Chapter 12
As the bus hurtled along the highway, Cindy sat disconsolately by the window looking out at the small frame houses flash whitely past, at the stores, the buildings, the occasional glimpses of ocean.
She realized that she'd been a fool, just as Joey had said. A naive young idiot who thought that going to bed with someone meant more than it really was. First, her mother had tried to sell her to Moose Warren, and then Joey, who she thought loved her, was only after the same thing, but for free.
She caught a glimpse of the short block of nightclubs where she'd been last night, and on impulse she got up and rang the bell to get off. The bus stopped, and she alighted and walked back. Perhaps, she thought, she could regain that peace of mind she'd had the previous night when she'd been drinking. It seemed that alcohol served a purpose, after all, and she could understand more clearly now why her stepfather back in Hurley, Texas, had turned to drinking when his wife left him.
In the daylight, The Store looked even more stark and drab than it had at night. It looked just like an abandoned store, with its windows painted a now-chipping black, the wood frame of the door scarred with age and misuse. The door was open, and daylight streamed in from a skylight overhead, illuminating the narrow room with its crowded rows of tables and unlit candles. At one side of the room, the bartender Carlo was sweeping the floor.
At the sight of Cindy standing in the doorway, he grinned. "Welcome back," he said.
"Thanks," Cindy said, somewhat uncertainly. She'd thought other people might be there, but there was only Carlo. She recalled that he'd said a few words to her, and she wasn't at all sure she liked him. The way he had looked at her-the way he was looking at her now, in fact-let her know exactly what was on his mind. But at least he was honest, and that was something she hadn't seen much of during the last few days, from anybody.
"You remember me?" she asked. "How could I forget?" Carlo asked rhetorically ."You're Mamie's kid sister, Cindy."
"She's my mother," Cindy said, to keep the record straight.
If Carlo was surprised, he didn't show it. "How about a drink?"
"All right," Cindy said without hesitation. She sat at a table. Carlo went behind the bar and returned with two glasses and a big bottle half full of red wine. He sat down beside her and poured wine into the glasses. Then he raised his glass in a toast.
"To a long and beautiful friendship," he said drinking deeply.
Cindy raised her glass to her lips and drank determinedly. She still wasn't a fan of red wine, but at least it seemed more tolerable than it had after she'd been guzzling martinis and gimlets. Just the same she drank deeply, letting the liquid seep warmly down her throat and inside.
"Pretty good stuff," Carlo said, smacking his lips in earnest appreciation.
Cindy fought down an impulse to choke on the wine. She nodded, hoping Carlo wouldn't notice her lack of enthusiasm. She sipped at the red liquid and discovered that the more you worked at it, the pleasanter it seemed to become.
"Too bad you couldn't make the party last night," Carlo said. "It was a real swinging affair. You would've dug it."
"I wish I had gone," Cindy said, meaning it. "Maybe some other time you'll invite me."
"You can plan on it," Carlo said. "In fact, there's one going on right now down near the beach."
"A beach party?"
"Sort of."
"But I don't have a bathing suit with me."
"You won't need one," Carlo said. "I mean, it's an indoor party. How about it? Live a little."
"All right," she told him, "I'd like to go." She hesitated at a sudden thought. "Will Mamie Drucker be there?"
"No. Mamie doesn't go in for afternoon parties. She has-uh-other things to do in the afternoon at home."
"Good," Cindy said. She knew what other things Mamie did at home in the afternoon.
"I'll close up shop here, and we'll take off," Carlo said.
While the bartender went around doing things, Cindy wondered what she should do about her mother. She didn't want to see the woman-at least not now. She was angry and wanted to think more about what she should do. She certainly didn't want to stay with her any longer, not after what she tried to get her to do with Moose Warren, but then she couldn't go with Flo or Rosalie or Joey. Perhaps she'd have to go back to Hurley, Texas, and face the wrath of her stepfather.
But she could think of that later. Now, she wanted to go to a party with Carlo and laugh and drink and have fun and forget her troubles for the afternoon.
"Ready?" Carlo asked her.
"As ready as I'll ever be," Cindy said.
Carlo took her arm and guided her down the aisle between the rows of tables. Outside, he locked the front door and indicated a battered old car standing near the curb. They got in, and Carlo started the motor.
"Hang on," he warned her.
The warning was not an idle one. Carlo plunged the shift into reverse and then into forward. The car started up to the corner, swung it on two wheels and then accelerated swiftly away.
"You'll like this crowd," Carlo promised. "They really know how to have a ball."
-"That-that's nice," Cindy said. She held on to the car door for dear life and closed her eyes in silent prayer. Carlo didn't seem to notice anything was wrong with his driving. Her stomach was feeling queasy.
They went past old frame houses set along a beach area. Cindy was grateful for all the excitement, for she didn't want to think of anything other than this afternoon and having a good time. She would meet a lot of new people, probably boys and gills her own age, and probably make a lot of friends.
"Well, here we are," Carlo said.
