” she placed two of the cord pillows and invited him to lie next to her, which, after removing his big navy coat, he did. She slipped out of her denim jacket and kicked off her heels, but otherwise left her clothes on as they got under a quilt and lay facing each other, smiling in the near dark, leaning on an elbow, some moonlight and streetlights filtering in through the back van windows.
“You don’t know how glad I am to see a friendly young face,” she said.
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “I been having some family trouble. Nothing serious.”
“Oh?”
“I’m getting too old to live at home, anyway.”
“How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
He smiled, a cute little smile on half his face making a dimple. “I didn’t think you were of drinking age.”
“Seventeen’s old enough.”
“For what?”
“Anything I want.”
“What are you, a senior, Cindy Lou?”
“Naw. I stopped going to high school.”
“Why?”
“Daddy didn’t want me to go.”
“Why?”
“Needed some help in the family business. Needs me to run the house. My mom’s dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I never knew her.” She sighed. “I sorta killed her.”
“You... what do you mean?”
“She died having me.”
That seemed to bum Jon out; she touched his face.
“Don’t be blue,” she said. “You got any drugs?”
“No. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. That gets old after while, anyway. Boy, I sure do miss your band. Why’d you break up?”
“We weren’t getting anywhere, I guess.”
“What are you doing now? You playing with a new band?”
“I was. Mostly I’m working as an artist. Cartoonist.”
“You draw cartoons?”
“Yes.” He smiled; seemed a little proud of himself.
“Like on TV, you mean. G.I. Joe, He-Man, those things? They’re awful violent. You think little kids should watch those things?”
“I don’t work on animated cartoons, Cindy Lou. I draw a comic book.”
“Oh, like Archie or Batman.”
“Something like that.”
“Are you good?”
“Yeah. I’ll draw your picture sometime.”
“In the nude?”
“If you like.”
“It’s getting warmer in here.” She pulled off her T-shirt; it was still cold enough to make her nips stand out. She looked at his face; looked at his eyes on her boobs. She knew she didn’t have the biggest boobs around, but they were real firm and had a nice shape and pretty pink nips. She liked the expression they put on his face — like he was struck dumb by her beauty. She’d seen that expression many times, and relished it.
Then she leaned back on her elbow and started making small talk again, pretending to be matter of fact about her nudity but knowing she was making him crazy. It was a sort of teasing, although she was no tease: Cindy Lou liked sex. She had put out since she was twelve. Screwing was fun, and besides, it put a guy in your back pocket, for as long as you wanted him there. And she’d had “encounters,” as she liked to think of them, with a lot of guys who played in bands.
“Your band played a lot of your own songs, didn’t you?”
“Yeah,” he said. “About a third of what we carried was original material.”
“Who wrote it?”
“Mostly Toni. I did some of it. We made a record, you know.”
“No! Really? Can you get me one?”
“Sure. How long are you going to be in town?”
“Just till Friday. We’re leaving real early Friday morning.”
“You and your dad.”
“Well, and Lyle. He’s my brother.”
“He’s staying at the motel with you?”
“No, he’s over on the Illinois side somewhere, looking after business for Daddy.”
“I could drop an album off at your motel tomorrow.”
“You best not stop by the room. Daddy’s funny about boys. He doesn’t know, uh...”
“What?”
“Nothing,” she said.