“Don’t hang up, Miz Templeton. Suppose I were to pay your back rent and throw in a hundred bucks on top of that?” It was far more than I needed to pay for what I wanted, but I had it and she needed it.
“Mister, right now I’d do you with my father watchin for two hundred bucks.”
“You don’t have to do me at all, Miz Templeton. All you have to do is meet me in that parking lot at the end of the street. And bring me something.”
It was dark by the time I got to the parking lot of the Montgomery Ward warehouse, and the rain had started to thicken a little, the way it does when it’s trying to be sleet. That doesn’t happen often in the hill country south of Dallas, but sometimes isn’t never. I hoped I could make it back to Jodie without sliding off the road.
Ivy was sitting behind the wheel of a sad old sedan with rusty rocker panels and a cracked rear window. She got into my Ford and immediately leaned toward the heater vent, which was going full blast. She was wearing two flannel shirts instead of a coat, and shivering.
“Feels good. That Chev’s colder’n a witch’s tit. Heater’s bust. You bring the money, Mr. Puddentane?”
I gave her an envelope. She opened it and riffled through some of the twenties that had been sitting on the top shelf of my closet ever since I’d collected on my World Series bet at Faith Financial over a year before. She lifted her substantial bottom off the seat, shoved the envelope into the back pocket of her jeans, then fumbled in the breast pocket of the shirt closer to her body. She brought out a key and slapped it into my hand.
“That do you?”
It did me very well. “It’s a dupe, right?”
“Just like you told me. I had it made at the hardware store on McLaren Street. Why you want a key to that glorified shithouse? For two hundred, you could rent it for four months.”
“I’ve got my reasons. Tell me about the neighbors across the street. The ones that could watch you and the mailman doing it on the living room floor.”
She shifted uneasily and pulled her shirts a little closer across her equally substantial bosom. “I was just jokin about that.”
“I know.” I didn’t, and I didn’t care. “I just want to know if the neighbors can really see into your living room.”
“Course they can, and I could see into theirs, if they didn’t have curtains. Which I woulda bought for our place, could I afford em. When it comes to privacy, we all might as well be livin outside. I s’pose I coulda put up burlap, scavenged it from right over there”-she pointed to the trash bins lined up against the east side of the warehouse-“but it looks so slutty.”
“The neighbors with the view live at what? Twenty-seven-oh-four?”
“Twenty-seven-oh-six. It used to be Slider Burnett n his fambly, but they moved out just after Halloween. He was a substitute rodeo clown, do you believe it? Who knew there was such a job? Now it’s some fella named Hazzard and his two kids and I think his mother. Rosette won’t play with the kids, says they’re dirty. Which is a newsflash comin from that little pigpen. Ole grammy tries to talk and it comes out all mush. Side of her face won’t move. Dunno what help she can be to him, draggin around like she does. If I get like that, just shoot me. Eeee, doggies!” She shook her head. “Tell you one thing, they won’t be there long. No one stays on ’Cedes Street. Got a cigarette? I had to give em up. When you can’t afford a quarter for fags, that’s when you know for sure you’re on your goddam uppers.”
“I don’t smoke.”
She shrugged. “What the hell. I can afford my own now, can’t I? I’m goddam rich. You ain’t married, are you?”
“No.”
“Got a girlfriend, though. I can smell perfume on this side of the car. The nice stuff.”
That made me smile. “Yes, I’ve got a girlfriend.”
“Good for you. Does she know you’re sneakin around the south side of Fort Worth after dark, doin funny business?”
I said nothing, but sometimes that’s answer enough.
“Nev’ mind. That’s between you n her. I’m warm now, so I’ll go on back. If it’s still rainy n cold like this tomorrow, I don’t know what we’re goan do about Harry in the back of my ma’s truck.” She looked at me, smiling. “When I was a kid I used to think I was gonna grow up to be Kim Novak. Now Rosette, she thinks she’s goan replace Darlene on the Mouseketeers. Hidey-fuckin-ho.”
She started to open the door and I said, “Wait.”
I raked the crap out of my pockets-Life Savers, Kleenex, a book of matches Sadie had tucked in there, notes for a freshman English test I meant to give before the Christmas break-and then gave her the ranch coat. “Take this.”
“I ain’t takin your goddam coat!” She looked shocked.
“I’ve got another one at home.” I didn’t, but I could buy one, and that was more than she could do.
“What’m I gonna tell Harry? That I found it under a goddam cabbage leaf?”
I grinned. “Tell him you rolled the mailman a fuck and bought it with the proceeds. What’s he going to do, chase you down the driveway and beat you up?”
She laughed, a harsh rainbird caw that was strangely charming. And took the coat.
