Chapter 11
When I got to Grace's, Bill was waiting out front in his car and my suitcases were sitting on the front porch. He motioned for me to get into the car and he grunted when he put my luggage in the trunk.
"Grace ditched you. She won't keep a syndicate girl," he explained. "Jeez, are we in a spot!"
"Well, I can't do it on the curbing, the neighbors would talk," I answered. "Why don't you fix me up with a set-up like Margie's? Let me rent one of those shacks and hire some woman to keep house for me and act as Madame."
"No dice. The cops say there's too many houses on this street now," Bill shook his head. "They want to close a couple as it is."
"How about letting me talk to the Boss?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"The Boss don't talk to whores, that's why," Bill answered.
"It wouldn't hurt to ask; let me talk to somebody."
Bill stretched his weight against the car seat and let his breath out in a puff. He hit the steering wheel a couple of times with his fist and stared at the street.
"I talked to your old man. He's strictly against the idea."
"I don't care if he is," I settled back in the seat and crossed my legs. "I don't care what you do, I really don't. I've been thinking about quitting."
"You can't quit," Bill puffed. "They've got a lot of money tied up in you. In case you didn't know it, you're a big investment."
"Bill, I can quit any time I want to and nobody can stop me. You know that as well as I do. There's the Mann Act and a few other White Slavery laws that I've got over your head."
Once more, Bill let out his breath in a big puff. He shook his head the way a prize fighter does when he's been hit hard.
"What about John?" Bill drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, "He won't let you quit and you know it."
"I'm going to see about a divorce in the morning," I answered.
"Baby, you could get me killed," Bill said slowly. "I set you up for this deal and now you want to back down. Will you hustle for a couple of weeks until I can find another chippy?"
I stared out the windshield for a few minutes. It wouldn't be fair to Bill to put him on the spot, but I was thinking more about Tom. If I quit now and never told him, maybe he'd never find out. If he did, it would be too late. Because of Tom, I didn't want to go through with it, but there were other things to consider-the money, my convertible, nice clothes, and the other things that I could afford made me want to hustle.
Tom hadn't asked me to marry him, but I knew that he would, perhaps on our next date. I had fooled the men in the cafe, maybe I could go on fooling Tom. That thought made me feel cheap and rotten inside and somewhere along the line, I would have to tell him. Perhaps, he would forgive me if we were already married.
"I'll get you off the grease, but that's as far as I'll go," I said finally. "You start looking for another girl. Now, how about me talking to the guys?"
Bill gave a sigh of relief. His face held such a comical expression of relief that I wanted to laugh.
"I'll set things up and give you a call in a couple of days," Bill said. "But I'm not promising anything."
"There's nothing we can do at Grace's?" I asked. "Couldn't I stay with her until then?"
"She won't keep you and that's all there is to it," Bill shook his head. "We can't do a thing with her."
Bill drove me to the bus station and let me out. When I got home, John was sitting in the easy chair, reading the newspaper. He didn't even ask me why I was home. We were man and wife in name only and as far as I was concerned, we weren't even that. When I looked at him, I wondered why I had been so anxious to marry him and wished I had saved myself for Tom.
I waited all day Thursday for the phone to ring, but Bill never called me. That evening, I suggested to John that we drive over to Parkville and take in the strip shows. I wanted to hear the jokes that the comics were telling about me.
"Not me," John answered. "I don't want to be seen with you in that town."
"People won't recognize me and so what if they did," I answered angrily. My own husband was ashamed to be seen out in public with me. It made me sore. "If you don't want to come with me, I'll go alone."
"Wanda, I can't figure you out," John laid down his paper and gave me a steady look. "You can't seem to get to the bottom fast enough."
"Look who's talking-you should have thought of that before you put me in a whorehouse. I didn't even know there were such places until I married you!" I turned and glared at him, "I didn't want to become a prostitute, but you forced me to. Just remember that you made me hustle."
"Yes, I remember."
I didn't like the tone of his voice or the way he picked up his newspaper. I went into the bedroom and slammed the door. I threw myself across the bed and started crying. What did John want from me? I couldn't understand him. He had wanted me to hustle; he had begged, argued, coaxed, and had even slapped me around until I said yes. I was scared and reluctant when he took me to Blanche's. At first, I hadn't wanted to hustle and had been ashamed.
Now, I liked being a prostitute and I wanted to hustle. I discovered that there was a lot that a woman could like about this life. The money, the luxuries it could buy, and the way that many of the men treated me. Now, I had the chance to better myself and be in a better position than the other prostitutes. I felt that I'd be a sucker if I didn't take Bill's offer.
