Jack Belleson came charging into the police building in downtown Redfern. He was bellowing angry words as he approached the night desk.
"What kind of a God damned town you got here? Nobody's safe here! I was just robbed! The son-of-a-bitch got $79.00!"
The desk-sergeant looked up at him, levelly, and asked, "Do you want to make a report, Sir?"
"You're damned right! And, then I want you to do something about it!"
"I realize you're disturbed, Sir… and I'd appreciate it if you'd calm down and give me the details…"
His pen was poised ready to write.
"Calm down? Why for Christ's sake… my life was threatened… and you say calm down!"
"Yes, Sir… otherwise, I can't make heads or tails out of what you're saying!" The sergeant's voice was steely. "Your name, Sir?"
"Jack Belleson…"
"Your age…"
"What the hell's my age got to…?"
"Your age… Sir?"
"Forty-six."
"Occupation?"
"Salesman… When do I get to tell you what hap…"
"What time did this happen?"
"A little after one…"
"Can you describe the person… or persons?"
"A kid… on a motorcycle… I couldn't see his face…"
"How old would you say?"
"Sixteen… seventeen…"
"The make of the motorcycle?"
"I didn't notice… but come to think of it… it was covered up!" the salesman said.
"Did you notice the license tag?"
"No!"
"Weapon?"
"A pistol… sort of short, snub-nosed…"
The questioning went on, until the sergeant was satisfied that he had a complete report. "We don't have too much to go on… there're probably two or three hundred kids ride motor bikes in the area… but we'll start checking out some things on these."
"You're not going to put out a bulletin on it call your cruisers on the radio?"
"What… and stop every kid riding a motorcycle, tonight?"
"Sure… round them up?"
The sergeant looked at him in disbelief, shook his head and said, "Mister… we can't work like that… in this country!"
"What do you mean…?" The salesman didn't understand.
"This is Redfern, California… U.S.A."
"Then, you're not going to do anything…?"
"I didn't say that! I said that we're not going to go out and bring in every teen-age kid who happens to be riding a motorcycle!"
"I know you said that, but…"
"Because… Mister Belleson… It's only a coincidence that the boy who robbed you… was also riding a motorcycle! We'll be checking out on it, tomorrow!" The sergeant turned away to attend to a trivial matter on his desk.
"Is that all…?"
"Yes, Sir!"
"Christ… I'm in your town a few hours and three violent things happen to me! I still want to know… what kind of a crazy town this is?"
"Do you have something else to report?"
"Oh, well… that other thing's been taken care of…" the salesman backtracked. "Some fellow name of Scott punched me in the jaw!"
"Have you preferred charges?"
"Well… I was supposed to come down here to do that tomorrow… I mean this morning… but I'm not so sure I want to spend another minute in the fucking town!"
"Then… you want to drop charges against Mr. Scott?"
"Hell no! I want him kept locked up!"
"We can't do that without formal charges?"
"I'll be a son-of-a-bitch… what can you do?"
"Prosecute him… when proper charges have been made against him!"
"Then, if I leave… nothing happens to him?"
The desk-sergeant surveyed the salesman with disdain. "That's right! Gabby'll just get dried out, again…"
"Gabby?"
"Mr. Scott… he's been with us, before."
"Christ! There must be some kind of collusion… you pigs protecting young hoodlums… and town drunks that assault people…"
"Mr. Belleson! You're getting abusive! I'd suggest that you stop, now! Otherwise, I could arrange for you to share a cell with Mr. Scott!"
The salesman looked at the sergeant in disbelief and backed away toward the door. "Shit! I-I don't understand it… I come in here to report a r-robbery… and I get threatened with arrest! Christ! I wouldn't stay in the town for another minute!" He turned to flee. "I take it you're dropping the charges against Gabby?"
"Do what you want with him! I'm leaving… and I'll make damned sure never to come back!" He leaped for the door and made his way hastily through it, flinging back over his shoulder, "Fuck you! Fuck this whole Goddamned town!"
"Up yours!" the desk sergeant muttered, smiling to himself, as he watched the confused retreat of the salesman. "… And, please don't come back!"
