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"Now, Sylvester's a good man,” she said. “He's never raised a hand against me-well, at least not much. And he provides for me and the kids."

"Just what the hell do you got, Peg? Look around."

She looked. Leak marks on the ceiling resembled coffee stains. A hole gaped in the thin paneling where a shotgun blast had ripped through the siding. Mice had gnawed at the foamwood baseboard. The closet doors hung awkwardly off their tracks like two drunks dangling from a railroad trestle. Peggy took a sharp breath, as if he had just slapped her across the face with her own autobiography.

"If Sylvester loved you, he wouldn't keep you like this," Jimmy said quietly. No need for added cruelty. Awareness had heaped enough pain on Peggy Mull.

Peggy put her head on his chest and was still. Then he felt a small warm wetness on his skin, and the mattress quivered with her sobs.

"Hey, honey, it's okay," Jimmy said, stroking her matted and tangled hair. He'd have to get her to take better care of herself. Maybe he'd buy her some fancy shampoo. To increase the value.

"J-Jimmy. I just get lonely sometimes," she said in her broken voice.

"We all do, sweetheart. Misery loves company, too."

"I try so hard. But Sylvester don't make much, and he won't let me get a job. Says it would make him feel like less of a man.”

Jimmy chortled and went for the other nipple. "How much of a man is he? Can't even give his wife a little loving when she needs it."

"But he's my husband. And I love him, in some kind of screwed-up way." Her sobs eased and she craned her neck to look at Jimmy's face. "But I love you, too."

Jimmy smiled and looked into her smoky blue eyes. They were her best feature. He'd have to figure out a way to make them stand out more. Packaging was what made the merchandise.

"And I love you, honey," he said, touching her lightly on the nose with his index finger. "And I want you to be comfortable."

She burrowed into his chest hair. "I'm comfortable right here."

"I mean with money."

He felt her tense a little.

"Good money," he said, breaking the silence.

"How?"

"I got it figured out."

"What?"

"Five hundred dollars a week, free and clear."

He let that sink in. Twice what Sylvester probably made trucking feed all over Bumfuck. When he even worked, that was.

"What are you talking about, Jimmy?" Her words crawled across the air like baby spiders down a thread of web, fragile and cautious.

"I'm talking about putting you to work, woman. Turning pleasure into business."

She thumped him on the chest, the fleshy sound echoing hollowly off the cluttered furniture. "I ain't no hooker, you asshole. I like to do it. I like to do lots of things. But I got my pride, see?"

She sat up in bed, pulling the dingy sheet around her waist. The knobs of her spine flexed as she started crying again. Jimmy let her cry until the hurt and shock dulled. He took a drink of cheap whiskey while he waited.

Finally she turned, her eyelids puffy and red. He waited for her to speak. She shook her head from side to side. "I can't do it," she whispered, speaking more to herself than Jimmy.

"Think about it, sugar," he said. "You won't have to scrap for cigarette money. You won't have to beg for liquor."

Her fury returned, a storm blowing in from a half-forgotten wasteland. "If you think I've been loving you for liquor, then you better think again."

Jimmy reached out and touched her flushed cheek. "Easy, honey, I didn't mean it that way. I just mean a lady like you deserves good things."

He let his hand trail down her neck to her breast and he gave a gentle squeeze. "Stuff this nice ought to be wearing silk, girl," he said. He let his hand slide lower. "Cause it's silky smooth."

Not a bad little advertising pitch. I'll have to remember that, come Friday nights at the Moose Lodge when the boys are peckered up and out for foxtail.

Peggy relaxed a little under his caress. Her tears had stopped but the salt of their tracks still ran down her sharp cheekbones. As Jimmy stroked, he decided that this was seventy-five-dollar stuff if he'd ever seen it.

"I don't know, Jimmy,” she said, then gasped from arousal.

"Shh. Don't say nothing. Just think about it for a while."

"What about Sylvester?"

"You and me managed to work around him just fine. Don't you worry about that."

"And the kids?"

The kids. Might make evening business a little awkward, but Jimmy was an optimist. Besides, if this got rolling, he could branch out into dope peddling. And it would be convenient to have distributors in both the elementary and high schools.

"Just think of what you can buy for them," he said. "Won't have to run around in ratty-assed boots anymore. They can get Nikes like the rich kids. And they could have hamburger for dinner instead of macaroni and cheese."

"What if Sylvester starts noticing all the little extras?"

"Tell him you've been stretching the dollar. Hell, it's not like he notices things anyway."

Peggy trembled against his caress. A low moan escaped her lips.

Damn, she is a hot one. She can probably turn half a dozen tricks a day. Maybe even do a party scene once in a while. I'll have to work out a rate card for different positions.

"Jimmy," she said, breath coming fast now.

Jimmy rolled away. He wanted to leave her aching. Might make the idea of an endless parade of men seem more enticing. He started to get out of bed. She grabbed him by the most convenient handle.

"Jimmy, where are you going?"

"Got to run, honey."

He reached for his clothes as she wrapped her hands around his waist. Her lavender nail polish glittered in the sunlight. He stood and she fell back onto the bed, her legs wide. "Jimmy, don't leave me like this," she pleaded.

Perfect. If she could act this good with him, there was no reason why she couldn't pull it off on demand. He looked at her while he stepped into his pants.

"Think about what I said, Peggy." He tugged on one of his snakeskin boots, resting his other foot on the bed.

Peggy lay still and pouted, her lips curling. He picked up the whiskey and turned to leave the room.

"Jimmy?"

"What, darling?"

"What would that-you know, what you're talking about-do to us?"

"Not a thing, darling. You know I love you, no matter what."

"Wouldn't it make you jealous, knowing?"

"There ain't no room for jealousy. There's business, and then there's you and me. What we got is special."

Peggy scooted out of bed and wrapped a nightgown around her torso. She followed him to the door with quick, shuffling steps, kicking the dirty laundry away from her ankles.

Jimmy looked out the glass slats of the trailer window, making sure the coast was clear. Peggy was at his shoulder. He reached out and absently stroked her hair. "If you won't do it for yourself, do it for me," he said.

"How much did you say we could make?"

He looked out the window again. "I figure forty bucks a shot for the basics, fifty for special treatment. We split it fifty-fifty."

And Jimmy would keep the extra.

Peggy gnawed at a thumbnail, clattering her small sharp teeth. "I don't know," she said around her thumb.

"I'll round up the customers, and all you have to do is send them away happy. Everybody wins."

"But it's so- dirty."

Jimmy faced her and took her firmly by her bony shoulders. "Look here, Peg. It might be a way out of this," he said, jerking his head toward the interior of the trailer. "Maybe we can get away someday, just you and me."

"But the kids-"

"It'll take a few years."

"I don't know." She looked down at the ragged welcome mat.

"Think about it," he said, his hand on the door.

She leaned forward quickly and pecked him on the cheek. He handed her the nearly empty whiskey bottle.