Amanda stood in the empty parking lot, wanting to slap them both.
Evelyn told Vanessa, “We’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Take your time.” Vanessa checked Peterson. “I don’t think he’s going anywhere.”
Evelyn used her finger to swipe the side of her nose, à la Robert Redford in The Sting. Vanessa did the same.
“This is ridiculous,” Amanda muttered, reaching into the car to retrieve her purse and textbook.
“Oh, cheer up,” Evelyn said. “Maybe we’ll find some mud for you to stick in.”
Evelyn drove her Ford Falcon up North Avenue. The station wagon was now devoid of moving boxes and filled with various baby items. Except for the radio on the seat between them, there was nothing that would indicate a police officer drove this car. The vinyl seat felt sticky under Amanda’s legs. As an only child with no cousins, she was seldom around children. Amanda could not help but think that Zeke Mitchell had secreted a vile substance onto the vinyl.
“Pretty day,” Evelyn said.
She had to be joking. The noontime sun was so intense that Amanda’s eyes were watering. She shielded her eyes from the glare.
Evelyn reached into her purse and slipped on a pair of Foster Grants. “I think I have another pair.” She dug around in her bag.
“No, thank you.” Amanda had seen the same glasses at Richway. They cost at least five dollars.
“Suit yourself.” Evelyn zipped closed her purse. She drove like an old woman, slowing for yellow lights, letting anyone pass who showed the slightest desire. She kept one foot on the gas and one on the brake. By the time they pulled into the Varsity drive-in, Amanda was ready to grab the wheel and push her out of the car.
Evelyn mumbled, “Steady, Freddy.” With great concentration, she angled the Falcon into a parking spot close to the North Avenue entrance. The brakes squealed as she pumped the pedal, inching up slowly until she felt the tires bump against the barrier. Finally, Evelyn shifted the gear into park. The engine knocked when she turned off the ignition. The car shook.
Evelyn turned in her seat, facing Amanda. “Well?”
“Why did you bring me here? I couldn’t possibly eat.”
“I think I prefer when you’re not speaking to me.”
“Your wish is my command,” Amanda snapped back. But then she couldn’t help herself. “You almost got me raped.”
Evelyn leaned back against the door. “In my defense, both of us were going to be raped.”
Amanda shook her head. The woman was incapable of taking anything seriously.
Evelyn said, “We made it through okay.”
“Spare me your positive energy.”
Evelyn was silent. She turned back around. She kept her hands in her lap. Amanda stared straight ahead at the menu board. The words jumbled around senselessly. In her head, Amanda listed again all the things she had to do before she could go to sleep tonight. The more she thought about it, the harder the tasks seemed. She was too tired to do any of it. She was too tired to even be here.
“Damn, gal.” Evelyn’s voice was deep, an approximation of the pimp’s baritone. “You a fine-lookin’ woman.”
Amanda gripped the textbook in her lap. “Stop it.”
Evelyn, as usual, was oblivious. “You is fi-ine.”
Amanda turned her head away, leaning her chin on her hand. “Please, be quiet.”
“Gone get me some’a that hog tush.”
“Oh, for God’s sakes,” Amanda sputtered. “He didn’t say that!” Her lips were trembling, but for the first time in four days it wasn’t because she was forcing back tears.
“Mmm-hmm,” Evelyn goaded, moving her hips obscenely in the seat. “Fine-lookin’ woman.”
Amanda couldn’t stop her lips from curving upward. And then, she was laughing. There was no controlling it, even if she tried. Her mouth opened wide. She felt a lessening of pressure not just from the sound, but from the release of air that had been trapped in her lungs like a poison. Evelyn was laughing, too, which seemed the funniest part of all. Before long, they were both doubled over in their seats, tears streaming down their faces.
“Afternoon, ladies.” The carhop was at Evelyn’s window. His hat was rakishly tilted to the side. He slapped a number card on their windshield and smiled at them both as if he was in on the joke. “What’ll ya have?”
Amanda wiped tears from her eyes. For the first time in days, she was hungry. “Bring me a Glorified Steak and some strings. And a P.C.”
Evelyn said, “I’ll have the same. Add a fried pie.”
“Wait,” Amanda called him back. “I’ll have a fried pie, too.”
Evelyn was still chuckling when he left. “Oh, Lord.” She sighed. She tilted the mirror and used the tip of her pinky finger to fix her eyeliner. “Lord,” she repeated. “I haven’t been able to even think about eating since …” She didn’t have to finish the sentence. Neither of them would have to finish that sentence ever again.
Amanda asked, “What did your husband say?”
“There are some things I don’t share with Bill. He likes to think I’m Agent 99, hiding safely behind the scenes while Max Smart does all the real work.” She gave a short laugh. “It’s not too off the mark. You know, they never even say her name on that dumb show. She’s just a number.”
Amanda didn’t respond. It sounded like a chapter in her women’s studies book.
Evelyn waited a beat. “What did your father say?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I’d told him.” Amanda picked at the edge of her book. “Hodge got transferred to Model City.”
“Where do you think I’ve been?”
Amanda felt her jaw drop. “They assigned you to Model City?”
“Hodge won’t even talk to me. Every morning, first thing, I go into his office and I ask him what happened, who we ticked off, why he sent us to Techwood in the first place, and every day, he tells me to get the hell out of his office.”
Amanda couldn’t help but be impressed by the other woman’s brashness. “You think you’re being punished?” she asked. “That can’t be true. The brass didn’t move me. I was there, same as you.”
Evelyn seemed to have an opinion on the matter, but she kept it to herself. “The boys took care of that pimp for us.”
Amanda felt her heart go into her throat. “You didn’t tell anyone?”
“No, of course not, but you don’t have to be Columbo to figure it out—a pimp bleeding on the floor with his winky hanging out and both of us looking like we’re about to have heart attacks.”
She was right. At least Evelyn had saved them some face by managing to knock him out before the cavalry arrived.
“They let him out of jail long enough to get picked up again. Apparently, he resisted arrest. Up and down Ashby Street. Ended up in the hospital.”
“Good. Maybe he learned his lesson.”
“Maybe,” Evelyn said, sounding doubtful. “He thought I’d just stand there while he raped you, waiting for my turn.”
“He’s probably done it hundreds of times before. You saw how Jane was with him. She was terrified.”
Evelyn nodded slowly. “Dwayne Mathison. That’s his name. He’s been jammed up a couple of times for roughing up his girls. He runs mostly white women—tall blondes who used to be pretty. Goes by the name Juice.”
“Like the football player?”
“Except one’s a Heisman winner and the other likes to beat on women.” Evelyn tapped her finger against the textbook in Amanda’s lap. “This is surprising.”
She covered the book with her hands, embarrassed. “It’s a required course.”
“Still, it’s not a bad thing to know what’s going on in other places.”
Amanda shrugged. “It won’t change anything.”