When I quit, that would be the time to be respectable. John came into the bedroom. He didn't say anything, but he changed his shirt and suit. I put on a very plain dress and a small amount of make up. We took John's car. I wanted to take my convertible, but John said no. I wanted to go so bad that I didn't argue with him.
We toured the night spots along the "strip" and I laughed louder than anyone when they told jokes about "Wanda the Whore." They weren't talking about me. They were talking about a girl who gave away a million dollars before she found out that it was worth a cent. The only reason Wanda charged ten dollars was to keep out the riff-raff. She would charge twenty, but it would keep out too many men.
They weren't talking about me. It was someone that I had created and wasn't really real. I felt Tom's influence over me and I was still the nice girl that he thought I was. That's how I felt when I listened to their jokes. I got a secret amusement out of the way that some of the jokes got under John's skin. One of the remarks that a comedian made was about Wanda's poor husband. It had a germ of truth in it that hit John square between the eyes.
On Friday, I sat beside the phone waiting for Bill to call. When John went out for some cigarettes, I called Tom long distance. He asked me for a date and I said O.K. We were to meet at six.
About five, I changed into the blue dress Tom liked so well. I had purchased a pair of eye glasses from the dime store. They were hardly more than window panes, but they helped to alter my appearance. I changed my hair a little and added some lipstick; no rouge, no mascara, just a touch of pale lipstick. When I looked myself over in the mirror, I thought sure that someone would have to look pretty close to recognize me.
"Where are you going?" John looked up from his cross word puzzle.
"Out," I snapped. "Who is her'
"Who's who?" I stopped in my tracks and turned to stare at him.
"The guy you're on the make for. It's pretty plain, everything you do gives you away," he answered quietly. "I've known for a couple of weeks that you've been cheating on me."
I stared at him. He was so smug, so sure of what he knew that I wanted to kill him.
"You've been spying on me, you dirty-" I called him every name that I could think of. John took it. He didn't want to, but he did.
"I can tell you one thing," he said, when I ran out of breath, "If he's a nice guy, you'll come back to me."
"What makes you think that?"
"No decent man will have you. You're the worst kind of a whore," John answered. "You're a whore at heart and you couldn't stay true to a man if you had to."
"I'll show you," I answered bitterly. I stormed out and slammed the door.
I hid my convertible in a garage in Parkville and met Tom at the bus station. As soon as he saw me, he grabbed me in his arms and kissed me. I explained that I had driven down with some friends. Tom took my arm and he was so excited over something that he led me up the street almost at a trot I was gasping for breath when we reached the cafe. We took our back booth again. I couldn't think, I couldn't talk, all I could do was just look at him. He had a shy grin on his face and I knew he had something planned.
"I've got something for you," he said with that shy grin. In many ways, he was bashful, but I loved it. It was one of the things that made him so special. He took out a box and showed me the engagement ring inside. It took him a long time to clear his throat
"Would you?"
That was all that he could say. His face turned red, he dropped his eyes and swallowed at the lump in his throat I had planned to take my time in saying yes, but I couldn't hold myself or my eagerness back.
"Oh, it's beautiful," I said. "I'd love to."
I watched his strong hands as he took mine and slipped the ring on my finger. The diamond glittered in the light. I wanted to say something, to tell him how much I loved him, but I couldn't. Something held the words back and I couldn't
"You know what it means?" he stammered, "How when-when would you want to set the date?"
"Oh, Tom, I-I don't know. Don't you think-You don't know anything about me!"
"I don't need to know anything about you." He smiled at me. "I know all there is to know, I guess."
I shook my head. I wanted to tell him, but the words were locked up inside me. I didn't know how or where to begin. He didn't give me a chance, either.
"Let's go or we'll be late for the show," he said and grabbed my arm. "This is no time to start crying."
I brushed the tears from my eyes as we walked. It seemed that I was swimming, or this was some kind of dream, and a thousand thoughts crowded their way into my mind and tumbled over each other. I was happy, yet I needed to cry, and I knew I had plenty to cry about. I tried to imagine how Tom would feel towards me if I told him. If I knew that, it would make things easier.
In the movie, Tom slipped his arm around my shoulder. I scooted close and smiled up at him. I didn't want to leave this spot or for this moment to end. The sheltering darkness was so peaceful and wonderful. I leaned my head back so I could look at Tom's profile and I just thought about him. How nice he was, how I loved him, and how I would show my love for him after we were married.
