Chapter 13

Mamie Drucker was so angry her face puffed out. "You stupid little slut!" she ranted. "Do you realize you cost me five hundred dollars last night!"

Cindy didn't answer. There was no use arguing against the brand of logic used by her mother, so she didn't bother. Her suitcase was open on the trailer couch, and she busied herself folding clothing into it.

"Five hundred dollars," Mamie persisted loudly. "More money than you've ever seen in your life, just to let Moose Warren do what ever he wanted to do with you! I'll just bet you've let a lot of young creeps do it for free!"

Cindy closed her eyes and counted to ten. "I don't want to talk about it, mother," she said.

"You don't, do you?" Mamie said. "What the hell do you think, your rear end is made of platinum? Even if it was, five hundred bucks is a good rental on it. You're just a young kid. If I was your age I'd leap at the chance to have some fun and make that much money!"

"That," said Cindy, turning slowly, "is because you're a cheap whore, and I'm not!"

Mamie's mouth hung open in astonishment. Her face was white with shock, then red with embarrassment and sudden anger. She slapped Cindy hard on the face.

For a moment Cindy was sorry for what she'd said, but the slap made her angrier ."Besides," she went on relentlessly, "you're not even close to my age. You just made a fool of yourself last night. Nobody believed I was your kid sister. You may be only forty years old, but you look like you're sixty!"

She knew she was hurting the woman, but at the moment it didn't matter. She wanted to hurt her for trying to sell her to the highest bidder. Fighting to keep the tears from her eyes, she returned to her packing.

"Look, Cindy," her mother said finally, "I ... I'm sorry I slapped you. And I'm sorry I tried to rent you out to Moose. I shouldn't have done it, I guess. But I've been without a daughter so long, I guess I just don't know how to act with one."

"That's not my fault," Cindy said.

"No, it isn't," Mamie Drucker admitted. "I'm sorry about that, too. I should've been more of a mother...."

"That's right, you should have," Cindy said, mercilessly.

"For Pete's sake, at least let me apologize, will you!" Mamie cried in annoyance.

Cindy shook her head no, and closed the lid on her suitcase. "It's too late for apologies, mother," she said. "Goodbye."

Mamie looked at her in disbelief. "Where are you going?"

Cindy shrugged. "Back to Texas, I suppose. Maybe I can get a job at the Prairie Flower Saloon."

"Cindy!"

Cindy glared at her. "Why are you so damned self-righteous, all of a sudden? You were going to sell my body, weren't you? I may have to work harder back there, but at least I'll know what I'm doing!"

Mamie Drucker sat wearily down on the chair. She looked older and more tired than she ever had. "I supose I deserve all this," she said.

"That's right, you do," Cindy said.

She picked up her suitcase and marched out, slamming the screen door of the trailer behind her.

"Cindy!" her mother's voice came after her.

The plaintive quality of the woman's voice made Cindy hesitate, but then she felt annoyed with the hesitation. No, she'd made up her mind, and there was no turning back. She'd get back to Hurley, Texas, if she had to sleep with a dozen truckdrivers along the way! She may as well get in practice.

Determinedly, she walked in the direction of the bus stop. Her immediate plans were as definite as the twelve dollars in her purse could make them. She would get a bus ticket for as far as the tiny amount of money would take her. Then she would use her body to get transportation. There were probably lots of lonely drivers who would give her rides in exchange for a night's companionship at some motel along the way.

She reached the bus stop and sat down on the bench. The sun was dipping low on the horizon, beyond a row of stately palm trees bordering the avenue, and it was beginning to get cold. Cindy shivered. She had expected her stay in Florida to be longer. There were so many things she'd wanted to do-see the sights, go swimming, take boat rides. Now it was too late.

There were people she'd miss, too. Not Joey certainly, for she'd put him out of her mind. She'd miss her mother-the one she'd known many years ago-perhaps there was a remnant of that wonderful woman still left in the aging playgirl who couldn't grow up. And she'd miss Rosalie, who had settled down and whose adventure had become raising children and paying off the mortagage.

And she'd miss Mike most of all.

Wonderful Mike, whom she'd met and lost in the same night.

She smiled sadly as she thought of him. He was an idiot for not going to bed with her. A man full of principles he didn't need, in a world that considered such principles old fashioned and idiotic.