What was she to do, then, with her life? She had passed by the morbid moment in which she had contemplated suicide. If she could not die… she must live, but living in this house, with her family, would be out of the question. It would be better if left… just drive away from it all!
Her solution was a cop-out; of course, taking her own life was but a manifestation of the same thing. Running away from her present life, was the only idea that pervaded her mind. She must get away… At least… if I'm gone… Charity and Donnie won't find out about me… And the life I've been leading!
Then, there was the incestuous sex act she had overheard. She had already decided that she could do nothing about it. No! There was one thing she could do; she owed it to Charity for her own protection, but not, she knew, for peace of mind… for either her or her daughter.
Her mind was made up, the sooner she left the better. With resolute steadfastness of purpose, dry-eyed, now, she began to dress. Afterward, she packed, selecting the best garments from her wardrobe and limiting herself to taking only two suitcases and her cosmetic case.
She took her small cache of money from her dresser drawer, counted it, counted it, again, to make sure. Twenty dollars was missing. Was the money lost… or stolen? A burglar would have taken all of it, and she was sure there was no way for it to become lost. Gabe? Possibly. Charity? A definite no, she decided. Donnie? The most likely! She knew instantly that it was unfair. She really had no way of knowing, and she dismissed it from her mind. Why should she try to find out which of her family was the thief? Taking the twenty dollar bill the salesman had left on the top of the dresser into her hand, she contemplated whether or not she really wanted it. Somehow, that particular bill was a symbol of evil, but was it any more evil than the other $240.00 she had just stuffed into her purse? It had all been earned in the same way! Oh, well… I might need it! Who knows which thorn hurts worst… when you fall into a clump of cactus?
One, final item remained for her to do. She forced herself to it, removing a piece of her ultra-feminine stationery from its box and taking pen in hand to write a letter… a letter of farewell to her daughter, Charity.
The letter finished, over which she had agonized for more than a half hour, she read it and decided that she would change nothing in it… for nothing could be changed. The letter – and her life, as she had lived it – would have to stand. She had told her daughter the brutal truth about herself!
I'll leave it on her pillow… where she'll be sure to find it!
The first streaks of grey dawn filtered into Charity's room as Dottie tiptoed in, not really expecting to find her lovely daughter there, but she was pleasantly surprised. Charity was asleep, beautiful as before, her lovely face serene, seemingly unchanged; however, as she gazed on the innocent face of her daughter, Dottie knew that the girl had just leaped into full-blown womanhood… in her own brother's bed!
Dear God forgive me…
She leaned over and brushed her lips in a light kiss across her daughter's slightly opened mouth. Placing the envelope on the pillow near the cascading auburn tresses, she left the room, hastily, picked up her suitcases and left by the front door.
As she turned the key in the ignition, there was a sudden catch in her throat. She had promised herself that she would not cry. God! I've shed enough tears! There're no more left! Steeling herself, she started the engine and drove away. She had no idea where she was going, but automatically, she turned eastward, into the rising sun, a dim thought in her mind that she would head toward Michigan, the state where she had been born and where she had spent her early childhood and adolescence.
Quickly, Charity stuffed her mother's letter under her pillow. No one must ever know of its existence! She would hide it… or destroy it, later. Jumping from her bed she ran into her parents' bedroom. She had to be sure! The room was in disarray, the closet almost empty and drawers left open. It was true! Her mother had really left!
Almost frantically, she dashed to the front door, flung it open and ran out onto the porch. Her mother's car was gone. The street was silent and empty. Then, her tears came. "Mom… oh, Mom!" she cried, turning back to shuffle into the living room.
Donnie heard her cry of anguish, arose, slipped into his jeans and raced for the living room. He found his sister crumpled into the cushions of the couch.
"What's with, Char…? What's happening?"
"Mom… sh-she's left us…!" she sobbed.
He was incredulous. "How do you know?"
"H-Her clothes a-are g-gone… and I-I heard her drive away…!"
"I'll be damned! She copped out first!" he mused.