Something happened to me and I didn't know what started it. Perhaps it was my thoughts about Tom or perhaps it was being so close to him, but when his hands touched me they sent fire racing through my body. I had never felt this way before and a funny kind of an excitement took hold of me. I wanted him and I couldn't control my feelings.
"Let's go," I whispered.
"Where to?"
He looked at me with surprise and turned his eyes towards the screen. He was interested in the show.
"Someplace-anywhere, I-I want to be alone with you," I whispered.
All that I could think about was how much I wanted him and I lost control of my emotions. I walked fast and led the way when we left the theater. Tom followed me, a puzzled look in his eyes. I stepped into the shadows of an alley.
"Kiss me, please," I begged.
Never had a kiss meant so much to me. When he lifted his lips from mine, I was so weak and light-headed that I could hardly stand up. I held onto his arms and rested my forehead against his chest. I gasped for breath when he started kissing me on my neck and ears. They sent little electric currents running through my body. I had done it plenty of times, but each time and with each man, I had always held something back. I didn't know what it was and there had been times that I tried not to hold back, to let go and enjoy myself. But even the few times with John, I had held myself in reserve. Now, for the first time in my life, I knew the meaning of the words passion and desire.
My entire body trembled from his kisses and tender love making. I couldn't tell him what I wanted, not in words, but I tried to tell him in kisses and actions, and to awaken in him the emotions that I felt. He was not experienced. If he had been, Tom would have realized sooner. I wondered if there had been any women in his life before me.
He led me down the street until we came to the high school stadium and Tom laid me down on one of the football bleachers. I looked up at the sky; a thousand stars pin-pointed its velvet. There was no moon and the stars stood out clear and bright. It's funny, I had never noticed the stars before this night.
I felt his kisses on my lips and felt his hands on my body. He held me close and started undressing me. I tried to help him, but I was all thumbs when I tried to unbutton my blouse. I had to let him do it.
In a moment, I was naked; my clothes tossed carelessly onto the ground and before him, I was ashamed of my nakedness. Sex had a different meaning to me; for the first time, a rightful meaning, and I knew that I could never give myself to another man. There were tears in my eyes because I was cheating Tom. For him, I should have been a virgin and at this hour, I knew what a woman's honor meant. I wanted to give it that, but my honor had been sold, and I prayed that he wouldn't care. I found out a lot of things in those few moments. I discovered the meaning of love. There is sex for pleasure and sex as an expression of love between two people, and the sex act for pleasure is as wrong as anything can be. I had met a man whom I loved and too late, I discovered what love and honor meant.
Tom sent joy surging through my body and made my nerves tingle. I tried to talk but I couldn't, and there were moments when I was afraid I would pass out. When his weight left my body, I was soaking wet with sweat. He stood there, looking down at me. It was too dark for me to see the expression on his face.
"Hold me, hold me!" I pleaded. I was afraid I would lose him.
He sat down and put my head on his knee. He held me close, his strong arms around me. I closed my eyes.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I guess we should have waited."
I shook my head and smiled up at him. I didn't want to talk, I just wanted him to hold me close.
"You'd better put your clothes on," he said. "I don't want you catching pneumonia."
I started dressing but only because he told me to. I didn't want to, I wanted to stay in his arms and stay naked before him. My clothes had been scattered over the ground and we had trouble finding them. I giggled like an embarrassed school girl. After I dressed, Tom sat down and had me put my head in his lap. We shared a cigarette, neither of us saying anything. We had already told each other of our love. There is a magic in silence, you can say so much by saying nothing.
He stamped the cigarette out, bent over, and kissed me.
"Darling, I love you. I can never love anyone the way I love you," he whispered.
"I feel the same way about you," I answered.
He scooted around so he could kiss me again. I giggled, not at anything, but just because I was happy.
"We'd better be going," he said. "It's time for my bus."
I didn't want to leave this spot or for Tom to leave me. I wished for a way to hold back the hours and I didn't want daylight to come.
The bus was there when we got to the bus station. We didn't have much time left. Tom held my hands in his, so he could look at the ring on my finger. I was conscious of the grass stains on my blouse and skirt. When I looked up into his eyes, I could see no questions about my honor or the men who had been to me before him. All I could see was complete happiness and no trace of doubt or questions. In a moment, he left me with a quick kiss.
I drove my convertible home, following the bus. If I couldn't be with him, I wanted to be as close to him as I possibly could. But my magic moments ended as soon as I reached home. John was in bed asleep, but he had left a note on the night stand for me. I was to call Bill in the morning. I wadded the note up and threw it away.