Cindy opened her eyes wide as Carlo brought the car to a swift stop beside a stucco building in a narrow alleyway crowded with stucco buildings. They got out and Carlo motioned her to a nearby door. Carlo knocked, and a moment later the door opened a crack and a languid eye peered out.
"F.B.I." Carlo said banteringly.
The door opened wide and a limp-eyed young man with long, straggly hair grinned. "Carlo, you old...."
Cindy blinked but tried not to notice the use of the word which she'd never heard anyone utter until this time. This was the big city, she reminded herself, and they do things differently. She mustn't appear to be a hick from a small town.
The limp-eyed youth was dressed in Bermuda shorts and nothing else. He had an open bottle of beer in his hand. "Who's the quail?"
"Friend of mine," Carlo said.
"Come on in, make yoursf to home," the youth said.
Carlo guided Cindy inside, and the door closed behind them and was latched. They were in a small living room. There was a bar in one corner. A low couch was against one wall. A half dozen people littered the room, most of them people who looked like they might frequent The Store-pony-tailed girls in bikinis or tight leotards, shaggy-haired, sometimes bearded youths in shorts or levis. A record player was playing a weird instrumental of flutes and bongo drums.
"Make yourself comfortable," Carlo said, "I'll get us something to drink."
As he disappeared behind the bar, Cindy sat at one end of the couch (most of the people apparently preferred to stand or sit on the floor) and looked around. Except for the youth who had greeted them at the door, their presence seemed to go unnoticed. In one corner a girl in leotards had a glazed look on her face and was moving her legs and hips in time with the strange music, her breasts jiggling unrestrained under the tight blouse. On the floor opposite, a man and a girl, both in abbreviated bathing suits were lying against the wall, kissing and hugging and running their hands all over each other's bodies.
"Oh, Freddie, you're so masculine!" a thin pipe of a voice said, and Cindy looked up in surprise to see a skinny boy in shorts playfully giggling with another skinny boy in shorts.
"Here we are," Carlo said, sitting down on the couch beside her. He had two glasses of pale-looking liquid and ice cubes. Cindy was glad it wasn't red wine again. "Drink hearty, baby, it's good for you."
He took a healthy gulp of his, and Cindy, thus encouraged, took a sip of hers. She pulled away, gasping, her nose filled with alcohol fumes, her tongue and throat on fire. She felt tears come to her eyes and started to choke.
Carlo smacked her on the back, "You'll get used to it. It's home made, stronger than you can get anyplace else."
"I believe it," Cindy said. She was beginning to get light-headed. It was very warm in the room, which was filled with smoke, and the drink didn't seem to help any.
"Take some more right away," Carlo advised. "It's the only way to fly."
She tried to join him in his laughter, but she didn't feel like it. Nevertheless, she recalled how she had gotten used to the martinis and gimlets, and even the red wine. All it took was practice. She sipped slowly at the colorless liquid. It still burned, but it gave her a warm glow down inside. Besides, her taste buds seemed to be getting numb and she wasn't thinking about Joey or her mother or anything except what was happening to her right then and there.
Carlo put his arm around her and hugged her to him. "We're gonna have ourselves a real ball, baby," he said enthusiastically. "A real ball."
She favored him with a smile. Already she was beginning to feel as though she were having one. At a sudden thought, she asked, "Do you know Mamie very well?"
Carlo grinned at some secret. "Pretty well," he said.
"Did you make love to her?" she persisted.
Carlo's smile faded. "Well, she's a good looking doll for her age."
"Yes," Cindy said. "But you didn't answer me, Carlo. Did you make love to her?"
Carlo sighed and frowned his annoyance. "Don't be silly. What does it matter?"
"I guess it doesn't," she said, knowing the answer anyway.
Carlo refilled her glass from a bottle he took from beside the couch. "Look, baby, your old lady's got problems of her own. You've got problems. I've got problems. We've all got problems. Let's not worry about them tonight, okay?"
"I'm sorry," Cindy said apologetically. "I guess I'm just being a wet blanket."
"Don't be silly, it's the fault of this stupid party. There's no life in it." He called over to the limp eyed fellow who was standing beside the phonograph. "Hey, Evan, put something lively on that thing, willya."
The limp-eyed youth nodded and selected one of the records, raising his fingers to indicate he had just the thing. A moment later, a swift bongo beat came torrenting into the room.
"Watch this," Carlo said, expectantly.
As Cindy watched, not knowing what to watch for, the girl on the floor with the man raised her head and said, "That's wild, man, wild."
"Come give us a dance, Jan," Carlo yelled.
"You bet I will," the girl said, and she rolled away from the grasp of the boy she'd been necking with, who promptly gave Carlo a dirty look.
The girl was wearing the tightest and tiniest of bikinis that barely covered those portions of the anatomy it was supposed to cover. She began swaying back and forth in time to the bongo beat, her breasts jiggling and rolling, the cleavage between them moving first one way and then the other. Her rounded torso churned and twisted, her hips gyrated, her legs swathed the air.
"What did I tell you?" Carlo said, excitedly.
