Mister Sandman Ep. 03

ALL CHARACTERS ARE ADULTS

We're born alone, we die alone, and cope, mostly on our own, in between.

"Where we goin'?" Jehmu Brown asked. Joe didn't say, but made her pack her suitcase and get in his van soon after he learned his old lady died and he was likely the number one suspect. "You gonna kill me?"

"What makes you say that?" Joe replied.

"I heard your friend say to get rid of me."

"I'm putting you on a bus outta town."

"I got no money and I got no place to go."

"I got money for you."

"Why can't I just stay at your place?"

"Because I can't take care of you and me at the same time."

"I can take care of me," she argued.

He took her to the bus station, gave her twenty-five one hundred dollar bills stuffed in an envelope. The station looked like homeless bum heaven with wasted derelicts loitering, sleeping on benches, and shuffling about the sidewalks. Plenty more derelicts clogged the restrooms. Something in leopard spotted leotards with a pile of pink mall hair and a guitar slung over her shoulder smiled at Joe.

Joe bought Jehmu's ticket to Atlanta, left the bus station, and got about a mile away before he was stopped by a cop from the Toy Town Police Department. The cat was out of the bag. The cop pulled Joe over, pulled out a pistol and cuffs, cuffed Joe, and stuffed him in the back of the Crown Vic. At the police station the officer put Joe inside a chain-link storage area, shackled him to a steel electrical pipe after a stop at the water fountain and toilet, then left the bay to write the arrest report.

Toy Town was a county landfill sixty years ago, before the EPA closed it. In the years since then it became a retiree trailer park with a small police department that evolved from a Crime Watch Team when the town incorporated.

The police station was once a gas station, it's jail was a storage room in the back behind the office, the holding cell was a prefab chain-link cage bolted to the concrete floor. Prisoners, for the most part, were disorderly drunks and hookers who wandered through. Cletus Corelly and Dodie, his old maid daughter, manned the office from 8AM till 5PM five days a week, the county sheriff dispatched officers at other times. Cletus was the mayor and police chief, Dodie was his clerk daughter.

About noon the station mechanic Cooter McCoon came in the garage. Joe asked him to send the cop back for a moment. "Could you do me a favor?"

"What's that?" Cooter responded.

"Ask the officer who arrested me to come here for a minute," Joe replied.

"Ain't nobody out there, I s'pect they all went to eat, but I'll write a note for yuh," Cooter offered.

"And could you bring me a cup of water?"

"No problem." Cooter left and returned soon with the water. "I put the note where they'll see it soon as they get back."

"Any chance of me going to the toilet?"

"Sorry, I need a key for that and a key to unlock your shackles, and I ain't got neither one," Cooter replied.

Detective Chenille Vilain sat at THE GREASY SPOON DINER for one solid hour waiting for Jehmu Brown to arrive for their appointment. Jehmu was a no-show when Chenille finally threw in the towel, shouldered her bag, put a tip on the table, paid her bill, and left.

Chenille was looking for Joe Hooker, too, and like Jehmu Joe was missing in action. Chenille drove by the trailer park. No answer at the door, no van parked in the driveway. Chenille looked around then opened the trailer door with an old credit card she used for such occasions, and slipped inside.

The trailer was dark and quiet. Chenille visually scanned the kitchen and living room, noted a suitcase lying on the sofa, and walked to the back of the trailer and the bedroom where she saw someone beneath a pile of bedspread and sheet. "Jehmu," Chenille thought and pulled a handgun from her bag. "Get up!" She said to Jehmu. Jehmu rolled over and opened her eyes.

"What you want?" Jehmu growled.

"Where's your honey?"

"I don't know," Jehmu replied.

"Nonsense! Give him up right now or you're going to jail," Chenille threatened.

"For what? I didn't do nuthin," Jehmu raised up, and sat on the side of the bed to pull a tee shirt over her head and tits. "You see my shorts anywhere?" Chenille looked around the floor, spotted the shorts, and lifted them with two fingers like they were a soiled diaper.

"Thanks," Jehmu said, and took them, pulling them up her thighs, and over her plump ass and puffy belly. That done Jehmu followed Chenille to the living room.

"When did you see Joe last?" Chenille asked.

"This morning," Jehmu said.

"Keep going."

"He came home from his mom's house about dawn and talked to a man I never seen before."

"What did they talk about?"

"The man told Joe that his mom was dead and the cops had his tag number from someone who saw him at her house. The man told Joe to get rid of me."

"To kill you?"

