A Little Yearning Ch. 10

"Well, we ain't no Okies, neither," Frank said, as if Momo had somehow impugned the integrity of the great state of Texas. "Hell, I'll go showdown with you right now, Sonny," he said to Lucky, pushing a pile of chips forward. "Did you see the legs on that girl?"

"This is highly irregular," Spence drawled. "I dunno. What do you think, Henry?" By common consent and custom, Henry arbitrated any disputes that arose during the game.

Henry pursed his lips. "Well, as you gentlemen know, I'm just a simple Justice of the Peace, elected to office by the great people of this state and without the formal legal training of my esteemed colleague Spence here. . ."

"Come on, Henry," Frank was squirming in his seat. "Just give us the verdict. Do we except the party favor as legal tender or not?"

Henry shot Frank a look that had withered more than a few demonstrative miscreants into instant, abashed silence in his courtroom. In spite of his folksy manner, Henry was not a man you would wish to cross. He had friends in low places. "Don't rush me. Even the Constitution had a preamble." He looked around the table, and judging the general tenor of feeling on the matter, said, "Yes, barring objections, I would say yes, we do. First, you understand, Lucky, we'll need to send someone down the hall to verify that there really is a girl in your room."

Lucky nodded. "But of course."

"I'll go, I'll go," Frank waved his hand.

"Perhaps two men would be better," Lucky suggested.

Henry nodded. "Yes. We don't want anyone jumping the gun, do we?" he said, glaring at Frank. "Momo, you and Spence go have a look-see. They'll keep an eye on each other," he assured Lucky.

*

"If he's as good at poker as he is at running a sport's book, I doubt that dude's going to hold onto those panties very long," Spence said to Momo as they went down the hall.

"You wouldn't care to make a side wager on that, would you?" Momo remarked. "He's no fool, that Frenchie." He used the key to open the door.

"Do you think he already. . .?"

"What the hell are you whispering for?" Momo asked.

"I don't want to wake her up."

Momo looked down on the shorter man. "You think talking might do it, but porking her won't?"

Momo went through the small sitting room into the bedroom and turned on the bedside lamp. The girl lay with her hair spread out on the pillow. They stood for a moment, listening to her breath. Momo stepped over the to the bed and pulled down the blanket.

"What are you doing?" Spence asked nervously.

"I'm inspecting the merchandise," Momo said gruffly. He sat down beside her on the bed. Momo was sometimes called "the Butcher," which gave him a rather fearsome and quite undeserved reputation. In truth, as a young man he had worked dressing carcasses in the stockyards of Chicago. He had over-sized hands bristling with coarse black hair which he used with surprising gentleness to brush the hair off Chiclet's brow.

"She's gorgeous," Spence whispered reverently.

Momo grunted. "Pretty women ain't nothing but trouble. The prettier they are, the more trouble." He slipped the straps off her shoulders and rolled down her top to reveal her breasts. He molded them gently, brushing lightly over the nipples, which blushed at his touch. "The genuine article," he remarked. Spence made an uneasy noise deep in his throat.

Running his hand down her taut belly, Momo pulled up her short skirt. He nudged her legs apart and ran his hand up her thigh to where her neatly trimmed bush showed dark against her pale skin.

"You shouldn't. . ."

"Shut up, Spence." Momo cupped her sex in his hand and deftly probed with his middle finger.

"What are you doing!?"

Momo held his finger up to his nose and sniffed appreciatively. "You know, with some experience you can tell a lot about a woman by the way her pussy smells. You can tell if she eats meat or if she's one a them veegans. You can tell if she wears cotton panties or nylons. You can tell if she's kind-hearted or a stone-cold bitch. You can tell if she's been getting poked regular-like. You can even tell if she likes it or not. A Shy-town city girl don't smell nothing like a farm bred, corn fed blond, and an East Coast, Ivy league, high heeled broad don't smell like a bead wearing, bleach blond California girl. Good pussy shouldn't smell like nothing, it should smell like something. It's gotta have a certain bouquet, a kinda tang to it, you understand? Here," he grinned, holding up his wet finger, "you wanna smell or are you just gonna stand there nursing that hard-on?"

Spence took a half-step back, pulling his hand out of his pocket. "I think we've seen enough," he said. "We should be getting back."

Momo shrugged. "Well, take a good look then, cause it might be your last." He drew the blanket back up over her and tucked it carefully into place.

