Chapter 15

Opening day was a bang!

She was up at six o'clock in the morning, scrubbed and perfumed and down at the store by seven. She was glad that she had scheduled the opening on a Saturday. The kids had no school, it was the day of the week that people did most of their spending; it was also the most exalted day in Rita's life.

She was trembling with excitement as she rushed back and forth through the store. There were a million details to attend to; but would there ever be time? The opening festivities were set for two o'clock less than six hours to go.

"I still wish you'd back out of it," Henry pleaded, phoning her at the store. "It's not too late, you know."

"Henry, if I back out of this, I'll be backing out of things for the rest of my life."

"Which might not be long," he said. "Aren't you even a little bit concerned about ... about what happened?"

"You mean . .

"I mean somebody trying to put a bullet through your head. Doesn't it worry you?"

"To tell the truth, I haven't had the time to worry about it."

"But somebody tried to kill you. Doesn't that mean anything?"

"Of course it does. I'm not a fool. But if they wanted to kill me, they would have. And they've had a whole week to try again and they haven't." She paused. "Henry, someone was trying to scare me." They wanted me to quit and I won't."

"But they'll try again, Rita. And they may try it tonight."

She said, "That's a chance I'll have to take."

"But.. r

"I'm running out of time, Henry. I'll talk to you when you get here." She hung up.

Then, for what seemed like an eternity, she stood and stared at the phone. Henry's morbid reflections were still echoing through her mind, and she knew it was very possible that somebody would try something. She supposed that it was Juneau who had arranged for the shooting scare, but she hadn't discounted Dr. Grossman as a suspect; and there might be a thousand fanatic, do-gooders here in Temple City who would do no less if they had the chance.

But she wasn't going to worry about it. Not now. And there were pills to eradicate those fears. Pills that sent new courage into her veins; pills that gave her the wild driving force of a maddened stallion. She had never taken six of them at one time before, but today she would need all the courage and ambition she could muster. The drug did not disappoint her; energy was limitless.

The countless peripheral duties that had to be done were done. She dressed the manikins, ran to the bank for silver, set up the counter displays, inspected price tags. She ordered more chairs for the fashion room, polished down the mirrors in the dressing rooms, and tied multi-colored balloons from the lighting fixtures in the ceiling. A catering firm had been contacted for the free refreshments she would serve, and at ll o'clock she began the most daring exploit of all.

According to earlier plans, this was when her teenage models arrived. She dressed them in fetching kelly-green short-shorts, white wooly sweaters and black patent leather spike-heeled shoes. They had over 3,000 handbills to distribute; by noon, the teenagers were stationed at busy downtown street corners, passing out the advertisements.

"And this is one part of it that I don't like," Henry had said earlier. "They'll be half-naked. You can't get away with it."

"But I will." And then with a giggle: "You see, I'm intimately acquainted with the city's Law Director."

But Police Chief Paul Juneau felt no different. In fact, he phoned just after the girls began passing out the handbills:

"Do you have any idea what kind of an explosion those girls are causing? I've had over thirty complaints in just the past 15 minutes. Indecent exposure, contributing to the delinquency of a minor ... what the hell am I supposed to do?"

Rita replied, "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."

"But this is putting it on too thick, Rita. The citizens won't stand for it."

"And I don't give a hoot in hell about your precious citizens."

"But it's the citizens that run this town." She was colder and more callous than she had ever been in her life. "Not any more they don'. "

"But, Rita...."

"Don't worry about it, Chief. You'll think of some-thing."

"You're crazy, woman. As crazy as a loon."

To which Rita replied: '

"See you at two o'clock, Chief...."

By two-fifteen, the store was jammed. The opening ceremonies had been pointed, brief. Juneau had made a short address to the crowd; Henry Ridgewood had sliced the ribbon. Thereupon, a five piece high school band had provided sidewalk music and the customers began streaming into Rita's Shop for Teens.

To say business was brisk would have been an understatement; business was rushing, chaotic, wild. Rita was delirious with happiness, but Ridgewood stately in his funereal black suit-was far more cautious. He gloomily predicted that there would be trouble; and his uniformed counterpart, Police Chief Juneau, shared these predictions.

Rita refused to let the two men dampen her enthusiasm. She controlled the Law Director, the Police Chief, business was flourishing; their pessimism, she reasoned, could only be attributed to jealousy. They were envious because of all the money she was making; this was the only way they could strike back. And if they truly believed that there would be trouble, they certainly weren't in a hurry to get out of the way. They remained when they didn't have to, made passing jokes to her scantily-clad teenage models, used the swarming crowds as an excuse to rub against the young girls who had flocked into her store.

At five o'clock, she decided to close the store for two hours. It would give her a chance to straighten out the mess, catch her breath, and prepare for the MEN ONLY opening, which was scheduled for seven o'clock.

"And we can all go in the back room and have something to eat," she suggested.

And Police Chief Juneau, a little drunk from the bourbon he'd been nipping out of sight, said, "Which one?"

They all laughed. Even Ridgewood, so stiffly conventional, was now loosening up. He realized that his fears had been groundless, and he said:

"I'm not going in that back room. I rape too easy." But he went-and fast.