It seemed a shame that she couldn't at least say goodbye to him.

On impulse, she got up from the bench-there was no bus coming-and walked in the direction of the gas station, a half-block away. There was a phone booth in one corner of the station. She found his name in the phone book and dialed the number. She let it ring a dozen times, but there was no answer.

Sadly, reluctantly, she hung up and began trudging back to the bus stop. The sun had disappeared below the horizon, leaving a golden glow, and it was growing noticeably chillier. She was halfway to the stop when the bus whooshed past her .She tried to flag it down, but she was too late; the bus was out of sight in a matter of seconds.

She began to laugh hysterically. There wouldn't be another bus for an hour; but then in a day full of disappointments, what did one more matter. The boys at the Prairie Flower would just have to wait for her!

She stopped and wiped the tears from her eyes. A familiar looking car was parked by the bus stop. She didn't mean to, but she began walking faster as she neared it. Grinning, Mike Bradbury stepped from the car.

"Mike," she cried happily.

She rushed up to embrace him, crying and laughing all at once. "Thought I'd do my first good deed of the day and give you a lift," he said.

She hesitated. "You can give me a ride to the bus terminal," she said.

"The Bradbury Taxi Service at your disposal, ma'am," he said. If her destination surprised him, he gave no indication of it. He held the door open for her and placed the suitcase in the back seat. A moment later they were driving down the street.

"It ... it's good to see you," she said.

"I was hoping it would be," he said.

"How did you know where to find me?"

"Your mother told me."

"She sent you to get me back, I suppose," Cindy accused.

"My, you are suspicious, aren't you," he said. "No, I do come up with a good idea on my own, once in a while. Are you really very angry at your mother?"

Cindy thought about it for a moment. "Not angry, really," she decided. "Sorry, actually." She looked out the window. "Where are we going?"

"My cozy little bachelor apartment," he said "for a goodbye drink. We'll have to have it now, since I hardly ever get out to Hurley, Texas."

"I'd like to, Mike, but ,...."

"But you don't like me unless you're drunk or trying to get even with the world for picking on you!"

The hurt look on his face disturbed her. "No," she said, "it's just that I've made up my mind, and I don't want you talking me out of it. All right, I'll come up for one drink. But no more."

"Good," he said, as though he knew it all the time. "You really want to go back to Texas?"

"Not really, but I don't have much choice."

"There are lots of other places. New York, Chicago, Los Angeles. Even Miami."

She sought his hand, found it. "Thanks, Mike, but I've got to get away from here. I've gotten a lot of bad memories in a short time."

"And some good ones, I hope."

"And some good ones," she said, squeezing his hand.

Mike swung the car off the boulevard and onto a side street. He pulled up before a white, two-story brick building.

"Home, sweet home," he announced.

"I suppose I may as well leave my suitcase in the car."

"May as well," he agreed. "The landlady gets very jealous if another female stays in my apartment." He shrugged. "Well, I have to pay the rent somehow."

Cindy laughed. She liked Mike very much, and she knew now she'd miss him very much. He led her up the stairs to his apartment on the second floor.

It was a small apartment, with a sofa that made up into a bed in the living room. Modernistic paintings hung on the walls. Light was indirect from a cylindrical cut glass chandelier that gave out a rainbow of color. In one corner a phonograph rested on a wrought iron base. Beneath it was a radio, which Mike turned on.

"Make yourself at home," he invited, "while I take inventory in the booze department."

She sat down on the couch as soft music came from the radio.

"How about a martini," he called from the kitchen.

"Sounds fine," she said.

She felt strangely relaxed and comfortable sitting there, more relaxed and comfortable than she'd been in a long time. He came back with two glasses filled with colorless liquid and sat down beside her.

They sat silently sipping for awhile, letting the quiet and the soft music overwhelm them. The martini was smooth, and it slid gently down her throat, warming her insides. She felt contented for the first time in a long while.

"Refill?" he said, and without waiting for an answer, he took her glass and returned to the kitchen.

"You're a good little martini maker," she said.

"Thanks," he said, "but that's not my only accomplishment."

He came back with the cocktail glasses refilled. "I'd like to propose a toast," he said, and when they'd touched glasses, "to Hurley, Texas."

