26 - Happy hour?
I fully
believed Peggy would not want to see me any more after I left for work that
night, and I cursed myself the whole shift, struggling even to get to sleep
later when I got home.
The fact
that I received no
I nearly
cut my nose with the razor when I heard the phone jangle in the kitchen and
dripped my way out of the bathroom to pick up.
“Where are
you?” Peggy’s voice demanded the moment I said, “Hello?”
“I’m here –
at home.”
“I know
that. What I want to know is why you’re not over here?”
I didn’t
know what to say so I said nothing.
“Are you
still there?” Peggy asked.
“Yes.”
“Are you
coming over, or what?”
“You want
me to?”
“No, I’m
calling you out of the fucking blue because I’ve got nothing better to do with
my life,” she moaned. “Boy, you take the cake. I’ve known men to forget to call
me after they’ve fucked my brains out. But you don’t even remember I exist.”
“When do
you want me to come?”
“Now would
be a good time.”
*********
When I got
to her apartment, I found her seated on the kitchen window sill staring out.
“Give me
the ashtray,” she said without looking back at my just coming in the door.
“I picked a
large clear glass ashtray from the table and carried it over to her. She took
it and flicked a long cigarette ash into it.
“You know
there are times when I’m so lazy I won’t get up to get the ashtray,” she said,
still staring out at the skyline, the sun glittering off the face of the
skyscraper windows of distant New York City. “I just flick the ashes behind the
refrigerator.”
Then she
looked at me – and frowned, her painted brows folding in towards the bridge of
her nose.
“Why the
hell am I telling you this?” she asked, her eyes showing real fear, as if she
thought I might use this little secret against her somehow.
I shrugged.
“There’s
beer in the frige if you want it,” she said.
“I don’t
think I should.”
“Why not?”
“I’m
drinking more than I should.”
“You?
That’s ridiculous. You drink like a bird. Now I on the other hand drink way too
much, and you know what? I’m not planning to stop any time soon.”
“Is that
why you called so late?” I asked, drawing yet one more glare.
“You’re
damned lucky I called you at all,” she napped. “I don’t know where you’re from
Buddy, but where I came from when a boy gets lucky with a girl, he gives her a
call the next day to say thank you.”
“I was
sleeping,” I said. “Besides, I can’t call you –you don’t have a phone.”
“You could
have called my mother.”
“And told
her to thank you for your fucking me?”
This made
Peggy laugh.
“Now THAT
would be something,” she said. “I called late because I was busy, and not
drinking. I had to tutor someone today.”
“You mean
that’s for real?”
“What’s
that supposed to mean?”
“I thought
you were handing me a line with all that tutoring stuff.”
Her gaze
narrowed. She took a long puff on her cigarette and blue the smoke in my
general direction, then crushed the butt out.
“Is that
what you think?” she asked. “That I’m bullshitting you?”
“You have
to admit is does sound farfetched,” I said.
“Farfetched
or not, I don’t bullshit. I have several regulars I tutor – and today I went to
one of them.”
“And?”
Peggy
snorted out a laugh.
“Today was
a marvelous day,” she said.
“How so?”
“the boy
I’ve been teaching made a lot of progress today,” she said. “He has a speech
impediment. I’ve been trying to help him get over it for months. When I’m with
him, he gets better. But when I leave him and come back, he’s back to where he
started.”
“How do you
account for it? Or don’t you know?”
“Oh, I
know,” Peggy said. “It’s his mother. She treats him like shit even sometimes
when I’m there. Sometimes I want to scratch her eyes out for what she does to
that boy, always telling him how worthless he is, always telling he’s not
making enough progress when I know he is.”
“But you
said he made progress today. What happened?”
“It was the
usual shit. I make progress with him, then she comes into the room and he
forgets everything I taught him. So today, she comes in and she starts in on
him and he loses it, stuttering all over the place, and the more he stutters,
the more she lays into him about how bad he’s doing and how he must be too
stupid to learn.”
“But you
said he made progress.”
“He did. I
guess I just got sick of hearing it and made the mistake of mumbling the word
`bitch’ under my breath, and he heart it. Worse, he repeated it perfectly, not
just once, but again and again, louder and louder, so even his mother heard it
and knew he meant it for what it was, not just aping me – and she stared at
him, and blushed, and fled the room. I’m so damned proud of him, I could bust.”