The rest of the players had been chatting amiably while Spence and Momo were away. The room fell silent as they came back in. They slid back into their chairs. Spence just gave a short nod.

"How is she?" Frank couldn't forbear asking.

"Just like fine wine," Momo said. "She's great."

"Some are born to greatness. Some achieve greatness. And some have greatness. . .thrrrust upon them!" Henry remarked. "Deal the cards, Jim."

*

After the game, Carmen and Jim drove their daughter Katie over to the hospital to see how Dwayne was doing. By the time they got there, the ER doctor attending him had started an IV and taken some X-rays. Initially, Dwayne seemed to be doing well. He was alert and protesting. He wanted to get up and go home. But later he became dizzy and relapsed into unconsciousness. There was trauma to the cervical vertebrae and his brain was concussed and swelling. They gave him some steroids and something to help him rest. When the doctor came out to the waiting room, he looked somber.

With Dwayne's prognosis uncertain, Katie wanted to stay. There were five girls from the cheerleading squad there, as well as some boys from the team, so Carmen and Jim decided to go home and leave her there with the others. "I'll get a ride home, no problem," she said. And after all, if she was going to be out late, what could be a safer place?

They were on the way out of the hospital when they ran into Billy Bonney. He had just driven up on Dwayne's old pickup and was trotting up to the entrance. He came to an abrupt halt. "Mrs. P-p-prado! Professor Donne!" His eyes darted back and forth between them. "I'm looking for my sister. Have you seen her?"

"The other girls are in the waiting room, but I haven't see her, Billy," Carmen said.

"I'm just looking for my s-sister, that's all," he stammered, stuffing his hands in his pockets and then taking them out, shuffling his feet, his Adam's apple pumping up and down. "Er, O.K. then." He sidestepped around them and hurried into the hospital.

Jim laughed. "What's he so antsy about?"

"I guess he's just nervous about Dwayne. That's Chiclet's brother, you know."

"He is?" Jim turned to watch him go into the hospital. "How do you know him?"

She shrugged. " I got him an after-school job in the stockroom down at the store. He's very energetic. He seemed to know you. Is he in one of your classes?"

Jim shook his head. "Not that I remember."

"How about Chiclet? Didn't you have her?"

Jim coughed roughly, bending over.

"You O.K., honey?"

"Sorry, frog in my throat." He thumped his chest. "No, Dwayne's in my class, but not Chiclet. I've just seen her around with the other cheerleaders, you know."

"Yes, you'd tend to notice her, wouldn't you? She's certainly attractive."

"Well, if you prefer that kind of uber-blond," he said, slipping his arm around her waist. "Myself, I prefer a more sophisticated kind of lady."

*

The girls from the cheerleading squad were sitting together on one side of the hospital waiting room, looking glum and pale in the florescent light. They gathered around Billy as he came in, glad of the interruption.

"Has anyone seen my sister?" he asked. "She told me she was coming over here, but as I was leaving the stadium I saw my, er, her car sitting in the lot with the air out of the tires. I thought maybe she might have gotten a ride over."

"She hasn't been here. Have you tried her cell phone?"

"All I get is her voice mail."

"Maybe she went home," one of the girls suggested. "She was kinda freaked out."

"I guess. Well, if you see her, tell her call me, would you?"

Billy gave a nod to them and started back out of the hospital. He was just outside the entrance when he heard someone call out his name. He turned to find Katie hurrying after him.

Billy's breath caught in his throat. Talking with the other girls, he had been trying hard not to stare at Katie, afraid his emotions would be plainly written on his face. Unlike the other girls, she had changed out of her cheerleading outfit. She had on a short skirt and ankle boots with three-inch heels, a high-necked blouse under a fitted jacket. She wore a wine red lipstick that went well with her complexion and her hair was tied back. She looked like she was dressed up for a date.

"Hi," she said. "I'm Katie."

"I know," Billy said. He caught himself staring at her breasts and made himself raise his eyes to her face. She smiled at him and he could feel his hands starting to sweat. He wiped them awkward down the sides of his jeans. Say something, he told himself, but continued to stare at her in dumb awe.

"The other girls call me Piglet. But I don't really like the name," she said.

"I know. . .I mean I know who you are. I've seen you around." An understatement if ever there was one.

"Listen," she said. "I think I can help."

