A World of Thieves

night. She loved sitting in the dark and getting swept into the stories on the screen, into the daring adventures and grand romances.

And then one night about three weeks ago, as she came out of the moviehouse, she was approached by a pair of well-dressed men who politely introduced themselves as Mr. Benton and Mr. Young. She’d noticed them outside the theater the night before and had felt herself blush when one of them nudged the other and nodded at her. They said they were talent scouts for a Hollywood producer who was sending them to towns all over America in search of fresh new faces. They thought she might be one. Would her parents give permission for her to go to Austin—all expenses paid, of course—to take a screen test?

I saw a look pass between Buck and Russell and knew what they were thinking. We’d heard stories of girls getting conned by guys passing themselves off as bigtime talent scouts. It was fairly easy to do, since singing contests and movie star look-alike competitions were popular entertainments all over the country, and it seemed like every couple of weeks there was another story in the papers of a smalltown girl being discovered and whisked off to New York to sing on the radio or taken to Hollywood by a movie producer who’d been passing through. Charlie had told me that a cousin of hers won twenty-five dollars for finishing third in a Mary Pickford look-alike contest in Baton Rouge.

The offer was so unexpected that Belle couldn’t think of what to say except no, thank you. All right, the men said, but in case she should change her mind they gave her a few forms for her parents to sign. They were on their way to Dallas to meet with some other scouts and would then take their talent search into a few more towns in the region before coming back through Corsicana. If she changed her mind, all she had to do was be at the station in exactly two weeks when the Dallas southbound made its daily stop.

She made up her mind before the next sunrise, reminding herself of her mother’s urging to get out of Corsicana at the first chance. She was scared, of course—she didn’t know these men from Cain and Abel—but who knew when, if ever again, she’d have another chance to make her getaway? Over the next thirteen days and nights she bit her nails raw, afraid the men might not come back.

But they did. She met them at the station, suitcase in one hand, forged papers in the other. They had another pretty girl with them, Gladys Somebody from Waxahachie. She and Belle hit it off and talked about how swell it’d feel to be a movie star someday.

They changed trains three times before finally arriving in Austin, but they didn’t get off there, after all. Instead they were joined by yet another girl—Lucy Somebody. Change of plan, the men told Belle and Gladys. The producer had decided to hold the screen tests in San Antonio. If either Belle or Gladys wanted to return home rather than go to San Antone with them, just say so and they’d be on the next train back. Neither Belle nor Gladys wanted that. How about calling home to tell the folks about the change in plan? Neither Belle nor Gladys felt the need to do that either.

“They knew you wouldn’t,” Russell said. “They’d already checked to see if either of you had any family that might be a problem. Asking did you want to call home about going to San Antonio was the last check to be sure.” Buck stared out the window and nodded.

When the train got to San Antonio, Benton and Young took them to supper at a nice restaurant and then checked them into a hotel—the Travis. She and Gladys shared a room, and they figured Lucy must’ve been given a room of her own. She never did see Lucy again.

After breakfast the next morning they went to a room on the third floor that had been made into a sort of studio, with a camera set up in the living room to take what they called portfolio stills, and a movie camera in the other room for the screen tests. The windows were kept draped so the lighting would be consistent in all the pictures. There was a closet full of clothes of all kinds and sizes, and Young took a series of pictures of her and Gladys in turn wearing different outfits. He said they were naturals, the camera loved them. It was fun and she was enjoying herself. Then Benton brought lunch up to the room, sandwiches and a pitcher of ice-cold fruit juice.

“It’s hard to remember things real clear after that,” she said. And started crying again.

“The old Mickey Finn,” Buck said. “In the Quarter one time a guy I knew was having trouble getting past first base with this girl. One night I run into them as they’re coming out of a speak and the girl’s smiling and all shitfaced and the guy’s grinning like tonight’s the night. She’d always said no to more than one drink, see, but I thought he’d finally figured some way to get her soused. Then she gives me a sloppy kiss hello and her breath didn’t smell of booze, it smelled like this girl’s did last night. Few days later the guy tells me she only had the one drink but he’d slipped a mickey in it. Worked like a damn charm, he said. A sweet drink’ll hide the taste at the time but you sure breathe it out afterward.”

Belle accepted Charlie’s hankie to wipe her tears and swab her nose, then went on with her tale. She said it was like knowing you’re having a dream but you can’t wake up. She was vaguely aware of time going by but she had no idea how much of it passed before she realized she didn’t have any clothes on and that somebody was “doing it” to her. A young curlyhaired blond guy. She was terrified and wanted to tell him to stop, to let her out of there, but it was like she’d forgotten how to talk. She felt so puny—it was all she could do to raise her hands to his chest, never mind push him away.

She heard music and voices and a low steady whirring. She saw Gladys sprawled in an easy chair by the wall, naked under an open robe and looking like she was drunk. The music was coming from a radio on a little table beside the chair—“I Can’t Give You Anything but Love, Baby.” The whirring came from a movie camera. Young was operating it. Benton was at his side. By now her head was clearing and she felt some of her strength returning, but she still couldn’t push the guy off. He cursed her and pinned her arms over her head.

She heard Young say, “She needs another dose.” He sounded farther away than he looked. Benton said, “In a minute.” He was giving the blond kid directions, telling him to change positions on her, to touch her here, there, do this to her, do that. Finally the blond guy scooted up so that he was kneeling next to her face, pinning one of her arms with his knee and the other with one hand, trying to make her—

She broke off and started crying again. Charlie reached for her but the girl held her off. “No,” she said, “I’m going to tell it, I am. He tried to…he was trying to put his…you know, his thing…to put it in my mouth. So I…I bit him. I did!”

Her face dropped into her hands again and her shoulders shook.

Buck turned around to look at her. In the mirror, Charlie was openmouthed and staring at her too.

“You mean,” Russell said, “you bit the guy’s johnson?”

She kept her face in her hands and nodded. “Hard,” she said, the word muffled.

“Not for long, I bet it wasn’t,” Russell said—and we all busted out laughing. Belle looked up and gaped around at us like we were crazy.

“Oh honey,” Charlie said, and hugged her close.

“I’d say you evened the score pretty good,” Russell said. He put his knees together and made a face of pain.

“You’re damn lucky he didn’t kill you,” Buck said.

“It wasn’t for lack of trying,” she said—and for the first time seemed truly angry. “Next thing I knew I was seeing stars. That son of…that man started—”

“Sonofabitch,” I said. “Say it. It’s what he was.”

She looked at me in the mirror. “That son of a bitch started hitting me with his fists. Benton was hollering for him not to mess me up and trying to get him off me and when he finally did, I up and ran.”

“Right out into the hall,” Buck said, “wearing nothing but that shiner, as I recall.”

She blushed under the bruises and cut her eyes away. Charlie shook her head at Buck.

“Benton the mustache guy we laid out in the hall?” Buck said.

Belle nodded. “Thank you for…getting him away.”

“I only gave him the finishing touches,” Buck said. “Sonny here took the ambition out of him.”

She fixed her green eyes on me in the mirror. “Thank you,” she said.

The countryside expanded to an immensity of craggy rockland and thorny scrub under a cloudless sky beyond measure. We’d seen this West Texas country in photographs and in movieshows without having known its colors. Low blue mountains in the distance, long red mesas, conical purple buttes with peppercorn hides. Pale orange dust devils rising off the flats and swirling for miles before vanishing into the emptiness. Hawks sailing high, arcing over the scrub. Charlie had persuaded Russell to buy her a good pair of binoculars, and they turned out to be so much fun we all wanted a pair of our own. But no other place we stopped at sold them, and so Charlie let us take turns