Texas by the Tail

back and forth against Teddy's breasts. She groaned at that- only breathlessness kept her from screaming-but Johnnie seemed not to hear her.

'She didn't feel a thing, see? Because they ain't the real thing. She's just a phonied-up stud.'

'You think so, huh. Well, maybe…'

Frankie suddenly grabbed her by the breasts, and twisted. Again she tried to scream, and was stopped with another gutpunch. She fainted, and when she drifted back into consciousness, she was sitting on a burner of the kitchenette stove. They were holding hands with her- holding them with her fingers bent back toward her wrists. They spoke to her conspiratorially, as though letting her in on a delicious secret.

'Now, we're going to cook it a little, know what I mean, honey? So if you ain't a stud, you can holler and we'll know you're for real.'

'Naw, she'd better not holler. You better not, get me, tutz? We'll just do our cooking, and she can tell us if it hurt afterwards.'

There was a click as a burner was flicked on. It was not the burner under Teddy, but she was convinced that it was. It clicked on and off, and each time she could feel the flame lick up her loins. She could feel it reach up inside her, and she smelled the cooking flesh, heard the crackling and the sizzling as the flames consumed her. She could not scream- there were always those torturously bent-over fingers, the hands drawn back to slug her in the breasts. She could only endure, the silent tears flooding over her face, her flank muscles jerking convulsively, her very womanhood burning, burning, burning…

'Because you're not a dame, right? A dame don't louse up her husband, does she? She don't make things tough for her own kid.'

'Oh, no, no no no no no no no no no nononono…'

'She's good to her husband, right? She gets herself a nice quiet divorce, and she never gives him no more trouble.'

'Oh, yes, yes yes yes yes yes yes yesyesyes…'

'You want to be a woman or a stud?'

'A woman, a woman woman woman woman woman woman…'

Just short of the ultimate answer there is another, one that embodies all the truth and the glory, which justifies the life that is about to trade itself for death. One may see it but once, as the curtain closes on the stage of immediate concern. One sees it immediately for what it is, though it appears in many guises. Neither life nor death but something between the two as they suddenly become one.

There it is, the truth and the glory: In the space which separates the down-rushing body and the up-hurtling pavement, in the bridge linking the last yellow capsule and the one next to last, in the trillionth-inch between bullet and brain, in all those dark byways where man lifts his foot from life and steps across to death.

It must be there. Where else would it be when one has found it nowhere else? Why else would so many see it there?

So Teddy having not-quite-died, knew a happiness and a peace she had never known before. It was as though she had been drained of her filth as fear drove the hot urine from her body. All the shoddiness, all the vicious and degenerate urges were gone, and she felt clean and reborn.

Lying in bed with the sheets tucked modestly around her, she looked up lovingly at Frankie and Johnnie, and they beamed down at her. They felt very good themselves, as comfortably satiated as though they had used her in a way she had so often been used. They were also pleased at having done their job so well.

'Now, about that divorce, honey…'

'Oh, I'm going to get it right away! Oh, I can hardly wait to do it. Oh, I-'

'Yeah, sure, sure you will, baby. But what about money? You got the dough to do it on?'

Teddy babbled happily that she had lots and lots of money, and she mentioned the amount. The smiles of Frankie and Johnnie faded, and they exchanged a look of bitterness. It was, of course, out of the question for them to take the dough. Downing would find out about it- he had an unbelievable talent for finding out the closest-kept secrets of his minions- and since he had not explicitly told them to rob Teddy, they would be charged with bad conduct. And how about that anyway?

Downing had instructed them only to scare the hell out of Teddy, to see to it that she never again made trouble for Mitch. That was all, so that was all they could do. But it was really a hell of a note, wasn't it? Here was this lousy pig with a mattress full of dough, and they-

Wait a minute. Wait just a peanut-pickin' minute!

They couldn't whip her for the loot, but did that mean they couldn't perform an act of simple justice? Did it mean that they had to leave the pig loaded, while they, fine young men that they were, were in relative want?

Frankie and Johnnie exchanged another glance, their eyes bright with malice. Then, they turned back to Teddy, and her smile abruptly faded and she began to tremble with terror.

'That's not your dough,' Frankie said coldly. 'You squeezed it out of Mitch.'

'B-B-But-'

'You're a stud,' Johnnie said. 'A broad don't steal from her own husband.'

'B-But-but-'

'You're goin' to give it back to him,' Frankie said. 'It's his and you're goin' to give it back.'

'She better give it back,' Johnnie said. 'She better move real fast about it.'

Teddy's mouth worked, her two minds, conscious and unconscious, shouting contradictory orders. She must make no further trouble for Mitch-that thought had been firmly implanted in her. Yet what they were demanding would most certainly make trouble.

Do it. Don't do it. Stay away from Mitch. Go near Mitch. What-what-

The boys loomed over her threateningly, classic examples of the danger of a little knowledge. She tried to explain, incoherent with fear, her two minds muddling one another. And Frankie and Johnnie were deaf to her words.

'What're you tryin' to pull, pig? Sure, you don't make no trouble for Mitch. What about it? What's givin' him back his dough got to do with making trouble?'

'I-I-I-'

It was wrong. It was right wrong. Whatever they said-

'She likes the flame,' Frankie said. 'All these studs like the flame.'

He flicked on his cigarette lighter, darted it at her. She started to scream, and Johnnie slapped her in the breasts.

'How about it, pig?' he said. 'How's it going to be? You going to take that dough back or not?'

Teddy said, 'Oh, yes yes yes yes yes yes yes…'

She went to Houston that afternoon. Mitch was out of town, of course, so she gave the money to Red.

20

Big Spring.

The metropolis of nowhere. The beginning of Far West Texas.

Big Spring. Oil wells, refineries, tool and die works, machine shops, oil-well supply houses, big hotels, big banks, big stores, big people-in every sense of the word.

Walk softly here, stranger. Be nice. It takes time to get acquainted. What appears to be a hard-