Stepping closer she took him by the arm. Billy gave an involuntary jerk. It was like a jolt of electricity had jumped between them. Didn't she feel that? he thought. She was close enough her breasts brushed against him. Close enough for him to smell her.

Katie looked down curiously to where she was holding his arm. She could feel him trembling. He must be really upset. "It's O.K.," she said, putting her arms impulsively around him and giving him a hug. "We'll find your sister." She took a half-step back and looked him in the eyes. "I think I know where she might be. I left the locker room right after Chiclet. I saw her heading for her car, then I lost sight of her. But as I was leaving in the car with my parents, I saw Lucky's limo up ahead of us. Perhaps it was just a coincidence, but I'm thinking maybe she left with him."

"But why would she do that?" Billy asked. "You know she doesn't like Lucky. She told me he was a bad influence on Dwayne. That's exactly what she said, 'a bad influence.'"

"You don't know what he's capable of, that French guy." Katie agreed.

She was not being entirely straightforward with Billy. Outwardly she looked concerned, anxious to help, but an ugly welter of feelings churned just below the surface of her calm demeanor. She was all mixed up about Lucky, prey to emotions that caused her to regard herself with more than a little shame and self-loathing. It was obvious she was no more than a passing fancy to him, a toy to be used and carelessly discarded, and yet she still found herself attracted to him. What kind of spell had he exerted over her that she still had these feelings for him? He had abused her trust, made her do stuff that she never would have consented to, and still she was hoping he'd take her out? Didn't she have any self-respect at all? But yet he really hadn't gotten to know her, she told herself. His feelings would change when he got to know her.

Just before the start of the game they'd met in passing. He was with a group of older men and she was with the squad. Lucky waved to her and smiled and yelled something. She couldn't hear him over the noise. He beckoned to her, but she had to go. After the game, she told her parents she was going over to the hospital with some of the other girls. Then she'd gone to the locker room and gotten all dressed up and fixed her makeup and went to look for his limo. It had been easy to spot across the parking lot. She hurried, awkward in her heels. She was just in time to see Lucky usher Chiclet into the car. She yelled but they didn't hear her. She almost ran after them and would have made a real fool of herself. Instead, she just stood there with tears running down her cheeks, thinking how much she'd like to go after the both of them with a baseball bat.

By then, the other cheerleaders had already left for the hospital, so she got a ride over with her parents. Her Mom had eyed her curiously, but hadn't asked why she was all dressed up.

At the time, she hadn't even considered that Chiclet could have been tricked, rather than just plain seduced, into the limo. But now that she thought it over, it seemed more than likely, especially given the information that the air had been let out of her tires. That had Lucky written all over it.

"But how are we going to find them now?" Billy asked. "They could be anywhere?"

"I know where he's staying," Katie said. "I gave my mother a ride to work the other day so I could borrow the car. The store's down in Old Town. There was a white Hummer limo parked at the Cowpie. It's right down the block. It must be where he's staying. How many of those do you suppose there are?"

Billy nodded gravely. "I'm going down there."

"Wait," she said. "When I was just a kid my Aunt Claudia worked there part time as a maid. She used to baby-sit me, and sometimes if she had to she'd take me into work with her. I know that hotel like the back of my hand. I'm coming with you."

*

When they got to the hotel, Billy cruised around the parking lot in Dwayne's motley pickup. They found Lucky's limo parked out back.

"Do you think they're in there?"

Katie considered for a moment and then shook her head. "It's possible, but I'm guessing he's probably taken her up to his room. There's no light coming from the back of the limo, and why bother to drive back here if you're not going to use the room? Park the truck. We'll go in and see."

The high-ceilinged lobby of the grand old hotel was still busy with people at twelve-thirty in the morning. The sound of live western swing was coming from the hotel bar, washing across the space where knots of people still clustered about the padded furniture and potted plants. Flanking the entrance to the bar were a couple manikins, one dressed in a Gusher football jersey, the other in a cheerleader's outfit. A banner draped across the entrance read "Go Wildcats!"

Katie glanced around the lobby and grabbed a brochure some salesman had left on one of the tables. "You wait here," she said to Billy and then strode across the room confidently to the reception desk. She scrawled something across the face of the brochure and waited for one of the two attendants to come down to her.

"I'd like to leave this for Mr. Rubempre," she said.

