“How’d those ribs sit?” Leroy said as soon as Reznick entered.
“Maybe the best barbecue I’ve ever had, Leroy, I’m serious. Lunch was so good, I came by to get some chicken for dinner, the same sides.”
“A man of discerning tastes, you are,” Leroy said. He turned and went about wrapping half a chicken in aluminum foil. “Business any better this afternoon?”
“Oh, I’ve got one case. More than I had this morning.”
“And who knows where it might lead.”
“I suppose.”
Leroy chuckled as he put the sides in a bag with the chicken. “I had a very optimistic momma and grandma. From them, I learned to always look at the bright side. It don’t come as easy for everyone as it does for me, I know. Some find it… annoying. But sometimes, it’s the only thing you can do ‘sides goin’ insane.”
“Here are my business cards,” Reznick said, putting the cards on the counter. “You show mine around, I’ll show yours around.”
He chuckled. “You gotcheself a deal.”
The barbecue chicken’s aroma filled the cab of his car on the drive home and made him feel prematurely hungry. In the trailer, he put the chicken in the refrigerator – he would heat it up later for dinner.
He quickly changed into T-shirt and shorts and flip-flops and stood underneath the swamp cooler in the hall for a while.
The heat clung to his body like honey. It seeped into his lungs like honey, too, humid and thick.
Reznick took a shower, then, with a towel wrapped around his waist, he stood in the hallway, under the air of the cooler a little longer.
When the heat was humid, the swamp cooler was little help – it just made it more humid indoors. Furniture became damp, once crisp and dry paper became limp. Most of the trailers in Riverside Mobile Home Park had swamp coolers – some had only fans – because it was the best they could afford.
He was still standing under the cooler when there was a knock at the door.
Reznick opened the door and looked out through the screen. Kendra stood on the other side holding a tiny tan dog.
“Hi, Marc,” she said through a big smile. There was a wealth of enthusiasm in her simple greeting.
“Hello, Kendra,” he said. “You have a dog?”
“Yeah! Ain’t it great? Mommy took me to the Humanity Society, and – “
”The Humane Society.”
“Yeah, that’s it, and we picked out little Dexter, here. I couldn’t wait to show him to you.”
“Then let’s get a good look at him. Step back.”
As Kendra stepped back, Reznick pushed the screen door open. She stepped inside and bent down, put her little dog on the floor.
“Now, watch,” Reznick said.
Conan and Dexter took turns cautiously sniffing each other’s butts, then their noses. Less than thirty seconds later, they were standing on their hind legs playfully boxing at each other with their front paws.
It was a moment after he’d said, Now, watch, when Reznick realized she was wearing only a bikini bra and very short denim cutoffs. She stood leaning forward with her hands propped on her thighs, and his eyes passed over all that smooth, creamy flesh.
“It looks like they’re gonna get along,” Kendra said, standing up straight. She turned to him and he lifted his head and smiled.
“Looks that way,” he said. “That’s good. They’ll have someone to play with besides us.”
Kendra giggled. She walked into the living room and said, “How did you house-train Conan, Marc?”
“Didn’t take much at all,” he said. “He got the idea real fast.”
“I think Dexter did, too. He let me know that he had to go out today.”
“See? They’re smart little things.”
He watched as she sat on the couch. She tried to find a comfortable position, but seemed unable. Then she stretched her legs out on the couch and cocked one knee. And was she slightly thrusting out her breasts? God knew, they did not need any thrusting.
All that pale flesh… those pliant mounds under that dark bra… those long, full thighs… that exquisite behind…
But it was her face that really held him, her eyes, framed in all those golden locks. That face held him and made him want to reach out and touch her – gave him a palpable urge to move his hands up her body until he got to her face, then kiss her.
His breath came quick and his heart picked up its pace a little. He had to slow this down before it got carried away inside him. He turned away from her and took a few deep breaths before he got an erection.
But it still did not change one thing: He still wanted her, still craved her.
When he looked at her again, she sat with her back straight, but her legs spread wide. Her mouth hung open, and her tongue slowly, absently ran around her lips.
“Where’s your mommy, Kendra?” he said.
After a moment, she closed her legs. “Mommy’s at work.”
“She works days and nights?”
“Sorta. She works with the, um… I forget what it’s called. They find jobs for her in offices and – “
”A temp agency?”
“Yeah, that’s it. And she dances at night.”
Reznick frowned. “She dances?”
“Uh-huh. Most nights.”
“What kind of, uh – “ He immediately decide that any direction he took with this topic of conversation would be inappropriate, so he let it drop. But he wondered. Was Anna Dunfy an office-temping stripper? She had the looks and the body for it, that was for sure. But how much did Kendra know? She said her mother dances, but she didn’t say what kind of dancing she did. How many different kinds were there? Redding did not have a ballet. There weren’t many outlets for dancing in Shasta County. But the one place Reznick could think of where it paid to dance was the Mt. Shasta Gentlemen’s Club.
Reznick knew a couple women who used to dance there, but no one currently working the runway and mounting the poles. He did not see it as a shameful job, not in this day and age, but some women were still ashamed of it and did their best to keep it separate from their lives. He wondered again how much Anna had told Kendra – what kind of dancing did she think Mommy did at night?
“I’m staying by myself for the first time ever today,” Kendra said. “So I was glad when I saw your car, ‘cause I wanted to come see you and show you Dexter, and… well, just… come see you.”
“I’m glad you did. Looks like these two are pals.”
Conan and Dexter were stretched out side by side, dozing.
While Kendra sat on the couch looking down at the dogs, Reznick looked at her. He stood before her in a towel. He wondered what she would do if he dropped it. Probably run from the house screaming. Or maybe she would laugh. Who knew what to expect? She was, after all, retarded. He had to keep telling himself that. Again and again.
She’s retarded, you can’t want her, she’s retarded!
But it made no difference to his needs, his hungers.
Hungers plural – the craving for alcohol had been just at the back of his mind all day. He tried to keep his mind occupied with crossword puzzles and reading, but it was there, the whole time. That need that came from somewhere deep in his chest. Reznick often suspected that was where the soul lurked – deep in the chest – because he thought his cravings for vodka came straight from there, a soul-deep need that could be satisfied by nothing else.
And it had been with him all day. He’d hoped for a calm after the storm he’d experienced last night. And why all of a sudden were the cravings so bad? It had been a year, maybe a little more than that, and he hadn’t had a drink – why were these cravings rearing up so aggressively all of a sudden?
“We’ll have to make sure they get to play together often,” she said.
“What?” Reznick said.