Harlotsville Ch. 02

Betty stood on her front porch, her fingertips chilly from handling wet laundry. She squinted, scanning the road expectantly.

In addition to being somewhat overgrown, the road was also very steep, ascending sharply to hillier countryside; from her vantage point, she could see no farther than the white footbridge at its perceivable peak.

She knew to watch that peak, for incoming visitors often first materialized there. And she anticipated this particular visitor with bated breath.

A wiggling glimmer over the bridge announced the arrival of Eugenia. The girl was jetting quite quickly on her bicycle. Her drab navy sundress billowed up to reveal her short powerful legs.

As she drew closer, Betty noticed how defined those legs had become; they were sinewy columns now, flexing dramatically with each forceful spin of the pedals. Betty unfolded her parasol and skipped out onto the sun-baked lawn to greet her.

Eugenia swiftly rode a head-spinning circle around Betty, then squeezed the breaks, raising a plume of dust into the air.

Alarmed, Betty started, blinking her stinging eyes rapidly. A familiar laugh filled her ears, nasal and scratchy. Immediately she felt as if the gap of time that had passed between her and Eugenia had become a chasm.

Her friend did not look much like she remembered. When they last saw one another, they were just out of grade school; Eugenia now had a rougher look about her.

She was redder about the face, with deeper freckles, and a wirier physique as well. Her hair had been chopped down to a boyishly short, tangled mess. Her legs and underarms were unshaven, and Betty could see a pair of fresh scars running down the length of the girl's left forearm.

By contrast, Betty had only blossomed. She was now quite svelte, standing nearly a full foot taller, though she remained uncommonly ample about the buttocks. Her long dark hair hung like a waterfall around her smooth face, contrasting sharply with her fair complexion and silvery eyes.

As Eugenia dismounted her bike, she shot Betty a sultry, knowing glance. It immediately made Betty nervous, and in that moment she felt ignominy begin to flourish within her.

Deep down, she knew that neither one of them had forgotten what happened years ago. She'd tried to put it in the past, and hoped her friend would as well, but that telltale stare made it clear that it would remain a point of reference.

"Hello there, doll face," Eugenia said casually, winking as her heel nudged the kickstand up.

"Eugenia..." Betty began, smiling meekly. She held her arms outstretched to invite a hug. "It's so nice to see you."

Eugenia strutted up to her, wordlessly nodding. As she moved in, her squinty eyes first locked with Betty's, filling the girl with further discomfort, before flitting down quickly to her waist.

Betty leaned forward, expecting an innocent embrace, but when Eugenia reached out in turn, her hands positioned themselves much lower. As she closed her arms around Eugenia's shoulders, Betty felt fingers clutch her buttocks. They squeezed roughly, then released.

"Oh!" She let out, her face flushing rapidly. "Eugenia!"

"Heheh. Sorry, I just wanted to say hi to my favorite part o' you. Well, second favorite,"

Eugenia said, brazenly adding a pat across Betty's bottom before stepping back and tucking her hands behind her back. "My first favorite part of you is your face. After all these years, you still are the prettiest girl I know, Betty. You look just like a doll, a real doll."

"Oh...thank you. You're pretty too, Eugenia..." Betty said, pursing her lips and squirming. She sounded more insincere than she intended, but the residual feeling of her friend's casual transgression weighed on her nerves.

"Me? You think? I don't hear that often. Maybe from some of the drunks down at my daddy's pub, but not from petty girls like you."

"Well, you should hear it more often," Betty said, trying to regain her smile. "I mean, from other people."

"Eh. I don't care. But you never told me that before, so maybe I'm minting? I remember how I would always tell you I think you're pretty, and you'd just laugh. You never said anything nice in return, ever."

"I didn't? Oh, that was so rude of me. I should have..."

"Don't worry your head about it, love. I know I'm not a pretty flower like you. Maybe I don't wanna be. Plus, I have other talents."

Betty fell silent. She heard the years of neglect and disenfranchisement in Eugenia's brash tone, and felt guilty that she hadn't done more to help her.

Although the assets had always been there, her parents were notoriously miserly, and they'd raised her to treat the poor with suspicion. It was a miracle they even let Eugenia into their house as often as they once had; what would mother and father think of her now?

"Oh, It really is so good to see you. I'm sorry I stopped writing you back, school became so hectic," Betty said, trying to distract the girl's intense gaze by making swift hand gestures as she spoke.

Eugenia looked her up and down with that same probing lasciviousness in her eyes, and chuckled under her breath, saying nothing in response.

Shaken, Betty spoke again, trying to remember that she was in the company of someone whom might benefit from more kindness in her life.

"Oh, where are my manners. You should come in, I'm sure my parents will love to catch up with you, and Annette still works here too—"

"Actually the main reason I'm visiting is because I thought you could help me out," Eugenia blurted aggressively, narrowing her eyes. "I can't really stay that long. I always liked your mum and dad, real nice folks I've always said. But y'know how parents are, they just wanna talk and talk...and I don't have much to say anyway. So I shouldn't get too comfortable."

"Oh..." Betty said, taking in a deep breath. She lifted her bangs above her forehead with twitchy fingers, holding them pregnantly as she waited to hear what was next.

"So. Can you help me out?"

"What do you mean?" Betty said, reaching over to fiddle idly with one of the pastel dresses flapping from her drying post. Eugenia's eyes followed her wherever she moved, synching with even her slightest gestures, and it filled the girl with greater unease.

"You know what I mean," Eugenia said calmly. "As I remember, you're pretty well-heeled. You have that big house there, an' I still see that stable, too. Remember how we used to ride your purebred horses around that field over there?" she said, pointing to the expansive blanket of rolling grass beyond Betty's 4-story house.