Cindy watched as the girl threw back her head and jiggled her entire female body. She could sense Carlo's excitement, for Cindy was aware of his hand on her leg, and through the thin material of her skirt she could feel the warmness of his touch as he watched the girl. She gulped down the rest of her drink, and its fire warmed her insides, made her head light and giddy. Carlo glanced over at her, picked up the bottle and refilled the glass. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, then returned his attention to the girl in the center of the room.
"Atta girl, atta girl, Jan," someone was shouting.
Still weaving and twisting, the girl was reaching behind her for the catch on her bikini top. As it came loose and fell to the floor, Cindy felt Carlo's hand tighten on her leg. The girl had large, firm breasts that fell free and began to bobble and roll as she twisted her body one way and then another.
Cindy watched, fascinated. She glanced at the others to see if they were shocked or interested-in what was happening. The two frail young men in shorts were not paying much attention to the girl; instead, one of them was nibbling at the ear of the other, who was giggling. The girl in leotards was staring in a glazed fashion at the near-naked girl, wetting her lips and rubbing her hands together. The others were crowding around, cheering the dancing girl on.
More and more, Cindy could sense Carlo's excitement. His fingers were kneading her flesh, moving along her thighs outside the dress, as he watched the girl in the center of the room. The girl had a pretty, sensuous face, rich moist lips, deep dark eyes, with breasts and his and thighs that were well-shaped and sexy.
For a moment, Cindy pictured herself up there, shedding inhibitions and clothing, not worrying about what other people thought, just doing what she wanted to do, dancing, having fun. Perhaps she could even do it here, in front of all these people who didn't seem to care what you did. All she'd have to do was get up and dance to the bongo rhythms, and take off her dress and then her underwear-
She shook her head to clear it. What in the world was she thinking? The idea surprised and shocked her.
"Hey, how about that, baby," Carlo said, holding her close, kissing her wetly on the neck.
His hands went under her dress now, and then he was pushing her back on the couch. His lips covered hers, and the tongue insinuated itself hotly across her lips into the warm interior. His fingers danced along her thighs, snagged the rim of her panties and pulled; she felt the material art, start to slide down.
Frantically she fought to clear her senses, but her head was reeling. She knew that it wasn't right. It was the sort of thing that Mamie Drucker would do. Having nude dances, orgies, going to bed with strangers, getting kicks however and wherever you wanted to.
"No, Carlo, please," she managed.
"Relax, baby," Carlo said. "Have fun."
"Go, man go!" someone shouted.
Both Cindy and Carlo looked up. In the center of the room, the girl was lying on her back, her back arched, and her boy friend was beside her, now naked himself, helping her pull the bottom part of her bikini down over her hips.
"See," Carlo said with a laugh, "everybody's doing it."
Cindy rose to her feet. She reached for something to steady herself, found nothing and stumbled. Carlo rose and caught her.
"I ... I've got to go home," Cindy said, passing a hand across her forehead. She felt very dizzy, and the air in the room seemed stifling.
"Don't be silly," Carlo scoffed. "The party's just starting."
His fingers were busy pulling open the buttons of her front, reaching in to touch and massage the breasts. She pulled away. For a moment cold fear sobered her. She stared around the room. In the center of the floor, the girl and her boy friend were making love, oblivious to the stares of the others. Carlo, smiling greedily, was coming toward her.
She panicked and ran. The front door was blocked, so she detoured through a nearby doorway. Too late, she saw it was a corridor with stairs, rising upwards. She hesitated only briefly, then moved up the stairs just in time to avoid Carlo's questing hands. His laugh pursued her upwards, and then she heard his feet on the stairs.
She reached the top and turned into the first door. It was a bedroom, and on the bed were the two thin boys she'd seen downstairs. She turned quickly into the other room. It was an unoccupied bedroom, with no other exit. Before she could correct her mistake, Carlo was at the top of the stairs behind her. He gave her a shove that sent her sprawling onto the bed, and then closed and locked the door behind him.
"Now," he said .chuckling, "I'll have you all to myself up here."
"No, Carlo, please," she said.
Her senses were still reeling, but she knew she didn't want Carlo to make love to her. Her heart was beating rapidly inside her ribs, and her breath was quick and painful.
Carlo was slipping out of his clothing.
Her breath caught at the sight of him. She wanted to get up and run, but there was no place to run to. And there would be no Mike Bradbury coming to rescue her this time.
She closed her eyes and dug her hands into the mattress of the bed and tried not to think of Mike, Sweet, wonderful Mike. She opened her eyes as her hands touched something. It was an empty wine bottle lying forgotten on the bed. Instinctively her fingers closed over its neck.
"Ready or not, baby, here I come," Carlo said.
He threw himself at her, and at the same time, Cindy swung the wine bottle with all her might. Carlo stopped in mid-air as the heavy glass caught him in the groin. He screamed and fell to the floor, clutching himself.
Cindy scrambled to her feet. If Carlo caught her now, he'd kill her. She rushed down the stairs in a mad clatter. The living room was a wild melee of naked bodies. She hurried past them into the kitchen, and discovered a door leading outside. She rushed out, not bothering to shut it after her.
It wasn't until she was back on a bus, heading back to the trailer, that she breathed a sigh of relief.