"Yes, Fair Lady." The liderc scampers away. The door behind him closes with the clang of iron. The Fair Lady sees that Her feet are about to turn black from the fire, and regretfully removes them from the flames.
He came into town on a hot summer's night,
The flies was giving us fits.
Drove an old Ford that had about lost the fight,
His eyes was as black as the pits.
"THE GYPSY"
He awoke in the chair, and there was a blanket around him. MacWurthier was reading a newspaper and drinking coffee; he looked up when the Gypsy stirred.
"You must have been tired," he said. "You've slept more than twelve hours."
"I… thank you."
"You're welcome. Would you like some tea? Maybe some breakfast."
"No, thank you. I must leave now. You need not forget her, but you will please her most by trying to be happy."
MacWurthier stared at him. "I know that," he said,as if to himself. "I've been trying. But it's not easy."He seemed lost in reflection. The Gypsy rose and let himself out, not saying anything more, because nothing more was necessary. He returned to the street and made his way toward the park.
[?] lower me another beer, have another dream; Everything is all confused, nothing's what it seems.
"STEPDOWN"
Stepovich glanced away from the traffic at Durand. He was sulking in his corner of the patrol car like a spoiled brat. Something childish in Stepovich didn't want to break the silence, but need overturned it."Lunch?" he said.
"Yeah." Durand kept his eyes focused on the street. "Norm's."
"Okay," Stepovich agreed sullenly. That was where Tiffany Marie worked. "But to go."
"Bullshit! I'm not eating in this stinking car."
"I wanna take it over to the park. Guy there I got to talk to."
"Well, do it later. It's too drizzly for picnics in the park. And there's someone at Norm's I want to talk to."
"Tiffany Marie."
"So what's it to you?"
Stepovich glanced at him. The kid's cheeks were pink. Durand plainly knew he was in the wrong, so Stepovich let him have it.
"I busted her twice for whoring before she was fifteen," Stepovich spoke deliberately, slowly, coldly."She was a runaway, working the streets, too stubborn to work for a pimp. So she was taking it from both sides, getting the real dirt-bag tricks, and the pimps' girls threatening her all the time. Both times Ed and I busted her, the court sent her home. Both times her dad beat the living shit out of her. Not for spreading her legs, but because she was doing it for money instead of for dear old dad. Which was why she kept running away. Third time we picked her up it was because her John had left her unconscious in the motel room, and the manager of the motel wanted an extra two hours' rent from her when she didn't leave on time. She didn't have it, or any money. The John had taken that, too. What she did have was cracked ribs, a broken collarbone and the clap. Crabs,too, from what I hear."
Durand's hands were fists on his knees. Stepovich loosened his grip on the steering wheel. If that damn kid came across the seat at him, he was going to nail the fucker good. He pulled up in front of Norm's and coolly called in their lunch break. He half turned toward Durand when he was done. Right in the mouth was where he was going to hit him if the kid came at him. Smash his big mouth, and to hell with the bloody knuckles.
"You think you're telling me something I don't know?" Durand's voice was thick with an emotion Stepovich couldn't identify.
"No. I think that's all you know. I think you don't know that the last time, Ed and I dumped her on Marilyn's doorstep at two in the morning after they let her out of Emergency. I don't think you know that Marilyn took her in. Tiffany Marie is no whore, Durand. Not anymore. She's going to school at night and she's paying Marilyn a bit of rent and she's going to make something out of herself. All she needed was a chance. What she don't need is you hitting on her and treating her like a whore."
Durand made a move that might have been something that started out to be a punch and ended up a slap on the dashboard instead. "I don't treat her like a whore." Durand's words were as individual as single shots. "Not that it's any of your business."
"You saying you aren't banging her?" Stepovich deliberately baited him.
"I'm saying it's none of your fucking business,"Durand roared, and in the roar was an edge that let Stepovich know one thing and suspect another.
He poked at the idea. "So you ain't screwing her.I suppose you're in love with her skinny ass."
"Fuck you," Durand replied with controlled fury. And he got out of the squad car and walked away,into Norm's. Stepovich slowly followed him in. Long habit made his eyes scan the scene before coming to rest on Durand. He was bellied up to the counter, and Tiffany Marie was already taking his order. Stepovich looked at her, remembering how he and Ed had shook their heads over her name. Tiffany Marie, a diamonds and velvet name for a cracker-butt kid with carroty hair and pink lipstick on a pouty little mouth and eyes made up like a Technicolor raccoon. Tiffany Marie,with hickeys up the side of her neck and chipped fingernail polish and runs in her sexy black mesh nylons.
Shit.
He added up the years. Yeah, she probably was eighteen now, maybe even nineteen. The soft swells under the clean white blouse were probably all hers,and when she turned to pass Durand's order to the cook, her hips weren't exactly the skinny little ass he remembered wrapping a blanket around when he carried her out of that cheap motel. The carroty hair was more like burnished copper now, and was probably long, but he couldn't tell with the way she had it pinned up. Had it been that long since he'd really looked at her? He took the stool next to Durand's,and Tiffany Marie turned to him with a smile. Her lips needed no lipstick and for the first time he realized how blue her eyes were. "Hey, Mike, having the usual?" she asked, and her voice was so casual and warm that he knew Durand hadn't said a word to her about what he'd said in the car.
Stepovich felt slimy.
He glanced at Durand, but the kid wouldn't look at him. The kid. Hell, yes, just a big kid, what was he, twenty-two, twenty-four? Not exactly cradle-snatching for him to be looking at Tiffany Marie. And she was looking back. As she set silverware and napkins before them, it was her hand that brushed against Durand's. He studied Durand in small glances between spoonfuls of chili. What was the kid, six-two,six-three? A little puppy fat on him, maybe, not much. Dark hair, grey eyes. He had a job, he made money regular. He was clean, mostly. He was a dumbshit,but at least he wasn't a drunk or a junkie or a sponge.Probably didn't hit his women. Maybe Tiffany Marie didn't think he was an dumbshit.
Maybe he wasn't a dumbshit around her. Would she keep a dumbshit's coffee mug filled all the time like she was doing? Would she keep turning around and smiling at a dumbshit?
Stepovich crumbled crackers into his chili, mashed them in. Boy, Marilyn was going to be pissed; she had called this one wrong.
And there had been more than one dumbshit in the car this morning.
He was thinking about that so hard that he was more than halfway through his Chili and Cheeseburger Special before he realized they hadn't ordered to go like he'd meant to. Damn. He'd wanted to go to the park, and talk to the driver of the horse hack that Ed had tracked down for him. Ed hadn't known the guy's real name, only the handle of Spider, and that his horses were mismatched, one grey and one brown. Stepovich had been counting on catching him near the espresso stands where a lot of the yuppies went to eat lunch and be picturesque. Horse-drawn cabs picked up fares there, the same yuppies being dashing and romantic before going back to their offices after lunch.