"Um. Well...my father sold the horses after I left for college. He thought they were too much of a hassle, and they were going to get old..."

"That's a shame. Those were some fine horses. I liked that spotted gray mare the best, I did. Remember I always picked her to ride?"

"I...uh, yeah..."

"Those were jolly times, weren't they Betty?"

"Uh, yeah. Haha," Betty said, recalling vividly the time Eugenia stole a riding crop from her horse stable and was later suspended from school for brandishing it in class. She felt guilty when she realized that her memories of actually riding horses with Eugenia, by comparison, were foggy at best.

"Anyway. So you can lend me some money, right?" Eugenia persisted. "I mean, it isn't any skin off your charmed back, is it? But a girl like me could use a few greenbacks, I could."

Eugenia spit on the ground and grinned. Betty dug the heels of her shoes into the ground nervously and spoke in a hushed tone.

"I'm not sure if I can give you money," she began, searching her friend's face and seeing immediate disappointment, even rage. "I-I'm really sorry, it's just...it isn't really mine to give."

"Isn't yours to give? Isn't yours to give? Oh! Where do you buy those fancy frocks and shoes, Betty? And I know you don't stay holed up in here all day, all dressed up and no place to go. You must have other friends, rich friends, and surely you must go to their dances and parties. Certainly one of them can help, if you can't?"

"I don't really have any other friends," Betty said. And it was true. She'd always leaned towards reclusion, and now with her parents growing weaker with age, she and her housemaid Annette were full-time caretakers. She rarely found time for socializing.

"Nonsense! If I had your money, I'd have all the friends in the world!" Eugenia shouted. In the distance, Betty could hear her dog begin to bark loudly.

"Look, Eugenia. My parents are pressuring me to marry soon. Maybe if I can find a beneficent enough suitor, I can convince his estate to donate to your family...I-I'd do it in a heartbeat...but as it stands, my parents would never allow me to simply give their money away. To charity, I mean."

"I'm not a charity! I'm your friend!" Eugenia snapped, anger and hurt burning in her face. "What will they notice, a few dollars missing from their spoils?"

"I'm sorry, Eugenia. It's just against my principles," Betty said, hating herself for her own rigidity, but feeling unable to free herself from it.

"Then I'm going to tell everyone," Eugenia said plainly. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

Betty froze. "Whatever do you mean?" She asked, her heart racing.

"I'm gonna tell everyone about what we did."

Betty felt faint. She wished dearly that Eugenia was talking about anything else. But she knew full well what she was referring to.

She'd thought of it often. The memory came to her most fluidly at night, when she lay in bed alone. Against all logic, she found that it often inspired her hands to wander about her body in the queerest of ways. Each time she failed to resist it, her secret well of shame deepened.

"Eugenia, I—"

"I swear to God, I'll tell everyone if you don't give me money."

"No one will believe you," Betty said, her brow crinkling in frustration.

"If you want to test that theory, be my guest," Eugenia said, a confident smirk returning to her face. "Down at the pub, one of the locals took a shine to me, and it just so turns out his name is Mr. Ralph E. Edgecombe. Ever heard of him?"

"No," Betty said, unconvincingly. The truth was that she had heard of him, but she wished she hadn't—he was a journalist infamous for his eviscerating, defamatory articles. Although considered yellow by some, she knew his influence on the street remained formidable.

"Oh, well you should worry about him. I know enough about you, your house, and your family to fill a book. In fact, I might do just that."

"What do you mean?" Betty shouted through clenched teeth.

"Y'know all those dirty commoners you never have to talk to? Maybe even the ones breaking their backs in the yards every day, so's to keep people like your dear ol' father stinking rich? Well, they believe everything Mr. Edgecombe writes. Those that can read, anyhow, and the ones who can't believe to the ones who can..."

"What's your point, Eugenia?"

"My point is that word on the street may be slow to blossom, but it endures, Betty, it endures. And any chivalrous fact-checkers who might rush to your family's defense would fast discover just how accurate my information is. I mightn't even have to mention the, ahem, carrot incident. I could use something much worse."

"You...y-you must be daft, Eugenia. You don't have anything real on me. Nothing you can prove—"

"Oh, I hate for it to come down to this, but so be it. The truth is, I used to snoop through your stuff when we were younger. I stole a few things. Some family photos, some notes."

"What?!"

"Mm hm. I never told you, but your father was cheating on your mother quite a bit. All kinds of women too, even negresses. Some of those love letters he wrote? They'd make for good print. Has his handwriting, signature, watermark an' all."

"You're lying!" Betty said, stomping her foot.

"I've been called a lot of things, but a liar hasn't ever been one that stuck, Betty. Something else you might want to know. Your mother silently aborted what would've been your younger sister."

"Shut up!" Betty screamed, her face twitching unbecomingly. "I don't believe you! Leave me alone if you don't want to be a...a courteous guest!"

"You should really hear yourself sometime, Betty," Eugenia said, mounting her bicycle. "You know where to find me if you change your mind. I figure you have until about 8 pm tonight. That's usually around the time Mr. Edgecombe comes into the pub."

"You wouldn't dare..." Betty fumed.

"A dare implies a risk, Betty, but I've got nothing left to lose. First thing I'll do is tell 'im about all the wonderful things I know about you, and show him all those sordid and racy notes your father so prolifically produced. Doesn't matter if we can't prove it all; you only need one hook to catch a fish. Like I said before, I may not have your looks, but I have other talents..."

Eugenia flipped her kickstand up and pushed against the pedals, taking off down the other end of the road, then cutting through the woods. Betty called after her, but it was too late.

Her friend had vanished into the wild.

To be continued...