He sat down beside her leaned down, put his arm around her and tried to console her. "Don't flip… Sis… it's not…" he began.
"Don't touch m-me… damn it!" she snapped. "Don't ever t-touch m-me… a-again!" Her voice was venomous.
"Christ… Char… I was only…"
"Get away from m-me…!"
"Whatever you say… Sis…"
He left her there and walked back to his own room.
Don Scott was really not disturbed very much. The fact of his mother's flight was, in his mind, ironic. She had just beat him to the punch. Shit! This family has been falling apart for a hell of a long time! But, Char and I… we could get along all right. She's practically all I've got, now… all the family I've got!
In his room, again, he dressed and came back out to the kitchen to forage for breakfast. He couldn't sleep any more now, even if he wanted to do so. His mind was busy with his own plans. The certainty of his thoughts centered around the fact that he, too, would have to leave soon… very soon! He doubted that he could live in the same house with Charity without trying to make her, again… and again. And, she's got an attack of conscience… telling me never to touch her, again. Well… that's not too much of a surprise. The idea of getting fucked by your brother is… pretty far out… for her… I guess. One thing… the next guy that gets into her is going to get a lighted firecracker! He'll know he's been somewhere when he crawls off of her!
He decided that he'd have to see Ray Donahue, and to do that he'd have to go to school, of course, he didn't have to stay there. He and Ray could split, go truant… maybe Ray could come up with some ideas for raising more bread. It was necessary he have some stake before he took off; a person couldn't go on the street with nothing in his jeans. He figured, roughly, that he should have a couple hundred dollars in addition to what he had taken from the salesman. It was Ray, he was sure, who could come up with some surefire possibilities.
His thoughts, again, went back to Charity, and the memory of her beautiful young body, as it writhed in uncontrolled passion under him, made his blood begin to run hot in his veins and his penis to come up hard and erect. Damn! I've got to figure a way to get her in the sack, again! She's the hottest little cunt I've ever seen or even heard about! Of course, it could've been the pot that turned her on so hard… but, Christ… I think she's just naturally hot… like Mom probably is! The grass! Man! That's it! I could get her to turn on with that… almost any time! I think she sort of flipped for it… and I'd bet she's not a one-time girl for that!
Charity came through the dining room headed for her bedroom. Don looked up, noted her tear-streaked and swollen face. He started to say something, thought better of it and asked, instead, "You going to school, today, Char…?"
She didn't look at him. "No…" she answered, dismally. "I c-can't go to school, today… Will you pick up my assignments for me…?"
"Yeah… sure… if I get a chance."
"Don't put yourself out…!" Her voice was loaded with sarcasm.
"Char…?" he called, as she went through her door. "You going to be all right, here… by yourself?"
"I-I can take care of myself!" she snapped, closing the door hard. Inside her bedroom, she finished it for herself, "I-I'll have to… from now on!"
Don studied her closed door, for a moment, and observed to himself. "Too much… but hell… things are kind of strung out for her… I guess…"
He arose, went out to his motorcycle, kicked the engine into roaring life and headed out for his high school. He felt a measure of sympathy for his sister, but he had his own problems to work out. The sooner he split this bad scene the better!
"Lady, you got a problem… best I can tell you got some burned valves… maybe some bad bearings! Can't tell until we open it up…"
"H-How much would it cost me… t-to get it going, again?" she asked.
"Oh… maybe $175.00… might go as high as a couple hundred…" the mechanic told her.
"And, how long would it take to… fix it?"
"I'd have to have at least two days…"
Mentally, she calculated, casting her assets against the expense of the repairs and her forced stay. There would barely be enough money for it, but she wouldn't have money to continue her flight.
"All right… I-It has to be repaired…" she said, making her decision. "Is there a good m-motel near here…?"
"Sure… right down the avenue… be glad to run you down there in my pick-up."
He helped her with her luggage, carrying it into the room for her. It wasn't his usual services; hell, she was traveling alone and in trouble, and it didn't hurt business to put himself out a little.
Dottie stopped him at the door. "Thank you ever so much… Mr…?"
"Davis… Bill Davis…" he said, smiling.
