Chapter 3
Starting up the car and heading off of the bluff back towards town, Cindy breathed a sigh of relief. It was good to have thoughts of that Thursday night in order. Otherwise they just kept bothering her and making her feel distinctly uncomfortable. At least now she knew that she'd hurt no one, that she was willing to think about things, and that no matter what, she hadn't given way to Chris completely.
When she pulled up in front of the house, she saw an unfamiliar car parked next to the driveway. She wondered if perhaps her father had brought home that same woman from Thursday evening. She parked just behind the other car and got out of her own car cautiously.
From the inside of the house were coming the sounds of adult laughter and party behavior. There was a radio beaming loudly and the clink of glasses. Sometimes the laughter was raucous and bawdy, and then it would die down into softness and chatter.
Cindy's father was forever bringing home strange people and inviting them to drink with him. Then, after spending the night "living it up," he would come into Cindy's room and tell her how she'd been a rotten daughter to him, how she'd probably betrayed him sexually by going out and dirtying herself with some teenager from the high school. Once he even accused her of having been the seductress of little boys. She resented him awfully for such insinuations and accusations, but really there was very little she could do. She only hoped that he would get drunk enough to simply pass out instead of badgering her.
So it was that she was none too serious about getting into the house just now. Instead, thinking to wait things out a bit, she sat on the porch and bided her time. She could hear what was going on inside.
"You listen to me," said the voice of a woman who was slurring with excessive drink. "I seen plenty of kids out there these days—they get it on at the drop of a hat. Don't matter if they're twelve or twenty, just fuck their brains out. Just like that."
"Hey, honey," said a male's voice, "you like that idea, don't you? Tell the truth now, don't you!"
"Get yer hands off me, you big clod—I like sex, sure, but not with the likes of you."
"What a bitch ...!"
Cindy recognized the last voice, for it was her father's. He continued, too:
"I'm gonna have me some of this one here," he said. "Hold onto her a bit there, Leonard. Get her by the legs ... "
"Let go of me, you two! Let go! God damn it, I said get off! You hear me?! Get the hell-"
There was a loud crack, the sound of a hand hitting flesh, and next there came a short, stifled scream. "Ooooh," groaned the woman, "you brutes ... You awful, filthy-"
There was a scuffling sound. Cindy jumped to her feet. She'd seen nights like this before, and she knew her father wasn't likely to be in a good mood after such an event as this. She hopped down the stairs and headed for the car as quickly as she could. She turned on the engine and took a last look at the front porch.
The door burst open and a red-headed woman in a black dress tugging on a fur coat was heading down the steps. Behind her were two men. One was Cindy's father and the other was a friend of his from work. "Come on," yelled the friend, "you don't have to be like that ... What the hell are ya thinkin' about? You think we meant it? Come on back here ... Please ... ?"
"Not on my life," hollered the red-head, and with that she was getting into her car just ahead of Cindy's.
"Say," shouted Cindy's father, "there's my daughter, the little bitch! I bet she was listenin' in on the whole fuckin' show. Come on up here, Cindy. Get outta that car an ... "
Seeing her father heading towards the car, Cindy put the engine in gear and stepped on the gas. The tires turned to smoke and laid out a long, thick tread of black rubber.
"Oh, boy," she hissed out loud as she peeked back in the rearview mirror and saw her father standing on the curb and shaking his fist after her, "I'm gonna be in big trouble when I get home tonight ... Oh, Jesus ... " She was honestly frightened, terrified, of what her father would most likely do when she returned that evening.
At the next signal, when the woman with the red hair pulled up alongside her, Cindy couldn't help but take a look. The woman appeared to be pretty and about twenty-five years old. It didn't make sense. Why would such a pretty woman spend time with a drunk like Cindy's father? She couldn't figure it out. The light changed and the woman drove off up the boulevard. Cindy made a right, heading for Chris's house. She had to go somewhere, and Chris, she felt, was someone to be trusted. Five minutes later she was out of the car and knocking at his apartment door.