Smoke Ch. 04

Copyright @ calibeachgirl

All rights reserved, 2011

Thanks to Doug, Elliot and Jim

Chapter 4: The Hardest Thing

The hardest thing... 'This is even worse than those crazy nights with Suzy,' Cindy realized.

She remembered taking all those strange men into her mouth for five dollars each. Each night there, she and Suzy made close to a hundred dollars each in such a short time; it was unbelievable. And, her husband Chris was such a drunken fool, he could have stayed home with her instead of dragging her to the bar where she had fallen into a new low of decadence.

As much as she wanted it to be his fault, though, she knew that as much as he was guilty of neglect, she was guilty of adultery.

Hearing about Martine's divorce from Joseph had cut Cindy's heart into a million pieces. She could sympathize with the woman, knowing full well that if her own shenanigans at the bar ever came to light with Greg...

Shenanigans... what a crazy, insane word, yet it didn't even come close to what she had done...

'If Greg ever finds out, we're finished. There's no two ways about it. There's no way to explain why I... a lover is one thing, wanton sex in a bar's parking lot? That's something else, altogether,' she knew, crying, to her everlasting shame. 'How could I have done something like that, over and over? God, I wish I was Catholic... at least, I could confess and ask for forgiveness.'

'Greg is a man of set-in-cement morals. Although he has no qualms about taking the first shot and killing someone; to know...' she shivered, just thinking about it... 'to know what I have done, even if we weren't together at the time... 'Oh, God,' she prayed, 'please, never let him find out.'

'He's fucking John Wayne,' she realized. 'It should be no surprise to me, he is what he is. The medals hidden in his dresser are testament to that. Why they're hidden and that photograph is on the wall... that's the question. It has to be who is IN the picture,' she thought, 'that Italian friend of his he mentioned.'

Cindy had taken two buses to reach Raymond's. She hated riding buses, thinking back to her grade school days... the wild boys constantly throwing things from the back of the bus... the driver pretending he didn't see a thing... laughing the entire time. By the time she reached home, her hair always had bubble-gum stuck to it and her neck was red from pea-shooters and her father told her, 'good' and he'd help them if she didn't stop complaining. 'God, I hate him and I'm glad he's dead...'

"May I speak with Mr. Shocley? I'm... I'm a friend of his ex-wiii... Mrs. Shocley."

The cashier looked around the coffee shop. The lunch crowd had not come in yet and unless he had no desire to talk to her, this was her best chance. "I'll get him for you; why don't you sit over there by the window?"

"Hello... you're Cindy, aren't you?" While he was smiling, she could tell he was nervous, very nervous as he wiped his hands on his apron.

"Yes, thank you for seeing me. I need to talk to you about Martine."

"Has something happened?" He was quickly taking his apron off and turning to the cashier, he said, "Call Lee to come in and cover for me."

Cindy spoke up." "No, no, Mr. Shocley, nothing like that... please, can we talk somewhere, privately?"

"She's all right? She's not sick or anything?"

Cindy could plainly see the man was agitated and it was because of her. She was surprised; from what Martine had told her, she expected to be shown the door. "Please, forgive me. I just need to speak to you about her. That's all."

"OK, we can go in the back."

She followed him into the dimly lit dining room. "We only open back here for dinner. It's a little bit better than the coffee shop up front, you know, for dinner."

They stopped at a table into the back and as she sat down, he asked her, "What would you like? Club Sandwich? Hamburger? We make a pretty good hamburger, here."

"Mr. Shocley, that's very kind of you, but I just want to talk."

"OK, I'm all ears. What's on your mind? Johnny, bring a couple cokes over here, will you?" 'I wish she'd just get to it,' thought Joseph.

Cindy waited until the busboy had left. "Martine is miserable. She loves you very much and I was wondering..."

"Yes?" 'Oh, God, what now?'

"Oh, this is so hard. I was hoping if you still felt the same way about her. You know, she never did anything that night except be stupid and she's never had anyone since you left. "She's still a beautiful woman... she could..." 'Maybe, I shouldn't have said that.'

"Yes, I know that. I still see her... when she bothers to come in." He had a faraway look in his eyes, remembering their wedding day that summer morning, when she looked up from her ring and gave him the smile that would live with him forever. 'Forsaking all others, is what we vowed...'