She arched her eyebrows at him and smiled, "C-Could we make a deal… on the car repairs…?" she asked. "I-I'm alone and…"
Her invitation was instantly clear to him. He looked at her, admiring what he saw and said, "Lady… I really can't afford something like you… I'm just a plain old knucklebuster with a wife and four kids! Why don't you try some of the downtown cocktail lounges… the hunting's a lot better!"
Turning away from him, unable, now, to look at him, she said, "Th-Thank you Mr. Davis… I'll pick up my car when you're finished."
The mechanic left. He was elated. Damn! What a woman! It's too bad I'm such an old stick-in-the-mud married man! She'd really be something! Oh, well… I can dream! That evening, she dragged herself out, wearily, taxied downtown, found the most likely looking lounge and went in to sit alone… but only for a while.
She turned two tricks, satisfying both johns, in all particulars to the tune of fifty a piece, finally saying goodnight to the second one, an aging, loan company executive at two in the morning. To get rid of him, she had to promise that she would see him, again, some three days later.
"Of course, I'll be here… about ten in that same place… The Palo…" she stumbled on the name. She had had a couple more drinks than she was used to drinking. "… That club where I met you…"
"The Palomino Club…" he corrected.
"That's right… how could I forget… Then, it's settled… Three days… ten o'clock… the Palomino Club… Goodnight…" she smiled.
Her smile slid off her face as soon as the door was closed behind her. God! I'm tired!
She stuffed the bills into her purse. It would take another night like this one to get her out of Phoenix. As she stepped into the shower to wash off some of the unseen filth, she imagined was clinging to her skin, she saw herself in the mirror and smiled ruefully at the reflected contours of her lovely body. Well… I'm on my own… completely and absolutely! All I've got is me… and a beautiful shell of a body… and to keep going… I'll have to make it on my back… with a cock in my cunt…! And, there were no tears. She had already cried them all.
"Has my wife shown up here…?" he demanded.
"No… not yet."
"I'll be damned!"
He rode the bus home, getting off on the avenue and walking the few blocks, his anger increasing with almost every step. He stormed into the house, shouting, "Dottie! Dottie… you bitch… where the hell are you?"
Charity heard him coming and prudently locked the connecting door from the bathroom to her parents' bedroom. She was standing at the sink, half-nude, washing her hair.
She heard her father in their bedroom as he slammed around and came to the realization that his wife was gone. He tried the bathroom door, found it locked and shook the door. "Dottie… are you in there?" he bellowed.
"No… I'm here!" Charity said.
"Where's the hell your mother?"
"She split!"
"Talk English!" he demanded. "It looks like she's left!"
"That's right, Dad… she's gone!"
"Where? When did she leave? Did she leave a note… or anything?"
"I don't know where… She left early this morning… and, no… she didn't leave a note!"
"God damn it! You must be mistaken! She just wouldn't take off… just like that… with no explanation!"
"Well, she did… and I am not mistaken!"
There was a short silence on the other side of the door, then he asked, "How come you're not in school?"
"I just couldn't go to school, today," she said, "because… it isn't every day… a person wakes up and finds out that her mother…" she paused, catching herself, before she went on to finish, "… has left… Gone… for good!"
"Yeah… yeah… I-I guess you're right… Charity…" There was a trace of sadness in his voice, now, maybe even of understanding. He fell silent, and she heard him sit down, heavily, on the bed.
Gabe didn't know what to think. He didn't really have any concrete proof that Dottie had been selling her body to men… acting the whore. There had been only the allegation that salesman had made, before he had jumped up to fight the fellow for having made it. True. He had always been a little too hasty with his fists. The time in jail had cooled him off and dried him out, and he had wanted to hear it from Dottie, herself. He was going to confront her with it. When she had not shown up at the police station, then finding that she had left him, with no explanation, only served to condemn her the more, in his mind. Christ! Maybe it's true! Instead of punching that guy… maybe I should have bought him a drink and thanked him for telling me the truth! I'd be the last one to know… it seems like your friends will never tell you… even if they knew!
