“You hungry?”
“Sort of, I guess.”
“You’ll like Colorado. Wait till you see the mountains.”
“You didn’t have to kill him.”
“He was gonna kill you.”
He didn’t say anything for a long time. They were nearing the Nebraska border. The land was getting flatter. Cows, crying with prairie sorrow, tossed in their earthen beds, while night birds collected chorus-like in the trees, making the leafy branches thrum with their song. It was nice with the windows rolled down and all the summery Midwest roaring in your ears.
Sixty-three miles before they hit the border, just after ten o’clock, they found the Empire Motel, one of those 1950s jobs with the office in the middle and eight stucco-sided rooms fanned out on either side.
Angie rented a room and bought a bunch of candy and potato chips from the vending machine. She rented a sci-fi video from the manager for Jason.
She got him into the shower and then into bed and played the movie for him. He didn’t last long. He was asleep in no time. She turned out the lights and got into bed herself. She was tired. Or thought she was, anyway. But she couldn’t sleep. She lay there and thought about Roy and about when she was a little girl and about being a kept woman. It had to happen for her someday. It just had to. Then she remembered what she’d looked like in those bikinis. God, she really had to go on a diet.
She lay like this for an hour. Then she heard car doors opening and male laughter. She decided to go peek out the window. Two nice-looking, nicely dressed guys were carrying a suitcase each into a room two doors away. They were driving this just-huge new Lincoln. Sight of them made her agitated. She wanted a drink and to hear some music. Maybe dance a little. And laugh. She needed a good laugh.
Fifteen minutes later, she was fixed up pretty good, white tank top and red short-shorts, the ones where her cheeks were exposed to erotic perfection, her hair all done up nice, and enough perfume so that she smelled really good.
The kid wouldn’t miss her. He’d be fine. He’d be sleeping and the door would be locked and he’d be just fine.
Their names were Jim Durbin and Mike Brady. They were from Cedar Rapids and they owned a couple of computer stores and they were going to open a big new one in Denver. Ordinarily, Jim would fly but Mike was scared to fly. And ordinarily, they would stay in a nicer motel than this but they couldn’t find anything else on the road. Her excuse for knocking on their door this late was the front office didn’t have a cigarette machine and she was out and she heard them still up and she wondered if either of them had a few cigarettes they’d loan her. Jim said he didn’t smoke but Mike did. Jim said he’d been trying for years to get Mike to quit. How do you like that? Jim said. Guy doesn’t mind risking lung cancer every day of his life but he won’t get on an airplane?
They had a nice bottle of I. W. Harper and invited her in. It was obvious Mike was interested in her. Jim was married. Mike was just going through a divorce he called “painful.” He said his wife ended up running off with this doctor she was on this charity committee with. Jim said Mike needed a good woman to rebuild Mike’s self-esteem. That was a word Angie heard a lot. She liked the daytime talk shows and they talked a lot about self-esteem. There was a transvestite prostitute on just last week, as a matter of fact, and Angie felt sorry for the poor thing. He/she said that’s all he/she was looking for, self-esteem.
Angie got sort of drunk and spent her time talking to Mike while Jim took a shower and got ready for bed. Angie could tell he was taking a real long time to give Mike and her a chance to be alone. And then they were making out and his hands were all over her and then she was down on her knees next to his bed and doing him and he was gasping and groaning and bucking and just going crazy and it made her feel powerful and wonderful to make a man this happy, especially a broken-hearted one.
When Jim came back, wearing a red terry-cloth robe and rubbing his crew cut with a white towel, Angie and Mike were sitting in chairs and having another drink.
“So, what’s going on?” Jim said.
“Well,” Mike said, and he looked like a teenager, excited and nervous at the same time, “I was going to ask Angie if she’d like to come to Denver with me. Spend a couple of weeks while we get the grand opening all set up and everything.”
Jim said, still rubbing his crew cut with the white towel, “This is a guy who does everything first-class, Angie, let me tell you. You should see his condo. The view of the city. Unbelievable.”
“You like Jet Skiing?” Mike said.
“Sure,” Angie said, though she wasn’t exactly sure what it was.
“Well, I’ve got two Jet Skis and they’re a ball. Believe me, we could have a lot of fun. You could stay at my condo and do what you like during the day — shop or whatever — and then at night, we’ll get together again.”
Jim said, “God, Angie, you’re a miracle worker. This sounds like my old buddy Mike Brady. I haven’t heard him sound this happy in three or four years.”
Mike grinned. “Maybe I’m in love.”
And he leaned over and slid his arm around Angie’s neck and gave her a big whiskey kiss on the mouth.
All she could think of was how strange it was. Maybe she’d met the man who was going to make her into a kept woman. And this one wasn’t married, either. He could marry her somewhere down the line.
She said, “Wait till I tell Jason.”
Mike gave her a funny look. “Jason? Who’s Jason?”
Jim came over, too. “Yeah, who’s Jason?”
“Oh, sort of my stepson, I guess you’d say.”
“You’re traveling with a kid?” Mike said.
“Yeah.”
Mike didn’t have to say anything. It was all in his face. He’d been outlining an orgy of activities and she went and ruined it all with reality. A kid. A fucking kid.
“Oh,” Mike said, finally.
“He’s a real nice kid,” Angie said. “Real quiet and everything.”
“I’m sure he’s a nice kid, Angie,” Jim said. “But I don’t think that’s what Mike had in mind. Nothing against kids, you understand. I’ve got two of my own and Mike’s got three.”
“I love kids,” Mike said, as if somebody had accused him otherwise.
“He wouldn’t be any trouble,” Angie said. “He really wouldn’t.”
Mike and Jim looked at each other and Jim said, looking at Angie now, “You know what we should do? Why don’t we take your phone number, you know where you’re staying in Omaha and everything, and then Mike can give you a call when he gets settled into his condo?”
Mike didn’t have nerve enough to say good-bye so Jim was doing it for him.
A ball and chain, she remembered Roy said about Jason. Mike wasn’t going to call. Jim was just saying that. And she’d be somewhere in Omaha, maybe with a waitress job or something. And pretty soon school would roll around and she’d have to worry about school clothes and getting him enrolled in a new school and everything. While somebody else would be living with Mike in his Denver condo, and Jet Skiing, whatever that was, and using Mike’s American Express to buy new clothes and stuff.
She said, “You know if there’s a river around here somewhere?”
“A river?” Jim said.
“Yes,” she said. “A river.”
Next morning at seven A.M. she knocked on the door. A sleepy pajamaed Jim opened it. “Hey,” he said. “How’s it goin’?” He sounded a little leery of seeing her. He’d obviously hoped they’d put the Denver matter to rest last night.
“Guess what?” she said.
“What?”
“I said I was sort of Jason’s stepmother? Well, actually, I’m his aunt. My sister lives about ten miles from here and has troubles with depression. She wanted me to take him for a while but she stopped by the room here real early this morning and picked him up. Said she was feeling a lot better.”