She stared at him. "But why?"

"Because it's going to have you there," he said, his face serious. He touched her hand. "Cindy, don't go."

She shook her head. "I've got to, Mike. My stepfather needs me. Really. Not for sex, I don't mean that. But I'm beginning to feel very sorry for him. His wife ran out on him several years ago, and something inside him started to die. And then I ran out on him. I've got to get back before something drastic happens to him."

"Hmm," Mike said thoughtfully. Then: "There's something you should know, Cindy. Your father isn't in Texas. He's in Florida."

She stared at him.

He nodded. "He came out here, not so much to follow you but to find what happened to Mamie, to discover why she ran away from him. In fact, if you'd stayed at your mother's place fifteen minutes longer, you would have met him."

"You saw him?"

"That's right." He gave a short laugh. "It was the damnedest reunion I ever saw between two people you would think would hate each other. But when I left they were crying on each other's shoulders and planning on setting up housekeeping in the trailer together."

He took her glass, went to refill it. "I think you need this," he said, when he returned. "So you see, my pet, there's no need for you to go back to Hurley, Texas. If you're interested in salvaging the dregs of society, you've got a gold mine right here-your mother, your father-and most of all, me."

"I ... I don't know, Mike...."

"Well, you don't have to make up your mind for at least two more minutes." He pulled her to her feet. "Let me show you what a great dancer I am."

Mike held her close and they moved about the room in time to the romantic music coming from the radio. Cindy felt very relaxed in his arms, and she knew it was more than the martinis she'd consumed. He seemed to radiate a strength, a security she had never known. The world seemed to exist only in this room with the two of them together, with time and care forgotten. It was a good, comfortable feeling.

He rested his cheek against hers, his lips breathing gently into her ear. She held him close to her, moving her body with his. Her heartbeat was becoming very rapid, with a growing excitement she knew he also felt. He wanted her, sexually and emotionally. He'd wanted her the previous night, and he wanted her now, and she knew that she wanted him, too.

She felt his fingertips move across her back in a gentle caress. He was so gentle, so sure and knowing, and she felt her female body responding to his touch. His lips met hers, and she kissed him with an ardor that matched his, running her hands along the back of his head, touching and caressing the tiny hairs that tingled beneath her fingers. His restless hands moved along her waist and under her breasts in certain, teasing movements, dipping to the swell of her hips.

In unison they lowered themselves to the couch. Impatiently, now, he unzipped her. She helped him remove her dress, her bra, her panties, and then all of his clothing. There was no hesitation, no shame in what she was doing. His hands sought her flesh, found it, made her tremble with eager the anticipation glowing inside her.

They lay together on the sofa, bodies pressed one against the other, exploring, finding, exulting with their lips and tongues and hands and every part of their bodies and minds.

Cindy felt her body responding to him as it had never responded to anyone before. She had never known it could be like this. A delightful warmth, familiar and yet wonderfully different, flowed through her like a warm stream, growing with such an intensity that she felt she could hardly contain the ecstasy it brought with it. She began to moan and tremble as he kissed her and made love to her with his body. The hot lava of desire filled her, flooded her until she thought she would explode.

"Oh, Mike," she cried, "Mike, oh Mike oh Mike...."

Their bodies fused, became one. She found herself soaring to the heights of ecstasy, crescendoing higher and higher to a peak of excruciatingly beautiful sensual pleasure. The explosion came, starting slowly at first and then building, reverberating through every molecule of her body, making it shake and tingle and vibrate in delightful unison with his own....

Afterward, they lay together, naked, holding each other, letting the cool night caress their glistening bodies, listening to the music, absorbing the peace and the quiet and the contentment of their being together.

"I'll go down and get your suitcase," he said.

"But...."

"Shut up," he said gently, kissing her. "You're going to stay here with me. We're going to get married and live happily ever after. Understand?"

She smiled at him, contented, and snuggled in his arms. "You're not going out for the suitcase now, are you?"

"Not now," he said. "Maybe tomorrow morning. We've got a lot of things to catch up on first."

"Oh, like what?"

"It's easier to show you than tell you," he said.

"Show me, then," she said. He showed her. And he didn't bring her suitcase up until the next morning.