Morosely, Gabe went into the kitchen, found a can of beer in the refrigerator, opened it and sucked on the alcoholic brew.
Hell, I guess it was just a matter of time before Dottie would have pulled up stakes, anyway. I haven't been very much of a husband… or provider for her and the two kids.
He congratulated himself that he was able to be as objective as he was being at that moment. A flashing thought that he dismissed almost as soon as it appeared across his mind. I'll have to do something, I suppose, about getting a job to keep some food in the house… pay the rent… and all that crap… but to hell with that, right now. I'm just going to get drunk… and forget all about it!
Searching his pockets, he found enough money to buy a pint of cheap liquor. He didn't care what it was, just as long as it was alcohol.
After he finished off the can of beer, he got up and walked out the door, headed for the liquor store down on the avenue.
Charity heard him leave and decided that she would not stay in the house, alone with him. She had been too much aware, lately, of his leering looks. Her newfound self-knowledge concerning her own sexuality, her desirability, made her worldly-wise, quite suddenly. It would he just horrible… If he tried to… to do something!
Hastily, she dried her hair, tied a kerchief around it and dressed herself in jeans and blouse. She was not sure where she would go, but she would not return until Donnie was there, in the house, with her. Donnie would understand, she was sure; she would tell him of her fears… even somewhat unfounded as they may be… and ask him to see to it that she was never, never left alone with their father.
She let herself out the back door and walked down the alley, thinking vaguely that she would catch a bus to the downtown, and merely float around window-shopping to kill the time until school would be dismissed. Her purse, she found contained enough change for the bus and a Coke. At least I'll he out of his reach! It's just horrible to think that I can't t-trust him. Ugh! His eyes when he looks at me… just like he was mentally undressing me!
Gabe returned with some gin. He didn't like the stuff, especially, but he bought the cheapest he could get for the money he had, just for the temporary drowning of his troubles.
Looking into their bedroom, a sort of automatic assurance that he had read the situation right the first time, he spotted Dottie's box of stationery. Idly, he opened it. The top sheet had the impression of writing on it. Damn! This sheet was under something she wrote!
He took it to the light and searched it carefully, but he could not make it out. Carrying the fancy sheet of paper into the dining room he found a soft pencil and scribbled across it. Words came up on the sheet… readable words!
MY DEAREST DARLING DAUGHTER, he read, I'M GOING TO BE LEAVING YOU, IN A FEW MINUTES. THE REASONS ARE HARD TO PUT DOWN ON PAPER, BUT THERE ARE SOME THINGS I WANT YOU TO KNOW BEFORE I LEAVE.
There was nothing more on the sheet. It was as though she had realized she had two sheets, removed the bottom one and, unthinkingly, returned it to the box.
God damn! There was a note! Charity lied to me!
Angrily, he strode to her door, bellowing, "Charity! Are you in there?"
There was no answer. He opened the door and walked into her bedroom. She was not there, nor was she in the bathroom.
She must have hidden it!
He looked into every possible hiding place, sure that there was a note, and that his daughter had hidden it.
With a shout of triumph, he found it, after almost twenty-five minutes of diligent searching. He recognized the envelope, instantly, as belonging to the same box of stationery. He had found it on the inside of Charity's English book.
He read, avidly.
"Christ!" he said aloud to himself. "It's good to know the truth… the real truth, after all these years!"
His eyes lighted up with a quick thought. "… And, it's a whole new ball game! This puts a different light on things!"
His imagination began to work. There's no reason now! Christ! After all this time of wanting her… and thinking that I couldn't have her… and now this… this confession of Dottie's makes everything different! Charity, baby… you've had it coming… for a long time… and now I'm going to give it to you… good!
He could feel his erection building down below, beginning to bulge in his pants. Reaching down to it, lewdly, he caressed its length. "It won't be long, now!"
Gabriel Scott didn't get drunk, after all. He limited himself to three drinks, because he wanted to be sober. A sloppy drunk man doesn't perform as well as one who is relatively in possession of his wits… and his senses, and above all, he wanted to be in complete command of all his sensations when he got into bed with young Charity Scott, his wife's daughter!