"N-No… that's…" she stopped, aghast, her mind a turmoil. Dear God! What could she do?
"It's no good, baby doll! I've got you right where I want you!" he rasped. "Now, by God… we'll play by my rules! You know what I want… don't you…? And, if I don't get it I drop a few hints to the fuzz!"
All of her resources of resistance seemed to drop away from her. She couldn't fight back, any more. There seemed to be nothing but the bleak prospect of doing as he demanded. Her body slumped into a pose of abject defeat.
Then, as if to clinch his argument, Ray added, "… Of course, they'll pick Don up, too… and it's bound to get into the papers!"
"I–I don't believe y-you…" Charity said, forlornly, trying, again, to find some chink in his argument.
"All right… you want to try? You want to get up and split, right now… and see what happens? If you do… go ahead…! But, you'd be in what they call protective custody, tomorrow! They'll take you out of that nasty, immoral home… and lock you up in Juvie! Public morals have to be defended!" He piled words on her, snowing her under the deluge of lies and half-truths.
Charity was silent for long moments; finally, she said, "… And, if I d-do what you s-say… y-you won't b-bother me again… and y-you won't tell…?"
Ray's eyes lit up. He had won! Christ! It was like taking candy away from a baby! Easy, man… easy as pie!
"Whatever's fair… if that's the way you want it!" he chuckled.
Her voice was full, flat, "Y-You don't g-give me much choice…"
"We're going to split, now!" he directed. "We're going to walk down to my van… and get into it! Man! You and me are going to have a real ball… with some real nice goodies!"
He rose to his feet, reached for her hand and raised her to her feet, slipping an arm, casually, around her small waist. He went on, "Like, why don't you dry up your tears… and smile at the nice, square people… you look like you're going to your own execution!"
"You've s-said it… exactly! That's the way I–I do feel!" Charity told him.
CHAPTER TWO
Charity remembered little of the ride to Ray's house; her mind was in a complete whirl, her thoughts entering and leaving in rapid order, her confusion complete, her emotions turned topsy-turvy with her new concern, not only for herself but for Donnie as well. She did know that there was some truth in what Ray had told her; however, she was not sure what the attitude of the law was toward incest. She just knew that it was wrong… and that somehow she and Donnie had been exposed. Dear God! Perhaps he had only guessed… or jumped to a conclusion, a conclusion that had been correct; then he had merely played a bluff. God! What if he's bluffing!
It was a ray of hope. She turned to him and said, "Ray… y-you don't h-have any proof… just hearsay…"
He grinned over at her, confidently, eyes hooded, "You want to bet on that…? Or do you want me to name the time and place?"
"N-No…"
She dropped back into her inner absorption, the maelstrom of her thoughts giving her little comfort, and she didn't notice when they passed Donnie's motorbike parked at the curb a block away from Ray's house.
Donnie, sitting on the curb, watched Donahue's van pass with Charity in the passenger's seat. He whistled through his teeth. Christ! I didn't think he could do it! I wonder what he laid on her?
Morosely, he sat waiting for another five minutes before mounting the cycle and riding the short distance to Ray's parents' home. The house was a California ranch style, set back from the street, low and long, sandwiched between two Victorian houses. Obviously, one of the old homes had been torn down to be replaced with the modern house.
Parking the van in the triple garage, Ray ushered Charity into the affluence of his parents' home. The quality and obvious expense was reflected in the furniture and accessories.
A few moments before, when she had dismounted from Ray's van, she had had a terrific impulse to break away from him and run… run for her life, but his firm grip on her arm had dissuaded her. Now, as she looked around at the costly surroundings, seeing at the same time, the gangly, long-haired youth in his sub-culture garb of jeans, boots, fringed leather jacket and beads, she couldn't help but wonder what it was, in him, that made him want to reject it all.
Charity sank down onto a soft couch and ran her fingers over the richly sculptured material. "I–It's beautiful!" she said. "Such a l-lovely home…"
The sneer on his face surprised her, as he said with derision, "It's only money, doll… but, like my old man doesn't know what to do with it!"
"Wh-What do you mean…?"
His voice was harsh. "Things!" he spat. "He's just like all the rest! He doesn't give a fuck about people!"
"A-and you… you care about p-people…?" she trembled. "… But I–I get the idea y-you're trying t-to use me… like I was… a thing…!"
Ray stood on wide-spread legs before her, his face livid, "You're a smart little bitch!" he grated.
The door chimes sounded. He left her to go to the door, grunting, "I wonder who in hell this could be…?" His grin was barely concealed from her; he knew it would be Don Scott, her ever-loving brother.
"Don!" he exclaimed in mock surprise. "Come in… join the party!"
"Party…? What party?" Don asked, going along with Ray.
"Like, you know… there's three of us, now! Charity's here!"
"Charity…?" He walked in, feigning surprise, "What are you doing here?"
She sprang to her feet, shock and surprise on her mobile face. "Donnie!"
"Yeah… it's me…" He sat down, sprawling carelessly.
She stood there, in utter confusion, looking from one to the other of them, stupidly, feeling as though she should say something to explain why she was there. Her open, innate honesty compelled her to say, dully, "He kn-knows…"
"K-knows what?"
"A-About us?" she answered, miserably.
"Like crap!" Donnie spat, looking hard and mean at Ray, who stood watching them, a slight sneer on his face. "You want to split, Char? If you do… we'll do it now!"
Charity heard his offer to take her away, but the fear of exposure, the possibility of publicity — friends and classmates at school learning of their depravity, the scandal of it rocking the town, the attendant gossip, the stares, the jibes and the innuendoes — plus the fact that both she and Donnie would be placed in Juvenile Hall, if a word of it got out to people in authority, such as the district attorney, made her hesitate. He doesn't understand! Dear God! I don't want anything like that t-to happen to m-me… and most of all I–I don't want anything to happen to Donnie! What can I do…?
"I–I can't, Donnie… I just c-can't! Don't you understand?" she sobbed, hot tears beginning to glisten in her eyes.
"Okay, Char… you know what you want to do," he told her, but Donnie knew that in letting her follow the course she had chosen, he had, almost literally, given her to Ray Donahue. His eyes bored into Ray's, as he swiveled to look at the tall boy. He went on, "I don't know what you laid on her Ray… but you must have come on pretty strong! What's next in this farce of yours?"
"Well… for starters… how about some drinks? My old man's got one of the best stocked bars in town!"
"Make mine Scotch on the rocks!" Donnie said, trying to appear worldly and man-about-townish.
"I–I don't want anything t-to drink…" she said. Her voice was small, frightened.
"I'll make a special one for you," Ray leered. "I know you'll like it… after you've tried it!"
"Is it a-alcoholic…?"
"Yeah… it's got a little… but it's more like a punch," he assured, as he went to mix for them.
He brought drinks; Scotch for him and Don… and a slightly green-tinted milky looking drink for Charity. Ray raised his glass and said, mockingly, "Well, since we're playing square… drinking, instead of toking up… here's looking up yours!"