"She hasn't done anything. All her free time is with me; she's teaching me how to cook and we're taking classes at El Camino... well, I'm taking the classes, she's driving me there and back and helping me with my assignments. I'm playing hooky today so that I could talk to you about her."

"She hurt me, that night, the smirk that guy had. It was all I could do not to kill him right then and there. You see, I thought they had already... you know. I wanted to die, that night, I loved her so much."

"You said, 'loved her.' Don't you still love her?"

She looked at him; he had gripped the table cloth in his hand and scrunched it up. "Yes, goddamn it... yes, I love her and always will. I just thought I couldn't live with her, anymore. I made an unbelievable mistake that night when I walked out. I lost her and I lost everyone there I thought were my friends.

"What could I have done? I was trapped in a corner, either 'fight or flight.' God, I hate myself for what I did. I was so goddamn stupid, I can't believe it. I should have done something, even if it was just yelling at them. She just stood there while I left; they said she came after me but I had already walked away. I didn't even go home. I left everything and slept in the bus station. I never went back, I just couldn't. As far as I know, my clothes are still there."

"You can always fix it. It's never too late. I know she's just waiting for you to take her back."

"You think? She never says anything when she comes in except, maybe, 'hi' and that's it. I hate it every time I see her like that; it just reminds me how stupid I was."

"She's regretted it ever since, also. She told me everything that happened. Your stuff is still there. All of it...

"People have done much worse than that and worked it out. You can, too. I just know it. You just have to get back together and talk it over. I mean, really talk it over or spend the rest of your life wondering the 'what could have been.'"

He folded his hands on the table and tapped out some unknown rhythm with one finger. "All right, any ideas?"

"I was hoping you'd have something. To be honest with you, I never thought past coming to talk to you." She laughed. "I honestly thought you were going to throw me out as soon as you heard why I was here."

"So, what happened to that guy?"

"Before or after he got out of the hospital?"

**********

Meanwhile, Greg was pushing the mower across the small lawn, working his way through the overgrown grass. Mid-morning and it was starting to heat up; he had already tossed his sweaty T-shirt on the porch

A shadow appeared. Angela, or Angie as she wanted to be called, was standing on the grass in a little two-piece bathing suit, dark blue shorts and a white top with red polka-dots.

He was starting to regret renting to her and her brother, if that was indeed what he was. 'Maybe,' he thought, 'she's the beard.' He smiled at the thought. 'It made as much sense as anything else that's gone on around here.'

"Hello, Greg," she said, deliberately not moving out of the way and he had to stop. She seemed to have the habit of licking her bright-red lipstick'd lips whenever she spoke with him.

"Good morning, Miss Meadows. I, uh... I need to get this done before it gets too hot, please." 'Please, just go away. You're more trouble than you're worth.'

"Why, Mr. Knotts, I thought a man like you would always have time for a lady like me." 'God, I want a piece of him, so bad.'

Greg eyed her, top to bottom. At one time, during the war, he would have been interested but no more. "Well, I appreciate your concern... but, I still have to get this done. Besides, I've got a girl, in case you've forgotten."

"Oh, I haven't forgotten. You're right, she's a girl... I'm a woman, just in case YOU'VE forgotten. Well, I'm going to the beach. See you later." She wiggled her ass as she walked to her car parked on the street.

He didn't bother answering; he just wanted her gone. As much as he needed to get the lawn finished, it was more a case of not needing more distractions and complications. He was happy with Cindy, girl or not... and didn't like the rapacious look that Angie Meadows seemed to carry with her.

As he watched her drive away, he wiped his brow on his arm and went back to pushing the mower. Time out of town had let the lawn grow higher than usual and he was paying the price for it now.

He went over to the hose and got a drink of water and wet down his hair. The cold water hit him hard, making him shiver.

He didn't look forward to putting the mower into the trunk of the car, tying it down and driving over to the other apartments. Once, the rope wasn't tight enough and the trunk lid bounced up and down and chipped the paint. He considered getting some teenagers to do it, provided he could find some that were actually trustworthy.

Finally finished, he sat down on the shady porch and looked at his handiwork. 'Mowing the lawn is insane,' he felt. 'You water it, you fertilize it, you seed it and then you cut it. What's the point? Screw it. I'm getting some guys.'

