WHEN SHE STOPPED, SHE ROLLED DOWN HER BOTTOM LIP and showed him the mark 618 tattooed in blue ink. And when she tried to tell Billy about other things, things that happened later, he’d stop her, feeling sick deep within his stomach.
“Why don’t we just leave here?” Billy said. “Run away?”
“We don’t have no money.”
“I can get money.”
She pulled away from him and rolled on her side, facing the wall.
He put his hand on her shoulder and started to talk about moving out to Hollywood, where they could work in the picture business or pick oranges or sell ice cream at the beach. He got so excited about all the plans, he could already feel the Greyhound ticket in his hand and almost didn’t notice she was crying. Billy moved his hand from her shoulder and just listened.
The calliope music was going strong up at Idle Hour, and they could hear the kids laughing and screaming and splashing up by the pool. The shades were drawn, but he could feel the heat from the window and knew the sun was shining.
“I’ll go outside,” Billy said and ran a finger along the window and looked at the black dust. “I’m really feeling better.”
“Sometimes I just wish this whole rotten town would burn to the ground.”
He rolled off the bed and found his shoes. He looked out the window up on the hill and saw a young boy about his age crawling up a tall ladder, the contraption looking loose and rickety like something fashioned from an Erector set. The boy got to the top and walked to the end of the diving board before giving the thumbs-up to his buddies below and launching into a perfect cannonball.
He let his shoes fall to the floor with a thud, lying back into the bed, back and butt finding the safe, soft curves of Lorelei. He felt the rise and fall of her chest, her raven hair on his neck and over his eyes, and, before long, Billy fell into a perfect sleep.
8
BILLY WOKE from an afternoon nap with a hot, bright light in his eyes, as if looking directly into the sun. He swatted at the light, blinked, felt a big hand grip his wrist, and stared straight up into the jowly face of Bert Fuller. Fuller yanked him out of bed and threw him to the floor and then he reached into the bed for Lorelei, who was dressed only in the boy’s white undershirt and her underwear. He wrenched her wrist, pulling her from the mattress, and twisted her arm behind her, forcing her nose to the floor, where he kicked her in the side like a dog. The flashlight fell from his hands in his fury of kicks and punches and the light went scattering in circles on the wooden floor. Billy reached for the scattering light, but, as he moved, Fuller let go of the girl and went for him, kicking the boy in the head and sending him reeling, tumbling up and then backward, knocking him against the wall.
Fuller kept a hand on the butt of his revolver and reached down with his pudgy fingers for Lorelei’s thick black hair, and he pulled her like a caveman across the cabin floor, kicking away a small card table that held their dinner from the night before and sending Coke bottles rolling in the drum of the little room.
Fuller moved his left hand from the gun and punched at the screen door, while Billy lay on his back, bleeding. Billy moved to his knees and then found his feet, wobbling, and then ran for Fuller. But Fuller paid no mind when he sent pounding fists against the back of his shaved head, knocking off the Stetson.
The white hat rolled to the floor like a half-dollar.
He turned and looked at the boy, standing there with his fists at awkward angles near the steps to the cabin, Lorelei’s head crooked into Fuller’s arm, face turning red as she tried to breathe. He smiled and laughed at Billy, a big goddamn joke, and reached down and retrieved his western hat. All around Moon Lake sat families on blankets and in boats and eating Fourth of July cold fried chicken and ice-cold watermelon from the backs of cars and trucks.
“Does Reuben know you consort with whores?”
The boy’s vision faded for a moment, and Bert Fuller appeared to him in wavy lines like an apparition but with a strong, solid voice that laughed.
“You got your dick wet. Now, go back inside before I stomp the shit out of you. Don’t make a scene.”
He took Lorelei as if leading a calf, half walking and half pulling, to where he’d parked his car along the banks of Moon Lake.
“Come on, you filthy little cunt,” he said. “Back to work.”
I SAT WITH MY FAMILY NEAR THE BOATHOUSE ON A RED-and-white tablecloth Joyce had packed along with deviled eggs, fried chicken, pimento cheese, potato salad, cut tomatoes, and a gallon of sweet tea. I wore a cool short-sleeved shirt and straw hat that day and pretended I was asleep, the hat over my eyes, as I heard my children trying to wake me up. I started to snore, Thomas poking me with a piece of grass in the ear, and then Anne pulling at my foot, trying to remove my shoe, before I roused and made sounds like a bear trying to catch them. Anne ran off, and Thomas grabbed another deviled egg, licking out the inside and leaving the egg white.
Joyce poured some more sweet tea and sat down next to me, and we sat there, looking out at the boats on Moon Lake and at the little bandstand where we’d met in ’38. We’d danced there until the band stopped playing, and I kept moving with her, in my own romantic, ridiculous way, taking her for more light turns across the dance floor with my nimble boxer’s feet. I reminded her of my good feet as often as I could.
“Anne wants a dog.”
“Then let’s get a dog.”
“I don’t want a dog.”
“Then don’t get her a dog.”
“Do you always have to be so damn agreeable?”
I smiled at her and kissed her on the forehead. “No, Pieface. I’ll work on becoming a real pain in the ass.”
“Won’t take much,” she said and pinched my arm. “Pieface? I wish you’d quit calling me that.”
I kissed her again. “Okay, Pieface.”
Thomas walked up and stood before us, smiling. He handed me three empty egg halves and worked on a fourth.
“Thanks, boy. I sure do appreciate it.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, adding the last, and laughed.
On the small shore of the lake, I saw Anne talking to another young girl who was about her age. She stood tall like an adult, with hands on her hips. I knew the boys would be coming around soon and that was okay with me