"That's what I thought he wanted, but Joe took me to the bus station, then left. Told me he can't take care of me and hisself."

"What did the other man look like?"

"Pretty tall and big, blonde hair, talks like a girl. Thick glasses."

"Why'd you come back here?"

"I got no place to go, and no money."

"Didn't Joe give you any money?"

"No. I s'pose he expected me to work for the bus fare and burgers, then work some more for rooms."

"Open the suitcase."

"What for?"

"Cause I said open the suitcase!"

"It's unlocked."

"Then open it!"

Jehmu opened it sullenly then Chenille examined the contents.

"Where'd you get all these new clothes?"

"I bought them."

"No you didn't, every dime you get goes for weed and crack," Chenille said. "Did Joe buy them? Sure he did! And you sleep with him for a place to stay."

"You don't know my business!" Jehmu snapped back.

"I know you're in a world of trouble. Let's go for a ride."

"Where to?" Jehmu was suspicious.

"Nowhere special, just a ride; I wanna smoke. Get your purse and c'mon," Chenille said. "And lemme look at that purse, first." They got in Chenille's Malibu sedan and drove to the country, first along a canopy road where the trees form a roof above drivers, then down a gravel trail that led to a path that went back into the woods and an old Airstream camping trailer parked close to a natural spring that became a stream then a creek. The water was clear with a constant seventy degree temperature year round. A wood deck and privacy fence surrounded the spring. A gate across the stream kept critters out of the spring. The site was remote and isolated. Chenille parked and opened her door.

"What we gonna do here?" Jehmu asked.

"Make love," Chenille replied. "Get outta the car." Chenille walked around the Malibu, unlocked the Airstream door, started up the air conditioning, then lowered the awning outside.

The sixteen foot Bambi model featured a double bed at one end, a sofa at the other end, and a kitchenette and shower in the middle. Jehmu came inside with Chenille when the awning was raised. Chenille pulled two bath towels from the closet, offered one to Jehmu, and removed her clothes. "We're going swimming first," Chenille said then kissed Jehmu quickly. "You want a swim suit you're shit outta luck. When we get back this place be cool."

Chenille covered herself with a terrycloth robe and handed a larger robe to Jehmu, a robe that fit Chenille's husband. Then they walked to the spring where they removed the robes behind the privacy fence. Chenille dove in the water and went deep. Jehmu sat on the edge of the deck, testing the water with her toes. Chenille expelled a cloud of bubbles from her lungs and swam to the surface near Jehmu.

Miles away, at the Toy Town Police Station, Joe Hooker peed into the empty Styrofoam water cup but its eight ounce capacity was too little to contain all of Joe's pee, and there was no other container for it inside the cage. So he aimed as far away from himself as possible and let it go.

Back at the spring Chenille coaxed Jehmu into the water, mostly to cleanse Jehmu's pussy, then had Jehmu get out of the water to lie atop a chaise longue on the deck. "I never been with a woman before," Jehmu confessed.

"As many times as you been to jail, I don't believe that at all. I asked around, and you're popular with plenty of girls. So shut up and spread your legs." Jehmu obeyed Chenille, and Chenille wasted no time getting better acquainted with Jehmu's plump gash with tongue and lips and fingers. "You like it docha, whore?"

"Uh huh," Jehmu cooed. Chenille kept working on Jehmu till the woman expelled a strong squirt of water out her pussy.

Then Chenille climbed atop Jehmu and pressed her cunt against Jehmu's face. "Eat it good." Jehmu ate it with plenty of lust till Chenille moaned, spasmed, and ceased moving.

Back inside the trailer Chenille retrieved a crack pipe from a concealed spot, filled it with a rock, lit the pipe, and made Jehmu smoke the whole bowl then more, then made Jehmu eat her some more, and use a strap-on till both were exhausted and wasted.

Lying together on the double bed, Chenille stroked Jehmu's gash and kissed her hair. "From now on you belong to me, you're my whore, do you understand?"

"Uh huh," Jehmu replied.

"That means you gonna share Joe with me; that gonna be a problem when I fuck him?"

"No," Jehmu said.

"You want his baby, doncha?"

"Uh, huh."

"That's okay, just stay outta my way when I want his cock, too." Chenille inserted a dildo in Jehmu. "You'll get youre baby and plenty of pussy and crack from me and tell me what I wanna know, and do as I say. Got a problem with that?"

"No," Jehmu replied. "That feels so good."

"You want another rock?"

"Maybe."