After putting everything away, he took a long, cool drink of lemonade that Cindy had left him and then went in to shower. Soaping up, he thought back to when he had showered yesterday morning. Cindy had stepped in the small enclosure and with just enough room to actually move, he had taken her up against the tile. He knew he was hard, remembering the feel of her body against his but decided to leave it alone, saving it for the evening. 'No sense in wasting it,' he jokingly thought.

What he had with Cindy was special, even if it was crazy.

After dressing, he got into his car and drove over to the two other buildings to find some kid to mow the lawns for him.

**********

By the time he returned, so had Cindy and she had laid out the wood for the new shelves, convinced that what they needed were books. After he had put in the molly-bolts and they had made sure the shelves were level, they left for a used-book store he had seen on Hawthorne Boulevard, next to Sam's Grill.

He was satisfied, by the time they left, having found several first edition Hemingways and an Omnibus of Science Fiction edited by Conklin. Cindy had chosen about twenty romance novels and some cookbooks.

Stopping at Hawthorne Nursery, she bought several Dieffenbachia and a Boston Fern. Greg arranged to have several banana plants and some palm trees delivered to the apartment house; with Cindy' insistence, he started landscaping the yard to be more inviting. It reminded him of HawaiiBesides, she convinced him, he could raise the rents to cover the costs or write it off as a business expense. 'If I'm not in love with her,' he thought, 'I might as well be. Life could be SO much worse.

They left the pile of books on the floor for the next day and went out back where he grilled a couple of steaks. A quick salad and some more lemonade and he was tired enough that they went to bed early.

**********

The next morning, he woke to a sunburn and was moving slowly, even though Cindy had put cold-cream over his back. After a breakfast of waffles, the two lovers started a heated discussion in the living room about Martine and Joseph.

"...and that's why, Greg, we have to take Mrs. Shocley to Raymond's Friday night..."

"Do you think it will work? Look, doll, I don't want to get in the middle of something that's going to blow up," Greg responded. "I like the old lady but just the same..."

"First off, she's not that old, she's only 38... and, you're how old?" She paused for breath.

"Yeah, I thought so. Eight more years and so are you. So, you're going to help me with this and we're going to make this work. Everybody makes mistakes, Greg, even... even me," she said, quietly.

He looked at her in surprise. He knew her life had been hectic ever since he'd known her, especially since the 'great shootout.' What did she still have hidden? "Fine, I'll do it. This had better work. I like her pies, that's all I've got to say. Hand me another couple books, please," he said, pushing the ones he already had across the new shelf.

"Greg, if I did something horrible... would you forgive me?" she asked, giving him four more.

"Horrible, like killing someone?" As soon as he said it, he realized how stupid that was, given the four deaths he was responsible for. "Now... or before?"

"Before we..."

"Before doesn't count. We're together now, that's all that counts. Enough said, all right?" 'Whatever it is, I don't want to know.'

"OK," she said quietly, her head down. 'Does he know about me or not? Would he really be THAT forgiving? I don't know and God forbid, I don't want to find out.'

"Let's go for a walk, Cindy. I just... let's go for a walk." He took her hand and practically lifted her up from the couch one-handed. Heading toward the door, he grabbed his keys and hat and they walked out of the building, heading toward the beach.

Along the way, he debated whether to tall Cindy about Angie's come-on but decided against it. If the woman persisted, he'd just evict them, money or no money. He liked what he had and wasn't going to fall prey to the shark that was swimming across the hallway from them. He survived the war and wasn't going to die in a personal battle of the heart.

"Cindy, I... I love you. I'm not just saying it. Find a ring that makes you happy and let's get married. I don't want to wait any longer."

"Greg," she answered, "you pick it. I'll love whatever you give me. You're my savior and I'll follow you anywhere you say we've got to go. I'm yours completely... body and soul. I'll do anything for you."

He looked down at her face, tears streaming down her face. They stopped and he kissed them away. "No more tears, babe, no more tears... not from here on out."

Hand in hand, they walked down to the Strand in time to see the afternoon sun glinting on the easy waves rolling ashore. "Ice cream?" he asked.

"It won't make me fat? I don't want to be a fat bride."