"Certainly, miss. Is there anything else we can help you with?"

"No. Thank you." She idled by the counter, leafing through a display of tourist handouts while the night clerk turned to place her message in one of the cubbyholes that were ranked on the wall behind the counter. He blocked her view as he slotted it into place as she had anticipated he might, which is why she had used something larger than a simple note. The folded brochure stood out plainly in the cubbyhole. Above it was lettered in faded gold: Room 415. Beside the cubbyholes there was a pegboard for the room keys. There were two keys for every room. One of the keys for 415 was not there.

"He's there," she told Billy, drawing him across the lobby to the elevators. "Come on."

"What are we going to do?"

"The simplest thing would be to just go up and bang on his door, don't you think?"

"I don't know," Billy said nervously. "Couldn't we just call him? Wait. This elevator only has a buttons for three floors."

"You have to get onto another elevator at the third floor. There're only about a dozen suites on the fourth," she explained.

At the third floor, Katie led him down the corridor to the right. Turning a corner, they could see the landing for the fourth floor elevator. There was a security guard slumped on a stool beside the elevator, his nose buried in a newspaper.

Katie frowned and drew Billy back around the corner. "I didn't expect that. I doubt he'll let us past unless we have a key or the desk calls to clear us."

"Maybe we should just call Lucky on the phone?"

"And what good would that do? He could be hurting your sister right now. Come with me," she said determinedly. Grabbing him by the arm, she went back into the elevator and returned them to the lobby. Once there she turned down the hallway past the front desk, along side of the restaurant. Toward the back there was a door on one side that gave access to the kitchen and a loading dock. On the other side of the hall was an unmarked door that led into a small changing room for the staff. She had Billy wait in the hall while she ducked quickly inside, then she came out to let him in.

"This is where the cleaning crew change," she explained to him. "There's no one on duty at this time of night, but I doubt the security guard would know that. He's just an rent-a-cop they hire for special occasions."

"A cop?" Billy swallowed. "What special occasion?"

"I don't know, but you can bet he wasn't hired by Lucky just to keep us off the fourth floor so don't worry about it."

She was flinging open the lockers and examining the uniforms hung inside. "Hah!" she said, holding up a pass key she had found in one of the pockets.

"What, do we just show him that?" Billy asked.

"No," she considered. "There's no tag like a room key." She pulled out a blouse and skirt and held it up against her. Then she started to take off her jacket. "We'll have to change," she said.

"You're not going to dress me up in that," Billy said. "No way."

"Come on, Billy," she said. "We don't have time to argue about this. There's no other way. I can't handle Lucky by myself."

"Do you expect me to pass for a cleaning lady? Are you crazy?"

"He won't even give you a glance," she assured him. "When you put on that uniform you become invisible, believe me." She eyed him speculatively. "Here, this should fit. Take off your jeans and put it on."

"I can't," he insisted.

"Why not?"

"I'm not wearing any underwear," he said, reddening.

"Oh, for Pete's sake. Here. I won't look," she promised him.

Billy turned away from her and took off his shoes. He glanced over his shoulder. She was searching the other lockers. Quickly he stripped off his jeans and pulled on the white blouse and blue skirt. "This is a really bad idea," he said. He caught sight of himself in a mirror across by the door. He looked like a teenage boy in a Halloween costume. He wouldn't fool a blind man.

"Here!" Katie said exultantly. "I thought I'd find one."

"That's a wig," Billy said. "I'm not wearing that."

"Come on, it doesn't have cooties," she said. "Hold still." She slipped it over his head and pulled it forward and down. "Perfect," she said, tucking in few stray hairs.

"I'm not doing this," Billy said. "I've got tennis shoes on."

"No one's going to look at your feet. Let's go," she said impatiently. "One more word from you and I'll get out the lipstick." She pushed him toward the door and out into the hall.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he accused her. But he was used to being bossed around by Chiclet. It was easier just to go along.

Facing the wall, Billy sidled down to the elevators in an awkward side-step. They rode up to the third floor with an older couple who only had eyes for each other. As Katie had predicted, as two maids they were just part of the wallpaper. The couple were chatting animatedly about the music, and the man kept reaching out to touch his companion on the arm or the shoulder or the hip. He had a wedding ring. She didn't. Billy thought he could have been wearing a big red clown's nose and they wouldn't have noticed.