Chenille and Jehmu finished up their quality time Sunday night, and Chenille drove Jehmu back to the trailer park. At the trailer Chenille handed Jehmu a vial of rocks and some cash. "When you want some more I do, too. Keep in touch."

Jehmu kissed her. "It's early. You ain't gotta leave so soon."

"I gotta go, my old man probably home by now; hook one of these trailer tramp neighbors of your's, you might make a new friend. Or go to the mall amd pick up a soccer mom."

"The mall closed, I thought of that already."

On Monday morning when Cooter McCool came to work the garage bay was filled with the stench of Joe Hooker's shit and pee. Joe had been forgotten and remained shackled to the electric pipe almost three days. No food, water, heat, or restroom use. Cooter grabbed Cletus Corelli and made him go in the garage. "Goddamn! Take his clothes off and hose him down. Then find the piece of shit who arrested the man and make him transport him to the county jail."

"He called in sick, Cletus," Cooter replied.

"Then you take him!"

"I ain't a cop."

"I don't give a goddamn, take his nasty ass over to the county jail!"

"In what?"

"In your car," Cletus said.

"I ain't driving him nowhere in my car! You gotta nuther think coming, old man!"

Dodie walked in about that time. "Dodie, drive this prisoner over to the county jail," Cletus said.

"Yes, daddy," Dodie replied. "What you want me to drive?"

"Bring your truck in the bay and put him in the back," Cletus said. "Then run by the carwash when you're done. Lemme go find a chain to tie him down with."

Dodie was thirty-something with short, permed, blonde hair. She looked like a plump poodle. Her eyes were hazel. She was stout and robustly built with thick legs, wide hips, thick arms, ample breasts, and a double chin. Her husband ran off with a Jehovah's Witness long ago. She lived alone with a cat.

Cooter lifted the garage door, Dodie parked her truck close to the prisoner cage, and Cooter pulled the door down. When Cletus returned with a chain he opened the cage and ordered Joe out. "Get your ass in the back of the truck. Cooter! Fix him up." Cletus completed the forms and Joe was ready to roll in an hour.

The ride to the county jail was unremarkable but the jail refused to accept Dodie's prisoner. "Get him medically cleared at the emergency room, first," they told her. Cletus cussed when she called him for instructions.

Joe suggested a way she could make some easy money, "Drive me by my house and let me shower and change clothes."

"I don't know," Dodie hesitated.

"It's worth five hundred dollars if you do," Joe explained.

"You'll probly try and escape," Dodie reminded him.

"What will that cost me?" Joe asked.

"I don't know," she replied.

"A thousand enough?" He suggested.

"I could go to prison," she said.

"Not if I escape," Joe said. "Take me by my house and I'll get you the cash."

"Fifteen hundred dollars?" She asked. "And you swear you won't run till we get to the hospital?"

"Sure," Joe replied.

"Okay, where do you live?"

Joe gave Dodie his address and they went to his trailer. A Mercedes convertible was parked in his driveway. Jehmu was in bed with a woman Joe didn't know. A red head who fled to the bathroom and reminded Joe of Maureen Dowd, a little younger. "Tell her to hurry it up I gotta shower," he said to Jehmu. "I thought I put you on the bus?"

"I got to missing you and came back."

"You look like you were missing me," Joe smirked. "Where'd you find your friend?"

"We met down at the Quickie Mart," Jehmu said. "Her old man is away and she decided to go slumming. You smell like shit."

"You have a good nose," Joe replied as he collected clothes and shoes in an old awol bag or gym bag as they're now called.

"You want your money back?" Jehmu asked.

"Not unless you're gonna piss it away and starve," Joe replied as he walked to the kitchen to look in the cabinet for something. He pulled out a thermos bottle, unscrewed the cap, dumped out a fat roll of money, and counted out several hundred dollar bills. "Here," he held the money out to Dodie. She took it.

He saw the red head come out of the bathroom. "We'll go as soon as I shower." Joe undressed and let the women watch. Red was sitting on the bed, smoking when Joe came out.

At the hospital Dodie let Joe out of her truck. "Gimme fifteen minutes then phone your daddy," Joe suggested.

"You could stay with me,"Dodie suggested. "Lemme give you my address and you can come around after dark? You can stay till the heat dies down."

"I caused you enough trouble already," Joe said.

"You're no trouble," Dodie said.

After her red headed friend left Jehmu called Chenille. "Joe came by this morning with a woman I don't know. He took a shower, packed a gym bag, and left with the woman, I got her tag number. "

"Thanks, baby, I owe you. Call me if anything else happens," Chenille hung up after she had the tag number.