Then, Peggy
looked at me and shook her head.
“There I go
again, telling you this shit. You can’t repeat any of this to anybody.”
“I won’t.”
“And you
can’t use it against me.”
“Why would
I do that?”
“Because
others have, and I can’t trust anybody any more.”
“I told
you. I promise.”
“Okay, I
believe you. Now let me get ready. I have to dance tonight. You can come watch
me dance if you have time.”
I agreed.
But since I
had to work later, I would have to meet her at the club, a new dive she’d
danced in previously, but was out of my usual circuit, up at north, at the top
of dingy Route 1 & 9, near the approach to the George Washington Bridge. It
was one of those enclaves for urban cowboys to take refuge in, lacking even the
most remote sense of style places like the My Way at least offered, situated in
a box like building along the side of the highway in what amounted to a macho
strip mall with a gun shop a few doors down and gravel for a parking lot. The
interior, when I finally got there, was filled with broad-shouldered men in
work shorts and work boots already over the legal limit for driving.
The dance
stage sat behind the bar with a wall mirror behind it, giving the small,
crowded low-ceiling room the illusion of being larger than it was. The bar and
stage sat on the long wall across from the front door – with a batch of wooden
tables and chairs filling the middle. To either side of the front door were the
doors to the men’s and women’s rooms.
Along the right wall was a line of machines – cigarette, jukebox,
gambling games and an out of date game of Pong.
Some bars
are naturally more angry than others, churning with testosterone and men
looking for an excuse to fight – and this was that kind of bar, each grim face
looking around at other grim faces for someone to be offended by, the worst and
most angry lining up along the bar like gunfighters waiting for the next
contender to challenge for his place.
I sat down
at one of the tables, out of the line of fire, in as dark a corner as I could
find, letting the barmaid serve me, risking that even Peggy might miss me in
the smoke filled room.
But she
didn’t miss me.
She was on
stage and she nodded for me to find a place at the bar.
I shook my
head.
She glared.
I sipped my
beer and looked the other way.
When she
finished her set and came down to where I sat, she was foaming.
“Why the
fuck are you sitting over here?” she demanded.
“Because
sitting at the bar is lethal,” I said.
“Don’t tell
me you’re scared of those jerks?”
“Let’s say
I’m no Karate Kid.”
“Coward,”
she said and sat in the chair across from me. “Buy me a drink.”
I signaled
the bar maid who didn’t need to come over, just directed the bartender to make
Peggy’s usual.
While I had
never seen Peggy at this bar before, plenty of other men had, waving to her and
calling to her by name.
Some of the
wise guys along the bar eyed her, clearly annoyed at her sitting with me since
some of them had given her tips or bought her drinks while she had danced.
No one
apparently supplied her with any cocaine, and the booze seemed to affect her
more than usual on this account. She slurred her words and seemed to forget
things she had just said.
She was
telling me one of the tall tales I had heard her tell before.
I laughed;
she frowned.
“You don’t
believe me?” she asked.
“It’s a bit
farfetched.”
“I don’t
lie.”
“Everybody
lies,” I said.
“What I
mean is, I don’t lie well. When I try, I can’t look someone in the eyes. People
tell me I blush and look away.”
“That’s
nice to know,” I said.
She glared
at me.
“Don’t you
dare think you can take advantage of that,” she said.
“I wouldn’t
think of it.”
She drained
her drink the moment it came and then stood up.
“I have to
mingle,” she said. “Don’t leave. I may need a ride home.”
“What about
your car?”
“I didn’t
bring it.”
“How did
you get here?”
“How do you
think, Alfred? Someone brought me.”
“You mean
Tom?”
“I mean
it’s none of your business.”
“Well, if
Tom brought you, how come he can’t bring you home? I have work later.”
“If Tom was
here, he could bring me home, but he’s not and I’m asking you to do it. Or do
you want me to ask one of those fine gentlemen at the bar?”
“All
right,” I said. “I’ll drive you home.”
Then, she
went off to join the boys at the bar, the angry men with grim faces and crude manners,
who pawed at her as they bought her drinks, one or more of whom supplied the
missing ingredient that allowed her to perk up later during her dance, she
apparently trading her attention for the favors so that I felt more like an
ornament at the table than someone she’d invited to come.