Rita locked the front door; then the cash register. The teenagers, their boyfriends, Ridgewood and

Juneau, shuffled into the back of the store. Rita drew the curtain that separated the front from the back.

Juneau popped open a bottle. Ridgewood was peeling the metal band off another. The tray of sandwiches was ignored. Everybody wanted to drink. Police Chief Juneau insisted that they all toast Rita's apparent success.

He was gracious, complimentary, Rita was touched with compassion.

"I told her it couldn't be done," Juneau said, hoisting his glass into the air in a gesture of tribute, "but she proved me wrong. And I give you Temple City's prettiest young lady, a fireball of energy who can't fail because she doesn't know how."

The kids clapped. And with additional bourbon, even Henry Ridgewood became dewy-eyed with respect and admiration. He kissed her lightly, and said, "You've done the impossible, Rita. Congratulations!"

Rita floated to a pink cloud. Happiness washed over her; and in tearful abandon, she embraced the teenagers one-by-one and simpered her thanks.

Revelry followed. Revelry and madness. And the merrymaking swelled out of control, but after so much hard work by the teenagers, Rita couldn't blame them for wanting to have some fun. She joined in with the festivities. Liquor flowed like the April rains.

From boisterous joke-telling, they went to dance; from dance they went to necking. No one tried to define the direction of the celebration; things happened too rapidly for that.

Rita made no effort to discourage the merrymaking. They had two hours before they re-opened. If the kids wanted to cut loose and let their hair down, why not?

She re-fortified her ebbing energy with two more pills; and suddenly she was in Ridgewood's arms, being urged toward one of the dressing rooms. She balked at the invitation-not a reincarnation as a prude, she explained to him-but she didn't want to be cut off from the rest, and if they were having fun she wanted to be a witness to it.

Henry disengaged himself; a moment later he had pulled one of the teenagers to a darkened corner for a closer and more private examination of her bikini.

Slopped up with more bourbon, Police Chief Juneau was reaching new depravities: He had mounted his 13 year old stepdaughter on his lap and was playing peek-a-boo with the wispy halter she wore. It apparently made no difference to him that some of the others were watching; and if these fondling manipulations had any ill effect on the girl, she was reluctant to show it. In fact, when his thick pudgy hands dropped to her naked thighs and began fumbling with her leather short-shorts, the girl eased her legs apart and kissed him.

Rita turned her back on his depraved perversions and on Henry Ridgewood, who was kneeling obsequiously before 16-year-old Carlotta. Their degeneracy sickened her; particularly so because these two men were supposed to represent law and order, justice and decency. But they were the biggest hypocrites of all.

Joel seized Rita from behind. He kissed her neck, her ears.

"Having a good time?" he whispered.

She turned and flung herself into his arms. "It's like a dream," she said happily. "A dream come true. The store is a...."

"I didn't mean the store. I meant this...." He kissed her hotiy on the mouth. His hands rambled at her breasts, surged her with desire. He jammed his body against her. His tongue told of his passion.

Fata trembled with a wave of anxious want. Joel drew her away from the others. He fumbled under her sweater. Rita's eyes swam. She moaned as his hands crawled under her flimsy bra and touched her nipples. Time ran away with her ... and so did desire.

The others-Rita saw them over Joel's shoulder-followed the example they witnessed. An insidious Roman orgy developed. The raucous laughter of teenage boys filled the perfumed darkness. The scantily-clad teenage girls screamed and giggled; some of them moaned. Bikini bathing suits became undone. Short-shorts were slid from squirming thighs. Boys' trousers were opened, dropped. Hell and sin broke loose; a shocking and shameless abandon prevailed over the ebbing instincts of morality and goodness. Prudence succumbed to passionate gasping and writhing bodies. Virtue was dead.

The commotion came too rapidly for anyone to notice it Rita heard the loud angry voices; but by that time it was too late. Someone threw a brick through the store's plate glass window; then another.

The kids scrambled wildly for their clothing. Rita dug her nails into Joel's face and crawled to her feet A mob of angry people broke through the front door. Rita panicked. She couldn't find her dress and she was not alone in her confused intoxicated befuddlement. Midst screams and clamor, the naked teenagers ran for their, clothes and cover.

Wild disorder prevailed. A mob of angry women raced through the stores, shouting, swinging ball bats and clubs, carrying banners and placards; and they broke everything in sight

Rita seized a whiskey bottle and hurtled it into the mob. Glass broke. Counters were smashed. Garments were ripped from their hangers and stomped amid the broken glass. The women went wild.

"Bitches!" Rita screamed. She threw more bottles. One of them struck a woman in the head. She sagged.

The teenagers began scrambling and pushing out of the back room. Ridgewood grabbed his clothes. In just his shorts, he tried to make it to the front door. He ran into a ball bat and went down.

Juneau blew his police whistle. A two-by-four split his face open. He fell.

Somebody yelled:

"There she is! Let's get her!"

Rita leaped at the hordes of women who closed in on her. The kids rallied behind her. Forces met. Obscenities flew. Angry shouts and screams exploded amid the rubble.

Somebody slapped Rita in the mouth. She balled up her fists and struck out at space. She slammed a fat woman between the eyes. She raked two faces open with her nails.

"Dirty lousy bitches...." She kicked and screamed and flung a wild torrent of obscenities at them. And suddenly, everything went black...