Meanwhile Joe went to the hotel to check on the stash of cash Mike Glinda gave him. Glinda was waiting for him. "How was your stay at the peedee, Joseph?"

"It's spooky how you know everything," Joe replied.

"Little birds tell me things," Glinda said. "I got a job for you. Oh! I almost forgot, several Cuban ladies will require your assistance in a month or so, so you need to get going fixing up this place."

"What sort of job you got in mind?"

"He's a local low-life named Tyrone Mohammed Islam who's worn out his welcome with our patrons. Make him go away, to paradise if you can," Glinda said as he handed Joe an envelope.

"What about my problems?" Joe raised the issue.

"Don't worry about it, our patrons are understanding and forgiving people. Focus on your assignments and the other will take care of itself. I take it you weren't close to your mother?"

" She was a great piece of ass."

"What do you have in mind for the woman you live with?" Glinda asked.

"We don't live together, but I'm thinking of pimping her," Joe replied.

"Keep her on the street and out of here," Glinda made it seem like a warning more than advice. "She's a hot dog cart, not fine dining. Let her use your trailer for now."

"What about the park owner?"

"It's under new management and owners," Glinda said.

"Who?"

"Me," Glinda replied. "But I want you to move out and move here. As soon as possible."

Joe was warming a bench when Tyrone Mohammed Islam came out of Dewey's Musical Bar during rush hour two days later. Tyrone was wasted and giggling with his companions. Joe stared at Tyrone. Tyrone saw it. "What you lookin at, fool?" Tyrone's aspect changed to a hard frown.

'I'm watching you, Tyrone," Joe stood up. "I'm curious to see if you can run across this busy street without getting run over. What do you think?"

"I think you're fulla shit," Tyrone said.

"Then come on over here and let's see," said Joe.

"Kiss my mutha fuggin ass!" Tyrone replied.

"Come on over here, man."

"Mutha fucka you better get your tired ass down the road before your luck dumps your ugly ass."

Joe pulled out a double-barrell Russian made 26.5 flare pistol. "C'mon over here, Tyrone. I'm gonna count three and shoot you if you're not here by then. One! " The cartridges looked like 12 gauge shotgun shells, but filled with rock salt not 30 caliber lead pellets.

Tyrone walked over to Joe.

"Stand on the curb facing the street. That's right. When I say GO you take off for the other side as fast as you can. OK? I'm gonna fill your ass with hot salt if you're still here." Joe smiled at Tyrone's friends. "Ready, Tyrone?"

"Fuck you mutha fucka," Tyrone snarled.

"Go!" Joe said without warning. Tyrone jumped onto the pavement, dodged the first car, and the second, and was hit by a truck when he crossed the center-line. Joe then waved the pistol around the scene to chase away witnesses, then left the scene on foot.

Several blocks away a Mercedes stopped in the street, the driver lowered the passenger side window, and called to Joe, "Need a lift?" It was the red head he saw with Jehmu. She unlocked the door and Joe got in. "Where you headed?" She asked. "I didn't get your name last time, I'm Andrea."

"I'm Joe Hooker. I'm not going anyplace particular," he said.

"We could go to my home, or...maybe a motel; you interested?" She suggested.

"Let's go to my hotel," Joe said.

"You own a hotel?"

"You won't be impressed when you see it."

Andrea wasn't impressed. The lobby was dark and dusty and smelled of mildew. Joe led her through the lobby, through the bar to the staircase, then up the stairs to the third floor, and the room he reserved for himself. The old door opened on an austere scene. The old bedstead had a mattress on it but no sheets or pillows. The only light came from the windows. Joe raised one of the windows to let in some air, and closed the door.

Andrea Siple looked forty-ish with her soft skin and droopy breasts. Her red hair was shoulder length. Her eyes were green. After she undressed he saw her small breasts and dark nipples with fat tips, and her pubs were trimmed. He estimated she was five-six or so and around one-forty. The skin around her belly had old stretch marks. Jewish. She reclined on the mattress and Joe joined her.

"Did you bring protection?" She asked. "I'm still fertile."

"No," Joe replied.

"That's okay, I like to play with fire; I get cinged occasionally."

"I noticed," Joe said.

"I want you to burn me, will you do that?"

"If it takes all summer," he spoke softly.

"My husband likes it when I come home smelling like a fuck swamp, I like it, too. I like your girl friend, too."

"She's not my girl friend," Joe replied as he moved his tongue around her gash.

"Maybe the three of us can make love some time," Andrea suggested. "Ooo that feels good. Would you be okay if my husband watched?"