She did
notice me when I got up to go to the men’s room, since that door was directly
across the room from the dance stage. But then so did several men from the bar
who crowed around two of the urinals as I used the third.
“She’s too
fat,” one of the men said, picking up on a previous conversation.
“Who cares,
fat or skinny? It’s her mouth I want around my cock.”
“Is that
why you gave her the coke?”
“Why else?”
“Maybe
that’s get her horny enough to do us all.”
“Do you
really want her mouth around your cock after I’ve cum in it?”
“If we get
her out to the truck, we can all get a piece of her,” a third man said.
“I don’t
know if I want to share her with you guys,” the first man said, drawing growls
from the others although it was clear they had come up with a plan.
I finished
first, washed my hands and left. Peggy was looking at me as I came out, and
passed me at the other men who were zipping up and coming out without washing.
She frowned.
When she
finished her set, she came over to me, once more drawing glares from the three
men at the bar.
“You look
upset,” she said. “Are you jealous?”
“And if I
am?” I asked.
“You
shouldn’t be.”
“Those
three have plans for you,” I said, nodding my head in the direction of the bar.
“Them?
You’re jealous of them?”
“I didn’t
say I was jealous.”
“I wouldn’t
be caught dead with any of them.”
“You took
their cocaine.”
“That
doesn’t mean I’d sleep with them.”
“They seem
to think differently.”
“Well, they
can go on thinking that way. I saw them in the bathroom. They didn’t even wash
their hands when they were through.”
“Most men
don’t,” I said.
“Most men
are pigs,” she said. “Come on. Drink up. We’re going home – that was my last
set.”
“What about
them?”
“Fuck
them,” she said.
We stood.
Peggy had apparently brought nothing with her but her coat and her purse, both
of which she’d brought to the table when she’d came down from the stage.
One man
noticed us heading towards the door. He nudged one of the others, who nudged the
third. It took a moment for the event to register in their small brains, by
which time we were out the door and headed across the gravel parking lot to my
car.
I saw them
coming out of the bar in the rearview mirror as we rolled out onto the highway,
and then I kept an eye on the mirror for a while until I was convinced they
were not pursuing us.
We rode
north on 1&9, then west on Route 46, then down Outwater Lane to Midland, by
which time we were back on familiar turf and I felt a lot more comfortable, and
finally pulled up in front of her door.
“Well,” I
said. “It’s been fun.”
“You’re not
coming up?”
“I told
you, I have work.”
“So you’d
rather make donuts than make love to me?”
“I never
said that.”
“We can
make it a quickie like I sometimes get at work.”
“What?”
“Close your
mouth, Alfred, you’re letting the flies in. Do you want to come up stairs and
fuck or what?”
I went up
with her, but we didn’t fuck after all.
Her mood
had changed by the time she got undressed. Perhaps the spike of cocaine had
worn off and all she wanted by the time we got into her bed was for me to hold
her.
She claimed
it was because I didn’t have any condoms.
“We’re not
going to have any more accidents like we nearly did last time,” she said.
“But you
invited me up here for a quickie, remember?”
“I thought
you’d bought some.”
“I didn’t
buy any because I didn’t think I would need them.”
“So you
don’t want to fuck me after all?”
“I thought
we were through until you called me to come over.”
“Well, now
you know to buy some. You can leave them here. I won’t let any other man use
your condoms on me.”
“You keep
talking about other men,” I said. “I was under the impression you wanted to go
out with me.”
“I do.”
“Doesn’t
that generally mean exclusively?”
“Not to me
it doesn’t. Just because I’m going out with you, doesn’t mean I’m going to stop
seeing other men – and if decide to fuck one them, that has nothing to do with
you.”
She must
have read some of what I felt from my face.
“You’re
taking all this too much to heart, Alfred,” she said.
“I suppose
I do,” I mumbled.
“Just hold
me and forget about everything for a while.”
I nodded.
But I wasn’t going to forget. I had stepped too deeply into this and I knew a
step more and I might drown. I was thinking it wasn’t too late to get out
before both of us got hurt. But as she settled to sleep, I knew I was kidding
myself. It was too late and we were both headed down a path of inevitable pain,
and there was not a damned thing I could do about it.
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