"I love you for you. You make me happy and that's all I can ask."

He went to get two cones, leaving her sitting on the bench. Unfortunately, at that moment, one of her former customers walked up and sat down.

"Hey, doll, I thought I saw you there. How's tricks? I've missed you at the bar. You don't come around anymore."

"Please, go away, I don't do that, anymore."

Greg's shadow made the man look up. Greg could tell there was something wrong. Cindy was saying nothing and the man was deciding whether he was going to.

"Who's your friend?"

"He was just leaving."

"That's how you want to play it, doll, OK."

"You better fucking apologize before I put you in the ground," Greg said, slowly.

The man looked at him and then Cindy. "Ah, it's not worth it." He turned and walked away, as quickly as possible without running, looking over his shoulder to see if Greg was following.

Greg said nothing. Cindy's husband had run with a worthless crowd and he figured this had to be one of them. If Cindy had something she wanted to say, he'd listen but he wasn't going to give her the third degree unless it got out of hand. She obviously didn't want to talk to the man, so he just 'chalked' it up for future reference, remembering what a fool her husband had been and that crazy night with bullets flying everywhere.

The things he had done for her made him shiver. He could have gotten killed four times over and yet, he realized, he wouldn't change a minute of it.

That night, she moved across the bed and held him, quietly. "Thank you," she whispered, hoping that was enough. Her hand moved down and held him, slowly moving, bringing him to life. She could feel him harden and lengthen.

She moved again, stretching herself out like a cat and began to rub herself against him. Once he slipped in but she moved and he popped back out. It was too soon, she knew; she wanted this to last. Moving, moving, moving again and again and this time, she felt herself almost there and then slipped him in and began to rock.

Deep inside, she felt him deep inside and began to squeeze as she lifted and dropped, each time more aggressively, seeking that release she now knew only he could give her.

There wasn't anything they couldn't do if they really wanted to. This was love and she leaned forward and French'd him. She never said anything when they made love. This was love, not sex. During sex, she could be loud but this was love and the most she would do is moan, not wanting to break the spell.

**********

Friday evening, Greg pulled the car into Raymond's back lot.

"I appreciate you wanting to take me to dinner... but, here?" asked Martine.

"Sure, why not?" Cindy asked. "Greg's never been here."

"I find that hard to believe... well," she said furiously, "we're already here, might as well go on in."

Raymond's dining room at night was so different from its coffee shop atmosphere during lunch and even had a separate entrance from the back lot. Greg said nothing, preferring to hang back after he had opened the door for them. Inside, it was as dim as the day Cindy had met with Joseph. Little table candles lit up the deserted room like stars.

"That's funny," said Martine, "there's no one here. Usually, this place is packed..."

"Good evening," said the hostess, "your table is right over here." She led them over to a table set for two.

"There must be..." Martine was going to say 'some kind of mistake,' but then her worst fear became true. She turned to make a run for the door when Greg grabbed her around the waist and swung her back around.

"Oh, no, you don't. I promised Cindy I'd help her on this and I'm going to, even if it means I'm never going to get another cream pie from you."

Greg set her down onto the chair and held her down by her shoulders. "Look," he said, "at least listen to what he has to say and if that doesn't work, then, I promise to you, we'll all leave."

Martine looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. "I don't..."

"Shhh," he said, crouching down and holding her hands. "It'll be all right, I promise. Just give him a chance. He still loves you, more than you can understand." 'This better work.'

Martine looked across the table. Somehow, Joseph had sat down without her noticing. 'God,' she thought, 'I'm so out of it, I didn't even see him.'

"Hello, Martine... thank you for coming." 'If this doesn't work, I'm done.'

"It's not like I had much... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. It's obvious that everyone wants me here." 'Me, included...'

Cindy and Greg had disappeared into the front coffee shop. The bartender brought over her favorite drink, The Hurricane, a potent mixture of rums and orange juice and then he, too, disappeared.

"Look, Joseph..."

"Martine, don't be so damn hard-headed and just let me say my piece. Please... I was a damned fool, that night. In the first place, I should never have let you kiss anybody, mistletoe or not. You were my wife and I just let you go. I was an idiot; of course those assholes would be all over you once they saw I just stood there like a foolish, impotent wimp."