"Yeah. Well…"
"What hours do you work, Johnnie?"
"Just midnight to seven, Saturdays and Sundays. Just enough to keep me in pocket money. Dad thinks I'll be too tired to go to school on Mondays, but I won't, Lou. I'll make it fine."
"Sure, you will," I said. "There's just one thing, Johnnie. Slim Murphy hasn't got a very good reputation. We've never proved that he was mixed up in any of these carstripping jobs, but…"
"I know." He kicked the gravel of the driveway, uncomfortably. "I won't get into any trouble, Lou."
"Good enough," I said. "That's a promise, and I know you don't break your promises."
I paid him with a twenty dollar bill, got my change and headed toward home. Wondering about myself. Shaking my head, as I drove. I hadn't put on an act. I was concerned and worried about the kid. Me, worried about his troubles.
The house was all dark when I got home, but it would be, whether Amy was there or not. So I didn't get my hopes too high. I figured that my standing her up would probably make her all the more determined to stay; that she was a cinch to crop up at the one time I didn't want any part of her. That's the way I figured it, and that's the way it was.
She was up in my bedroom in bed. And she'd filled two ashtrays with the cigarettes she'd smoked. And mad! I've never seen one little old girl so mad in my life.
I sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled off my boots; and for about the next twenty minutes I didn't say a word. I didn't get a chance. Finally, she began to slow up a little, and I tried to apologize.
"I'm sure sorry, honey, but I couldn't help it. I've had a lot of trouble tonight."
"I'll bet!"
"You want to hear about it or not? If you don't, just say so."
"Oh, go on! I've heard so many of your lies and excuses I may as well hear a few more."
I told her what had happened-that is, what was supposed to have happened-and she could hardly hold herself in until I'd finished. The last word was hardly out of my mouth before she'd cut loose on me again.
"How could you be so stupid, Lou? How could you do it? Getting yourself mixed up with some wretched prostitute and that awful Elmer Conway! Now, there'll be a big scandal and you'll probably lose your job, and-"
"Why?" I mumbled. "I didn't do anything."
"I want to know why you did it!"
"Well, it was kind of a favor, see? Chester Conway wanted me to see what I could do about getting Elmer out of this scrape, so-"
"Why did he have to come to you? Why do you always have to be doing favors for other people? You never do any for me!"
I didn't say anything for a minute. But I thought, That's what you think, honey. I'm doing you a favor by not beating your head off.
"Answer me, Lou Ford!"
"All right," I said. "I shouldn't have done it."
"You shouldn't have allowed that woman to stay in this county in the first place!"
"No," I nodded. "I shouldn't have."
"Well?"
"I'm not perfect," I snapped. "I make plenty of mistakes. How many times do you want me to say it?"
"Well! All I've got to say is…"
All she had to say would take her the rest of her life to finish; and I wasn't even halfway in the mood for it. I reached out and grabbed her by the crotch.
"Lou! You stop that!"
"Why?" I said.
"Y-you stop it!" She shivered. "You s-stop or… Oh Lou!"
I lay down beside her with my clothes on. I had to do it, because there was just one way of shutting Amy up.
So I laid down and she swarmed up against me. And there wasn't a thing wrong with Amy when she was like that; you couldn't have asked much more from a woman. But there was plenty wrong with me. Joyce Lakeland was wrong with me.
"Lou…" Amy slowed down a little. "What's the matter, dear?"
"All this trouble," I said. "I guess it's thrown me for a loop.,'
"You poor darling. Just forget everything but me, and I'll pet you and whisper to you, mmm? I'll…" She kissed me and whispered what she would do. And she did it. And, hell, she might as well have done it to a fence post.
Baby Joyce had taken care of me, but good.
Amy pulled her hand away, and began brushing it against her hip. Then she snatched up a handful of sheet, and wiped-scrubbed-her hip with it.
"You son-of-a-bitch," she said. "You dirty, filthy bastard."
"Wha-at?" I said. It was like getting a punch in the guts. Amy didn't go in for cussing. At least, I'd never heard her do much.
"You're dirty. I can tell. I can smell it on you. Smell her. You can't wash it off. It'll never come off. You-"
"Jesus Christ!" I grabbed her by the shoulders. "What are you saying, Amy?"
"You screwed her. You've been doing it all along. You've been putting her dirty insides inside of me, smearing me with her. And I'm going to make you pay for it. If it's the 1-last thing I ever d-do, I'll-"
She jerked away from me, sobbing, and jumped out of bed. As I got up, she backed around a chair, putting it between me and her.
"K-keep away from me! Don't you dare touch me!"
"Why, sure, honey," I said. "Whatever you say."
She didn't see the meaning yet of what she'd said. All she could think of was herself, the insult to herself. But I knew that, given enough time-and not much at that- she'd put all the parts of the picture together. She wouldn't have any real proof, of course. All she had to go on was guesswork-intuition-and that operation I'd had: something, thank God, which seemed to have slipped her mind for the moment. Anyway, she'd talk. And the fact that there wasn't any proof for what she said, wouldn't help me much.
You don't need proof, know what I mean? Not from what I've seen of the law in operation. All you need is a tip that a guy is guilty. From then on, unless he's a big shot, it's just a matter of making him admit it.
"Amy," I said. "Amy, honey. Look at me."
"I d-don't want to look at you."
"Look at me… This is Lou, honey, Lou Ford, remember? The guy you've known all your fife. I ask you, now, would I do what you said I did?"
She hesitated, biting her lips. "You did do it." Her voice was just a shade uncertain. "I know you did."
"You don't know anything," I said. "Just because I'm tired and upset, you jump to a crazy conclusion. Why, why would I fool around with some chippy when I had you? What could a dame like that give me that would make me run the risk of losing a girl like you? Huh? Now, that doesn't make sense, does it, honey."
"Well…" That had got to her. It had hit her right in the pride, where she was tenderest. But it wasn't quite enough to jar her loose from her hunch.
She picked up her panties and began putting them on, still standing behind the chair. "There's no use arguing about it, Lou," she said, wearily. "I suppose I can thank my lucky stars that I haven't caught some terrible disease."
"But dammit…!" I moved around the chair, suddenly, and got her in my arms. "Dammit, stop talking that way about the girl I'm going to marry! I don't mind for myself, but you can't say it about her, get me? You can't say that the girl I'm going to marry would sleep with a guy who plays around with whores!"
"Let me go, Lou! Let…" She stopped struggling, abruptly.
"What did you-?"
"You heard me," I said.